#Things you should never carry in your wallet
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Things you should never carry in your wallet
Generally every woman and man usually keep their purse Things you should never carry in your wallet. Whether it is waste papers or cards or such items which are not needed, but sometimes we keep such things in our purse which are not needed.
According to Vastu Shastra, there are some things that if you keep it in your purse, then you may have to face difficulties.
About things that should not be kept in the wallet :-
1.Never keep old or mutilated notes in your wallet. Due to this, a person has to face mental problems as well as negativity.
2.According to vastu, you should never keep old paper or any kind of waste material in your purse. Otherwise, there is a decrease in money due to this and along with this, the grace of Goddess Lakshmi also does not Remain.
#things to never keep in your wallet#things you should never carry in your wallet#spiritual life coach services In India
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Things you should never carry in your wallet
True wealth is not of the pocket but what you keep within it. Just as your purse or wallet can be said to hold a myriad of items, what you carry within it will determine whether it will be a treasure chest full of positive energy or a sack full of negativity.
Several questions might come to your mind, such as: what should you not keep in your wallet? Should i carry debit card in wallet? Things to carry in wallet?
About these things, we will tell you what you have to keep in your wallet and what not. Read more..
#Things you should never carry in your wallet#things to never keep in your wallet#wallet#astrologer#spirituality#never carry wallet#spirico
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I have a hard time talking about American law enforcement, because I have ptsd (like a therapist told me this and everything) from my own experiences with cops and because it's so balls quaking insane.
Like, a cop in the United States can pull you over for any reason. Which is a nice way of saying no reason, because literally anything can be used after the fact as justification. A cop can say its cuz you looked at him, or didnt look at him, or it looked like you were holding something, or looked like you were driving too perfectly for it to be natural. It's insane.
There are apparently no circumstances where a cop can't just kill you. The line the courts have applied is "reasonably believed" you were a threat, but that's such a nebulous nothing limit that people get shot for reaching for their license, having their phone in their hand, you're running away with no weapon, not being able to follow conflicting commands, like anything. And cops are almost never charged, because every court is going to believe he could "reasonably believe" he was threatened. Fuck, if you give me enough time, I can make any situation seem juuuuust plausibly threatening enough to pass that bar. It's insane.
A cop can just rob you. Like tell you to give him your wallet, take all the cash out, and just walk away with it. Exactly like you would imagine getting robbed in an alley would go, except no one can help. And he doesn't even have to hide it, he just drops it in a box at the station and they put it in their bank account. It's legal. You can't prove it wasn't drug money. I can't prove any money wasn't at some point drug money. It's insane.
If a cop just walks in your front door and says "I'm here to kill you and your entire family" YOU ARE GOING TO PRISON IF YOU STOP HIM. There is no positive defense for assaulting a police officer in the United States, and doubly so if you kill him. You have effectively no defense against a homicidal cop, which happens same as any other job. Unless for some reason you have cameras all thru your house and clearly caught the audio of him saying that he's there just to kill you, you have zero chance of not going to prison, probably for life. And that's assuming you aren't killed "resisting arrest" while being taken into custody. It is a crime, in this country, for you to defend yourself under any circumstances if the person you're defending yourself from is a cop. That's insane.
You don't have civil rights if a cop says so. You have the right to have a gun, right? A lot of states have open carry. A cop can shoot you if he sees you have a gun. Doesn't matter if you have a license and everything. So you effectively don't have the right to bear arms if a cop can shoot you for exercising it. You have the right to protest. Unless a cop tells you to stop. He doesn't need a real reason to tell you to stop. And if you don't stop, you can be arrested or shot. So you don't really have the right to protest, do you? A cop cant just search your car or house, right? Unless he claims he heard something, or smelled something, neither of which can be proven. So a cop can search whatever he wants, as long as he pretends there was a "reason". So you dont have protection from unreasonable search and seizure, do you? These are no longer rights- they're things the cops allow.. for now. But legally, those rights have already been found to not actually be rights, because any random cop can decide to take that right from you, for any reason. It's insane.
These aren't like crazy things that I'm just making up, these aren't some weird twisted way I'm looking at something, these are all very real things that we all just.. ignore? Police abolitionists and the media bring these things up all the time, and the overwhelming response to it is: so what? Don't break the law and it won't matter. Blue lives matter. More police funding. Cops should have tanks. It's insane. And I always feel like im just rambling and sound insane when I say this kind of stuff because if you wrote a book and had the dystopian government doing the stuff that the police in this country do every single day, those same people who "back the blue" would line up to say stuff like "*Books government* wouldnt have a chance before us real americans stopped them" on twitter and not even get a hint of the irony.
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it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore
contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie
the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.
he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.
he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.
he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.
he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?
except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.
the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).
“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”
thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.
first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).
second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.
he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.
his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.
“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”
the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.
“what the—”
wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”
“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”
“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”
your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.
“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”
wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.
to: duke wriothesley
from: iudex neuvillette
“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.
instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”
“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”
the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.
“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”
“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.
wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.
“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”
“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”
he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.
maybe all three, if he’s being honest.
“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”
“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”
wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.
“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”
“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”
wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.
“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”
“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”
“b-but—”
“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head.
“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”
“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”
“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”
“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.
that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around.
he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing.
you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does.
sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.
like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.
“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”
“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him.
“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”
“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”
“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.
you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.
“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”
“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”
“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”
you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.
“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity.
“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”
“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.
they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.
you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions.
he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone.
you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth.
he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.
“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”
“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.
“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”
“yes,” you whisper instantly.
he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache.
“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”
“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”
he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”
“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”
when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly.
“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.
“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly.
“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”
you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs.
“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length.
your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time.
“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”
“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”
“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”
you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat.
“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”
you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.
“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”
you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.
“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”
“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”
“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.”
you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp.
“wriothesley, need more—”
“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”
he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head.
finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived.
your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.
“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously.
“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”
“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.
“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”
you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once.
“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”
you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction.
“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”
“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”
“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”
you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”
“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds.
you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him.
“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position.
he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.
he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release.
“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”
his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry.
you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.
“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”
“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”
once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms.
his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure.
finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin.
“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.
“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.
“it’s pretty ugly.”
“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”
“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”
“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”
“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”
“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.
“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”
“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”
“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”
“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”
“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”
“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.
“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”
“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”
“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”
“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”
you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.
“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.
“but…?” you press.
“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”
“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”
“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.
he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual.
the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.
——————————
as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return.
the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office.
you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist.
you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.
but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls.
“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”
you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.
“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”
“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.
“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”
“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.
“but you just said—”
you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”
“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”
“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”
it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.
“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”
“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”
you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”
“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.
“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”
“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”
“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.
“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke.
“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”
“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.”
he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”
“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”
“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”
“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”
“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”
“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”
“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”
“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”
“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”
“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”
“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.
“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.
“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.
“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.
“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”
“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.
“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”
“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”
he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move.
“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”
“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum.
he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”
“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”
he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.
“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize.
not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around.
it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters.
“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.
“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”
“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”
“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”
“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.
“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions.
“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.
“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.
“and you aren’t?” you challenge.
“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”
it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily.
“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”
“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.”
the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit.
“god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”
“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”
“please let me feel you.”
“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”
the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours.
“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.
“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”
“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out.
“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”
“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”
“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”
“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”
he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?
“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”
“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.
“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”
hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying.
you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath.
“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”
“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.
“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”
“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.
“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”
he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.
“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him.
he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”
“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion.
“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”
“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”
his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest.
“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”
“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”
“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”
“okay, no need to get all…”
“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.
“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.
he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.
“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”
“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly.
“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.
“until…?”
“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”
“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity.
“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”
“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”
“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.
“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”
“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”
it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.
you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.
“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”
he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”
“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.
“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”
“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”
“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”
“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”
“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”
“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”
“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.
“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”
“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.
you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his.
it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer.
you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”
“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”
“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”
“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”
“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”
“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”
“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”
“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”
you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is.
he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you.
“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.
“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”
“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”
“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”
“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”
“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”
“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”
he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.
“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”
“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”
he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory.
“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”
“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”
“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”
“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”
“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”
“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”
“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.
“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”
“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”
“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”
“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.
you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you.
sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”
“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.
“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”
“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”
“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”
sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him.
——————————
your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other.
on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.
but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other.
it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared.
you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest.
there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.
you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered.
and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.
the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet.
he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”
“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”
“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”
“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”
“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.
“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”
“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”
“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”
it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down.
“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.
“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”
“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”
“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms.
“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side.
“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”
“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger.
“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”
“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”
“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”
“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”
“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”
“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.
“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”
“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”
wriothesley’s eye all but twitches.
“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”
“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”
with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”
“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”
wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora.
“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”
“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”
“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”
“fine,” is all wriothesley says.
“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”
“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.
“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”
“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”
“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.
the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe.
you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady.
“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.
“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”
“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.
“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”
“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”
“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will.
because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you.
“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”
“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.
“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”
“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”
“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?”
“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”
“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one.
“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.”
if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it.
“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.
“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”
“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”
“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly.
you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.
and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.
“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”
“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”
“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”
“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar.
“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”
“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”
“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”
“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”
“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”
“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”
“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”
“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”
“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”
“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.
so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.
“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”
he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.
“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”
“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”
“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses.
“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”
“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.
“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”
��no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”
“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”
“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”
“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”
“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.
“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”
“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.
“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.
“you’re insane.”
“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”
“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.
“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.
“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”
“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”
“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care.
no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.
no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title.
no one until you.
“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”
“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with.
“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”
“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are.
he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is.
“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”
“doing the dirty work, huh?”
“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”
“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”
“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”
“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”
“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink.
he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.
“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”
“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you.
“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”
“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.
“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”
“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”
“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”
“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”
“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”
“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”
his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”
“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.
“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows.
“wri—”
“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”
you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.
“pretty,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”
“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.
“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”
he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”
“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”
“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”
“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”
“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”
he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp.
“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.
you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure.
“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”
“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”
“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”
you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor.
“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”
you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls.
“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.
“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”
“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”
“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”
“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.
his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.
“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”
“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.
“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”
“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”
“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”
the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love.
“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”
“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”
“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick.
you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths.
“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”
“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”
“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”
“i’m sure i’ll manage.”
finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley.
you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other.
“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.
“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”
you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name.
“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”
“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”
“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder.
“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”
“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”
“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”
“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”
“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”
“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”
“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”
and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name.
“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.
“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”
his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?
finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.
“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.
“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.
“so humble,” he snorts.
“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”
“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”
it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley.
“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”
“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.
you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.
“pardon?”
he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.
“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.
“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.
“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”
he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.
except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.
it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.
they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.
you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.
he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.
he loves you.
he loves you.
he loves you.
it always ends with he loves you.
“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”
gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.
“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”
“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”
“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.
“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”
“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.
“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”
“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.
“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”
he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.
and then he nods.
“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”
your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.
some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.
he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.
cursed to always remember you in everything.
so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?
he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.
“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.
“about?”
“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”
“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.
“no. to make sure they were really dead.”
“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”
“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”
“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”
“good thing i didn’t, huh?”
“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.
“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.
“to your parents' grave?”
“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”
“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.
“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.
you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.
it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.
he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.
“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”
you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.
“i love you.”
he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.
it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.
“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”
“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”
“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.
your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”
his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.
he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.
“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.
it is.
it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.
his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.
sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.
love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?
he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.
it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.
loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.
“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”
“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.
“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”
“promise me,” he begs.
“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”
all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.
it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.
“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”
“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.
he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”
you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”
“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”
“they’re not everywhere—”
“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”
“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”
“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”
“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.
he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”
“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”
“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.
“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.
“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”
you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.
you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.
you love him.
you love him.
you love him.
it always ends with you love him.
and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.
it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.
ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸
ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.
#writing tag#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley smut#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact smut
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Guilty as Sin?
Inspired by the Taylor Swift song because it has been stuck in my head and it’s just so Eddie coded
mechanic!Eddie x fem!reader
summary: Because of a misunderstanding, people think that you and Eddie slept together and are quick to judge you for it even though the only sex with Eddie you’ve had has all been in your head.
word count: 4.2k
cw, MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) hurt/comfort
Rain pattered against the building as you sat that the front desk, doodling on your little notepad, humming along to the song that was playing from your Walkman. The car repair shop where you worked had very little customers considering that it was morning and raining. You never minded when it was slow, though. You liked being able to just sit there and get paid to surf the internet or work on your drawings. In your mind, it was a win-win.
You could hear commotion coming from the back and could just tell that everyone’s favorite employee had showed up for their shift. You turned in your chair and watched Eddie Munson push through the door that led to part of shop where you were. He had yet to change into his uniform, dressed in a muscle tank and a pair of jeans. It was almost unfair that someone could be that attractive.
You turned back to your drawing and continued to doodle, trying to not make your attraction obvious. Sure, the two of you had been flirting for months, but that didn’t mean he needed to know just how much you wanted to be with him. He was just so cool and hot and you didn’t think that he felt the same way.
You felt Eddie’s hand rest on your shoulder as he leaned over to get a glimpse at what you were working on. He always complimented your skills and had even kept the little drawings you had given to him in his wallet, a reminder of his adorable coworker.
“What are you working on this time, trouble?” His mouth was right by your ear, the breath coming from his lips, tickling your skin. You closed your eyes, imaging what it would have been like having him whispering the dirtiest things into your ear while he pounded into you.
Your dirty thoughts had been getting out of hand as your crush on Eddie had progressed. Anytime you were around him, it was as if your mind had flipped a switch, the most impure thoughts taking over it.
You could practically imagine how it would all go; him saying the sweetest thing that juxtaposed the firm grip he had on your waist. Moans slipping past your lips as you left scratches down his back to signify your pleasure. Him thrusting into you fast and hard, claiming you as his and afterwards, he’d pull you into his arms, scrawling the letters M-I-N-E across your thigh to really signify that you belonged to him.
“Is that a turtle?” Eddie let out a chuckle and a chill ran down your spine at the feeling of his breath on your skin. “That’s so cute!” He gave your shoulder a squeeze and you finally turned to him, showing him the smile that he had grown very fond of.
You studied his face and noticed that he hadn’t shaved like he usually did. His facial hair was growing in quite nicely and you could practically imagine the way it would scratch against your skin as he kissed you roughly, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant underneath him.
“Even gave it a top hat.” You held the small piece of paper up to him and he took it, your fingers brushing as he did so.
You watched him hold the thing up to his face and chuckled at the fact that he never wore his glasses because he didn’t like the way they made him look. You supposed you could understand what he meant, but thought his need to see should have outweighed his want to look “cool.”
“This is really good. Mind if I keep it?” Who were you to say no when he was smiling at you, his chocolate eyes all warm and gooey?
“Of course I don’t mind.” He ripped the page from the pad then pulled his wallet from his pocket, carefully placing it with the cash he carried. He then closed the wallet before putting it back where he found it, patting the spot to make sure that it was safe and secure.
“So, what are your plans tonight?” He leaned on the counter, his face just inches from yours. You could smell the tobacco on his breath and even though you never liked the scent, it mixed nicely with whatever cologne he was wearing.
Eddie always asked what you were going to be up to after you got off work, but his tone sounded different…almost as if he was asking you out. But he couldn’t have been doing that, right? Maybe you were just reading too much into it.
You supposed that you would’ve never found out because right as you were about to answer, there was a lot of commotion coming from the shop. It wasn’t the usual yelling that you were used to, it was louder and angrier, tools clattering around as the screaming continued.
You rushed to the door that led to the shop, looking through the tiny window and you let out a loud gasp as you caught sight of Jason Carver. Eddie stood behind you and you turned to him, seeing his eyes widen in fear as he realized who you were looking at.
Jason’s head snapped in your direction and you grabbed onto Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him down with you as you ducked down out of Jason’s view. Despite your quick movements, he still caught sight of the metalhead, making a beeline for the door.
You didn’t know why, but you felt the need to protect Eddie. He had experienced so much shit in his life and you decided that he needed someone in his corner. Someone who would be there for him no matter what. And why couldn’t that someone have been you?
You grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him along, searching in panic for somewhere you could escape to. Your eyes locked on the supply closet across the room and you raced to it, opening the door as quickly as you could, pulling Eddie inside with you before shutting the door.
You pulled the string between the two of you and warm light spread through the room, showing you just how badly everything needed to be cleaned as dust covered every single surface and product that sat on the shelves behind Eddie.
You both stood there, catching your breath, trying to get your heart rates down. Your gaze locked on Eddie’s and your eyebrows furrowed, seeing that little sparkle of mischief in his chocolate eyes. Just by the look on his face, you could tell that he had been up to something. Something that had to with Jason Carver’s anger.
“You did something to Jason’s car, didn’t you?” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising one of your eyebrows. Eddie could never lie to you, but he was considering it, knowing that you wouldn’t be happy with what he had done. He couldn’t disappoint yet another person.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You stepped closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him even though both of you knew that you couldn’t do it even if you tried.
“Maybe I cut his brake line.” He shrugged again, speaking so causally as if he was telling you the weather forecast.
“Eddie!” You gave his shoulder a shove. If Eddie had done it on his own time, you wouldn’t have bat an eye since you didn’t like Jason either, but you really didn’t want him to lose his job because he let his anger get the best of him.
“Hey, he deserved it,” he pointed at you. “He was walking through the shop all smug because he had gotten your number and was rubbing it in my face.” You weren’t sure where Jason would have gotten your number since you hadn’t given it to him. He had asked, but you had politely told him to fuck off.
“I didn’t give him my number.” You shook your head and Eddie stepped forward so the two of you were toe to toe.
“You didn’t?” His head titled to the side to the side. He should have known you well enough that you couldn’t have been paid to give your number to the guy.
“No, of course not. He’s an ass.” Eddie let out a sigh of relief. He had thought he had lost you for a second. Considering how much you both had shit talked Jason, he almost felt betrayed. He should have known it was all bullshit and that you wouldn’t have touched the guy with a ten foot pole.
“Which is exactly why I cut his brake line,” he grumbled. You reached and grabbed onto his arms, pulling him into a hug. He rested his head on your shoulder while his arms wrapped around your waist. He gave you a squeeze while your hands moved up to give his head a scratch.
You hadn’t hugged before in all the months of friendship, but you both had to admit that you liked it. It just felt natural. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting together with the way his head perfectly fit in your neck, your bodies pressed together.
“C’mon, Eds, let’s get out of here before we-” your words were cut off by the door being ripped open, the pair of eyes staring at the both of you in shock. You pushed Eddie away from you as quickly as possible and turned to face Mike-the person who had opened the door-fully, your face getting hot as if you and Eddie had been caught naked. All you had done was hug, nothing inappropriate at all.
“Were you guys-” You couldn’t even believe he was asking. You were fast, but not that fast. And as if you’d fuck in the supply closet where you worked. That was just unprofessional-but maybe you’d throw all of your morals out the window if Eddie had asked if you wanted to have a quickie.
“No,” Eddie cut him off. “We were hiding from Jason.”
“But you were-”
“Just hugging,” you finished. You knew that Mike was young and didn’t know much about sex, but you had hoped that even he knew that that wasn’t what you and Eddie were doing.
You headed back to the desk as Mike spread the rumor like wildfire. You didn’t know why he felt the need to tell people, especially since it wasn’t true. You could see him whispering to people and wondered why they believed him since he was known to spread to misinformation just because he thought it was funny. This however, was not.
Throughout your shift, other employees would pat you on the back in congratulations while the customers judged you with glares and some even insulted you, asking you why you would do such a thing at your place of work and most importantly, why you would have done it with Eddie, who was obviously a devil worshipper.
You couldn’t see why it was seen as a bad thing. Eddie had been a friend to you and he also just so happened to be super hot, which you didn’t understand why more people weren’t trying to hit that.
Okay, maybe you did understand why, but that didn’t mean you agreed. You thought that Eddie was just misunderstood. You had done a campaign with the Hellfire Club and could confirm that there was no satanic worship nor any cult behavior going on. In fact, it was actually just a ton of fun.
You walked home after your seemingly never-ending shift in anger, thinking about nothing but Eddie. You wanted to talk to him, but he left not long after the rumor had spread. You hadn’t blamed him at all. The whole town thought he was evil and now they thought that he had corrupted sweet, innocent you. They wouldn’t have thought you were so sweet and innocent if they saw what you had been thinking about Eddie.
You just wanted to apologize since it had technically been your fault. You honestly wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to talk to you again. You thought it was what you had deserved for all the pain you had caused him.
Just as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to give him a call, Eddie’s van pulled up next to you. He rolled the passenger window down and you were confused by the bright smile on his face.
“Need a ride, trouble?” He asked, his smile getting wider. You didn’t want to be around him, but you figured that being in the air conditioned van was better than walking home in the blazing sun.
You just nodded and hopped into the passenger side, letting out a huff as you threw your purse down into the floorboard. You then slammed the door closed, eating for Eddie to drive, but didn’t. He just put the car in park and sat there, facing you, concern written all over his face.
He had a feeling he knew why you were upset, but was almost afraid to ask. Was he so bad that you had been offended that people had thought that the two of you had fucked in the supply closet? He knew about his reputation around, but he at least thought you were one of the good ones. He thought you were different.
Eddie choked down his fear and scooted as close to you as he could. He then reached out, pushing some hair behind your ear so he could see your pretty face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were picking at the skin around your nails, something that he noticed you did when you were upset or anxious.
“What’s going on, hm?” He asked, his voice soft, no judgment behind it. His hand rested on your shoulder and he gave it a reassuring squeeze as you turned to look at him.
The truth was that you were pissed off on Eddie’s behalf. If he was upset, he didn’t show it and that made you mad. If anyone deserved to be pissed off about anything, it was his. He had been the towns punching bag, taking blow after blow because he was accused of being something that he very much was not.
“God, why the fuck does everyone think that it’s their business what’s going on between us?” You turned in your seat to face him, trying to keep your cool but it annoyed you that he was so calm. “Why are you so okay with this? They’re spreading this stupid fucking rumor and there you are with that dopey smile on your face. What the fuck, Eddie?” Eddie’s heart broke at your words. He thought you would have considered it a compliment that people thought you guys had fucked. Maybe he had misread everything and read your flirting very wrong.
“I didn’t know that the thought of us fucking pissed you off so much,” he spit and you leaned back in confusion. You honestly had no idea what he was getting at. “My apologies. Whatever,” he turned back to the steering wheel and put his hand on the gear shift to put the van back in drive. You put your hand over his not wanting him to drive you home without knowing the truth.
“What are you talking about, Eddie?” You asked and his head snapped to you.
“What are you talking about?” It had been a long day and he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, especially not with you. He had lost too many people in his life and really couldn’t risk losing you. He just needed some time to cool off before he could forgive you.
“Do you want to know the reason why I’m pissed? I’m pissed because the rumor isn’t true.” For once, Eddie had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. Why would you have been upset that the rumor wasn’t true? Unless-yeah, no that absolutely wasn’t true. He must have misheard.
“What are you talking about?” Apparently you were going to have to spell it out for him. You took a deep breath and licked your lips before leaning closer to him, wanting him to see the sincerity in your eyes when you told him everything.
“I’ve wanted to sleep with you since the moment I met you, Eddie.” The man’s eyes widened at your confession. So he had been right. He didn’t know why he had doubted himself when the truth had been right in front of him. The very pretty truth.
“You have?” He face lit up as he leaned closer to you, bringing his lips between his teeth as he tried his best to hide his boner that was forming at the thought of actually fucking you. God, he had wanted you just as much as you wanted him. For once, his feelings were reciprocated.
“Yes,” your word came out breathy as you inched forward, your lips ghosting over his. As soon as the word left your mouth, Eddie brought his hand up to the back of you and pushed your face towards his.
His mouth crashed against yours, the kiss messy and rushed, the cause of months and months of pent up want. His hand moved to your jaw, moving your head so he could get more of you, taking exactly what he wanted from you.
The scruff of his unshaven face felt just as good as you imagined scratching at your skin as your hands grabbed onto Eddie’s shirt as your tongue slipped into his mouth, swirling around his own. The two muscles tangled together as you both tried your best to get closer to each other, your desperation getting the best of you.
Eddie’s other hand slid up your shirt, over your bra, squeezing your breast before massaging it the best he could with the fabric in the way. You pulled away as Eddie tried to chase your lips but he stopped when he realized what you were doing. He moved his hand away as you unhooked your bra and took it off before letting the thing clatter against the floor board.
You then took his hand and shoved it back up your shirt so he could continue his task. You placed your mouth back on his and he went back to massaging your tit, his thumb moving to your nipple, giving it the affection he thought it deserved with how hard it had become.
“Oh,” you let out a soft moan into his mouth and his cock hardened even more at the sound. He needed to be inside you at that moment or he swore he was going to cream his pants.
This time, Eddie was the one to pull away, your chests rising and falling at your labored breathing. He looked down at the skirt you were wearing, hoping, praying that you were as wet as he was hard. He had never needed anyone as much as he needed you, ready to have his way with you already.
“Do you want to move things to the back?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, your eyes filling with lust as you did so.
You climbed over the seats and Eddie followed you, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks as you did so. Eddie fell on top of you as he got to the back and you both let out laughs but they quickly died down as his gaze shifted to your lips, nothing but fire behind them.
He pulled you in for a bruising kiss, his tongue finding yours quickly as both of your hands hurriedly undressed each other. Your shirts were off and you both let out gasps, you at his tattoos that you had no idea about and him because your tits were just as hot as he imagined.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he brought his lips to yours once again. “The other women in town should be jealous. I bet they are.” Your cheeks burned at his compliments. They fell so easily from his lips and you knew that he always meant every word.
“Not true,” you scoffed as his mouth trailed kisses down to your neck.
“Very true,” he responded, peppering the spot with gentle kisses. “Want me to show you just how beautiful I think you are?” His lips were now by your ear and his hot breath sent shivers down your spine.
“Gonna be really mad if you don’t.”
“Good, because after this, you’re going to be mine.” He brought your earlobe between his teeth and gave it a soft bite, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.
His mouth was on your neck again as his fingers intertwined with yours. He lowered his body down onto yours as he gave the skin a hard suck, eliciting a moan from you.
“Eddie.”
“That’s right,” he chuckled. “Wanna make that sound again?” He gave your neck another suck and you moaned his name once again, the sound making Eddie even more hard.
He grazed your neck with his teeth as one of his hands traveled down to your skirt. He unbuttoned it and easily slid the thing out from under you, tossing it to the side. He teeth grazed your skin and you gasped loudly, your fingers digging into any skin you could find in response to the pleasure.
Eddie removed his mouth from your neck, admiring the red color that adorned it, shining with his spit. He then pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He grabbed a foil packet from it then tossed it aside. He removed his jeans and underwear and you sat up, wanting to get a view of his cock that definitely didn't disappoint. Beads of pre were dripping from it as he rolled the condom onto it and you felt your underwear dampen even more at the thought that he was finally going to be inside.
You pushed him so his back hit the floor and he let out a yelp as his eyes widened at your eagerness. You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue roam around his mouth before pulling away. Eddie look up at you, his eyes filling with lust at the thought of you taking the reigns.
"I'm on top," you told him, pinning his wrists to the floor. Eddie gulped, his mouth going dry in response at your words. God you were so fucking hot and he hoped you knew that.
"Yes ma'am," he nodded, his breathing labored. You straddled him, slowly settling yourself onto Eddie's cock, the two of you moaning at the sensation. You rolled your hips into him as you slowly rode him, wanting to warm up before getting up to the pace that you usually liked.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he whimpered as you bucked against him.
"I know, honey. I hope you have a lot of energy because we're just getting started." You picked up the pace, riding him faster, watching him completely come undone below you. His eyes were shut tight and his pretty hair was fanned out on the floor. He looked so fucking hot and that image was definitely going to be burned into your brain forever.
Sex with Eddie had been everything you had ever wanted. He made all the noises that you had imagined and treated you with so much respect even though he was saying the most filthy things to you. Even though he hadn't written "mine" on your upper thigh, you couldn't have asked for a better partner, hoping that you could make fucking him a regular thing.
Your hands moved to his shoulder as you leaned over so his dick could reach further into your pussy, rolling your hips into his as his hands gripped your waist roughly. Your were both moving fast and hard, moan after moan falling from your lips as you reached your climaxes.
You climbed off of Eddie and after you did all of the proper things to clean the two of you up, you both laid down on the floor of the van. Eddie took one of the blankets that was folded up in the corner and draped it over your bodies, pulling your to him so you were flush to him.
He grabbed hold of your leg and draped it over his hip, holding it there with his hand as his other one reached up and wiped the sweat from your forehead. He placed a kiss to it and let his other hand lazily trace patterns along your skin, his chocolate eyes filled with so much affection.
"Can you guess what I'm writing?" He asked and you focused, trying to figure it out. His finger lightly wrote the first letter and you used all of the brain power that you had left to try and figure it out.
M-I-N-E was what he had written. You were sure of it. You had envisioned it so many times, practically feeling his fingers on your skin every single time.
"Mine," you replied so confidently before pulling him into a sweet kiss, smiling against his lips.
"Yep," he nodded, pressing a kiss to your nose. "You're mine now."
"As long as you're mine," you said, snuggling further into him, resting your head against his bare chest.
"I always was," he said with a smile that you couldn't see as he pecked the top of your head, resting his chin on top of it. After years and years of being rejected and called every single name in the book, after years of torment and resentment, Eddie finally got the girl.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#mechanic!eddie#mechanic!eddie x reader#mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
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☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!
☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor
9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.
“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”
he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.
“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.
putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.
with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”
the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.
“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.
you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”
a few seconds of silence follow your words.
when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”
suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.
“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”
this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”
with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.
your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.
“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.
at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”
“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”
with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.
you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”
his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.
“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.
“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”
with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.
requests are open!
#can’t believe it’s my first time writing for dino i’m so ashamed#but it’s finally here!!!!!#dinonaras rejoice!!!!#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#dino x reader#dino fluff#dino imagines#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt fluff
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I'm Not Sorry
Bob Floyd x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+, language, dry humping, semi-public hookup
Inspired by This Text Post: i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl of his dreams
Word Count: 3.7k
A/N: i've been struggling to finish fics lately but i saw that text post a couple days ago, knew i wanted to write about it for Bob, and then BAM this all fell outta me tonight. unbeta'd to the max but Bob Floyd deserves to fuck so time was of the essence 😌
Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
If you wanted to be dramatic, you could say that you and Bob had been playing a very coy game of cat and mouse for months. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. A majority of the time that you spent with each other was work-related. It was usually work related, and there was almost always other people around. The closest the two of you got to having time alone was when all of you went out together and everyone else got distracted with pool or darts or each other. So while it might’ve been months according to the calendar, it wasn’t really quite that drastic.
Still, though, you tried to make the most out of the time that the two of you got to have.
It was easy, especially at first, to get a rise out of him, to get his cheeks to flush pink, to get him tripping over his words. A seemingly accidental touch, a well-timed innuendo or wink—that’s all it really took. You didn’t say anything about it but you noticed each time his gaze would break, eyes flickering down from yours to your mouth anytime your teeth dragged along your bottom lip. It never took much with him and for a while you just chalked it up to the fact that he was sweet and shy and a little awkward, that anyone flirting with him like that would get that reaction out of him. It wasn’t until you saw him perfectly unfazed at The Hard Deck one night when a girl at the bar was all but falling into his lap that you realized it wasn’t a Bob thing. It was a you thing. Once you realized that, it was all bets off.
There had been more than one occasion when thanks to your subtly wandering hands Bob nearly spat his drink out across the bar or dropped the bottle from his hand completely. You were able to keep a straight face and play it off, and every now and then Bob was able to recover with some grace, but there had been a time or two when he’d caught a few odd looks from the rest of the crew. It was easy enough to wave them off and they’d let it drop, but the second his focus was back on you, you could tell that he was working overtime to stay on the right side of self-control. All you could do was smile and try to carry on like nothing had happened.
Truthfully, it had gotten to a point where you had almost just resigned yourself to this being what it was going to be like with you and Bob. You were trying to accept that this limbo, this knowing that you wanted him and he wanted you but neither of you really found the time to do much of anything about it, was as good as it was going to get. A never-ending chase, a game with no winners.
“Alright,” you said as you hopped off your barstool, “I gotta head out.”
“Why?” Rooster asked, sounding as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want or need to be anywhere else on a Friday night.
You laughed as you dug your wallet out, taking out a few bills to close out your tab and then some. “Some of us have shit to do in the morning, Bradshaw.”
He laughed and gave you a mock disbelieving look. “I don’t think so.”
Raising your eyebrows, you turned your head to face him. “You wanna close out my tab, then? Sounds like you might wanna close out my tab.”
He threw his hands up in surrender. “Forget it—see you Monday.”
You laughed a little harder at that. “That’s what I thought.”
It didn’t seem like your departure disturbed the flow too much, everyone falling back into their previous conversations as you made your way to the bar to square up your tab. You didn’t even bother looking back as you made your way to the door of the bar. By the time your feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, you were already fishing your keys out of your bag.
Once you were a few strides away from the bar and the clamor of noise coming from inside died down, all you heard was the sound of your own footsteps, and the ocean not too far off. It was peaceful until you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. The sound alone wouldn’t usually have been strange. Someone else deciding to leave the bar at the same time as you wasn’t a weird occurrence. What made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, however, was the fact that the footsteps were getting quicker and closer. You felt your jaw clenching, positioning your keys between your fingers the way you’d always been taught. You were only a few steps away from your car now but you still found yourself taking a deep breath, getting ready to turn around and see whoever it was that was behind you. You were about to turn and brace for impact when you heard Bob’s voice calling out your name, a little breathless, and very rushed.
Turning around and seeing him, some of the tension disappeared. You huffed, shoulders dropping. “Jesus, Bob.”
There was an apologetic smile on his face as he realized what had just happened. “Sorry.”
Shaking your head, you slipped your keys so that you were holding them in your hand normally again. You managed to laugh at the potential worst case scenario versus the reality of the situation. “Another step without saying my name and I think we both would’ve been sorry.”
He stepped in a little closer to you as he nodded towards your car. “Just wanted to walk you to your car.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled as you turned and started the last few steps across the lot with him. “You know, walking me out to my car is much more chivalrous and much less creepy when you tell me you’re going to do it.”
There was a smirk on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll have to remember that next time.”
Silence took over the space between you, and while it was comfortable enough, you couldn’t help but to feel like there was more to it, something in the air. Hitting the unlock button on your keys, the lights of your car flashed once. You looked at Bob, then at your car, and then back to Bob. “Well,” you chuckled, “thank you for the company on this long, treacherous journey.” You reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Hope we can do it aga—”
Bob cut your sentence short when he placed one hand on top of yours on the door handle, keeping you from opening it. Before you could jump to another sentence and ask him what he was doing, his other hand was pressing against the small of your back and pulling you into him so that he could press his lips to yours in a kiss that was intense and nervous all at once.
It lasted just long enough for you to realize what was happening and how good it felt and then he pulled away. Going off the way his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, he was just as surprised at himself as you were. Despite the shock all over his face, he didn’t take his hand off your back, although the one that was covering yours on the door dropped back to his side.
“Sor—I’m sorry,” he finally forced out. “I’m…” he trailed off as he looked at you, tongue darting out over his bottom lip.
Another second passed in heavy silence, and when you didn’t try to break free of him, didn’t try to push him away, he let the rest of his sentence die on the tip of his tongue as he kissed you again. You could feel the way that he was more confident this time, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your tank top as he pressed you against him.
You brought your hands up so that they were resting in the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. One slid up, thumb beneath his jaw as he deepened the kiss. It was all you could do to not ball up the cotton of his t-shirt in your fist, put it in a vice grip so that he couldn’t try to get away. However once you felt the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, and the way he used his body to pin you between him and the side of the car, it became clear that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
He had one hand still on your back, one hand braced against the side of your car. It was the first time it ever seemed like he was crowding you, like he was trying to make you seem small. You didn’t mind it. With the way he was kissing you, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t mind anything.
The next time the two of you came up for air, he didn’t pull far enough away for you to really see him. You were just far enough apart for your lips not to be touching, but you could still feel the side of his nose pressed against yours. You could still feel his breath against your skin. The two of you were pressed so tight against each other that you could’ve sworn you could feel the way his heart was about to beat clean out of his chest.
“Shit,” the word fell from his lips in a whisper, followed by an equally soft laugh. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m…I’m not sorry.”
You laughed at that, couldn’t help yourself do to anything but. “Good.” Your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his head. “You shouldn’t be.” Kissing him again, you let your teeth pull lightly at his bottom lip as you pulled away. “Only thing you need to be sorry for is taking so long.”
He smiled and shook his head. If the lighting had been better you were sure that you would see a blush all across his cheeks and down his neck. You’d have to settle for the mental image of it. “Didn’t see you chasing me down across any parking lots for a kiss before this either,” he rebutted with a chuckle.
“Touché.”
The humor died down out of his voice as he said, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”
You nodded, noses brushing against each other. The bridge of his glasses bumped against your forehead for a split second in the process. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”
Your bodies were pressed together so tightly that you felt it when he sucked in a quick breath. There were a million things that he wanted to say to you and he couldn’t make himself say any of them in that moment. He had his hand on your back and the taste of your kiss on his lips and yet none of the things he’d been thinking over the passing months were making it out.
The feeling of your fingers toying with the longer strands of his hair centered him enough for him to smile as he said, “At least you know that. I—oh—” He fumbled his way out of the sentence when he felt your lips on his neck.
“Bob?” you said, lips brushing against the column of his throat as you spoke.
“Y-yeah?” he stammered out, and you could feel the vibrations against your lips as he talked.
Taking one hand off of him, you reached and pulled on the handle to the back door of your car. You kissed him again, pushing both of you off the side of the car in the process. “Get in the car.”
He was far enough away that you could see the shocked look on his face. “What?”
You placed your hands on his sides, switching your positions so that he was closer to the car than you. “Car.” You kissed him. “Back seat.” Another kiss. “Now.”
“Now?” He looked around the parking lot. Full of cars but completely devoid of people. “Here?”
You laughed as you pushed him farther back, causing him to duck slightly as he went backwards into the car. “Preferably, yeah.”
“I don’t—whoa,” he fell back across your back seat, managing to brace himself on his forearms.
You shimmied in after him. Pulling the door shut behind you, you climbed on top of him, one leg between his, the other pinned between the outside of his leg and the back seat. It was close quarters, but you weren’t exactly looking to put any distance between the two of you.
Your hands landed on his shoulders, fingers curling over the curve of them as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Whatever reservations he’d had about your current location disappeared almost immediately once your lips caught his. His hands were on your hips for a moment. You could feel the way he tightened his grip even through the denim of your shorts. Your lips and his met over and over, each reconnection making him a little bolder.
He managed to get his thoughts together just enough to pry one hand from your hip so that he could reach up and take his glasses off. He all but tossed them up and onto the center console between the driver and passenger seats. You were smiling and about to make a comment about the action but you didn’t get the chance. He brought his hand back to you, starting off on the soft, exposed skin of your thigh. His touch was soft at first, but quickly started to change. His fingers dragged up your leg before slipping past the bottom hem of your shorts.
Your pleased gasp of surprise when you felt the pads of his fingertips over the lace of your panties was quickly smothered as he pulled your lips back to his again. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you down harder onto his thigh and causing you to moan into his mouth.
For a split second you couldn’t believe it. All this time and Bob hadn’t been able to make a move, couldn’t believe that you wanted to fool around in the back seat of your car—that same man was now grinding you down against his thigh in a way that had you wet and clenching around nothing.
You broke the kiss to catch your breath, muttering out a quiet, needy, “Fuck,” as you continued to move along the top of his leg.
When you pulled back enough to see him, you saw the way that he was watching the movement of your hips. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, felt like he physically couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. His hold on you loosened as you found your own rhythm. A tiny whimper slipped past your lips, the sound involuntary as you savored the friction. The sound made his gaze snap back up to your face, and when he saw the want and desperation etched into your expression he thought that he was going to melt into a puddle right there on your back seat. What a way to go.
He pulled you back down into another kiss, your bodies flush practically from head to toe. Even as you continued to move against his thigh, you could feel the way he was shifting slightly, trying to get in the most comfortable position as he felt himself growing more and more aroused with each passing second. He didn’t let you pull away, though, didn’t let you put any distance between you. With you pinning his leg to the seat, Bob let his hands wander up underneath he fabric of your shirt. Suddenly it was like you felt his hands everywhere—your back, your sides, your chest. He slipped them down past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in a way that with everything else had your legs starting to shake.
Bob could feel it, too. He could feel the increased sense of urgency in your movements, the way you were chasing after something and you almost had it. He was half-expecting to be woken up and find out that this was all just a dream. But not even his dreams had been this good, felt this good.
He dragged his lips off of yours, trailing them along your jaw instead. He left a string of sloppy, desperate kisses in his wake until his lips were beside your ear. One of his hands crept up your back, palm and fingertips scorching your skin in the best way.
“I meant it, you know,” his whisper came out lower than you’d ever heard, a tiny hint of a tremor to it, “when I said I’ve been wanting this—you.” He kissed below your ear, feeling the shaky breath you let out at that, at his words. “But even when I thought about it,” he kissed your jaw, “or dreamed about you,” he kissed your neck, “it wasn’t—shit—it wasn’t anything compared to this.”
Fighting the urge to bury yourself into the crook of his neck at his words, you pulled your head back. You cupped his jaw roughly in one hand and crashed your lips against his. His arms slithered around you and wrapped you tightly against him. He could still feel the slight shake in your legs.
“Bob—”
He stole another quick kiss. “I’d wait all over again for this.”
You could hear it in his voice how genuine he was being. You tried not to let yourself get distracted by his still-wandering hands, or his erection that you could still feel through his jeans. You tried to start your sentence again. “Bob, I—”
“Let me—”
“Come home with me,” you cut him off right back this time, deciding to just get to the point of what you were trying to say.
Confusion flashed across his face for a quick moment. “What?”
“Come back to my place.”
“I thought—”
“I wanna do this.” You sat up enough so that you could drag your fingertips down over his chest and stomach, even doing it over the fabric of his shirt had him starting to squirm with want. “But I’d rather do it somewhere where I don’t have to worry about smacking my head off the ceiling if I sit up all the way.”
The statement got both of you to laugh. “That’s fair.” He paused, a smirk on his face as he said, “Car was your idea, though.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeling a little impatient. Sue me.”
He pulled you into another kiss, one that every time you thought it was over he’d pull you back in all over again. As much as you wanted to get him back to your apartment and laid out on your bed, you also knew that you’d spend as much time as he wanted to doing exactly what you were doing right now. Anything to keep him this close now that you had him there.
When he released you from the kiss, he looked up at you with that same smile, that same slightly dazed look to in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn’t really believe it either. You couldn’t believe that any of it was happening at all, but you were also having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Bob Floyd, the same man who could barely make eye contact with you at the bar the first time you all went out together, was the same man who looked like he was about to try and strategize how to best make use of your back seat so he wouldn’t have to wait to get back to your apartment.
“I live less than ten minutes from here,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.
His hands moved around to the front of you, fingers just barely curled over into the front of your waistband. You pretended not to notice the way he was toying with the button of your shorts. “Thought you had things to do tomorrow?”
You laughed, leaning in and kissing him. “I still do. Now they’re just,” you ran your hand lightly over the crotch of his jeans, enough pressure to get him to buck into you, “different things.” You giggled quietly at the purposeful breath he sucked in. Reaching over, you grabbed his glasses for him. “C’mon. You can ride shotgun.”
He propped himself up by his forearms again as you untangled yourself from him. “What if—”
You couldn’t help but to laugh as you stopped his sentence short. “Little late to get shy now.”
He smiled, face starting to turn red. “Right.”
The only thing that passed between the two of you were knowing looks and soft laughter as you scrambled out and into the front seats of the car. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road that you spoke up again, trying not to be too distracted by Bob’s hand creeping higher and higher up on your thigh.
“So,” you looked over at him for a second before returning your attention to the road, “you dreamt about me?”
His head dropped back against the headrest and you couldn’t help but to laugh at his faux exasperation. He gave your thigh a squeeze. You were expecting a joke, one of the witty little comebacks that he had a way of finding in the right moments, but instead he let himself be serious as he said, “Yeah, I did.”
The three words hung in the air between you, and you felt the butterflies that you’d been too busy to feel before in the heat and the rush of everything else. You could feel the way that Bob was looking at you while you looked at the road.
“How much longer?” he asked.
You laughed, sparing him a glance. “Six minutes, tops.”
He nodded, fingertips grazing up and down your thigh, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite how warm your car was with its still-fogged-up windows. “Six minutes.”
#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#bob floyd#robert floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd x you#x reader#x reader fic#my writing#fanfiction#drabblesmc#bob floyd fanfiction
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warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro
This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...
Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.
Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.
Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.
Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.
Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.
But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.
Simon who...
Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.
"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'
....
" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."
....
"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."
He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..
a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod imagine#cod x reader angst#ghost x reader angst#Ouchy my feelings#call of duty x reader#x gn reader#x female reader#x male reader
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Hey sex witch, as a cis man who is both into spontaneity and safe sex, what is the best way to carry condoms around safely and practically. I've seen advice again keeping them in a wallet or pocket, but those seem to be the only practical options to ensure you have some on you when needed?
Is there a better way to carry these?
hi anon,
I applaud you for your dedication to figuring out the safest way to be spontaneous!
first, let's discuss why, exactly, pockets and wallets are less than optimal for condom storage. there are two primary issues here: the risk of jostling, and temperature. the latter is pretty simple; condoms don't like to be stored in warm environments, and right up against your hot little human body unfortunately qualifies. prolonged exposure to warmth can break condoms down and make them less effective, which is not a good time for anybody, which rules out pockets right away.
("Makenzie aren't they made to literally go on a hot little human body" yes, and they do not stay there for very long when they're in use. this is the difference between going for a little walk when it's hot out vs standing outside in 80 degree heat all day every day.)
okay, so what about storing condoms in your wallet and just not keeping the wallet in your pocket? now we've reached our second issue, which is that getting battered around too much can also degrade the effectiveness of your condom. I'm not saying you should never, say, fill a piñata with wrapped condoms, a thing I did last night, but if you're jostling around your condom in between all of the things in your wallet that you use on a regular basis then we might be entering the danger zone.
so: what's a discerning condom-user to do?
if you're not carrying your wallet on your immediate person and can provide your condoms a little room of their own within the wallet, I don't hate that. I also realize that men are disadvantaged here re: having somewhere else to keep the wallet; broadly speaking y'all are given less options for functional ways to carry around your accoutrements and that's bullshit.
outside of the wallet, maintaining a discreet secondary billfold that's just for condoms may be a good idea. especially if you also keep a little lube in there? deeply sexy thing to have, in my personal opinion. I've also heard of people using empty tins for breath mints or similar such items for their condom storage, which I like a lot. if you open this thing to reveal it's full of safer sex options the panties are hitting the floor.
I also want to say that short term wallet storage - for instance, popping some condoms into your wallet when you're heading out to a situation where sex is a possibility - will not do you harm, as long as you have the presence of mind to remove them promptly and return them to a location in your home where they are not getting jostled or being exposed to any particularly high or low temperatures. (also, crucially: do no keep them in your car, for the aforementioned temperature reasons.)
if you want something that will be suitable to have on hand long term, ready to rumble at any moment even if you did not leave the house expecting to bone down, that's when it's time to start exploring your options for small containers that could make suitable condom housing. get creative with it. get silly, even.
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All for him
Summary: Your dad owes the Mafia boss money after a deal goes bad and he didn't think he would have to give his daughter up to him.
Word count: 2,488
Warnings: none really
part 1.
Mr. Barnes owned everything in your town so all business deals went through him. But when your dad's plan and money fell through, Bucky was furious. He sat behind his big desk looking at your dad and then spoke.
"What's your plan now huh?"
"I- I don't know, maybe if you could give me some time I can-"
"Stop"
Bucky cuts him off and nods to one of his security guys who walks up to your dad and starts searching his pockets. He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and throws it to Bucky who searches through it.
"You've got 5 dollars and some family photos, let's see what we've got here hm? Wow, your wife is beautiful" he smirks.
"But your daughter, now there's a sexy woman"
"P-Please Mr. Barnes, don't hurt them. They have nothing to do with this"
"Hurt them? No, I wouldn't do that" he gets up from his chair and moves around to the front of his desk sitting in front of your dad.
"I'm gonna do you a favor and take your daughter under my wing"
"What? Noshe doesn't belong here"
"Well you should have thought about that before losing all my money"
"I'm sorry, I really am but please, don't hurt her"
"Hurt her? I wouldn't dream of it unless she asks for it£ he smirks.
"You have two days, if I don't see her here I will come get her myself. Don't even think about skipping town. I have eyes everywhere. Two days!"
He walks out of the office leaving your dad sitting there with his head in his hands.
When your dad gets home, he asks you and your mom to sit down and talk. He tells you both that the deal went bad and that Mr. Barnes wanted something as payment.
"Okay, so you just have to get him his money, right Dad?" you say softly.
"No honey, he wants you".
"What?!" you and your mom both shout.
"He wants to take Y/N under his wing he said"
"What does that mean Dad? He can't do that right?"
Your dad takes your hand, tears welling up in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry honey, it's out of my control. You have to be there in two days"
Hearing those words come out of your dad's mouth broke your heart.
"How could you do this to me? What does he want with me? I don't want to be part of a gang"
Storming off to your room and slamming the door. How could he do this to you? He was just going to give you away to this stranger that you have never met before and he was dangerous. You nearly spoke for the next two days. Anytime you think about it, it just makes you cry. You had packed up most of your important stuff and waited. Sitting with your mom saying your goodbyes. Whenever your dad would talk to you, you wouldn't listen. This wouldn't be happening to you unless he had his shit together. There was a knock at the door and your dad went to answer.
"Hello sir, I'm here to take your daughter to her new place"
"Yes, hello Mr. Rogers, please come in"
He opens the door letting him in along with two other guys.
You see them come into the living room and stand with their hands crossed in front of them.
"Are you him?" you ask.
"No honey, this is Mr. Rogers. Mr. Barnes' security. I'm guessing he won't be coming?"
"No, he is away on some business but he will be back tomorrow to see you Y/N".
You glare at him, you hate every single thing to do with this guy.
"I'm not leaving! I don't wanna be part of that crap!"
Steve smiles "I'm a sorry sweetheart but a deal was made, you're coming with us"
Running up to him and hitting him on his chest
"You can't do this!"
"I'm just doing my job sweetheart"
Steve nods at the other two guys and they grab Y/N taking her out to the car and coming back for her bags. Steve walks over to your dad handing him a letter.
--x--
"You and your wife have to leave town, take what you can carry, and don't come back. This house belongs to Mr. Barnes"
Steve leaves closing the door behind him leaving your parents to pack and leave. The whole car ride back to his mansion you cried. You didn't know what was going to happen to you. The car parked and Steve got out and opened your door and put his hand out to help you out of the car. Your shaky hand reached out to his and you got out.
"Please follow me, your bags will be brought up soon"
You follow behind him as he escorts you to where you are staying.
"You will be staying here for tonight. Mr. Barnes will talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night"
He closes the door behind him leaving you alone.
The next morning your breakfast was brought to you in bed. Whenever you would ask a question you never got an answer. You take a shower and spend the rest of your day sitting in your big window seat watching the world go by. You were not sure what time it was but there was a string of cars outside. Then I saw a man get out of the back of one of the cars and come inside. After a few minutes, your door opens and you see Steve, he just stands there with his hands crossed and you think about running by him and running away from everyone. But as soon as you thought that he entered your room.
"Hi doll, sorry I wasn't around yesterday just had some business to deal with"
"Like murder?" you talk back making him chuckle.
Even though he just met you he knew he was going to love you.
"No doll, just checking on my investments"
"So now you're just checking on another investment right!?"
He chuckles and turns to Steve. They talk for a moment and then Steve leaves closing the door behind him leaving you and Bucky in the room. He sits across from you on the window seat and gives you a sweet smile. He moves closer, placing his hand on your cheek making you flinch.
"I'm not going to hurt you doll, Iment what I said to your dad. I'm taking you under my wing". His thumb brushed over your cheek "You're so beautiful, all of my competitors will be so jealous that I've got you on my arm."
You look at him confused and take his hand. He walks you outside to his little hidden-away guest house.
He leans in trying to kiss you making you lean back and blush.
"Don't be shy doll"
"I'm not shy I've just never-" you mumble.
"Never what?"
"I've never been with anyone, never even kissed a guy"
Bucky stands and holds his hand out to you to take.
"Come on, I wanna show you something."
"This is yours for the next few months, but you're not allowed to have any visitors. My men will be on guard" he opens the door for you to enter and follows behind you. He watches you as you look around.
"Everything here will be taken care of. I will join you most evenings for dinner"
When your head cleared you started to look around the house. It was really nice, everything you needed. You sat down on the big bed and took a deep breath. "I'm- I'm all for him"
"So will you be joining me this evening?"
"Yes." you turn around and look at him.
"I'm sorry I don't understand"
"What do you not understand doll?"
"Well, Mr. Barnes. What am I doing here? Why are you being nice to me? My dad owes you money, right? Soam Ia thing to be thrown around by your friends?" he walks over to you placing his hand on your cheek "Call me Bucky. And no, you're not for my friends. You are for me"
"Foryou?"
He leans in, his lips almost touching yours but he leans back looking into your eyes.
"We are going out for dinner tonight. Be ready at 7" he smiles and leaves the little guest house. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest.
--x--
It took you longer than you thought to pick out something to wear for dinner. You settled on a nice red dress with some black jewelry and a purse to match. When you walk into the living room, Steve is standing there.
"Hey, you look beautiful. Mr. Barnes is waiting outside, can I let him in?"
"Um, sure"
Steve smiles and goes to let him in. When you see Bucky, he is wearing a nice suit, his hair tied back into a bun and he smells amazing.
"Good evening sweetheart. You look stunning tonight"
"Thank you, Bucky, where are we going?"
"My friend Sam owns the place. Best food you will ever eat and it overlooks the lake"
"Wow, I can't wait!"
He smiles and holds his hand out to you and you both walk to the car. He opens the door for you and makes sure you are safely inside before getting in himself. Steve and a fellow guard are in the front.
The car ride was quiet. You honestly didn't know what to say to him or what to talk about but the ride wasn't very long. The guards got out of the car and opened the doors. Bucky came around to you taking your arm and wrapping it around his as you both walked in. The restaurant looked amazing, it was packed with people. As soon as you got in a man came up to both of you.
"Mr. Barnes! Nice to see you again"
Bucky shakes his hand and hugs him "Hey Sam! How has everything been going?"
"Good man good! We've got your table ready for you over here"
"Thankyou Sam, this is Y/N"
Sam takes your hand and kisses the back of it "It's very nice to meet you! Please, follow me"
Both of you follow Sam to your booth and Bucky steps back letting you sit in first, then he sits in beside you.
"Please, both of you enjoy your night and order whatever you like cause it's on me!" Sam smiles and leaves to go back to the kitchen.
"This is really nice, you own this too?"
"No, I did help Sam get started and he paid me back. It's all his I just get a table whenever I show up" he smiles.
You smile back and let your eyes scan over his body. He tilts his head at you and says "See something you like?"
"I guess I had you wrong Mr. Barnes. I thought you would be demanding, shouting, beating people up, killing"
He leans in cupping your cheek with his hand "Call me Bucky. I'm pretty easygoing unless someone does me wrong or if anyone dares to touch you"
His thumb rubs over your cheek.
"Can I ask you a personal question baby?"
"Um, sure I guess"
"You've never been with anyone sexually?"
Blushing and shaking your head no.
"I will wait till you are ready. I won't sleep with you till our wedding night"
Your heart skips a beat "Why me Bucky? I'm sure you can have anyone you want"
He smiles and kisses your cheek "I want you".
Your body starts to lean into him going to kiss his lips but the waitress interrupts.
"Hi guys what can I get you tonight?"
Bucky clears his throat and orders his usual. You were trying to pick something quickly from the menu but you were just so overwhelmed "Let me sweetheart"
"Og great," you thought, he's gonna order salad and I'm gonna be starving for the rest of the night. But you were wrong, he ordered you the 8oz steak and wine.
"Thank you"
"You're welcome baby girl"
He asks you about your childhood and asks all sorts of questions trying to get to know you. The food and wine was amazing, there was so much that you couldn't finish. "Can I get the rest of this to go? It was so good I don't want to waste it"
"Of course! I'll sort that out for you" The waitress takes everything away from the table.
"Let's go out on the balcony and look at the view hm?"
"Yeah, that sounds nice Bucky" he stands and waits for you to get out of the booth and leads you out to the balcony. The cold air instantly hits your bare shoulders and arms making you wrap your arms around yourself. Bucky sees this and instantly takes his suit jacket off and places it on your shoulders.
"Thank you, should have thought about a jacket"
"That's alright sweetheart I'm happy to give it to you"
He stands behind you rubbing your arms as you both look out at the water. You turn around looking at him and smiling and he gives you a big smile back, leaning in and kissing your lips softly. Your hands instantly wrap around his neck. His hands wrap around your waist pulling you closer. He gently swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance and you let him in. His tongue gently massaging against yours.
You don't know how long the both of you have been making out but when he pulls away you whine, leaning into him trying to catch his lips again and it makes him laugh.
"Easy baby don't want you getting tired of me" he jokes making you smile.
"Come on doll, gotta get you home"
"I don't wanna go home"
"I know but Sam doesn't have any beds here". You playfully slap his chest laughing. He signals Steve to bring the car around and you both get in. When the car starts on its way back bringing you home, you lean over kissing Bucky again and he pulls you closer to him. His jacket falling off your shoulders. Pulling him down on top of you in the back of the car.
"Not like this baby girl, want to make everything special for you"
"I know, I just can't help it"
As the car pulls up to your house, Steve gets out of the car, opening the door for Bucky and then Bucky comes around to your side to open the door for you. He walks you inside the house and hands you the leftovers of food from the restaurant.
"Thank you for dinner Bucky"
"You're welcome, sweetheart. Can I come see you tomorrow after lunch?"
"Sure, I don't have any plans" you laugh. He leans in kissing your lips softly and then your forehead "Good night doll. see you tomorrow"
"Good night Bucky"
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x y/n#sabastian stan#mafia bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky#beefy bucky#bucky barnes fic
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A rose for a rose
Prompt: jjk characters buy you flowers 🌹
Characters: shoko, toji, gojo, nanami
masterlist
Shoko - 'The one that loves too much'
Shoko held her cigarette to her lips and looked sideways at the man sitting on a chair on the street with buckets filled with fresh flowers arranged in bouquets. He had a small variety of flowers, and the bouquets were simple but pretty.
She left the school to get to a nearby pharmacy to restock on bandages and ointment for the infirmary. She walked without a rush. It was a nice sunny day, and she wondered if she should pick up a snack for lunch at the convenience store she knew was right ahead on the next block.
The man sat in silence immerse on his own thoughts. He remained invisible to the crowd that didn't spared him a glance. The handwritten signs on cardboard boxes read the prices. "Big bouquet", "Small bouquet", "Small rose bouquet", "Single rose".
Shoko put out her cigarette and approached the nearest set of flowers. White, yellow, pink, red. She didn't actually know how to call the flowers by name. She bent her knees to her chest to give them a closer look, and reached out with a single finger to caress one of the petals.
"Flowers are a nice way to say 'thank you'." A soft voice said. Shoko lifted her eyes to see the man on the chair who pointed at one of the small bouquets. "Since sometimes it's a hard thing to say with words."
Shoko looked at the set of small bouquets on the bucket. She asked herself if it would be alright to take one with her. She considered it carefully, and then reconsidered to consider it some more.
It never escaped her how odd was the amount of time she had to ponder around this type of thing. It shouldn't be so hard to buy a gift for your partner. But there was this hesitation, faint but ever present around her heart, the fear of exposing herself as the type of person that loved too much. The fear of finding out to be the one that loved more.
She picked a set of flowers from the bucket. The plastic crinkled under the light weight of her fingers. Three light pink roses with small white flowers around them. How nice it would be to not be scared to buy them.
You would love them.
You would kiss her thank you and smile at her with your whole heart. 'I love you', you would whisper, the way you did every morning and every night.
Sometimes Shoko wondered why it was so hard for her to trust and let go, guessed she was too scarred.
Maybe not just yet.
She placed the flowers back into the bucket and stood up, putting her hands back into the pockets of her white coat.
"You don't look like you're hesitating because of the price", the man said.
Shoko debated with herself if she should make something up to avoid a salesman speech. She started to feel as if she was in the way of the walking crowd.
"They are quite cheap, actually. You should raise your prices." She decided to answer.
"Saying 'thank you' sometimes makes us feel too vulnerable, doesn't it?"
The man had an eccentric way to do sales.
Yet...
Shoko looked back at the bouquet of flowers, picking at her nails inside the pockets of her coat. Just do it. It was normal to get gifts for your partner. You had done it multiple times for her.
If a bunch of flowers felt like too much... Did she really love you?
Her eyes flickered between the colors.
If a bunch of flowers was too much–
Shoko bent down and picked one of the single roses wrapped around clear plastic paper decorated with prints of white hearts and stars.
Small steps.
She reached for her pocket and took out a bill from her wallet.
"Keep the change." She said to the man.
"Have a good day, lady." He accepted the money.
Shoko carried the rose carefully in one hand and decided she would stop at the convenience store after all before getting back to the school.
Toji - 'Poor man with rich solutions'
Toji walked back home in the afternoon after work.
The road he usually took was cut due to a festival on the streets that would take place that night and for the following week, therefore he had to take a detour and move to one of the busy streets he usually avoided.
The crowd of busy office men and women in their tidy suits moved forward ready to get back to rest for the day.
His groceries hung on the tip of his fingers. His mind was elsewhere, pondering between his next gig and what he should make for dinner.
You were supposed to come by tonight. He went out for some ingredients for dessert, since he wanted tonight to be a little more fancy. He did have a rough moment at the store when he realized he didn't know about your ice cream preference, but everyone liked chocolate flavor, right?
That was a thing he should ask about tonight.
Lost in his thoughts, he caught himself on time before clashing with someone that came from the side at a hurried pace.
The man had come out from one of the stores that lined one against the other on the street. He carried a phone in one hand, and his wallet, a bouquet, a bag and a jacket in the other. He held everything with a deadly grip while trying to put the backpack's straps on his shoulders without dropping everything else. The bouquet flapped around and got caught under the jacket for a moment. A rose petal fell on the sidewalk.
"I'm on my way, baby. I stopped for a little surprise for you." The man said on the phone, "You'll see, you'll see..."
He had a dumb smile on his face and his eyes shined bright. He was so stupified by the voice on the other side of the phone he still didn't realize Toji was right behind him and he was close to hit him in his stupid little dance.
Toji raised an eyebrow at the anxious little man.
"I'm going to the train station right now, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Do you want me to pick something up from the store?"
He finally got to put his backpack on properly, and get his wallet in his pocket. He hung the jacket on one of the straps of his bag, and he stared at the yellow bouquet with a tender expression.
The person on the other side of the phone must have said something funny because next he was turning around while giggling like an idiot.
The man walked away jumping on his toes, blind to the pedestrians he barely avoided in his trance. His laugh lingered as he lost himself in the crowd.
Toji mumbled some not nice words under his breath and looked to the side to where the man had come from. The flower shop was a little hole in the wall. The front of the shop was almost completely glass so you could see the flower arrangements lined up for display.
Toji thought of how stupidly in love that person looked while looking at the bouquet he bought.
He wondered if you would like to receive some too.
He stepped closer to the window of the shop. He looked at the shades of pink, orange, blue, white and red. A bucket of red roses was set on the middle row to the left. The price of half a dozen roses was...
Insane.
Toji scolded at the amount. It was ridiculous. What do they water these flowers with that got them to be this expensive? He pressed his jaw tight, doing some quick math on his brain. No. There was not enough on his wallet right now, and the money he had left on the bank was everything he had to work with until next month.
Whatever. You never mentioned flowers anyway.
He turned away from the flower shop and resumed his walk home.
A bitter feeling followed close behind him with every step as he left the busy streets and began walking into a residential area.
Toji thought of the men and his stupid smile again, and the feeling of frustration grew on his chest.
He sighed, thinking there was no reason to make such a big deal out of a simple idea that had flashed through his mind and you didn't even know about.
Still, there was a lingering feeling of having disappointed you-
Until a sudden idea struck.
Toji stopped on his feet one more time and looked at a house to his left. It was an old house like all the others in this particular neighborhood. Around this area the streets were quiet, and the rent was cheap. It was the kind of neighborhood that had many elderly people hanging around.
The type of people that had a lot of free time and enjoyed gardening.
The particular house he had spotted had a flower pot hanging by the window that faced the street.
Toji listened attentively and looked straight into the window for any sight of life. Then, he walked slowly to the pot. He left his grocery bags on the floor and drew a knife from his waist.
A few minutes and a few bad cuts by thorns later, Toji was walking down the sidewalk with his handmade bouquet.
If you think about it, handmade gifts are always more meaningful than something anyone could buy in a store.
The following morning a grandma cursed at the bandals that had massacred her roses and swore to one day get her revenge.
Gojo - 'Black Card in love'
Satoru was on his lazy hour after lunch scrolling on his phone. A new picture of you crossed his feed and he instantly liked it and opened it to read the comments. Friends, family and some random weirdos complimented your sweet smile hiding behind a wildflower you were holding on one hand.
Taking a break with friends at the park, the caption read. He smiled. He wanted to ditch work and teletransport next to you right then. He sighed dramatically.
"My beloved is out there being monopolized by a bunch of randos and I'm here rotting." He complained to no one in particular, or maybe to the entire Universe.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head, to then refocus his attention at the comment section of your post.
so cuteeeee
youre eyes are so pretty
Today is a sunny day lets enjoy it!
so pretty.. the flower too...
Satoru frowned at the screen. Vultures. And then he typed a comment of his own.
My partner is so beautiful!!
And filled it with an exuberant amount of red hearts so the comment would stand out to anyone who entered to leave their own.
Satoru knew he had nothing to be afraid of, there was nothing this people had that could match with him. Money, power and a good name. Gojo Satoru was one hell of a catch. He was exactly what everyone looked for in a partner. Exactly what you deserved. That was why those comments were so preposterous to him.
He tapped on your picture and looked at your profile, checking if there was any other photo he hadn't seen yet that you upload recently, but he was proud to say he was up to date.
He returned to his feed and the torment of the infinite scrolling, pausing every once in a while on some pictures not because he was interested but out of boredom, when a particular picture caught his attention.
It was the picture of one of your friends holding a big bouquet of roses that covered most of the frame with a wide smile on their face. The caption read, Happy birthday to me! Thank you to my one and only for this beautiful gift.
You had liked the picture and your comment was between the first few of the bunch.
happy birthday!! those flowers are so beautiful i wish someone did that for me some day too!!
Satoru took his feet off the table in front of him. He sat up, leaned his body forward and prompted his elbows over his knees, tapping his cheek with his finger.
You never said that you liked flowers? Silly you.
He closed social media and opened his browser. It took him a few minutes to find a place that spoke quality, but after that he was quick to get on the phone.
"La Boutique Florale, my name is Amy. How might I help you?"
"Amy! Hello~. I would like to order five hundred roses, please."
"Absolutely, sir. Is it for an event?"
"Just a bouquet." He said while playing with his nails.
"A bouquet, sir?"
"Yes. But add some of those tiny white flowers to make it look pretty..." He smiled already thinking of the picture you would post of it. He needed to be on them.
"The price of a five hundred bouquet of flowers would be–"
"Don't worry about that. I'll pay with credit." Any price she could name was not a struggle for him.
"Good, no problem. Would you like to add a note, sir?"
"A note? Mmm... write something like 'for my pretty bumblebee with love from your one and only' on a nice handwriting. Add a little heart to it. I'll tell you the address..."
As easy as that.
When everything was set and done he hung up the phone and stretched on his chair with a satisfied smile.
Gojo Satoru was one hell of a catch. He just liked to remind you of it once in a while, so you wouldn't be tempted by something less than you deserved.
Nanami - 'The ways of a gentleman'
Nanami parked his car in front of a tiny flower shop in the outskirts of the city on his way to school. It was early in the morning. The sunlight was still hushing away the cold of the night. It tickled his skin when he opened the car's door and as he walked the short distance to the shop.
A bell dinged as he opened the glass door. A nice lady offered him a ‘good morning’ and asked if he was looking for anything in particular.
Nanami brushed his gaze around the flowers on display. A line of flower arrangements on a table at the center of the room caught his eye. He walked to the table and pondered on the colors. He already had something in mind before coming in. One of the bouquets in particular seemed to be what he was looking for.
"That's a beautiful choice, is it meant for a special occasion?" The lady asked when he placed the roses over the counter.
"It's our anniversary today." He said, and took out his wallet to pay.
"Well, I'm sure your partner would love it. Small details are what makes a long lasting relationship."
Nanami slightly smiled for himself, agreeing with the lady but having nothing else to add.
The lady smiled too and reached under the counter for a piece of paper and a pen. She bent over to place the pen over the card. Nanami could guess what she was going to ask before she had the chance to do so, so he said instead,
"Do you mind if I write it?"
"Of course not, here you go.” She slided the pen to place it in front of him and accepted his card. The lady passed the payment while he scribbled a short message. It was straightforward, but in no way not less meaningful because of it, coming from Nanami.
For another year together. With love, Kento.
"Here you go..." Called the lady as she left his card over the counter.
Nanami thanked her and placed the card and his wallet back in his back pocket. He left the shop followed by a 'have a good day', and got to his car. He opened the driver's door and carefully placed the roses over the passenger seat.
As he started the engine, he thought if there was still time to pick up another treat for you or if he risked getting late for work. The thought only troubled him because he wanted to see you before you started your class with the first years.
He might as well rush, because truth be told, he was kind of excited to see you to give you your gift and a sweet 'i love you' kiss.
#fanfic#fanfiction#jjk#x reader#shoko x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#toji x reader#shoko ieiri#gojo satoru#nanami kento#toji fushiguro#🧁-- drabbles#shoko ieri x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#toji fushigro x reader
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What Things to never keep in your wallet?
If you’re like most people, you probably have a lot of important things in your wallet: your driver’s license, your debit card, your credit card, and your ATM card. But there are a few things you should never keep in your wallet. For example, never keep cash in your wallet. It’s easy to lose money that way.
#What Things to never keep in your wallet?#things you should never carry in your wallet#things to never keep in your wallet#wallet
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The Lost Boys Sexy Mate Headcanon
David:
•He is the hardest to get to know in the group, the most closed off despite the fact that he talks to people the most as the ‘Leader’ of the group
•David is a Dom if ever there was one, he needs to be in control at all times
•He would never let anyone know it but he craves his mates attention desperately, and if you make the mistake of pulling away from him before he’s ready for you to move you will regret it
•He doesn’t always have to be touching you like some of his brothers with their mate but he does always need to be able to see you. If he looks back from scoping out the packs next meal and can’t immediately see you then he is instantly ready to slaughter whoever has stolen you from him!
•David loves blindfolding you when you play together. The trust you give him makes him the happiest vampire in the world, the faith that you have in him to not know whether he is going to run a feather over your flesh or his own fangs is incredibly arousing to him
•He’s a bit too controlling for you in the beginning but you adapt to it quickly, moving into the cave with your mate about a week after meeting him and turning that next weekend as David wasn’t okay with allowing his precious mate to be at risk a moment longer than she had to and you were completely fine with that
Dwayne:
•Dwayne is quite a bit like David when it comes to his mate, he doesn’t always have to be touching you but he does always have to see you however he finds the need to touch you quickly growing on him as you take to hanging off of him most of the time
•He shocked you when you found out how much of a cuddler he was when you’re alone or in the cave, his brothers sometimes like to tease him for how ‘clingy’ he is when you’re snuggled up on the couch but you just flip them off and run your fingers through his hair. He loves laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you as firmly as he could…honestly he just loves laying his face between your breasts
•He wasn’t a fan of toys until he caught you with your vibrator one night and from then on his favorite thing was taking you apart with it before stretching you out on his cock until you’re a boneless puddle unable to move
•Dwayne isn’t very jealous but it doesn’t mean he’s not possessive as fuck, he knows you would never be unfaithful but he believes only he should ever be allowed to touch you
•He quickly took to taking pictures of you. He ‘bought’ a Polaroid so that he could take pictures of you any time you were doing something he thought was ‘cute’ which was all the time. Dwayne knew that once you turned he would never be able to take pictures of you again so he wanted all he could get now. He convinced you to allow him to take some sexy pictures of you as well, he has many of you under him with your hair over the pillows and your breasts either in a lacy bra or exposed for his pleasure. His favorite picture however was an image of you in a black lacy bra and panty set, straddling his bike on the cliff by their cave at sunset that he carry’s in his wallet everywhere he goes
•2 weeks was all it took for him to get you to come and live with him in the cave, drinking his blood that very same night and joining their eternal family
Marko:
•Marko often pulls you as close as he can, loving it when you wrapped yourself around him like a spider monkey
•He is a very jealous mate, glaring at every male that so much as looked at you sideways and often getting into fights on the boardwalk with Surf Nazis as well as just normal tourists, once even punching a 12 year old boy in the nose for looking at your ass
•One thing that Marko loves is fucking outside, and he loves fucking you in the rain. It started as something you did to be out of the cave so his brothers couldn’t bother or tease you, and it was one of his favorite memories, pinning you to the tree, your clothes soaking through and heavy as he brushed your drenched hair out of your face and saw your cute little smile, pulling you into a passionate kiss and spending the next hour and a half playing with you in the storm as the waves crashed so loudly you could barely hear each other
•Marko shocked you a bit by not allowing his brothers to touch you at all for quite some time after you got together. He knew they wouldn’t hurt you but he was so possessive and protective of you that he didn’t like the idea of anyone but him touching a single inch of you
•It was on your 1 month anniversary that you moved into the cave and you lived there with him for several months before turning and joining the pack, Marko not being as pushy for you to turn and wanting you to experience all your human things before turning so you wouldn’t regret it
Paul:
•Paul had his hands on you 110% of the time, constantly needing skin on skin contact with you whenever possible
•He was the most touchy and attentive of the vampires, and while he’s always been flirty and a bit of a man-whore, that completely changed when he found his mate
•Paul loves finding new ways to pleasure you, and tease you as well, which is why he was always open to trying new things. His favorite thing that he has discovered with you is your fluffy tail plug which he got you matching ears for to be his little pet
•Paul doesn’t mind fucking you in front of his brothers. He actively tries to cover you as much as he can from their sight but for the most part he would rather put up with them being in the room rather than not touch you at all
•You found out quickly in the relationship that he had never gone down on a girl before when he admitted it to you, desperate to have you wrap your legs around his head but not wanting to hurt you. You thought he was sweet, and honestly his embarrassment was adorable. He had never had a real committed relationship before (only fucking girls before feeding on them and never having a relationship before being turned at 18 by David and Marko) and now that he did he wanted to give you everything and make you scream like a good boyfriend is supposed to (and not how he normally makes women scream)
•He ended up being extremely good with his mouth and eating his mate out became one of his all time favorite things to do to you, loving the way your legs shook around his head and you soaked his face
•Paul was a fantastic mate and after moving into the cave a few weeks into your relationship you offered to turn so that you could be with him forever and Paul was beyond happy about it as he had tried so hard not to pressure you into becoming a vampire for him but he knew as you drank his blood that night that you had the rest of eternity together
Lost Boys Masterlist
#vampire#The Lost Boys#marko the lost boys#david the lost boys#paul the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#cult classic#vampire headcanons#David#Dwayne#Paul#Marko#the lost boys imagines#lost boys imagine#Lost Boys smut#lost boys x oc#lost boys x y/n#lost boys x reader#lost boys fluff#lost boys Headcanons#david lost boys#paul lost boys#marko lost boys#dwayne lost boys#lost boys#vampire imagine
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kinktober day fourteen: degradation kink
>>> so clearly i have a lot of issues...y'all gonna hate me for this one i can just feel it in my bones but guess what....i do not care! toji is degradation need i say more?
>>> starring toji fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader
>>> cw: dilf!toji, age gap, college aged reader, mafia themes, dad's best friend toji, degradation duh, no prep, exhibitionism, breeding, a daddy theme? you don’t ever call him that it’s just. yes. dark content maybe? just in case. creampie, pet names.
>>> wc: 3.6k
>>> event masterlist
it was risky, you know, and most certainly wrong. you should be disgusted. he’s been married—lost his wife, has a young kid, all things much more adult than you’ve ever had to deal with in your college-aged life. he’s a horrible man, though you suppose your father isn’t much better since they work so closely together, not that you’re supposed to know anything about the work they do. all you know is they make way too much money and carry way too many guns for their jobs to unrelated to the mafia crime wars making the news. you should be disgusted and scared, yet here you stand, in front of your mirror trying to find the best outfit to wear downstairs to greet your dad’s sexy colleague.
you were only in town for so long since you were just visiting your family for summer break, so you had limited time to try and lure him into making a move. so you settle for a black bra that enhances your bust, covered only with a black glitter mesh long sleeve and a matching leather mini that clings to your ass. it was definitely a heels kind of night, and the pretty black louboutins you slid into elongate your legs perfectly. after some hair and makeup, you sling your purse over your shoulder and only make your way down the stairs when you can hear his deep voice speaking with your father.
you stride past the office, knowing your dad would stop you. your heels click against the mahogany and as if on cue, your father belts your name. you grin to yourself, everything was going according to plan. you turn, clicking back to lean into the room.
“yes, daddy?” you hum, batting your eyes so innocently when you were the picture of anything but. it makes a vein in your father’s forehead jump, but alas, you’re a grown woman who makes her own decisions. just rest assured the weight of god would come down on whoever wronged his baby girl.
“where’s my princess going?” he coos, giving an apologetic glance to his coworker. luckily, he feels his eyes and meets them, giving him a nod of forgiveness.
“oh, just going out with some of my girls! becky just got out of a relationship–she needs the club!” you titter adorably, feeling his eyes bore into you. you give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “hi mister fushiguro!”
the scarred corner of his lip creeps into a grin, a finger salute serving as his greeting only because he didn’t trust his mouth to keep his thoughts at bay. you’re sexy as fuck, and totally off limits. it only makes him want you worse, though it doesn’t help you’re the hottest bitch he’s ever seen.
“do be careful, princess.” he smiles, clueless to how his friend eyes you up.
“course daddy. can i take your black card?” you pout so endearingly, toji would give you all the money in his wallet if you asked. your father hums approvingly and fishes it out of his wallet, holding it up in the air for you to retrieve. your heels click and your hips swing as you make your way over, displaying your delicious figure perfectly. toji thinks it’s a miracle your father hasn’t had to kill anyone over you yet. you lean over the desk and take the card with perfectly manicured fingers. he watches it all, already planning how the rest of this night would go once you left.
“be careful.” your father reiterates, and you roll your eyes and kiss his cheek.
“don’t worry–my guys can handle anyone who gets outta line–satoru and suguru would never let anything happen to me.” you swear, batting those long lashes again. your father seems comforted by this, but toji is only aggravated to learn you have male friends. they no doubt wanted to fuck you and were only biding their time just as he was. “bye daddy, see you later mister fushiguro!”
and just like that, your red bottoms carried you away with obnoxious clicks telling him just how far from him you were. your father sighs heavily.
“what a handful that girl is.” he says affectionately, shaking his head as they get back on task, your father giving toji a rival kill for the night. he grins at the file, knowing he’d be able to wrap that up rather quickly and then get to the real target.
you’re haunted by how effortlessly good he looked, and how unable you are to do anything about it on the way to the club, only wallowing in your desperation for a man way older than you. he was just so big, tall and broad and had to be even stronger than he looked. you knew he was experienced and rough, he would definitely be able to take care of you, if only you could work up the nerve to actually hit on him instead of these passive aggressive attempts at drawing him to you. it clearly wasn’t doing the trick, even if you could tell he wanted you. you’re so lost in your own head that the driver has to get your attention multiple times before you realize that you’re outside the building. you step out and shimmy your skirt down a bit further.
the sound of your friends squealing as they wait for you draws you right to them, painting a smile on your face to celebrate you friend’s breakup—shoving hopes of toji fushiguro finding you at the club tonight to the back of your head. the scene is nothing special, just like every other clubbing spot in every city in the world. it’s all neon lights and smoky clouds of tobacco and marajuana both, the smell of liquor and vomit mingling together to make your nose scrunch and sting as you enter the dingy dance floor alongside your closest girls—and the bodyguard boys trailing behind you. your group makes their way to the bar immediately, fruity mixed drinks and beers being handed out for the first of many times tonight. you can feel the buzz of excitement in the air even though you were feeling let down, perhaps that was because of the group of fellow college-aged boys eyeing you and your friends down from the dj booth. you play your little games with the man staring at you longingly, downing the rest of your liquid courage to go ask him to dance.
his hands were clammy, but at least he smelled good—like too much cologne and the gum in his mouth, his body pressed up against yours as you two sway to some electro-funk beat meaninglessly. You can feel his sweaty hands trail along your waist and hips, even lowering to your thighs and inching his fingers up the already short leather skirt, and your nose scrunches up in distaste. it was better than wondering about your father’s right hand man though, so you settle for it. you tell yourself that if you think hard enough, you can picture him instead. it doesn’t take as much effort as you thought. the clammy hands of the college boy disappear to be replaced by the coarser broader hands of an older man, the heavy cologne replaced by a natural musk with hints of a beach bonfire mingled in. his hands would move along your body expertly, he would know the ins and outs of the female anatomy–surely able to please you in all facets. you can just imagine his smirking face as he leans down over your shoulder to whisper something raunchy in your ear, something about how he’s been waiting to make you his since the minute he saw you.
which is almost exactly what happens, except the man you’re daydreaming of stands in front of you looking real amused, seething almost. “princess,” he snarls, the bass in his voice alone enough to shock away the little boy grinding into your ass. “here i was thinkin’ ya got all dressed up f’r me.”
the red and green strobe lights of the club dance off his sharp features, highlighting the jealousy and intrigue swimming in his eyes. there was a splatter of blood on his cheek, but otherwise he looked as gorgeous as he normally did. his black t-shirt looked nearly spray-painted on the way it was highlighting every ridge and muscle in his chest and torso, and his usual pants clung to the taut muscle of his broad thighs.
“i did, but you shrivel up in front of my daddy.” you tease, unsure of where your courage to poke at the dangerous and large man came from. “now you wanna come here and scare off the ones bold enough to dance with me?”
you’re evil, you’re sick in the head, but you smirk like you knew he would fall into the trap easily. and he does. he grabs your wrist and spins you around, and you feel the warmth of his fingertips digging into your hip. another one of the college boys watches with contempt, nursing a bloody nose you imagine he earned with some slick comment— that explains the fresh blood on toji’s face. he presses up against you, dropping your wrist in favor of a hold on your throat, not too good to manhandle you in public. what’s someone gonna do? intervene? call the cops? that makes him laugh. the grip on your throat is surprisingly light, though the threat of something more punishing looms large. you feel his chest rumble against your back— he was laughing at your tense form, the beat of some rap song thumping in your ears now.
“yeah, that’s exactly what i did.” he snarls in your ear, his hold on your throat keeping your back to his chiseled chest, not that you wanted to get away anyhow. “shrivel up,” he chortles at your dig, replaying your little tantrum. “y’know the only reason i can’t manhandle ya in front of your pops is ‘cuz he’d get so stupid i’d have to kill him. want that, sweetheart?”
you’re embarrassed you have to keep yourself from nodding—wagering your father’s life just to have his colleague the way you wanted, how shameful. he spits these pet names like they’re insults, like he knows what you really are. a little whine of desperation leaves your throat and you press your ass back against him, collecting your thoughts to find something to say to drive him wild. “do whatever you gotta do, i’m familiar with the business—just want you real bad, mister fushiguro.”
it works, everything you do puts him deeper under your spell, gritting his teeth in frustration as he falls for you. it’s more embarrassing for him than it is for you, really. he’s a grown man enchanted by the supple body and soul of a woman a fraction of his age. but he can’t stop himself from tailing you on your outings, telling himself that your dad pays him a pretty penny to keep you out of harm’s way, and that’s all he does. but he goes above and beyond, especially on nights like these when some little boys are feeling a little too bold for his liking. so of course he followed you here, and of course he broke that scrub’s nose who said something about your ass, and of course, it was just a matter of time. until he just couldn’t lie to himself any longer about what he wanted. until you pushed him over the edge and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.
“oh yeah?” he hums, brow arching up as his hands slide down your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt. “you really that big a slut for me? you’d let me kill your precious daddy?” he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss under your ear. he radiated warmth and possessiveness and his fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs. you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or his words but you’re buzzing. you can feel his handprints practically searing into your flesh, the two of you barely moving to the beat that drowns out all other noise.
he slaps your ass. “asked you a question.” his gravelly voice rasps in your ear, the scraping of his teeth against your flesh comes next instead of a sweet kiss. you whimper out a bit and nod, feeling the heat course around your body in a mixture of embarrassment and deep arousal. he was right—you were a massive slut, dedicating your entire summer break to getting his attention in hopes he would touch you like he is right now.
“can’t hear ya–might be th’ music?” he taunts, sliding his other hand away from your neck and over your voluptuous chest. he grunts impatiently as he feels the dips of your body and that coarse sheer top beneath his fingertips, waiting for you to obey.
“yes—i’m’a slut, mister fushiguro.” you hiccup from the vodka running through your veins and the embarrassment stinging at your eyes. his chuckle rumbles through his chest again, though not in the way it did earlier. he spins you around to face him, pinching your chin in between his forefinger and thumb.
“call me toji, dollface.” he smirks as you nod sheepishly, suddenly shy now that you were getting your way. he was even scarier up close, beautiful features twisted and darkened to reveal his sinister nature. but you find a way to get lost in hooded eyes of green reflecting the crazy flashing lights as he looks past you, trying to find somewhere to take you. he locates a bathroom, dragging you behind him with another commanding grip on your wrist. he has the decency to pull you inside the women’s stalls at least, reserving the biggest one for your activities. he would just fuck you out in the open to really show you how crazy you make him, but he can’t risk making that big a scene—and he’d probably have a few more bodies to bury if anyone looked at you the wrong way.
you stand in the middle of the stall, watching him secure the lock and turn to you, chuckling at your waiting expression. you were nervous, wanting to impress but not sure where to start despite the hot need snowballing in your center the longer you stand there and look at him. he tilts his head up and you walk towards him, his smirk spreads.
“you’re an obedient lil pup for such a spoiled bitch.” he chuckled, shoving his beefy hands under your top and pushing it and your bra up over your chest. you swear you can feel your panties dampen from the words alone, why did you like it so much? you open your mouth to respond, stammering over your speech.
“i’m–i–i’m n-not—”
“spit it out, pup.” he laughs, feeling at the round mounds you barely kept covered. they’re just as fat and soft as he knew they’d be, and his cock starts responding to your little whimpers as he massages you roughly, pulling and pinching at your nipples.
“not a—not a slut!” you huff out despite the way you lean against the wall to relish his callused hands on you. he snickers again, the sound so mean it makes you pout up at him. it only makes his cock harder. he drops his hand to cup your pussy, earning a gasp from you. you bite down on your lip as he shoves your thong aside and crudely collects some of your slick on his digits. he clicks his tongue when he shows you, fluorescent lighting and your arousal making his fingers shine.
“not a slut? then what’s this?” he arches a brow. “seems like y’r dribbling down y’r legs to me.” he taunts, pale pink lips stretching into a menacing grin. he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, shoving his fingers past your pout until they tickle the back of your throat and you gag. the sound makes him shudder a bit, and he’ll make sure you choke on his dick next time. “say it or i’m goin’ home. not giving my dick to liars.”
you clean his fingers, intrigued by the sweet acidity of yourself. your eyes widen a bit at his threat, knowing you were defeated. his other hand tugs at your hard nipple again and you wince at the delicious pain. you pull off his fingers and resume that adorable pout. “guess i am–i’d do anything!”
he laughs and yanks your skirt up to your waist, letting his thick fingers play over your swelling clit tauntingly. “then beg for dick like the little whore you are.” he says in a faux-non-chalance. your breath hitches at his feather light touch and demeaning command, but as he steps back and pushes down his jeans, your mouth waters.
“oh god–” you whine aloud, legs pressing together at him. he was huge, wrapped in bulging veins and gorgeous ridges. his black hair was trimmed around his base, full balls hanging low. you lick your lips at the sight of his hand closing around his shaft, and you gulp when you realize just how big he is, a massive hand not enough to contain him. “fuck. toji–please, i want you so bad.” you bat your lashes at him, fixated between his dick and his piercing stare. “may be a whore—just for you though, been waitin’ on you to notice me. “
oh, he noticed. you made it impossible not to, looking like pure sex every time he saw you—but the glossiness in your eyes and the slight bruising around your tits really brings it all together. he drops the baby changing table and looks to you. he does it so effortlessly you wonder for a second if he’s done this before, but it didn’t matter either way—you would be the most memorable for sure.
“bend over.” he adds, the dark pools of lust taking over the greens of his eyes. you do as told, feeling embarrassed at your disheveled state as you lean over the table attached to the wall and part your legs, feeling his hand come down on your ass roughly. you squeal and jump a little bit before his hand snakes between your thighs to feel just how ready you were. “poor old man. gonna be so devastated.”
“don’t care.” you whimper, wiggling your ass back to feel more of his cock as he slides it along your folds, stealing some of your wetness for himself. he chuckles, grabbing as much of your fat ass as his hand could hold.
“course y’don’t. y’r my little whore.” he grunts, jiggling your cheek. “he’s right though. you really are a handful.” he chuckles at his own joke, aggressively shoving his thick cock past your tiny hole, cussing at the tight fit. “see? swallowing me up like it’s all y’r good for.” he huffs against your neck, leveraging his weight to snap his hips against you like he hates your guts. you’re clawing at the textured plastic under you, his pace absolutely brutal and ripping guttural cries from your throat. he reaches around to clap his hand over your mouth, not wanting anyone to come running thinking someone’s getting murdered back here. “loud slut too, hah?”
you nod, rendered unable to do anything else. he pounds into you, jamming his leaking tip into the entrance of your cervix, sending blissful pain shooting through your body. he was even better than you imagined, tingles shooting everywhere and blurbs of white floating across your eyes. your arms start to wobble as you hurtle towards your orgasm, and toji reaches out–making a ponytail out of your hair to pull on, snapping your back into a deep arch. he grunts at the vision before him, your pussy was gripping him like nothing he’d ever experienced.
“never fucked a whore cunt like yours–maybe i’ll cum real deep in it so i can keep you.”
you clench at that and he tosses his head back to groan, amazed by the recoil of your ass and the choke of your walls. you whimper in his hand, the idea of feeling his cum was so hot to you—you couldn’t possibly delay your own release any longer. he feels you still, your pussy spasming around him as your body goes completely limp. you still make your little noises of approval as he uses you.
“aw, you liked that, huh? you’re nasty, bitch.” he chuckles deeply now, cock twitching in your womb. but he’s just as bad, fantasizing about how you’d tell your father that news, how he’d do anything it took to see your slutty body grow into a motherly one. he paints your walls in thick, hot ropes, stilling inside you. “guess megumi could always use a sibling.”
he pats your ass with something akin to affection and slides out, watching beads of his seed trickle out. you pant and try to collect your thoughts, expecting to hear the lock of the stall click open and toji’s footsteps pad away from you—no doubt slipping back into the night to patrol for your father like usual. but moments pass, and you don’t hear anything other than you’re own breathing until he clears his throat again.
“so. wanna get some food’r somethin’?” he thumbs at the corner of his lip anxiously, and you swear you can see the hint of a blush on his nose. so this is the part that makes him nervous?
“huh? you tryna be my boyfriend or my sugar daddy?” you giggle as he repositions your skirt on your hips. he rolls his eyes.
“more like your baby daddy, dollface.” he spanks your ass and opens the bathroom stall, letting the lady go first—showing you that he’s a perfect gentleman.
#kyleewritesjjk#kylee's kinktober event#kinktober 2023#kinktober#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#toji smut#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji x reader#fushiguro toji#toji zenin#toji thirst#toji x you
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youre doomscrolling through twitter to try and distract yourself from your empty stomach and empty wallet when you come across some inspiration porn about a delivery driver who collapsed on a customers front porch. the homeowner turned out to be an emt and after seeing her fall with the help of his doorbell-mounted security camera he was able to perform the necessary first aid and rush her to the hospital, and even started a fund to pay for her medical bills after the footage went viral. in the end she not only raised enough money to pay her bills but enough to quit her delivery job for good.
broke and desperate, a dangerous idea begins to take root in your brain. you are not currently a delivery driver, but youve dabbled, and you do have some experience taking bad falls, as well as punches, kicks, and the occasional elbow to the sternum. you have tried worse things for less money.
you order a pizza and cram yourself into a passable looking red polo tee and khakis. googling "rich doctors near me" doesnt exactly yield the results you were looking for, but it gives you enough of a jumping off point, and in only a few clicks you have an address. the multiple conspicuous security cameras mounted around the property look promising. never mind that the couple that lives here (two doctors! how lucky can you get.) didnt actually order the pizza; you can cross that bridge when you come to it. you approach the front steps, making sure to be well in view of at least one of the cameras at all times, stagger, and then take a dive, smashing face-first into one of those decorative fake rocks uppermiddleclassers love for some reason. you try to embody an air of pitiability as you go down.
you lie there a moment, face down in a strangers rock garden, tasting your own blood as it drips lazily from your nose. after some thirty seconds have passed it occurs to you that you maybe should have done something to check that the couple are actually home first. still you dont get up just yet, and a moment later you are rewarded.
you hear multiple sets of footsteps shuffle onto the porch, stopping short as their owners catch sight of your limp body. you plan to feign unconsciousness at least until they turn you over, so they can see your face, see the very real blood and bruising. you wouldnt want them to think you were faking or anything. after what feels like far too long a pause, a soft, feminine voice says,
"theyre still breathing."
"lucky," says the man, his voice something breathless and thick with gravel.
"i'll take the legs, you take the arms."
and then you are being lifted, carried with no small effort up the steps and into the house. they must be bringing you somewhere more comfortable to treat your injuries. you crack open one eye but all you manage to see from your unfortunate position is a few glimpses of the immaculately clean hardwood, the carpet, the marble tile. your prone body swings like a hammock between them, and soon all their jostling and this blurry upside-down view combined with the iron taste lingering on your tongue starts to make you feel vaguely sick until you have to shut your eyes again.
at last you are deposited on a cold, hard surface, the chill of it seeping through your bloody polo and up your spine. youre no longer lying limp and motionless because youre still hoping to pull off this grift; any half-baked hopes have been chased out by a creeping sense of dread, and you know somewhere in your gut that the moment you open your eyes you will have to face that dread and name it.
a mechanical murmur followed by a harsh clank and the sensation of icy metal closing around your wrists and ankles wrenches the privilege of hesitation from you. you gasp and your eyes fly open. the starburst of harsh white light that greets them reminds you distantly of a childhood trip to the dentist.
"good morning, sunshine," that syrupy voice from earlier chirps at you. squinting through the brightness, you make out two figures of similar stature dressed in vomit green medical scrubs that appear to have been hastily pulled over their ordinary clothes. the man is washing his hands in a small sink somewhere off past your feet. the woman is securing a paper mask, though even with her mouth covered, you can still see the smile pushing up her high sculpted cheekbones to the point where she seems barely able to keep her eyes open.
her skin is like a smooth putty, not a wrinkle or pore or freckle in sight, as if there were a layer of pink latex pulled taut over her real face.
"you came just in time," the man, her husband, calls over his shoulder as he shakes his hands dry and reaches for a box of gloves. "we didnt know where we were going to find another subject, and then, out of nowhere, there you were." he turns and steps into the light, and the face that stares down at you is a lidless mass of pulsing purple-red veins, hairless, damp with sweat already (you hope its sweat). a narrow arrow nose with nostrils too thin to take in breath sits above a rosy sphincter of a mouth, before that too is covered by a mask.
if you manage to scream, you cant hear it over the relentless whine of whatever machine sits just outside of your periphery, just out of reach no matter how you twist and strain at the manacles holding you in place, and the ringing in your own ears.
"youre just what the doctor ordered."
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sex money feelings die - fifth visit
fourth visit ↬ fifth visit ↬ sixth visit (tba)
WC: 5.5k
TW and Tags (permanent for the story): rich client!Anton x stripper!reader, smut, fluff (?), a touch of angst for the moment, inexperienced reader, fingering, kissing, masturbation, lots of silly conversations.
Summary: Working at a night club was difficult in many aspects, your sleep schedule was messed up for life, your feet were more used to high heels than sneakers and you had to lie about where you went to work those nights. Still, even with all those cons, you didn't hate your job, you had more than enough to pay your bills, feed your brother and save money for his college. However, what happens when your boss makes you do the one thing you asked to never do.
You carried his card everywhere, you hadn’t call him, but you liked to watch it every time you opened your wallet.
A music producer, you repeated on your mind. It fitted him, he always knew what songs you talked about and even gave you options you listened from time to time when you remembered him.
Still, you couldn’t understand what he was doing coming to a place like Shotaro’s club, you were sure he could easily get a pass in any other club that had his favorite drinks in the menu, and he wouldn’t have to carry his own every time he visited, unlike the place you worked at.
Not that your club was ugly, it had good clients, all of them coming to see you and your gorgeous coworkers, but you had heard of better places that let them do more to the girls, some of them even allowed them to request sexual services, something they would never get here.
Anton had been the only one until now, and you didn’t like the thought of how it all started, but at least Anton had been respectful with you and hadn’t touched you until you asked for it.
You blushed.
You couldn’t forget what had happened on Monday.
Every time you went to sleep you would remember how his long fingers felt inside you and how good he looked under you. The taste of his mouth and the wine was also impregnated on your tongue, not daring to look at a bottle of wine even if none of them were like his.
‘’Is there anything wrong?’’ one of the girls asked when she saw you all lost looking at your phone.
‘’Oh, it’s nothing, just a little tired, and now we’ll have to entertain the pretty boys, I was thinking what to drink to survive the night’’ you smiled and exhaled. It was Friday and they would arrive in a couple of hours.
She nodded, ‘’Yes, but I heard Anton had something to do, I don’t think he’ll come today.’’
‘’Who told you that?’’ you asked confused.
‘’My boy told me the last time they came that Anton and another of his friends may not come today since they had a big meeting or something like that, and they couldn’t move it.’’
You nodded to it, bewildered since Anton hadn’t say a single word when he came on Monday. ‘’I see, well, I guess I should get ready for a show then’’ you tried to not look too surprised.
She stood up and walked out, leaving you alone in the room, and when you felt that no one would come in, most of them grabbing a quick snack in the kitchen before the doors opened, you grabbed your phone and introduced his number.
You watched it on your screen, the many digits intimidated you and you thought about just not calling him, but your finger pressed the green bubble before you could choose.
Not even three rings sounded, and he answered. ‘’Hello?’’ his voice sounded deeper through the phone, more serious than the usual soft tone he used with you, and you almost got weak in your seat.
Biting the inside of your cheek your breath flattered and you felt the nervousness creep behind your back before you could talk, ‘’Hi’’ was the only thing you could say.
‘’Hi’’ his voice changed to the same tone he always used with you, you even heard how he let out a relaxed sigh, making you picture him with his typical soft grin. ‘’I was waiting for your call’’ he murmured.
‘’Yeah well, Shotaro finally told me how much the cleaning fees are.’’
Shotaro hadn’t even spoken to you about it, the only thing he did when he saw it was shrug, shake his head, look at you and walk away, leaving you there next to Sungchan who looked at you and murmured, rich people wine smell different, uh? making you nod before you ran away to hide your blush.
‘’Oh really? And how much is it?’’ he asked, honestly curious.
‘’Are you sitting? Because you may pass out, they will leave you broke.’’
You heard his breathy laugh on the other side of the line.
‘’I’ll make sure to ask for a discount then.’’
‘’I think you should, I can go with you to his office today if you want, he kind of owes me one for teaching the new waitress the basics.’’
Silence.
You gulped and started to bite your cheek again, nervous to not hear him smoothly talk like he always did.
He hummed before he continued, ‘’I think we’ll have to postpone that, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to go today. I have an important meeting tomorrow and all my team is staying the night to check the last details.’’
You tried to not sound disappointed, ‘’I see’’.
Recognizing that hint of sadness in your tone, he blamed himself for not telling you sooner, ‘’Sorry, I wanted to tell you when we met this Monday but… well, you know we didn’t talk much.’’
‘’Oh.’’
Anton closed his eyes, and his smile came back to him because he knew you were blushing, there, alone, waiting for him, and his hand gripped his phone trying to not remember you that day, he had too many people waiting for him behind the door in front of him to get swayed your way and risk a whole deal just to go and see you for a couple of hours.
But he couldn’t lie to himself, he was already thinking about you even before you called him. He had gone out for a bottle of water when you popped his mind and didn’t let him concentrate on what one of his workers was saying, and just like a miracle his phone had started to sound inside his pocket before he entered the room after deciding to go back and completely forget you to focus on his work again. The screen showed an unknown number, and even if he didn’t know who it belonged to, it made his heart skip before he answered with the hope it was you who called.
‘’I’ll see you this Monday, promise, but meanwhile, do you mind if I call you later? And that means, tomorrow, and the day after, and maybe Monday too.’’
‘’I do mind, if you wake me up, I’ll block you’’ you denied.
He chuckled and nodded, already used to your sharp answers. ‘’Then what about a text?’’ he offered.
‘’Better, but please don’t forget about your debt, the poor couch suffered because of us so I’ll ask for the discount, don’t worry.’’
‘’This girl…’’ his breathy laugh sounded for a couple of long seconds, making you smile, happy of being the cause of it, ‘’I already paid him.’’
You covered your mouth, so he didn’t hear you chuckle, and hanged up.
Choosing your outfit for the night, you tried to think on anything else that wasn’t how you wouldn’t be able to see him later. It was good, you tried to convince yourself, there were many clients that probably missed you those weeks, and you shouldn’t neglect them if you didn’t want to lose them.
Shotaro saw you in the bar having some small talk with the girls that served drinks and told you that you could go to the VIP room if you wanted, after all, one of the girl that accompanied Anton’s friend that wouldn’t come was still going, but you rejected the idea immediately, if he wasn’t there, you didn’t feel like staying the whole night with the group.
When his group arrived all the girls ran to the second VIP room, excited to see their favorite clients and have their fun, while Sungchan, seeing you go to the other direction, to the scenario, without much thinking said, ‘’Ow angel, won’t your pretty boy come tonight?’’
‘’He has work stuff, but better, I needed a break’’ you replied with a smile, and Sungchan, finding the disappointment you tried to mask with your uninterested tone adorable, patted your naked back before he followed the other girls.
Luckily the night ended fast, you did a couple of shows and one of your past regulars called you for a private dance, giving you a good tip saying how much he had missed you the last weeks, ‘’You’ll always be my favorite’’ he said, and you, by instinct, said that he was your favorite too, but you perfectly knew how much of a lie that was.
The night finished without much emotion and you went home as early as you could, it was only four in the morning when you were already standing in your door, two sandwiches in a bag courtesy of Sungchan charming the kitchen lady with his smile, and you accepted them gladly, relieved of not having to make breakfast for your brother, who was sound asleep in his room after studying until late.
Walking as silently as you could, you cleaned your living room a little bit, just tossing old packages and watching that there wasn’t nothing dirty. Your brother, even if he had an even worse schedule than you, always made sure to leave the place as clean as he could, and there wasn’t much for you to do, dishes washed, kitchen table clean and trash can empty.
You sat in the darkness and exhaled, feeling extremely alive for the hour and tired as hell because of the long trip at the same time.
After washing yourself you felt more at ease, hair wet and rolled with a towel because you couldn’t turn on the hairdryer at that hour, and you decided to do something you only did on special occasions.
You searched your client’s name, in this case Anton, online.
You got surprised with the quantity of results there, you had never had a client as famous as him, with so many profiles and articles with his name, it seems he had already produced a couple of popular songs, not many, but enough to let him have a name in the industry, and you, sitting in the border of your old mattress with what used to be a beige bedsheet, pale after so many washes, felt a struck of reality.
Why would he treat you so well when he could go and have an actual connection with a girl as popular, or even more than him, in real life?
You read as many articles as you could, not believing your eyes but at the same time smiling with the praises he had received despite his young age, all of them talking about the future he could (and will) have, a music producer in the company of his family, a life already bright enough to always let him go to bed in peace and never worry about tomorrow, and you did it until your alarm brought you back and you had to go and wake up your brother.
He was a heavy sleeper, you sometimes wondered how he would be able to live without you if he couldn’t wake up with the five alarms he put on his cellphone, but while you could, you would wake him up with pleasure.
Knocking his door, you went to the bathroom and started to dry your hair, thinking in what you would have to cook for dinner and leaving what you read about Anton well behind your mind, because if you remembered it every time you looked at him, you would start getting conscious of yourself, which would definitely change your tone with him, and wouldn’t let you talk as free as you’ve been doing until now.
Not much later you got exactly what you wanted, concentrating on your brother, his dinner and your own breakfast, with the help of the news in the background and the rush of the hour, you forgot him.
However, Anton must have a signal to go back and fill your mind with him whenever you completely forgot him, because when you were about to go to sleep after a long night and morning, ready to not think at all for at least the next five hours, you saw a text from him.
You saw it in real time how the little notification appeared while you watched a video, a message so short and direct that had you smiling and rolling your eyes before you decided to answer.
Are you awake?
You could ignore it and pretend you didn’t see it, but having the opportunity to tease him, you couldn’t lose it just like that.
Sleeping.
Nothing.
You waited for him to answer in the chat, there was no bubble moving showing that he was writing, but he did read it, it appeared like that, and he was online too.
You imagined him reading your message and nodding, thinking ‘’so she’s asleep…’’, ready to not bother you anymore, and you laughed, trying to guess how much time would take him to notice that you had lied.
Minutes passed by, and when you were finally drifting to sleep, your ringtone started to sound.
‘’…I hate you’’ he said when you accepted his call.
‘’Maybe I should hang up then.’’
‘’No’’ he interrupted you, ‘’It’s just… I really believed you for a second, I was ready to not bother you anymore.’’
His breathy laugh made you smile, and you decided to not tell him that you were actually about to sleep, and he had woken you up with his call.
‘’It’s pretty early, why are you calling me at this hour?’’ you didn’t sound angry, just intrigued, had he gone to his meeting? Was he calling you right before his meeting? You wanted to know what pushed him to talk to you at 8 am.
‘’I wanted to know how your night was, the boys told me you didn’t go to the VIP room.’’
You hummed, moving your phone closer to your ear, to hear him better. ‘’I wasn’t needed, the girls were just fine without me.’’
‘’You could’ve gone to rest a little bit, I still paid Shotaro for your time’’ he confessed.
‘’What?’’ you were so surprised you had to sit.
Shotaro hadn’t say anything to you when you left, well, not that you waited for him either, you just grabbed your share of the night and left the rest with Sungchan when he gave you the food.
The point was, you didn’t understand why Anton paid when he didn’t spend the night with you.
‘’Why?’’ you simply couldn’t understand.
‘’I wasn’t going to leave you just like that, it was the least I could do, to be honest, I wanted to give you even more for not seeing you last night, but I thought that maybe it would be a bit too much, even your boss looked at me weird when I said I would still pay.’’
‘’Anton…’’ you couldn’t believe how much he thought about you to do something like that.
And just like you were afraid of, you started to remember all the articles you read and how much they talked wonders about him.
A respectable young man ready to take the industry, and the world, in his hands.
They had no idea how awesome, and impressive, and kind, he really was.
‘’You didn’t have to do that, you didn’t see me yesterday, you got nothing out of that.’’
‘’But I wanted to, if I didn’t, I would’ve felt bad the next time I saw you, thinking how I made you lose your night just because I was busy.’’
‘’Anton, if you don’t come, I can still work’’ you tried to make him understand, ‘’the next time you don’t have to do that.’’
He didn’t answer.
You heard his breathing through the phone and your hand started to play with the border of your shirt. You didn’t know what to say, and suddenly you felt like you couldn’t talk with him like you had been doing, because you really were on different positions, and for you it didn’t make sense how he always had you in his mind and treated you that good when he could do a lot better.
‘’Well… then you won’t like what I bought for you to show how sorry I was.’’
‘’Anton!’’ you called his name louder than expected.
‘’I’m joking’’ he said, happy that you didn’t sound as tense anymore.
He didn’t have to see you to notice the little things about you, even your silence talked for you, and he had sensed how you suddenly got uncomfortable after he admitted how he had paid.
‘’Don’t you have a meeting?’’ you asked after he finished laughing at you.
‘’I already had it, everything went well, I guess talking to you last night gave me luck.’’
‘’Please stop.’’ You begged, not being able to endure his lines anymore.
Perhaps that’s why his songs are so popular, you thought, because you had never met someone able to create corny lines as fast as him.
‘’I was about to sleep, I wanted to hear you one last time before I passed out.’’
‘’I was about to sleep too.’’
He hummed.
You stayed in silence a minute, just hearing each other’s breathing and the bedsheets on his side ruffling with his movements. You were still on your place, only playing with your shirt and waiting for him to talk.
‘’There was something I wanted to talk about… you know, about what we did this Monday.’’
You gulped.
You didn’t expect him to talk about it, you didn’t expect a conversation about it at all.
‘’I wanted to say that… I don’t want you to think you have to do it because I pay you.’’
‘’I know’’ you were quickly to reply.
You did it because you wanted, not because of anything else, not because of the money, or the alcohol, or Shotaro, and you had worked hard to help you go around the next days with an easy mind. You were a big girl, and you could do that kind of thing without feeling guilty anymore.
Anton had been nothing but respectful to you all those days, and you couldn’t let him think that you did it for anything that wasn’t your decision based on how good he treated you.
‘’I think I made myself clear the first days’’ you continued, ‘’I wouldn’t have let you touch me if I didn’t want to.’’
‘’You’re right’’ he sounded relieved on the other side. ‘’Then… is it okay if we do it again? I mean, did you like it?’’
There was no one in your house, you were completely alone, and your door was closed, but you still whispered, as if you were about to say something wrong, or, more than wrong, inappropriate, something that no one else, apart from him, should hear.
‘’I liked it’’ you admitted.
‘’I’m glad, I liked it too.’’
Your mind started to reply that night.
Without thinking, like every night when you remembered it, your arousal started to appear, pouring out of you with the expectations of feeling him again. The image of him under you brought a pression in your abdomen you weren’t used to feel before that occasion, of course you had felt excited before, but the way Anton had showed you how capable he was of driving you into that kind of pleasure made it a lot more intense, almost painful and that made it impossible for you to not move uncomfortable on your seat.
You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose, trying to control yourself and your mind from making you feel like that with him, not physically there with you, but still there.
‘’You’re thinking about it too, right?’’ he asked you.
You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how right he was.
‘’Are you?’’
‘’You have no idea how much I think about it, I do it every day, every hour.’’
Me too, you closed your eyes again hearing his voice say something so bold without feeling ashamed of it, he was using a different voice, it wasn’t the one he used when he tried to maintain a conversation with you in the club, or the one he used when he answered his phone when he didn’t know it was you who called him, it was deeper, a lot more mature and confident, like the one he used when he made you cum over his lap with his fingers inside you.
A whimper almost escaped your throat and you hided it with a cough, trying to think a way to change the aura of the conversation.
‘’I’m sure you’re getting wet, that day you were dripping all over my hand’’ he then said, and you couldn’t help but gulp again, the faint sound telling him everything he needed to know.
Anton imagined you lying down over his bed, right next to him, with your hand between your thighs, looking at him with those teary eyes, and that was enough for him to get hard.
Every day he imagined the same thing, you over his designer bedsheets, with the little light of his lamp beside his bed, your pretty face frowning and calling his name while your hand played with yourself, waiting for him in his apartment, getting ready for him to take you after a long day at work.
Just that occasion was enough to push the last little will he had to contain himself, he didn’t know how would he be able to face you and not touch you the next time he had you in front of him, but he wanted to leave everything clear before that, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed it as much as he did.
He needed you, and making him feel like a teenager again, every day he dreamed of you, he thought of you, and he jerked off with the memory of you.
‘’Anton…’’ your voice made him look down to his now hard member and groan.
‘’I want to hear you’’ his tongue had to wet his lips, dry of thirst for you, ‘’touch yourself, please.’’
He was begging with such urgency you didn’t know how to say no, and even more, you didn’t want to say no.
Your mind was already telling you to touch yourself like he had done that day, it wouldn’t be the same, you had already tried it those days without him, but it would help you soothe the pain.
‘’I don’t…’’ you wanted to confess how it wasn’t the same if they weren’t his fingers, but you felt your face burn just with the thought of it.
‘’I’ll tell you what to do’’ he interrupted you, ‘’so… will you be good for me?’’
Fuck, you wanted to be good for him.
‘’…Okay’’
Anton pulled down his pants and his underwear, just enough to leave his cock free, which jumped to the sound of you lying over your bed and getting comfortable for him.
‘’What are you wearing?’’ he asked, and just his voice made you get more wet inside your panties.
‘’A t-shirt… and panties.’’
‘’No pants? Isn’t it too cold for that?’’
You couldn’t tell him that you were more used to the coldness because of your work, you felt a lot more comfortable wearing just that at night, and thankfully your apartment was warm enough, it was old, but the winter was bearable.
In summer it was hell though.
‘’I can’t sleep with pants.’’
‘’I can’t sleep with t-shirts, I guess we’re the perfect pair.’’
You bit your lip to not laugh, but he knew you wanted to do it, so he laughed for you.
‘’I can give you all my t-shirts if you want, I don’t mind.’’
‘’Okay’’ you answered, surprising him. He expected you to tell him to stop, but that answer satisfied him even more.
‘’Okay’’ he repeated, ‘’that way, the next time you miss me, and I can’t be with you, at least you’ll have my t-shirt to think of me.’’
That sounded too good, he imagined you wearing his shirt and playing with your clit, drenching the back of it, and he liked the idea so much his cock bounced in front of his eyes.
You, on the other hand, only imagined how comfortable you would feel with his smell lingering around you at night.
‘’Now…’’ he interrupted your thoughts, ‘’don’t take it off, just lift it, as if you were showing me your chest.’’
You felt so embarrassed you just gripped your shirt, eyes closing with force and your mind telling you to follow his words but your conscience too awake and clear now to do it.
‘’I can hear you not moving, I thought you’d be good for me’’ he had already guessed you weren’t going to make the things that easy for him, but he still expected you to do better, for him, ‘’This is the only time in which I won’t tolerate you fooling me.’’
He was right, and feeling the weight of his words, your hand didn’t doubt to lift your t-shirt this time, feeling the morning coldness impact your whole torso, nipples slightly hardening.
He could hear your breath hitching and the fabric of your clothes moving, feeling content with you listening to him this time, maybe he had to be stern with you in bed, he thought, to show that he could play in any other moment, except that one.
‘’Well done.’’
You licked your lips while your eyelids fluttered with his words, you wanted him to continue talking to you like that, so forward and authoritative, as if he knew exactly what you needed.
‘’Play with your nipples, just like how you want me to touch them’’ his hand lifted his shirt to his abdomen, just to rest his hand over it and imagine it was you who was touching him.
You did what he said, and touching your right one with the tip of your finger, you decided it wasn’t how you wanted him to touch you, so to add more intensity, with your whole palm you grabbed your tit, too big for your own hand, and massaged it until your thumb and your index finger pressed your little bud with more force.
That’s how you want him to touch you, with more force, to not be as delicate, he wouldn’t break you, and when you closed your eyes, you could see his big hand cupping you completely without problem.
He heard you breathing get harder, not louder, just with more difficulty, and he could imagine those beautiful nipples begging for him to give them a taste.
The last time he couldn’t, but the next time he definitely would, he had no reasons to stop himself anymore.
‘’How do you feel?’’ he asked when he heard you sigh.
‘’Good, it feels good.’’
He cursed in his mind, what he would give to be there and touch you, and make you feel good with his own hands.
‘’Shit, you’re going to make me cum just with your voice.’’
You moaned.
‘’Don’t say that…’’
‘’Why?’’
‘’Because I want you to cum with me.’’
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Of course you’d drop a bomb like that one, he should learn by that point that you always surprised him for the best in moments like that one, so sweet, and tender, and perfect for him.
‘’Touch your clit, like I did that day’’ he said as he could, one hand going to wrap his member while his thumb spread the pre cum leaking in his tip.
It was already hurting him, but he was so focused on your voice he had forgotten about himself.
‘’It feels good’’ you moaned again, suddenly feeling your own fingers good, not like the previous night you had tried to touch you, it finally felt good.
‘’What I would give to be the one touching you right now.’’
‘’Anton‘’ you cried.
You were using just one finger, flicking your clit up and down and thinking it was him touching you.
‘’Don’t be afraid of using more than one finger, like I did, do it just like I did’’ he ordered, and you obeyed.
You tried to make the same motion, up and down, feeling your juices making a mess inside your panties.
He didn’t lie, you really were dripping for him.
It was so wet, you felt your fingers sliding with such ease over your clit, making you feel incredibly good.
You had touched yourself before, even before you knew Anton, you were human after all, but his groans on your ear and the memory of his hand instead of yours made it a lot better.
You didn’t understand what was so good about masturbating before, it was good, but this was fucking amazing.
You wanted to cup your chest again, just like he would’ve done it, like he did over your bra, but you needed to have your phone on your ear, his voice was more necessary than any light touch over your skin.
‘’Please touch my chest the next time.’’
The next time, he became numb, you were being so good for him, begging with that honeyed voice to touch you, he’d do it with much pleasure, but to hear you say it, to ask for his touch so directly, it was too much for him.
‘’I’ll touch you so good, my angel, I’ll do everything you want.’’
He didn’t mean it only for when he made you feel good with his hands, or his mouth, he honestly wanted to do everything for you.
‘’Put one finger inside.’’
You sighed disappointed, it felt good, but not like when he did it.
‘’It’s not like yours...’’
You heard him groan.
His hand stopped moving, feeling your pain through the phone.
‘’Oh angel, I’m so sorry, I’ll make sure to finger you well next time too.’’
‘’Yours are so long’’ you cried, putting one more in to simulate the size of his fingers.
It wasn’t enough, and soon you had not one or two, but three fingers, which were the closest sensation to his fingers that day, stretching you just like two of his fingers did.
When you put all those fingers inside the echo of your wetness got louder, pushing him to continue with the way his hand was moving before, swiftly pulling his cock like your delicate hand would do, with those pretty fingers around him and those beautiful eyes looking at him.
‘’How many do you have in?’’ he asked curious, because it was impossible just one finger was making that nasty noise.
You didn’t want to tell him how many, it was so disgraceful for a girl to use that many fingers, at least you believed that.
You cried again because something so degrading was feeling so good.
‘’Tell me.’’
He wouldn’t stop asking, you knew it, he would respect your silence in any other occasion, but not in this one.
‘’…Three.’’
‘’Shit, getting ready for my cock.’’
‘’Anton.’’ You called for him, flustered with his statement, and pushing your fingers even more with that idea.
He was big, you felt it that day, even just over his pants you could feel how much he would open you, your three fingers were nothing to get that, they had to be his fingers to stretch you enough to accept him.
‘’You’re about to cum, right? I already recognize that tone’’ he was pumping harder his cock, following the intensity of your squelches and how your hand was more erratic, ‘’fuck, and I’m not there to feel your mess, my angel.’’
You repeated his name in loud moans, grateful that you were completely alone, and his groans became as loud as your moans, reciprocating your enthusiasm.
He bit his lip with force, back falling with force to his pillow, picturing you moaning right over him like you did that day, and while thinking about you, and listening to your actual cries, he came all over his hand in thick spurs of cum.
You also came, a lighter sensation than when he fucked you so good with his fingers, but still good enough to make you feel relaxed again.
After days of not being able to cum you didn’t realize how tense you were, maybe that was why you were so thoughtful and couldn’t sleep even when you felt so tired.
Both of you stayed like that for a good time, recovering after all those days away.
‘’I missed you so much’’ Anton said when your mind was drifting away.
Me too, you thought, but didn’t say it.
‘’You’ll see me this Monday…’’
‘’I’ll buy you something.’’
‘’If you buy me something, I swear I’ll punch you.’’
‘’Oops, I think I’d like that too.’’
You laughed, not hiding it this time, and fell asleep while hearing his soft laugh on your ear.
When you saw him on Monday you punched him, not hard though, because apart from the couple of his t-shirts he gave you, he bought you a small bouquet of flowers to show how sorry he was.
fourth visit ↬ fifth visit ↬ sixth visit (tba)
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