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livinghostly · 2 months

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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer.

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this.

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like.

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway.

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words.

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children.

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence.

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home.

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students.

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried.

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta.

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack.

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said.

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

#spleen writes #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x mom!reader #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #jjk megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #mom!reader #satoru gojo fic #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader

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luveline · 2 months

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i was thinking about roommate!spencer going home after a week off working on a case and finding reader sleeping on the couch waiting for him to get home

Spencer cringes as his nails scratch the paint around the doorknob. He’s a tepid mixture of tired and sad, demotivated from another bad case, the subway home, the too many steps to the apartment. He hopes the BAU has better pay after his probation is over. He’d get a new apartment, fix up his shitty old car, maybe even get a haircut.

For now, it’s just him, his tired feet, the threadbare couch, and you.

You’re snoring with your face crushed to the armrest, hand tucked under your chest. You’ve started sitting and ended twisted to one side. Your back will ache when you wake up, but you’re blissfully unaware of it while you sleep. Spencer has half a mind to let you sleep undisturbed.

He steps over your book of crosswords on the floor and the pencil waiting beside it, bending over to pat your arm. When that doesn’t rouse you, he grabs your shoulder, about to shake you awake when you sigh in your sleep, a simple, sugary sound that sends heat to his cheeks instantaneously. You’re often innocuously lovely, at least in his eyes.

Spencer frowns and goes to make you a glass of sweet tea to wake up to. He’s secretly hoping you’ll wake up before he returns, but you’re still snoring, your face crushed, pressure on your neck.

He wonders if you sleep on the couch often. He’s never caught you sleeping in the living room when he’s home, but this is the third time now he’s texted you that he’s coming back and walked in to find you waiting…

Are you waiting for him?

Spencer can profile you. It doesn’t feel right, he tries not to be invasive, but he can work this out. It’s his job.

First, the text you sent that read, Can’t wait for you to come home, I’m making chicken noodle soup for us

Neither indicative nor exclusionary of his theory. You could mean can’t wait as the metaphor it tends to be.

Your crossword book. Upon further inspection, he realises the pages are bent on one side, and the tent of it has landed where your hand curls toward your chest. Alright, it fell. You stayed up until you were so tired you dropped your book.

But… you could’ve been watching TV. He turns to analyse the TV set. The standby light turns orange when it’s been left on for eight hours at a time, and you and Spencer are kind of broke, so you don’t leave anything running on purpose. You’ve never fallen asleep watching TV while he was home—

All these reasons.

He could just ask. He turns back to you with lips already parted, prepared to try again to wake you and slip it in casually, Shit, you weren’t waiting for me, were you?

You’re already awake.

Tired, you smile at him like you’re not surprised he’s kneeling at the foot of your seat. Like you’re glad he’s home. “Spencer,” you say, voice etched with the last dregs of sleep as you turn onto your side completely, giving a little wince at the stretch.

“Hey, you okay? Why are you sleeping on the couch again?”

You roll your eyes for what he’s not sure and reach down blindly for the crossword book by his knee, your fingertips brushing his thigh and leaving lightness in their wake. “I'm glad you’re home. Need your help, m’stuck on my puzzle.”

“That’s what you’re sleeping here for?”

“What?” Your eyes slip closed and then flutter open. “Mm, no, was just waiting for you to get home. How was Santa Monica?”

Spencer has to force himself to answer around the pretzel of nerves tied in his throat, because it’s what he’d wanted, but he wasn’t ready. “It was great! I mean– I mean, it was awful, and three people died and–” He breathes in wrong. “It was fine.”

You curl your book on the right page, blinking heavily at an unsolved row. “Oh, good. Um. Okay, ‘to carry a torch for someone’. Eight letters, not obsessed. Doesn’t fit.”

Spencer traces the soft shudder of your lashes where they’re desperate to kiss the skin below your eye. “Besotted,” he says quietly.

You gasp happily. “Besotted. Perfect! I missed you, genius, you always know the answer.”

He hands you your fallen pencil. “I missed you, too.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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dreamingonfilm · 1 year

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✧˖*°࿐ Love Letters | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco tries to find the girl who sends him love letters, unaware to the fact that it’s you.

W/C: 1.5k

Draco’s fingers traced over the writing on the pink envelope once again. His mind was not able to rest as he tried to piece together who left the note on his bedside in the middle of the night. Delicately opening it once more, he reread the words inside;

Draco,

I hope you can learn to see yourself the way that I see you, with love and acceptance. You are what makes everyday worth it. Constellations are named after you, and each day I can’t help but to be thankful for the sun breathing on you once more. You are my light.

He carefully closed the envelope and placed it inside his bag. ‘They like me.’ the boy thought to himself, ‘someone actually likes me.’

It’s not that the boy was a stranger when it comes to love, but never once has he been perceived as something more than what he truly is. He’s always been Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, son of Lucius, and most importantly a Slytherin. For this reason, he constantly rejected any advances that came from the female students around him. While his rejections came off as rude and cold-hearted, the other students failed to see that Draco, just like everyone else around him, was human too. He was scared of being hurt by the one feeling that he craved the most.

The walk to class was almost unbearable, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to know the poet behind those beautiful words, the ones that kept repeating over and over in his head as he tried stirring potions or taking notes. You are what makes everyday worth it. He became hyper aware of his surroundings, assuming that he would know when he sees her, but he failed to realize that she was not someone that could be so easily spotted. She came exactly when you needed her to, not by desire alone.

—-

“Draco,” his friend Blaise called to him, “focus.”

“Oh, right.” Draco replied, trying to get his thoughts together as he walked back to his seat. It was the middle of the school week and his mind was only getting more crowded with the thoughts of her. As he sat back down, his friends swarmed him with questions as to what it was that he smelled in his amortentia, assuming that this would be the first step to finding her.

“I can’t describe it.” He sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair in defeat. “She has me going crazy and I don’t even know her.”

“Well,” Pansy spoke up, “I suggest maybe moving on? I mean, if she wants to be anonymous it may be for a reason. Plus, you have hundreds of other girls that would kill to be with you, Draco. Maybe try your luck somewhere else.” She flashed him a sincere smile before going in to hold his hand, but her efforts were cut short as the boy suddenly stood up.

“I don’t want to be with anyone unless it’s her.” He sneered, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading straight to the door. He said a hushed goodbye to his friends before exiting into the crowded hall.

Why couldn’t his friends see that he didn’t want anyone else? He didn’t care about her wealth, status, or looks, all that he wanted was someone that could love him in full. Love him in a way that can’t be tamed, a love that lives long after they do. This was something that he knew he wasn’t going to find any time soon, for as long as he was at Hogwarts he could only be Draco Malfoy.

His hopes were on her.

He walked through the hall, pushing through students that stood in his way as he asserted dominance with a ray of confidence and high ego. Students glared at him but none had the guts to say anything, this fear that Draco instilled was not one that was going to go away any time soon. It was one that he brought upon himself and now had to live with. Somewhere in between his daydreams and the crowded corridor, he felt someone bump into him. Their shoulders collided as his books fell to the floor. The stranger mumbled a quick apology before running off.

In the midst of his anger, he froze. He smelt it. That same scent that clouded him only a few minutes before. There it was, it was her, but just as quickly as he smelled it, she was gone. Only seeing her hair as she turned at the corner of the hallway.

He quickly got up and chased after her, pushing and shoving anyone that got in his way. This was his chance, he was finally going to meet the girl that’s been making him mad, the one that he’s been dreaming of. His heart was pounding as he ran faster and faster down the hall, students staring at him in confusion as he was passing them by, quills and journals flying out of his bag – but he didn't care, he couldn’t let her get away.

Once he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of defeat. His heart crushed as he stared into the empty hallway.

—-

Two weeks have passed since the day that Draco and her collided. He sat in his bed, holding a brand new letter. The same shade of pink as the one before, with the handwriting that he’s fallen in love with.

“Draco,

I’m sorry for not writing to you. I’ve been thinking of you every day, and I just can’t bear to keep dreaming of you without letting you know that I’m sorry for bumping into you in the hallway. The truth is, I’m scared, Draco.

I’m scared you aren’t going to like me for who I am. I’m scared that writing to you was a mistake. I’m scared that the only way you will ever see me is through these letters. I see you every day, why can’t you see me?

You’re always in my heart, shining above me every night, my constellation. If we remain strangers forever, just know that I’ve never come to love someone like how I love you.”

He was getting restless. Constant possibilities of who it could be running through him, he even considered the possibility that this could be a prank, but no amount of doubt could prevent him from finding her, his hope overpowered all the fear that he had.

Draco sat up once more and started getting ready for dinner. Brushing his hair and straightening out his tie, he needed to look presentable for the off chance that he could be meeting her today.

He headed down into the Great Hall and that’s when he saw it. A pink envelope in the hands of a girl he’s never talked to, but not just any girl, it was you.

He shouted out into the void, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Hey wait!” he called out, as you quickly grabbed your things and ran off once more. He couldn’t see you like this, it wasn’t the right time. Your face flushed red as you ran, your breathing quickening as your legs started to grow tired, but you could not let him find you.

Draco chased after you, he was only a few feet behind but with enough determination you knew you could lose him. As you sprinted through the maze of halls, you started to grow light headed, you knew that if you didn’t stop soon you would faint.

But it’s not the right time

You stopped in front of a random classroom, rushing to open the door before he could catch up to you, but it was too late. He crashed into you, both of you falling to the ground with a loud thump, his hands landing on either sides of you as you laid in between him.

He finally found you.

“Who are you?” He asked, not wasting any more time to get to know the girl who stole his heart. You stared into his eyes, feeling a frog in your throat as you mustered up the courage to finally talk to him.

“M-my name is (Y/N).” You whispered, neither of you breaking eye contact. He smiled, grabbing hold of your hands as he went to pick you both up. You were both nervous, too scared of saying the wrong things, but wanting to say them all regardless.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, looking at you with a face full of love and adoration, “I’m Draco.”

He brushed your hair with his fingers and went to pat the dust off your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you didn’t have to.

This was the right time.

“Come along then (Y/N),” Draco smiled, interlocking his hand in yours before leading you back down to the Great Hall, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

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girlrotterr · 3 months

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Taste of Worship.

ellie x fem!reader Summary: you're the pastor's daughter.

──────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────────

ellie winked at you.

winked.

She was sitting across from you at lunch when you glanced at her. It sent a shiver down your spine. The table erupted with tension as she continued to eat, a smirk on her lips.

her smirk.

The way she looked at you was intoxicating. She could see the effect she was having on you. You felt your face getting hot, a heat came up from inside you and ran from your cheeks to the nape of your neck. You felt this overwhelming sense of excitement and fear at the same time.

You glanced down and grabbed your book, hoping to shift your focus from the sudden interaction with ellie. But as you scanned the pages, the letters turned into a confusing jumble, making no sense. Your mind couldn't shake off what just happened. Frustration built up, annoyed that ellie had this power over your thoughts. She's known for causing trouble, challenging the rules and authority. Yet, there was something about her rebellion that excited you, something you couldn’t understand.

ellie started tapping on the table, right at the edge of your book. You glanced up, meeting her green eyes—losing yourself in their depths seemed all too easy.

“what're you reading?" she casually asked, throwing you off guard.

"a romance novel.." you answered while picking at the edge of the book.

ellie let out a soft chuckle.

"why a romance novel? do you want a boy to be after you? i’m sure the pastor wouldn't approve of that." She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table.

Your eyes widened as your father, the pastor, was unexpectedly mentioned. His rules and expectations weighed heavily on you. His strict guidelines formed an invisible cage, restricting your every move. It felt like each step was predetermined, following the teachings he believed in. Everybody had crafted an illusion of pureness that you were forced to maintain.

“i-it's for educational purposes" you stammered.

ellie smiled, her eyes shining in a playful manner that made you shiver from inside. She got out of her seat, circled the table, and came closer to you. "what kind of educational purpose? to grow your knowledge on kissing, sweet nothings to the ears… sex?"

You quickly got up, the abrupt movement causing the table to shake. Clutching your book, you began to walk away. She’s crazy!

ellie smirked at you. She followed up and kept teasing you. She got a little bit too close to you, invading your space. She was so close, almost touching noses. "the pastor wouldn't like that. It's a sin. are you a sinful girl?"

You stepped into the bathrooms, the sound of ellie trailing close behind. "l-leave me alone!”

ellie leaned on the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in a way like she owned you. The smirk on her face drove you insane; you felt yourself getting weak at just seeing her.

"are you a sinful girl?" She repeated. She knew exactly how much effect she had on you.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and you found yourself staring at her doe-eyed. In that moment, you were at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond.

ellie leaned even closer to you, her breath whispering into your ears. "you're lost for words?... that's too bad; i was waiting for an answer.." She stared right into your eyes as she tugged at the hem of your skirt. She played with it. Her hand brushed your thigh for a few seconds. It felt like fire was caressing you.

“there isn't an answer.." You responded, looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. ellie's fingers delicately traced your chin, lifting your head, locking your gaze with hers.

"then what am I witnessing? you're all red, your heartbeat is accelerating, and I can sense your breath speeding up," she remarked, gently moving your chin with her fingers, the warmth of her touch leaving a lingering sensation.

"you can't hide anything from me.” she smirked, closing the distance, her arms wrapped around you from behind, and her body pressed against yours.

"let me give you an answer," ellie whispered, her breath against your ear, "you're a very sinful girl, a girl with so many urges…are you scared of that?" The words hung in the air, leaving tension between you.

Your breath hitched at her gentle touch. Her arms were around you, her body pressed against yours. Your heart jumped out of your chest. Your insides trembled. Your mouth was dry, and you couldn't say a single word. She kept talking to you, her voice caressing your ears, making them go red and heat up.

"You're so pure in front of the pastor and everyone else, but inside, oh… you’re filthy.”

“Let me guess,” She whispered in your ear, her lips gently tracing it, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her tongue teased around your ear, the hot sensation causing goosebumps across your skin. A wave of heat flooded your body, leaving you trembling.

“I bet all those desires are filled with my name.”

Your breath hitched at her comment. “t-that’s insane!”

ellie pulled away before laughing, still smirking at you. "you won't admit it yet, no?”

“The pastor's daughter wants a little revenge, a way to get out of these boring walls..”

Your eyes widened at the thought, the exhilaration of rebellion pulsating through you. ellie’s knee slid up between your legs, positioning you on her thigh. Her gaze, filled with desire, fixated on you. Her dominant and controlling nature taking possession of you.

The feeling of her thigh was hot against your cunt. Her mouth became closer until she was only inches from your lips.

“We have nothing to be scared of; we'll make our sin together."

Your lips parted, itching to speak. You wanted to explain how utterly wrong she was, how absurd it was to think such thoughts about her. As if you'd been staring at her licking her fingers clean from an ice cream cone last summer, or adjusting her belt in the locker rooms, the image of it being undone engraved in your mind. As if you'd follow the trail of juices running down her chin whenever she ate fruit.

Before you could even say a word, ellie's lips met yours, and in an instant, all your worries and thoughts dissolved. You felt entranced, as if you'd been drawn into something forbidden. Your lips were tainted with sin, yet you couldn't help but surrender to every moment of it.

Her warmth seeped into every fiber of your being. The sensation of her lips against yours was like a blazing inferno, igniting a passion that felt almost unbearable. The taste of her saliva was like liquid fire, burning your lips.

ellie began unbuttoning your shirt. With each button she unfastened, your excitement intensified. She pulled you closer, pressing down on your hips. Her warm breath against your lips.

“mm.. so fucking pretty..”

She’s staring at your breasts, your white lace bra cupping your chest perfectly. It was a beautiful sight to ellie, and the fact that it had been kept from her was annoying. She’s had her eye on you the minute she enrolled. Admiring the way you moved, the way your thighs swayed. God… she just wanted to grip them, lick them, fuck the cunt that’s between them. Her fingers trailed up your stomach, she ran them along your neck, and slightly played with your hair. She looked at you, noticing your flushed cheeks, your vulnerability making you appear pathetic.

“..m’gonna ruin you..” she said, her husky voice tickling your skin.

Her hand cupped your left tit, squeezing it forcefully while locking eyes with you. Her gaze filled with hunger.

“m-mngh..ellie…”

Her grip tightened, “hm?.. what is it?” You began to squirm against her thigh, the friction making you whine.

“n-need..”

“need what baby?” ellie's lips pressed against your tit, her hot breath causing a pulsating throb. She immediately went to mark your chest with bites, her teeth seeping through the fat of your breast. Her tongue glided strings of saliva all along your nipples.

"you fucking need this?" she breathlessly uttered.

“m-mhm..” Your nipples felt numb from her bites. She continued down, kissing from your stomach to your panties.

“pretty girl couldn’t use her words for me?”

The feeling of her lips along your body made you moan so softly, you couldn’t help it. "fuck.." she grunted, your moans were a melody to her ears. As if they were celestial. She wanted to keep hearing you moan, to turn you into a pathetic mess. Hell, she even wanted to see if she could make you moan her name.

“I can’t fucking take this,” ellie uttered, removing her leg from between your thighs. With a firm grip on your waist, she positioned you on the edge of the sink. She knelt on the bathroom floor, placing her face between your thighs with your cunt so agonizingly close to her mouth.

"I've been waiting for this..-" kiss "for.. so.. fucking-" kiss "long."

“Mngh!” you bucked your hips against her lips as she kissed your pussy. She hadn't even taken your panties off yet, but the sensation was enough to make you cum.

“mm.. yeah?”

“god.. please..” You moaned, tilting your head back as ellie's voice vibrated against your clit. ellie trailed her fingers over the wet patch on your panties.

“fuckk..” she groaned against your pussy, her ability to make you this wet should be a sin in itself. She shifted your panties to the side, now fully admiring your pussy. Your hole oozing, folds all sticky, your puffy clit throbbing, begging to be licked. It's a mess – your pussy is drenched, and it’s all because of her.

“god damn..” she whispered, “all for me.”

You gazed down at ellie, and the intensity of her stare on your pussy gave you goosebumps. It was as if she was in a trance, fixated on the view before her. She didn't need to do anything else; just admiring the sight seemed to be enough for her.

You gently ran your fingers through her auburn hair, locking eyes with her in a silent plea. As she looked up at you, and... fuck. Your flushed crimson cheeks and swollen, saliva-covered lips were a sight to behold. It felt almost sacred, as if this moment was an illicit prayer.

“taste me...” you commanded, clenching onto her hair, tugging on it slightly.

“mnphh... gonna taste it… n’gonna fuck it…” ellie groaned, her husky voice vibrating against your cunt. You moaned, tugging on her hair with more aggression. God, you just wanted to slam her face into your pussy.

“nghhh... fucking do it... please.”

“s.. such a pretty pussy... s’all mine... fuckk...” ellie slurred her words, completely pussy drunk. The more she talked, the more desperate your cunt became. Her mouth was achingly close to your clit, the vibrations of her voice were the only stimulation.

“ngh!” You'd finally had enough, tugging on ellie’s hair, bringing her mouth to your clit. The sensation of her warm lips pressing against it made your hips buck.

"m’gonna-" ellie stopped babbling, realizing her mouth was on your hot cunt. She immediately pounced onto it, licking from your slit right back up to your puffy clit, your wetness coating her warm tongue.

“so fucking good,” She spread your folds with her index and middle finger, parting your pussy like a flower in bloom. She dived back in, licking and sucking on your clit, creating a sloppy mess. Your wetness covered her lips entirely as she gripped your thighs, her nails digging deep into your flesh.

“fucking... fuck!” ellie frustratingly muttered, annoyed that she couldn't get enough. Aggressively, she placed your legs over her shoulders, granting her more access. Her licks became rougher, all sloppy, and you felt the pressure of her tongue against your slit, teasing inside your dripping hole.

You tugged on her hair harder, “Ah!... e-ellie...” you gasped breathlessly, your moans becoming louder, on the verge of cumming.

“Nghhh!!” ellie groaned, hearing you moan her name sent her off the walls. She needed to engrave this moment into her mind, into her soul, into her very bones. It was her, and only her, causing you ecstasy.

“you’resogood... you’reso... fuckinggood... nghh.” ellie quickened her pace, completely pussy drunk. She couldn't get enough; she craved the taste of you on her tongue, wanting it to linger forever. She'd stay on the bathroom floor until her knees bruised just to savor it.

“god... ellie-” Your eyes started to roll back, gazing up at the ceiling as if lost in prayer. You tugged on ellie's hair, pressing her face harder into your pussy, as if she wasn't already close enough. Your legs began to tremble, your body surrendering to the rhythm of ellie's tongue. You were in heaven.

“fuckk... yeah...” ellie smugly backed away from your pussy, admiring the mess she created. Her mouth was entirely covered in your wetness, giving her lips a shiny gloss.

“sin never tasted this sweet.”

#ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie fic #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you

1K notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 4 months

Note

This isn’t really a request but this came to may head at three in the morning ok Imagine like your getting fucked by one of the Marauders or all of them and yk those moving pictures they have in the wizard world image they have a whole box filled of the reader getting back shots and EVERYTHING 😵‍💫🥴

THE STASH | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, a little bit of PTSD on Sirius, pictures taken w/o reader’s knowledge, reader being insecure and gaining back confidence thanks to the boys.

Prompt: You find the boy's stash, filled with lusty pictures and they make you feel insecure, thoughts about not being good enough for them arise, the catch is, that’s THE OLD stash. (Happy ending)

Notes: I had a similar idea already in my head so when I saw this ask I just knew I had to make it happen.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You knocked on their door a couple of times when no one said anything, you decided to let yourself in, “Rem? Jamie? Sirius?”

No answer.

You looked around and went to sit by Remus’ bed. He said he’d see you in their room later that night for study and maybe something more, but with study club and prefect duties, you assumed he was as busy as the two other boys were with the quidditch training. You didn’t mind it much though, their room was a lot more quiet to study in than yours, and it was always fun to see their surprised faces when they walked in and you were there.

You were taking your book and some parchment out when a pot of ink fell from your bag and onto the floor. There was a thud and then another one and then it spilled all over. You gasped and left the bag on the side before leaning down to pick it up. You whispered a quick “reparo,” and the crystal pot wasn’t leaking anymore, but the ink was still on the floor and some of it was spilling down the wooden floorboard.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you summoned a napkin from your bag and started to clean as best as you could, but it didn’t seem to be working, it was still spilling down into what looked like a nook on the floor. You frowned and looked at the wooden board in detail only to realize there was a section that was a little more worn than the rest.

You frowned and tried to lift the board by digging your nails on the side but it wasn’t working, you huffed and walked over to Sirius’ night table to see if he still had his pocket knife there. Luckily he did, and you took it, pulling out one of the blades and using it as a crane to lift the wooden board.

Once you did you realized the ink had slipped inside most of the things they kept in there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered continuously as you tried to pull off the things in fear that they would be ruined with the ink. There were some old letters, some hand-rolled cigars, a few potions and then a small box, that one had gotten most of the ink. You winced and pulled it out, biting your lip as you tried to concentrate. You had been so busy with the cleaning, that you never saw the spiderwebs that covered most of the items.

“Evanesco,” you whispered, focused solely on the ink, which successfully disappeared, but so did the small lock they had on the box and it opened by itself. You blinked a couple of times when you saw what was inside. You carefully grabbed one of the images, a stunning red-headed witch, winking at you as she bounced around, with her very large, and very beautiful breasts in full display.

You gulped as you stared at her, she wiggled her shoulders a bit and gave you another wink. You sucked in a breath, she was freaking stunning. And probably there because of James’ fixation with redheads.

The rest of the pictures were turned over, but curiosity got the best of you, and you took another piece of paper from the box. That one was bent in four, as if it had been ripped from a magazine. You slowly unbend it, first one fold and then the other and there was another stunning witch in the image.

This one had smaller breasts, but she was leaning down on a bed, perfectly manicured hands brushing over her own folds, two perfectly long and well-shaped legs on the side. She had dark skin and the light reflected on her legs as she accommodated on the bed, her head leaning back with what looked like a sigh as she rolled her hand over her clit. She too was beautiful, and perfect.

You sat the image on the side, next to the redhead and pulled another one. One of the smaller ones, only to be met with yet another stunning witch, perfectly flat stomach, and beautiful perky breasts, she was riding a pillow, one hand on the bed and looking straight at you as she bit her lips, inviting, enticing. You placed her next to the others as you pulled another image. And then another, and then another.

Image after image, perfectly attractive witches in all sorts of positions, some by themselves, some with companions (either other hot witches or the cock of a wizard or two). You pressed your legs together, there was a mix of feelings inside you. First of all, you were a little turned on after seeing such kind of imagery. But second, and most important. You were a little upset.

Which was ridiculous, you knew. Expecting the boys to pleasure themselves with the thought of you in mind when you weren’t around was stupid, especially when there were clearly much better and hotter witches in the market. What with their perfectly round breasts and their beautiful lips and flat stomachs and long legs and rosy cunts. You looked at them with a bit of a frown, they all had something in common, they were perfect, and you? You were far, far from that.

Now you weren’t upset that the boys were doing themselves, you knew men needed a lot more release than women did and you tried to keep that in mind as you placed all the beautiful witches back in their box, but you couldn’t help but think: Did they also think of them when they were with you? Did they imagine the beautiful redhead’s breasts when they were kissing yours, or maybe that they were in between the legs of that girl with the gorgeous reflective skin instead of your own?

While the pictures were meant to be stimulating, and they had been a little at the beginning, the more you thought about them, the more you thought they were so much unlike you and the more your thoughts continued to spiral.

“Such beautiful witches…” you murmured as you closed the box, “and they are equally gorgeous men… why are they–“ You didn’t finish your words out loud, too painful to say them outside of your head.

Why are they with me?

You carefully placed the box back into its spot, cleaned the rest of the things that had gotten stained and placed everything back in their stash. You carefully placed the wooden plank back where it belonged and put Sirius’ knife back in his drawers. You took a deep breath, not feeling up for much and instead ripped a page from your notebook.

“I’m feeling a little sick, see you boys tomorrow.”

It was simple enough not to make them question further, you left it on top of Remus’ bed and left the room.

The following day, the boys being as marvelous and attentive as they were, had gotten you to forget about the stash almost completely. And things had been absolutely perfect since then.

At least until a few days later, you had been playing wizards chess with Sirius on his bed, and after he beat you for the third time making you feel both hopeless and a little dumb for not anticipating his moves –which was also ridiculous because Sirius had been a wizard chess champion– he offered to make it up to you.

It was in the spark in his eyes that you knew exactly what he meant. You bit your lip, Remus was reading a book on his bed while James was snoring lightly next to him, one hand draped across the other boy’s torso. You knew they’d want to join in when they realized what you and Sirius were up to, and it sent a shiver down your stomach.

“What do you say, doll?” Sirius asked as he levitated the chess board and the broken pieces to the side, inviting you to come closer.

You huffed “You think you can make it up with your little puppy eyes?”

Sirius pretended to think about it for a second before nodding. “While they should be enough, I’m still planning to use more than just my looks to make you feel better.”

You returned the smile and leaned closer to him, moving to straddle his sitting form, his back was pressed to the headboard and you could feel he was at least a little excited as you leaned into him.

“Did you win so many times just so you could say that to me?” You asked in disbelief, you were drumming your fingers near the nape of his neck.

“I might have been a little extra attentive,” he replied as he grabbed onto your hips and placed a kiss on your neck. “I know how riled up you get when you can’t best me,” he said before placing another kiss, this time further up, “I kind of enjoy seeing your little frown, and angry looks,” he admitted, he was now kissing your jaw. You rolled your hips into his and he tightened his grip on your hips in response.

You smiled, loving the fact that you knew exactly what Sirius liked and how to get him worked up, at least as much as he knew of you. You rolled your hips again and he reached his hand under your skirt, feeling the outside of your leg before flicking his hand to the inside of it. To the softer skin that he grabbed with firm tenderness. Itching his hand closer and closer, making sure to massage your skin, tauntingly.

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, letting his beautiful hair fall on your face as you rolled your hips again, a lot softer this time, matching his pace and wanting his hand to come closer.

“Eager, are we?” he teased.

“Shhh, you’ll wake up Jamie,” you said as you leaned over to kiss his neck. He bit his lip to hold back a moan and finally placed his hand over your panties, tracing a soft line over your slit. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled lightly.

Remus, who had been focused on his book so far, frowned and looked up at the two of you, smirking a little when he noticed what you were up to. Of course, he knew that chuckle, it was Sirius’ sexy teasing laugh.

“Easy love or you’ll be the one to wake up Prongs,” he said, leaning his head to your ear and softly nibbling on it. He traced his hand over your slit a couple more times, and you bucked your hips again. He smiled, you didn’t see it, but you felt it against your skin, “All right, all right…” he said as he flicked his finger over the hem of your panties and moved them aside. You leaned even closer to him as he dug his fingers in, “All of this for me?” he teased as he felt how wet you were.

Remus, who was now only half looking at his book, had somewhat of a fun time as he listened in to your conversation with Sirius. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it stimulating. But he also knew Sirius had had a bit of a bad week, so he thought of letting him have you just for himself, at least for a little bit longer, or until James woke up, just as eager to join in.

“Sirius please,” you whined with a frown and he smiled, letting his fingers trace up until they found your clit, making circles over it, which had you bucking your hips against him again. You bit the side of your cheek as you allowed him to move his hand, leaning in to kiss his neck again, to muffle any possible moans with his skin.

“May I?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his index.

“Mhm,” you said and bucked your hips again, eager for him to do his thing. And he complied, digging his finger inside and allowing it to move inside you as expertly as ever.

“So tight,” he whispered, Remus’ cock twitching at Sirius’ words and reconsidering whether he actually wanted to wait more before joining in.

He did not, so he carefully lifted James’ arm from his torso and walked towards Sirius’ bed. He sat right beside the two of you, a cocky smile on his face as he tilted his head to the side, “You two having fun there?” he asked, “without me?”

“You’re always welcome to join in Moony,” Sirius said with a teasing grin as he pulled you back just a little. You had both of your hands on Sirius’ shoulders, and you were now using them as leverage to ride his hand.

Moony smiled, “I might just watch for a while,” he said, leaning back and placing one of his hands on the back of Sirius’ neck. He knew how much small actions and touches like that made Sirius react, and he smiled as the boy’s breath hitched in his throat. He then turned to look at you, a mischievous grin on his face, he took his wand out and whispered “Evanesco.”

Suddenly both your shirt and bra disappeared, giving both boys the perfect sight of your breasts perking up at the sudden cold. Sirius grunted as he stared, and Remus hummed satisfied. You clenched around Sirius’ fingers –which were now two– whimpered and let out a soft moan.

But then, as you felt their gazes on you, and you felt your own boobs bouncing as you continued to ride Sirius’ expert fingers, you started to feel self-conscious, of how you looked, of how they were staring at you, on whether they were actually thinking of you or imagining something else, someone else. Maybe the beautiful redhead? The busty blonde? The reflextive-skinned goddess with the beautiful legs? The brunette with the beautiful ass?

Suddenly the lights flickered, and they were gone. You relaxed, Sirius felt the grip on his shoulder untensing, but he thought it was because you were close. But Sirius liked to see your fucked out face when he had his fingers inside you, and in seconds the lights were turned back on, and you tensed instantly.

The muscle movements were normal, but the way you suddenly dug your nails into his shoulders was not, at least not in the moment it was happening and not in the way it was either. Something was up.

He stopped moving his hand in an instant, “you all right, angel?” he asked, a small wrinkle forming on his forehead as his brows furrowed together.

You seemed to be lost in thought for a second, Remus noticed that too, “Yeah… just. Let’s leave the lights off today.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to frown, he took his hand from Sirius’ neck and sat straighter, pulling back and leaning in closer to look at your face, his hand instinctively traveling to your thigh. Sirius, with one hand still inside you –now unmoving– was brushing his thumb in circles on your waist, they were both giving you their unwavering attention, and your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at them nervously, your eyes traveling from boy to boy at unprecedented speeds and you bit your lip, and then the lights were off again.

Once they were off, you sighed and leaned your head on Sirius’ shoulder. He felt how you relaxed in an instant, and his frown deepened. “Angel, what is it?”

“Nothing, light’s giving me a headache,” you lied.

Sirius turned to Remus, while he couldn’t see much, he knew Remus would probably be able to see his questioning stance easily, with his enhanced senses, at least. “You believe her?” he mouthed.

Remus shook his head in response, and when he realized Sirius couldn’t actually see he turned to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure that’s it, luv?”

You swallowed, which was enough indication you weren’t, and you lied again, “Yes, let’s just, continue as is.”

Sirius knew you were lying, and he hated it when you lied to him, he also hated not being able to see shit while Remus could see your every reaction so he turned the lights on, didn’t even use his wand for it, and you tensed again.

You were taken aback by that and swallowed thickly. Your breath was slightly ragged and it was not because you were turned on, in fact, if anything, you felt rather apprehensive now. You cleared your throat. “You know, maybe I’m just not feeling it,” you lied again and pulled yourself off of his hand.

Sirius felt way too many things at the same time, he was worried about your reaction since he thought he’d done something wrong. He was angry because he knew you were hiding the exact reason; he wanted, no, he needed to know what was up so he would never do it again, and thirdly, he was upset, he’d felt…rejected. And by you, no other.

By the time Sirius reacted again, you were buttoning your shirt up and walking towards their door. James, who had been asleep till then, was finally awoken by the lights coming on and off and the small commotion going on. He was confused, at first he thought you were just playing, but perhaps that was not it.

But Sirius was faster, and he jumped over Remus to get to the door just as you were opening it and shut it closed. You jumped back just a little, shocked at how fast he’d moved, you were now the one with a frown, anger bubbling to your chest, Sirius’ temper had always been something you’d learn to deal with, and even if you knew it was justified now, that didn’t stop yours from flaring up.

“That’s not it,” he said confidently, “that’s not it and you’re not getting out until you tell me what’s upset you.”

“Sirius,” Remus said now, ever the conciliator. He’d also stood from the bed and walked the few strides left to get next to the two of you.

Maybe it wasn’t the best reaction you could have had, but you were already pretty shaken up by the situation at hand, by your rather torturous thoughts and by Srius’ slamming of the door. “Oh, so you know my body better than I do?” you said defensively, “you would know if I have or not a headache.”

“YES!” he responded stubbornly. “I know how it reacts when it has a headache and it’s not the way you were reacting now!”

You shook your head as you scoffed, James was now sitting on the bed looking at the situation both confused and worried.

“Moony! Back me up on this?” he said as he turned his face to him.

Remus bit his lip, as he shook his head, thinking before speaking. “He’s right luv, that was not your headache reaction.”

You scoffed, “ff course, you’d take his side.”

“I’m not taking any sides.”

“Well you are, just don’t realize it!” you said angrily. “If I say I have a headache, I have one and that’s it. Now, I want to leave.”

“Darling,” Remus said as he let out a breath, he seemed worried and upset as well now, you were trying really hard not to feel bad about it, trying to remind yourself why you needed to leave.

It was Sirius who spoke again, his lips quivering as he found the right words, “Just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll never do it again, I promise,” his voice broke near the end. He was panicking, he was terrified he’d hurt you and that you’d leave thinking the worst of him. You knew what was hapening had brought back some past trauma and you didn’t want to be the catalyst of another panick attack.

You took a deep breath when you heard him, your frown deepening as you considered your words, “I found your stash.”

The three men went quiet in an instant. Sirius looked like a deer trapped in headlights, Remus’ jaw had tightened and you’d heard James’ gasp in the back.

“Darling, I–“ Sirius tried to speak but you cut him off.

“No, no,” you tried to reason, more with yourself than with him. “I get, it’s fine, you need your release time and all that, I don’t mind.”

“Well, you clearly do,” Remus said. You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was James’. He had walked towards you the moment he heard about the stash but you hadn’t noticed until then. You flinched but missed the hurt look that etched his features as he looked at you.

“Well yes. But it’s a stupid feeling nonetheless. I’ll get over it. Just need time.”

“It was me,” James said from behind, “it was my idea, not Sirius’. Don’t be upset at him.”

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to be angry at James for something so natural in men, let alone because you knew this whole mess was created due to your own thoughts and insecurities, not theirs. And now you were upsetting them, what a great bIoody girlfriend you were.

“I don’t bIoody care whose idea it was!” you spat. “Please let me off,” you said then, leg bouncing, you wanted to get out before you said something that would upset them more.

“We’ll never do it again if that makes you feel better,” Sirius tried.

“No it– It fucking doesn’t, okay? It’s fine, it’s… Found it a couple of nights ago when my ink pot fell on the floor.” The three boys exchanged a look with each other, had either of them changed its spot? “It’s pretty fresh in my mind and– I just– I can’t stop thinking you’re imagining them while being with me.”

“Them?” Sirius asked, confused.

“The pretty witches!” you responded, almost angrily. Remus, who was in front of you looked confused, and you huffed before adding in more detail. “Beautiful redhead,” you looked at James. “Gorgeous blonde,” you added as you turned to Sirius. Then looked back at the taller boy, “need I elaborate?”

You heard James gasp from behind. “She found the old stash!”

“Ah, so you have a new and improved one,” you said now, and shook your head as you turned at the door. Sirius was leaning in and he had a cheeky smile on his face now, which pissed you off even further.

“You could call it that,” he said with a shrug.

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly again. “Don’t.”

But Sirius just smiled instead, “Oh but, I’m impressed. Our lovely angel was jealous.”

“I was not.” You said flatly. “Get off the door, please,” the last part was much more of a beg than a demand.

Sirius shook his head, “not until you see the new stash.”

Remus and James exchanged looks after that, not even sure if they should or shouldn’t stop Sirius.

“I don’t want to see the witches you use to wank off now, it’s enough with the images already in my head. Can’t stop thinking of them, of you thinking about them when you’re looking at me.”

Sirius’ face fell instantly, his teasing stance almost faltering but not his determined blockage of the door.

“That’s not–“

“Have you considered perhaps it was the other way around?” Remus asked as he placed a slightly hesitant hand on your shoulder.

“What?”

“That we imagined you when looking at them.”

You were taken aback by that. No, you hadn’t considered that. “What about the redhead, can’t tell me she wasn’t there because of James’ old obsession with Evans?”

James sighed, it was. That’s why they had to get a new stash.

“She needs to see the new stash,” Sirius said while looking at the two other boys.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” James intervened, it had been his idea after all, and he had admitted it to you now. He didn’t want to have you get mad over something else, and this time your anger would be indisputably justifiable.

“I think it is,” Sirius insisted.

You sighed, “you can continue deciding if you’re going to show me your new fuckable witches or not a different day. Sirius, get off the door.”

He shook his head and turned to James, “Please?”

“I don’t want to see them! Enough is enough!”

You turned to the side to try and find another exit when you bumped into Remus, he had a box in his hand. He raised it a bit, you knew what it was instantly.

“Remus!” James complained and went to get it but was hastily stopped by Sirius who got in the way and trapped him in his arms.

“Prongs behave!” He said sternly.

The path to the door was free now, but Remus’ serious stance made you curious, even more when he moved his finger to his lips and bit hard enough to draw bIood.

“What the fu–“

“It’s so no one can open but us,” he explained. “We bIood charmed it.”

You looked at him with a shocked face, you didn’t think they’d go to such lengths to hide their spicy stuff, what the hell did they even have there?

Some of the metal hinges at the top moved around a little bit, looking almost like a miniature Gringotts vault, and then it snapped open. Remus pushed it your way. You looked at the three boys before picking the first image up. It was Remus, shirtless Remus on the day you’d gone swimming at the Potter’s last summer. He was pulling his hair back and water glistened all over his torso, he looked at you and winked, before turning to look at something else.

You gasped and pulled another picture, it was James and Sirius, both also shirtless, and they were making out under a tree. Sirius had his leg in between James’ and was leaning onto him rather intensely.

The next one was you, you had the swimsuit you’d bought that summer, the one you thought looked really good on you, and you were on your knees, looking for something on the sand, your ass was slightly prompted up and the picture was obviously focused on that. You swallowed thickly and went to grab another one.

You again, this time while making out with Remus, his hand was on your ass and you had realized they were taking a picture, looking at the camera with a diverted gasp before covering the lens with your hand.

You took another one, and this time around you were genuinely shocked, it was Remus, being blown by James. His pinky pretty lips wrapped around Rem’s cock. “Oh, wow.”

James frowned, he knew what else there was in there and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to see it, he had never felt worse about his own ideas than now. Responsible, he knew he had bertrayed you, in a way. You took the next picture and stared at it for a minute.

It was you again, well, you’re back at least. You were riding Sirius, moving back and forth over his cock as he helped you, hands on your waist as he bit his lip. You didn’t see your face, but you knew it hadn’t been that long ago. If Sirius’ new tattoo was any telling.

You looked at the boys shocked, you hadn’t even realized they’d taken the picture, but you looked as pretty as any witch in the other photos, how had they gotten you to look so good?

They hadn’t done anything, it was just you.

“You don’t have to–“ James started, but you had already picked up another picture.

“Shut up,” you said simply.

You again, this time you were sprawled on the bed with a blindfold on your head. That had been on your birthday. James had one of his hands on your leg, dangerously close to your slit while Sirius was kissing your breast and sucking at your nipples.

And there was more, a lot of pictures from that day, all in compromising positions. Some involving you and the boys, some involving only the boys on different occasions, some you remembered, some in which you hadn’t even been present. There was even one of Sirius wanking off to the picture of you in the swimsuit you had seen earlier.

“I’m sorry–“ James said, now sounding distressed and shaking Sirius off him. “I’m sorry angel, we should have never done it.”

You grabbed another one of the photos, it had clearly been rushed, the camera being hidden as you turned your head to look at the boys, this time around you were kneeling on the bed, and James was jerking himself off to you, teasing your entrance before pulling out completely and allowing his cum to fall over your ass and back.

“You’re right.,” you said as you placed the pictures back in the box, expression neutral. “You should have never done it without asking me–” James swallowed.

“Love I–“

“James, shut up!” you said again, giving the pictures another look. “You should have never done it without asking me first,” you said as you flipped through some more pics and tsking. “I would have helped.”

James’ jaw dropped, and you looked at him with a cheeky smile. Sirius was looking at you proudly and satisfied with his choice while Remus stared at the picture you had in your hand. The one where you were getting a back shot but was shaky and blurry because the camera had been hidden before you saw it.

You moved the picture up, holding it between your fingers as you displayed it to the boys, “What do you say we recreate this one, but with better quality?”

Sirius scoffed a laugh and smiled.

“I’ll get the camera,” Remus said simply.

James was still stunned, and you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Sirius leaned from behind and kissed you on the cheek “I told them you should know about it from the beginning but they said you’re too pure for it.”

You laughed at that, “you boys keep calling me angel,” you said as you turned to Sirius and wrapped your hands around his neck, “but I wouldn’t have done all the things I have with you all if I wasn’t the exact opposite,” you added with a smirk.

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any.

This one might get a part two, if you guys wanna see that <3

Raead more Marauders Fiction

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silencesscreams · 5 months

Note

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sad at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your desert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

#james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #mrsaluado #lila writes #silencesscreams

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bimbobaggins69 · 4 months

Text

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮?

𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: when your new boyfriend Steve accidentally stumbles upon your hidden diary filled with your biggest secrets and darkest fantasies, he asks his fraternity brother Eddie; a drug dealing metalhead to help him fulfill your biggest one.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, past fwb steddie, 90s au, fuck boy eddie, slight hurt/comfort, sexual tension, accidental outing (I swear he means good), oral (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, unprotected p in a (m receiving), anal play (f receiving), unprotected p in v & dp in v, boy on boy action, dom eddie, filth filth filth, fluffs, longing.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: just an idea that’s been rotting away in my brain that I had to write down… as always thank you to my beautiful girlfriend @xxhellfirebunnyxx and the babes @take-everything-you-can & @livosssblog for beta reading.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 7.4k

Date night with your new boyfriend Steve has turned into a regular weekend thing, although you had your eye on the pretty, brown haired boy all semester long, you had officially met three and half weeks ago while you were working your waitressing job at the on campus diner. He asked for your number and the two of you have been inseparable since.

“Hey Steve, can you go grab my purse off of my desk in my room, please? I’m gonna use the restroom and then we can go.” You ask, making your way into the hallway of your apartment, you close the door to the bathroom behind you softly before going about your business.

The brown haired boy in question walks into your bedroom and grabs your black leather bag off of your desk but before he turns to walk away, something hits his nike sneaker and bounces off, hitting the floor with a light thud.

“Shit.” Steve huffs under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the aforementioned object; it's a journal or maybe a diary? It’s splayed out on the floor, open to the very last page. Steve tries his best not to look, he doesn't want to snoop. He really, really likes you and doesn't want to give any reasons for you not to trust him so early on; but when his hazel eyes catch a glimpse of the words: “Deepest Darkest Fantasies” written in bold black lettering on the very top of the page, he can't help but to continue scanning over the rest. Words like “threesome”, “double penetration” and “guy on guy action” pique his interests. He’s no prude and has definitely had his share of gay action with a few of his fraternity brothers, one specifically that he had an ongoing friends with benefits situation with, so he’s not put off by it. What he is, is surprised, almost shocked that you would be into something like that. Most girls he met weren’t and would cut a date short if you even so much as mentioned the word bisexual in their presence.

He hears the bathroom door click open, so he quickly closes the diary and places it back onto your desk before grabbing your bag and booking it out into the living room where he sits on a bar stool, doing his best to look as if he’d been waiting for you the whole five or so minutes.

“You ready to go?” You ask with an excited smile that Steve just wants to kiss off of you, he already thought you were his perfect dream girl but something about what he found in your diary made him that much more attracted to you; perhaps it was the feeling of someone finally accepting every part of him.

After a nice dinner date at your favorite sushi spot and one too many saki bombers later, you're both stumbling into your apartment, heated lips clashing together like they were set off by some sort of magnetic force. Deep, passionate kisses shared between you, as if they were going out of style. Hands roaming over each other's bodies before finding their permanent spot in the other's soft tresses.

“Need you so fucking bad, baby.” Steve whispers to you through tender kisses.

“Mmm, take me to my room, big boy.” You’re finally able to huff out as his lips move in a sloppy motion, down your neck.

The chosen pet name makes Steve tense, the kisses he was just placing on your collar bone come to an immediate halt.

“Everything okay?” You ask as you gently scratch at his scalp with your long fingernails, making him shudder and groan with delight.

“No, yeah everythings fine.” He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to your bedroom and tossing you onto your bed. The stuff he saw in your diary, plus the mention of the nickname his fraternity brother/ex friends with benefits calls him, kind of set his brain on fire with thoughts of the three of you together.

Things didn't work out with Eddie in the way Steve had first wanted them to, he was very much into partying and sleeping around whereas Steve had dreams of settling down; he had his party and meaningless sex phase for most of high school, it was no longer fun for him and when he voiced that to Eddie, the metalhead laughed and said he didn't think he’d ever settle down, which was a silent blow to Steve’s heart. He has since gotten over it and moved on all while staying friends and being roommates, but that other part of his brain was enticed at the idea of having both of you at the same time. Maybe he’d have to introduce you to Eddie and let it go from there, let you choose whether you’d want them to be the ones to make that fantasy come true.

Steve loses his train of thought when you start to remove your clothes, then he's on you again; kissing you with an intense passion that almost knocks the air from your lungs.

“God, im gonna fuck you so good.”

“Come on Eddie, It’s a goddamn threesome! When have you ever turned one of those down, huh?” Steve deplores as he paces in front of his half naked roommate who’s sat comfortably in a slouched position with his head thrown back onto a saggy, discolored couch cushion.

“I'm sure I've turned one or two down in my day.” Eddie says with a smirk as his eyes follow the honey eyed boy, whose red sox cap sits backwards over that perfect quiff of brown hair.

“Oh please, you fucked those twin sisters last month and had no moral fucking compass then.” Steve quips, exhaling the built up of irritation out through his nose.

“Well, that was just fun. Believe it or not Harrington, twins are a very niche kink and I won't sit here and listen to you kink shame me, kay?” The smirk on Eddie’s face grows to full capacity when Steve throws him a pissed off look as his hands fall to his hips, in his signature Steve stance.

“C’mon, at least meet her first before you make an indefinite decision, Eds.” Steve says while pulling out the big guns; the nickname mixed with a bat of his long lashes has his roommate instantly folding, though not without contempt.

“Fine, I’ll meet your little girlfriend and decide whether I wanna fuck her or not.” Eddie huffs out as if he’s doing Steve some big nuanced favor. “Now move, you're blocking the Tv.” The metalhead declares as he tosses an overstuffed throw pillow at the former jock.

“You’re not fucking her, we’re fucking her!” Steve shouts as he smacks the pillow out of his face, letting it plop to the floor before he turns around and makes his way to his bedroom to think of the best way to bring this up to you without having to reveal that he accidentally read your diary.

“So, we’re meeting your friend here?” You ask your boyfriend as he opens the door to the sports bar for you before ushering you inside with a light slap to your ass.

“Mhm, my good friend and roommate, Eddie. He’ll be here soon.” Steve hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, although he did doubt you’d catch on without any significant reason to. His nerves were getting the best of him and he felt guilty for doing this behind your back, maybe he should talk to you about this first? But, he figured you could still just meet Eddie on a friendly basis without the added pressure of possibly choosing him to be a third.

Once the hostess sits you down at your table, an unfamiliar head of fluffy waves comes bounding through the crowd, his eyes scanning the restaurant before falling on Steve, who immediately stands up and waves a hand above his head, making Eddie roll his eyes at Steve’s dramatic gesture.

“Sup Harrington,” The metalhead greets before his eyes fall to you, sitting meekly with your hands in your lap and a nervous, tight smile on your face. Eddie couldn't be bothered to take his eyes off of you. He was stunned and it wasn't because he didn't think Steve could pull such a beautiful girl. No, obviously king steve could get whoever he wanted, this was because he too found you unbelievably beautiful and something that Eddie learned early on in his friendship with Steve was that they did not have the same taste in women which is why they never tried for a threesome before, but you oh your were the exception.

After the drinks were flowing through everyone’s veins and the pizza and wings had been devoured, conversation started out light-hearted with lots of banter between the boys. It was clear they were very good friends; how good was still up for debate but you could clearly see that they cared for each other which warmed your heart because Steve deserves all the love in the world. You had never met anyone like him and were grateful he essentially fell into your lap or more so came into your diner and asked for your number.

“So, what other fantasies were in this diary?” Eddie smirks as he looks between you and Steve with a playful, mischievous look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused about the question but your heart drops when you see Steve shut his eyes and bow his head as if Eddie just divulged a big secret and by his reaction you were pretty sure he did.

“Oh, was I- did she not- fuck.” Eddie’s shoulders slump and his smile fades as he looks at you and Steve with regretful eyes.

“You read my diary?” You ask, turning towards Steve as your voice tumbles out so sullen and soft, making both of their hearts ache.

“I’m-I’m sorry baby, I was gonna tell-” he begins before he’s being cut off by a now pissed off version of you.

“Wait, so this wasn’t me just meeting one of your friends because you genuinely wanted me to, this is because of the things I wrote in my diary? What, were you trying to set up some kind of threesome?” You scoff as both boys look down into their laps, you can feel the shame rolling off their backs and you couldn’t help the betrayal you felt.

“I’m gonna go, I need some time to think.” You say abruptly standing from the booth, but before you could take a step, they’re both stopping you.

“No, baby just let me take you home.”

“I can drive you home, princess.”

They say in unison, and as much as you wanted to stay and possibly entertain this thought of having a threesome, your humiliation wins over and you just need to get as far away from the both of them as possible.

“I’m fine, I’ll talk to you later.” You snap before making your way out of the restaurant, but instead of calling for a taxi like you probably should have, you impulsively decide to begin your three mile walk of shame back home.

You’ve been stewing in your own feelings of treachery for two days, and although you're still upset; thoughts of the frizzy haired metalhead haven’t left your mind. If it came down to really having this fantasy you have laid awake many nights thinking about, fulfilled; would you really want it to be with him, or more importantly them? The burning in your lower belly and the need to snap your legs together, gave that answer away fairly quickly.

As you settle onto your couch with your favorite spicy book in hand, the shrill ring of your house phone has you up within seconds. Your heart begins to beat frantically out of your chest at the thought of it being Steve on the other end, you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive this whole mishap quite yet, even if you haven't stopped daydreaming about it.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out groggy, having not used it for hours as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment, feeling sorry for yourself about something that you were now questioning was as bad as you’ve made it seem.

“Hey.” The voice that comes out over the crackle of the phone speaker isn't Steves but it is familiar to you in the sense that you’d just heard it not even three days ago.

“Eddie?” You question with disbelief.

“Aw, you remembered princess.” You can hear his smug smirk through the red plastic you are now white knuckling.

“What’s up Eddie? Is Steve okay?” You ask, trying to politely move the conversation along.

“I mean he hasn’t eaten for two days and has been sulking in his room if that's what you're wondering.” The new information pulls at your heart strings, you truly didn't think Steve would be too sad over your decision for space; and although what he did wasn't entirely okay, you still wanted nothing more than to run and comfort him.

Eddie takes your silence as an excuse to keep going, “Um, well I was just calling to see if maybe I could come by and talk to you, please?” He breathes heavily into the speaker making you cringe at the loud crackle, you can hear the desperation to fix things in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah sure, we can talk.”

It takes Eddie 20 minutes to get to your apartment after you'd given him your address and safe wishes, which seemed to have taken him by surprise. What was the big deal with telling someone to ‘be safe’?

The knock at your door has your palms clammy, you couldn't deny the idea of seeing Eddie and being alone with him, made you nervous.

Maybe you weren’t as innocent in this as you thought.

“There she is.” The smile that graces the long haired boy’s face along with the rasp in his voice instantly has goosebumps spreading over your heated skin.

“Hi, um c-come in.” You stutter, moving from the doorway, your hand gripped tight on the doorknob in order to close it behind him.

“Nice place.” He says while his eyes roam over the living room, the wide smile never leaves his face until his chocolate orbs find yours.

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile before you're sitting back down on your couch. You bring your slouch sock clad feet up and tuck them underneath you, protectively as if some kind of defense mechanism. Eddie can’t help but think you’re the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“Sit. So what did you wanna talk about?” Your voice slightly trembles as you motion for the metalhead to sit down in the spot beside you.

“I came here to tell you that Stevie means well, he really would never do anything to hurt you. I swear. I’ve never seen him so upset over someone.” Eddie’s words come out in a jumbled panic as if he’s anxiously trying to get you to see things from another perspective, and before you can get a word in edgewise, he’s continuing. “He just thought it’d be a good idea since me and him used to bang, so I'm familiar, ya know? And he really wanted to make this ‘fantasy’ come true for you.” The way he so casually drops the bomb that him and Steve used to fuck, causes your eyes to grow as wide as saucers.

“Oh fuck! Did you not know that either? Jesus Christ nobody tells me anything, I-Im just gonna shut the fuck up.” He huffs a nervous laugh before running his hands through his brown waves that sit tousled down his mid back.

You wanted to scoff and say yeah, same. But decided against it once you caught a glimpse of his big glassy doe eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just thought because he came to me with the threesome thing and the shit about you watching us fuck around, I-I guess i just thought you had to at least know. I’m- fuck he’s gonna be so pissed at me if you break up with him over this.” Eddie's head falls into his hands before he begins to shake it out of pure disappointment in himself.

“Hey, I'd never break up with someone over their sexual past.” You say before scooting closer to his body and wrapping your arms around his torso to comfort him, the action causes your face to snuggle in close to his leather jacket covered chest that smells like a mixture of musky cologne, weed and cigarette smoke.

“God, you're such a special girl, you know that? I can see why he likes you so much.” Eddie mutters as his hand rubs gently in an up and down motion on your back.

You can’t help but to snuggle in deeper, as his soft touch and low purr of his voice, now lulls you to absolute comfort. You had never felt so safe in any other man's arms other than Steve’s, and the revelations from that fact and the one of Eddie and Steve having already had sex, causes the flames to lick up throughout your body and you already know the answer to whether you want them to be the ones to provide you with this fantasy.

“I wanna do it.” You say without much thought, the words are slightly muffled by Eddie’s jacket but he hears you loud and clear. His eyes widen in surprise as you look up at his face from where your head sits shyly hidden in his chest. Fuck, you were really doing things to him.

“Wanna do what, sweet girl?” He whispers down towards you before moving a stray strand of hair out of your face. He hopes you mean the threesome, but he’s not apposed to fucking you right here on your couch, steve be damned. But he immediately feels guilty at that thought.

“Being with you and Steve at the same time.” You whisper as you blink up at him with a nervous look in your eyes.

“No, no. Say what you really want, princess. Go ahead.” Eddie says back, but this time with a more domineering edge. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip ever so slightly, before he’s rubbing it along your jawline. “You can do it for me, baby. Just say it.”

His face is within inches of yours and you want to kiss him so badly but you also want to give him what he’s asking for.

“I want you and Steve to use me and fuck my holes.” You purr back before bashfully biting at the plump skin of your bottom lip.

Eddie almost chokes on his spit, he was expecting you to say something along the lines of “I want you and Steve to fuck me.” But him and his cock weren’t prepared for “use me and fuck my holes.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s taking everything inside of me to hold back from kissing you right now, angel.” Eddie says as he tries to steady his breathing. “But we’ll save that for later, alright? Call Steve first and then we’ll go from there.” Eddie says before placing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. He stands up and bids you a farewell before awkwardly walking to your front door with a rock hard cock between his legs.

“Hello-” Steve’s hoarse voice croaks out from the other end of the landline.

“Steve, baby? Can we talk?”

You and Steve mutually agreed that your talk would be better to do in person, so he invited you over to the frat house, so you could sit down and talk with him and Eddie. Once you are ready to go, diary in hand. Your excitement from getting to see them, quickly turns to anxious nerves.

This was all so new to you, you wondered if you and Steve's relationship would change? Or how things would be with you and Eddie? What if Steve and Eddie realize they have feelings for each other in the process and leave you in the dust? So many things you never had to think about when this was just your fantasy.

Well you suppose those were all questions you could bring up to them once they were in front of you. You tried your best to not dwell on the unknown, although that was so much easier said than done.

You pull up to the large brick house that sits on a huge grassy lawn. The fraternities greek letter badge sits proudly above the porch. You swallow down your nerves as you grab your bag and head towards the big iron gate that sits wide open, you walk through it leaving yourself no room to hesitate before climbing up the two steps towards the front door.

You knock three times, crossing your arms over your chest when you glanced down and realized how much your cleavage was almost spilling from your shirt.

“Come in!” A voice yells from the other side, making you freeze for a few seconds while a lump forms in your throat at the idea of just walking into someone else’s home. Before you can reach out towards the doorknob, it’s being opened for you and a set of sad, downturned hazel eyes meet yours.

“Hey.” Is all he says before he’s ushering you inside.

Once in, you can’t help but to look around. It’s huge and cleaner then you thought it’d be, considering it houses about a dozen or so guys.

Steve can see the nervousness in your eyes, so he eases it by letting you know he was the only one home and that Eddie would be back any minute now.

“Do you wanna sit in the living room or go up to my room?” Steve asks, as his head slightly perks up with excitement, more so hopeful than anything else.

“Your room is cool.” You say with an awkward nod.

His room was nothing like you’d expected, there were tons of posters all over the walls: cars, bands and naked girls were the theme. You figured it had to do with the excessive masculine facade you had to put on to be part of one of these fraternities.

Steve looks around with you and smiles sheepishly as your eyes meet a poster of two semi naked girls kissing, while one girl has her hand in the other girl's black panties.

You smile in amusement before taking a seat on his big bed, while Steve leans against his wooden desk directly in front of you.

“I-Im so sorry, baby.” He sniffles, his sad eyes melting your heart as he continues. “I promise you, I didn’t go through your diary on purpose, it just fell and when I went to pick it up it was on that page, I-I just couldn’t look away after I seen what was in it, and that’s my fault, a-and I should’ve never went to eddie behind your back. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I just- being without you for these past couple days I realized that I-I love you. And I know we haven't been dating for very long but, I think I’ve known from the moment we stayed up all night on the phone the first very first time, I just knew then that I was gonna fall in love with you.” He unveils, making your breath hitch.

“You love me?” You murmur hesitantly.

“I do. So much, honey.” It’s so sincere, as if he didn’t even have to give it a second thought.

You're up and rushing towards him within seconds, wrapping him up into a big hug. His arms instantly move to the small of your back and before you know it, he’s picking you up. He walks towards the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress before adjusting your legs to straddle his lap.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby. These lips, your voice, your beautiful smile. God, I drove myself crazy just thinking about you.” He confesses, and his low husky timber goes straight between your thighs.

“I missed you, too.” You utter as your hands play mindlessly with his brown locks. You look down into his hazel eyes from where you were sat, perched in his lap. “I love you.” The weight that's been removed from your chest with your revelation, feels euphoric. Especially when Steve's lashes flutter and a pretty smile begins to stir on his once saddened face.

Your boyfriend's fingertips dig into your waist as his grip tightens, holding you close to him in fear of losing you again. His desperation, palpable.

“Fuck, you just made me the happiest man alive.” He whispers, a wide smile taking over his face as he snuggles his head, lovingly into your chest.

“Steve?” You whisper back, hands never leaving his fluffy mane.

“What is it, honey?” He asks, his eyes snapping back up to yours with curiosity.

“I wanna do the threesome.” You quickly blurt, before cowering away when you noticed how wide his eyes had gotten.

“Baby, n-no. You don’t have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. You can just keep it as a fantasy. If it’s something you’d like to do in the future, then we can talk about it then. I'm not gonna lose you again.” He sighs, closing the small gap between your bodies by possessively bringing you chest to chest with him, as his grip tightens to a nearly painful level, causing you to whimper.

“I um, I know about you and Eddie.” You admit, feeling his body tense beneath you. The look in his eyes is a mixture of fear and longing.

“He told you?” It comes out sharper than he intended, but that wasn't for Eddie to confess. You were his, he should've been the one to tell you his secrets.

“Trust me, he didn’t mean to. He seemed to be just as in the dark about things as I was.” You tease gently.

Steve’s eyes fill with regret at your words, “I know, and I’m sorry baby. So fucking sorry.” He murmurs into your skin before he’s attacking your chest with kisses.

“I forgive you, Stevie.” You insist, silently trying to work up the nerve to say what you really want to say. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” The boy beneath you scrunches his face up in confusion. You take a shuddering breath before you continue. “You and Eddie together.”

He sighs, eyes slightly darkening before he's smirking up at you. “That get you goin’, pretty girl?”

“Mmhm, I touched myself thinking about it.” Your confession has Steve’s eyes blowing wide with lust.

“Mmm, played with that pretty little pussy to the thought of what? Hm, me getting fucked?” He groans when you can’t help but to grind your now throbbing center against his growing erection.

Before things have a chance to heat up any further, Eddie pops his head in through the doorway, making you and Steve jump and gasp at the intrusion.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Eddie says glumly, “should I uh, go?” He points his thumb behind his shoulder towards the door, but you can clearly see from the look in his eyes that the last thing he wants to do is leave.

“No, c’mere.” You encourage but Eddie hesitates for a moment, before he begins taking a few steps over to you and Steve. He stands right behind you, making you beam at him from over your shoulder.

“Princess over here was just telling me something very interesting.” Steve snickers up at the metalhead, who's looking down at both of you with intense affection.

“Oh yeah? And what was that, pretty boy?” Eddie asks, his eyes never leaving the side of your face.

“She said she touched her tight little cunt while she thought about you fucking me.” Steve’s once hazel eyes are now black and staring you down like a hungry predator.

“That true, sweet thing?” Eddie returns, before taking your chin between his fingers and bringing your face closer towards his, for a better view.

“Yes sir.” It slips out between your lips without much thought, but the men on either side of you groan in satisfaction. Now, you’re able to feel the metalheads hardening cock poke at your lower back.

“Before we start, I um, I brought something.” You admit before hopping off of Steve’s lap and out of the perfect little sandwich they had created on either side of you.

You dig through your bag that you had set down on Steve’s dresser, retrieving the object that brought you to this very moment. You turn back towards the boys, realizing their gaze hasn't left you since you first stood up. You clutch the black leather book to your chest as Steve and Eddie’s eyes follow you with curious mischief.

“Want you to look through this together, so you can, maybe see some things I’d like to try, since we’re crossing one fantasy off the list.” You hold it out for one of them to take, Eddie moves quicker than Steve, eagerly ripping the diary from your hands.

“Hey, she's my girlfriend.” The possessiveness in the honey eyed boy's voice, has you biting at your lip from how hot you find it.

“She’s ours tonight, big boy.” Eddie retorts, and you don’t want to admit how much the word ours, has your tummy swooping with excitement.

Eddie cackles at Steve's face before he’s taking a seat beside him, so close their thighs are touching.

“Let’s see here.” Eddie sings, as he quickly flips through the more boring pages of random writings and doodles. Until a page finally captures his attention. “Ah ha.” He says with a sly grin, as his finger follows after every word he’s reading.

“Being dominated and degraded, huh?” The long haired boy beams up at you from beneath his lashes, as if he were seeing you in a new light.

“Has Stevie ever done any of this stuff?” Eddie asks curiously, no judgment behind his words.

You shake your head no while Steve stays silent, his cheeks pinkening in the process.

“Yeah, baby boy’s more submissive, isn't he? Used to get so hard when I’d boss him around.” Eddie sighs as if in some far off memory.

Steve’s not quite used to talking about being with a man in front of you or any woman, for that matter so his shoulders tense at Eddie’s confession. You quickly ease him by running your hand along his jaw, and up into his hair, before grabbing and tugging harshly, surprising both boys with the abrupt switch.

“Is that true, baby? You like being bossed around?” Steve begins to stammer as his eyes grow glossy with desire.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have a lot of fun with the both of you.” Eddie smirks as he shakes his head in disbelief.

After the boys had taken their time kissing you, and getting you all worked up and whimpering for them. They began taking your clothes off. Both of them moaning when the fact that you hadn’t been wearing a bra or panties was revealed.

Once their gawking and dirty words had stopped, you and Eddie began working on pulling all of Steve’s clothes off, leaving you both stark naked; all the while Eddie was fully dressed in his black and leather.

“Get on your knees, both of you.” He demands, and you and Steve obey with no questions asked; like good little pets. Eddie was so achingly hard from just that thought alone.

You and your boyfriend worked together to get the metalheads belt and jeans undone and down his creamy thighs. His hard cock bobbing out between yours and Steve's face. Your eyes widen at the size, but Steve pays no mind to it; reminding you that they’ve already done this, you're the one that's new here. To your surprise, there was no jealousy in that conclusion.

“Open.” Eddie demands again, leaving you and Steve to submit to his every order, and you both do without any hesitation. Opening up your mouths and lulling your tongues out in the process, leaving Eddie to slap his fat leaking tip against your wet and pink, pillowy muscles.

The long haired boy above you, growls as his eyes take in the sight before him. You and Steve are on your knees for him with your tongues out, allowing him to slap his throbbing cock against them. He’s had his share of threesomes, but none have ever made him feel like this.

Steve finally has enough of the teasing, eagerly wrapping his lips around Eddie’s tip and sucking before he swallows it down to the hilt with no problem. Seeing your boyfriend take Eddie so perfectly, has you grinding your hips against nothing. Desperately wanting to move your hand between your thighs and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Share with your girlfriend Stevie, no need to be greedy. There's enough of me to go around.” Eddie insists, with his signature devilish smirk.

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve retorts, making you laugh at their boyish banter.

Steve looks at you with a bashful smile, before he’s wrapping his hand around Eddie’s shaft and bringing it closer to your awaiting mouth.

“Go ahead, suck his cock, baby.” Steve affirms, as if you needed the encouragement. You wrap your lips around Eddie, hungirly taking him as far back as you could.

You find a steady pace, bobbing your head up and down on him as you twist your hand along the inches you can’t take.

“Oh fuck. That’s a good girl.” Eddie groans, fisting your hair into a ponytail. He takes the bottom of his band tee and sticks it between his teeth, and your eyes flicker up to the trail of hair that leads up to his belly button and over his toned abs. You realize as his whole torso is on display, that he has both of his pink, pebbled nipples pierced.

“You’re both so fucking greedy for this cock, jesus.” Eddie huffs, but he’s the complete opposite of upset or annoyed, fuck no. He’s vibrating, the most excited and turned on he’s probably ever been in his life.

“Open your mouths, hands behind your back.” Another demand you both follow instantly.

Eddie grabs the end of his shaft in his hand and fucks into Steve’s mouth, four thrusts in and he’s removing himself and bringing his cock to your lips. He goes back and forth between your throats, as spit drips off of his dick and into puddles on the floor.

“Up.” He says with a stern vibrato.

“You. lay on the bed with your head upside down, I want it hanging off the edge.” He says, and you make quick work at following his orders.

“Good girl.” He whispers sweetly, before bending down and catching your lips in a dirty, hunger filled kiss.

“Alright, I want you to fuck her wet little cunt while I fuck her throat. How’s that sound, big boy?”

Steve nods his head in agreement, as an excited smile and hungry eyes find your awaiting, pliant body. Your boyfriend climbs over you, nestling himself between your thighs. He brings two fingers between your legs and rubs at your folds, gauging whether or not he needs to get you wetter for him. But to his contentment, you're already soaked and dripping. He grabs his hard, leaking cock and rubs it along your slit before breaching your hole.

“Mmm.” Steve hums in delight, as he reaches the depths of your pussy, so warm and tight.

Eddie begins to slide his cock between your lips, and you're quickly being filled at both ends. You can't help but to relish in it, the fantasy you’ve had for years, playing out before your very eyes, with you as a participant. The thought had you growing wetter and your throat relaxing while both boys pounded into you.

“She takes cock so well, doesn't she?” You hear Steve question above you.

“So fucking good, she’s got my goddamn legs shaking from this tight little throat.” Eddie growls as he thrusts harder with each word. You hear the smacking of their lips, as they both groan and whimper between tongue filled kisses.

“Shit, shit. I gotta stop or I'm gonna come.” Eddie pants, removing himself as quickly as possible.

He couldn't let this be over, yet.

Steve pulls out too, looking to Eddie for his next command.

“Princess wants to watch us mess around, then that's what princess is gonna get.” Eddie says, throwing you a wicked smile, as he moves in closer to Steve. He grabs his cock and fists it before crashing their lips back together.

You move towards the top of the bed, for the perfect view. But also to be out of their way, you didn't want there to be any distractions from this.

They start out kissing and stroking each other's cocks. Their tongues lapping together, sloppily as desperate moans flow through the room.

Your fingers find their way between your thighs, the tips move in a circle over your throbbing bud and you bite at your lip as your eyes never leave the scene in front of you.

Eddie now has Steve on all fours, while the metalhead stands behind him. He falls to his knees, before bringing his tongue to the other boy's rim. He fucks him with it, making Steve mewl all the while his eyes bore into yours. You can tell he’s so turned on; his hair is a mess, his face is flushed and his eyes are glossed over with desire. The long haired boy begins prodding at your boyfriend's hole with his fingers, stretching him out enough to take his cock that is now aching, painfully.

“You ready to give our girl a show, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs into his ear, while his eyes finally take in the image of you, laid out for them; legs spread wide as you touch yourself. He can’t help but want you closer.

“Come help me, baby.” Eddie insists, as he rubs his cock against Steve’s hole.

“Yes, sir.” You purr, crawling across the bed before you're stopping just beside him.

“Such a good girl.” He praises as both boys watch your every movement. “Hold his ass open for me, can you do that, sweetheart?” You nod at his words.

“Yes sir, I can do that.” And you do, grabbing at both of Steve’s plump cheeks and pulling them apart, as the metalhead begins pushing into his tight hole. They both groan in unison as Eddie buries himself inside the pliant boy beneath him.

“Fuck, that looks so good.” You can't help but utter as you stare at the way Steve stretches around Eddie.

“Yeah? Like the way your boyfriend's tight little hole looks getting stuffed with my big cock?” He grunts, his hips speeding up as he fucks Steve with a force that knocks the wooden headboard repeatedly into the wall.

Steve’s drooling and whimpering into the mattress, as his eyes roll back with pleasure. Eddie’s cock has been hitting his prostate dead on and he’s so close to coming.

“I, I'm gonna come.” Steve whines.

“No. You’re. Not.” Eddie growls, as he slowly pulls out of the warm, tight hole that has always taken his cock so perfectly.

“Pretty girl deserves to be fucked too, doesn’t she?” The older boy smirks, slapping the round globe of Steve’s ass.

“Switch places.” Eddie commands.

You bend over, ass up in the air; mimicking the exact position your boyfriend was just in.

“Jesus, you’ve got some real pretty holes, baby.” Eddie cooed, as his thumbs spread you out.

“You ever played with her little asshole, Harrington?” He asks, before spitting a glob right onto your puckered hole.

“Just with my fingers.” Steve admits, bashfully.

“That’s a shame. We’ll have to change that another time, but right now I’m dying to stretch out this little cunt. Fuck, she’s dripping. Just begging to be fucked.” He boasts, then he’s sinking his two middle fingers into your cunt, all the while he rubs his thumb over your spit filled asshole.

He works his fingers inside of you, almost immediately finding your sweet spot, which instantly has you whining and biting at the bed sheets.

“Fuck yeah, so fucking ready for me.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, before he’s removing his fingers and replacing them with his much bigger cock. “Mmm, fuck.” He groans as his head falls back and a sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips.

Steve sits with his back against the headboard as he watches your bodies move together so effortlessly. He can't take it anymore, so he starts palming at his needy cock as he watches the two people he cares about most, captivate and pleasure each other.

“Get your ass over here, big boy. Come fuck her mouth for me.”

Steve’s moving before the demand fully leaves Eddie’s mouth, making you both giggle at his desperation. “With pleasure.” The honey eyed boy marvels, as he lays down with you between his thighs. His sensitive tip sits just inches from your lips, so you grab it and incase him in your wet mouth as you begin to suck him off with gusto.

They both begin to fuck into you, like they did when this all first started. Your wetness drips down both sets of balls, and Steve can’t take his eyes off of the way you're working his cock in and out of your mouth. Your eyes are watering and spit is dripping from your chin before you take him all the way back into your throat. You shake your head, making him whimper as his eyes roll back.

“Need to feel you, Stevie.” Eddie groans, “help me stretch her little pussy out.” He’s practically begging the pretty boy, and your body slightly tenses at the idea of both of them inside of you, stretching you out together.

“That okay, sweet girl?” Steve asks you, tenderly.

“Please.” Is all you can mewl, as you tighten around Eddie.

“Oh yeah, she’s very okay with it.” Eddie teases, as he brings both palms down harshly slapping at your ass, while he waits for Steve to make his way underneath you.

Finally, he sheethes his cock in right alongside his roommates. Stretching you out to maximum capacity, and you can’t hold back the loud moans and sobs that are ripped from your throat.

Once the sharp pain is gone and you're used to the stretch, they begin snapping their hips in unison. The feeling is so indescribable, as both cocks rub together inside of you. You're all so wet and slippery and both boys are incredibly hard, but they only grow harder as their tips rub together between your walls.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, want you fill this pussy up with me, baby.” Eddie groans as he talks directly to Steve. His words cause you to clench around them.

“I'm gonna come, please don’t stop. Please don't come yet.” You babble.

“We're not coming until you do, honey.” Steve chokes, trying not to moan and curse as you tighten up even more, pushing their cocks together with force.

Eddie wraps your hair around his knuckles and pulls, causing your head to snap back as your eyes meet his, upside down.

“You gonna come on our cocks? Hm? Make a fucking mess on us.” He encourages.

Both boys' hands fall to your hips, right over each other as they bring you down harder on their dicks, that are so close to exploding.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squeal as your body begins to jerk and shake with intensity. You come so hard you almost black out, falling onto Steve's chest. He snuggles you in closer, holding you tight as him and Eddie continue to fuck into you. Two sets of expletives fall from their mouths as their cocks twitch against each other and they empty their balls deep inside of you.

You all fall into a heap of tangled limbs, as you and both boys fight to catch your breath. Everyones silent for a few minutes, trying to take in the events that just took place.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two alone.” Eddie mumbles with sorrowful eyes, as if he’d felt like he worn out his welcome.

“No, stay.” You and Steve mutually implore.

“You want me to stay?” He asks, unsure if it was a good idea.

“We want you to stay.”

★ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

Text

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

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#kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen smut #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

Text

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

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anto-pops · 3 months

Text

The Archivist - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Weeks after discovering some ancient tomes you're unable to decipher, you reach out to the Ministry of Magic Archives for help decoding the timeworn pages. The last thing you'd expected was for Sebastian Sallow to show up, much less for him to be so... attractive. Had he always looked like that?

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian Sallow pursued a professional career as a book nerd and also happens to be really well versed in sex.

Word Count: 6,969 (LMAO)

Warnings: 18+. aged up characters, explicit sexual content, size difference, Sebastian wearing glasses again

Up on Ao3 here for your viewing pleasure

You honestly didn’t think you’d ever thrown on clothes faster than you did the day someone apparated into your living room with a deafening crack, followed by a crash and a muffled, “Shit, ow.”

If you were to die, you weren’t eager to do so half-naked and half-asleep.

After hastily tying your robe around your waist and stuffing your feet in a pair of deteriorating slippers, you cautiously stuck your head into the hallway, the unruly strands of your bed head sticking to your cheeks and poking you in the eye as you assessed the situation.

At the end of the hall you could see a stack of books scattered across the floor, along with a previously organized collection of newspapers now strewn over the top of a prone body. Said body was stirring beneath the crumpled parchment, and you bit your lip and wished desperately for coffee as you weighed your options.

Option one: it was a murderer and you should leave immediately. The only problem was that the hallway leading to the front door was now blocked. Shit.

Option two: it was a burglar, and if you could remember where you’d left your wand last night, you could petrify the man in place until officials came to your aid.

Option three: it was a murdering burglar, and you might as well attempt to find out as much as you could before you wound up gruesomely cut down so you could at least haunt the bastard.

As the concealed figure attempted to sit up, you heard another thump as something fell from above them, followed by an irate groan, and you gripped the doorway to your bedroom tightly as you managed to call out a meek, “Hello?”

All movement and noises in the living room ceased for a moment, the air still and silent. You swore if the intruder dropped so much as a pin, you would hear it. The pair of feet belonging to the unknown man dragged along the floor as he seemingly stood himself up, and figuring that no burglar would be such a noisy wreck, you took your chances and slowly made your way down the hall to take in the damage done to your living space.

Bizarre as it was to be so civil with someone who’d essentially broken into your home, you rounded the corner and found yourself asking, “Are you alright?”

You were met with your potential adversary as he turned around, and you were equal parts surprised and confused to discover that it was none other than Sebastian Sallow. It had been years since you’d last seen him, the two of you having gone your separate ways after graduation as you continued hunting down ancient magic sites and he pursued a career within the Ministry. The last letter you’d received from him had come in a little over a year ago, sadly informing you that his sister had finally passed, albeit peacefully.

To find him now standing in the midst of your demolished living room was a shock in and of itself.

“Sebastian?” you asked incredulously, your eyes raking down his disheveled but well dressed body. He had certainly grown since you’d last seen him, his long legs accentuated by pressed slacks, and the suspenders that wrapped over his sculpted shoulders left little to the imagination. The button up he wore was just shy of being too small for his broad figure, and when you glanced back up at him, you watched as he brought one of his hands up to his face to fix his crooked glasses.

“Hi,” he said lamely, flashing you a somewhat sheepish smile. “Sorry for the mess– I, uh– well, I think I landed on something when I popped in.”

Your eyes flicked down once more to the toppled stacks of books that now covered the floor, and your brow cocked of its own accord as you breathed out a laugh, “You don’t say.”

Still reeling from the abrupt wake up call, you could only stare dumbstruck as Sebastian fixed his clothing and picked invisible lint off of his shirt, then offered his hand to you. “Sorry about the books. And the, uh, language. I’m here about the old tomes you found?”

As you accepted his outstretched hand and tried not to pass out from the firmness of it, you blinked and attempted to figure out what he was referring to. “Tomes?”

“The ones you wanted looked over?” He let go of your hand to rifle through the small satchel strapped to his thigh, and it took a herculean effort not to drool over the sheer width of his leg. Merlin’s bloody balls… you’d been holed up indoors for too long. “You sent in this consultation request a few weeks ago,” he said, pulling out a small slip of parchment decorated in your familiar scrawl, and then it all started to come back to you.

It had been nearly a month since, but during your last excursion to Scotland, you’d come across a set of unique, fragile tomes buried deep in an ancient magic site there. As curious as you’d been to read through their contents, the text within was hardly legible, and in truth, you weren’t even sure it was written in English. In a bid to still make use of the age-old books, you had reached out to the Ministry of Magic Archives to have someone potentially aid you in deciphering the timeworn pages. After almost a month with no response, you had simply shelved them all and moved on to planning your next trip.

“I completely forgot,” you muttered, taking the paper from Sebastian to read it over. “I kind of gave up hoping that the Ministry would send someone.”

“They weren’t planning on it,” he started to say, sounding conflicted as to whether or not he should continue. “But after I got my hands on the request, I took something of a personal interest in the case.”

Jokingly, you teased, “You hold that much sway working in the Archives?”

“I do when I’m the Archivist.”

“You’re the Archivist?” Your jaw dropped comically fast, your eyes wider than saucers as you processed his statement. Suddenly you were looking at your former friend in a whole new light. In your mind, you had always assumed the Ministry’s Archivist would be… well, ancient. Old and withered, graying and feeble. Not youthful and– quite frankly– hot. “How did that happen?”

Sebastian rocked back on his heels as he stuffed his thumbs in his pockets, the very picture of modesty as he shrugged, “It’s technically my trial period since the old Archivist just died a few months ago. But yeah, I guess my thirst for knowledge and reading habits paid off. At the very least it impressed the Minister enough for him to promote me.”

Eventually you managed to pick your chin up off the floor so you were no longer gaping at him like a fish, and you bashfully tucked a particularly stubborn strand of hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat and said, “Well, congratulations then. Glad to hear you’re doing well for yourself.”

Sebastian stared at you for a long moment before laughing softly under his breath, his hand sweeping through the front of his curly hair, “Thanks. But anyways, I can take a look at those tomes now if you’ve still got them?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. They’re on the shelf by the couch, let me just get changed.”

“No worries,” Sebastian said quickly, grinning widely as he moved around you further into the living room, his eyes roving over you momentarily. “I’ve got this.”

Did he just… check you out? No way, you thought, shaking the idea from your mind entirely.

You tracked the brunet as he strode over to the cluttered shelf beside the sofa, watching intently as he moved a few books around until he found the unmistakable tomes propped against the wooden panels. With the utmost care, Sebastian carefully withdrew one of the three with delicate fingers, his touch featherlight and ever conscious of the fragile nature of the bound piece of foreign literature. As he thoughtfully deposited the book on top of the coffee table, you couldn’t help but admire how gentle he was being with it; with hands that big, you found his tender touch to be something of a contrast to his entire person.

Shamelessly, you also found yourself wondering how those hands of his might feel against your skin.

Beating back your lustful thoughts with a mental brick, you managed to say with an even tone, “I’m surprised you can tell what’s what in that mess of a shelf. I’ve been told I have a bit of a hoarding problem– most people can’t separate the floor from the walls.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” he retorted, flashing you a dazzling smile from over his shoulder. “It takes a bookworm to know one. My old overseer at the Archives used to tell me I ‘had no shelf control’.”

The silence that settled over the room was utterly loud, and as Sebastian’s face took on the hue of a ripe tomato, you were fighting a grin with every fiber of your being. Your lips contorted into something resembling a downward smile while the Archivist-in-training turned back to the bookshelf, dragging a hand down his flushed cheeks as a pained groan weaseled its way out of him. “Please forget I said that. I’ve picked up on one too many library jokes in the past five years.”

Sweet Merlin, he was dorky as hell. Please leave, excessively hot Archivist. Either leave or stay for about six hours and don’t go until I’m ready to let you.

To spare him his dignity and also because you needed to refrain from staring at his attractive backside, you spun on your heel to head into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Please,” he sighed in agreement, sounding all too excited about the change in topic.

“I’ve got tea, coffee, and… water,” you finished pathetically. The barren cupboards above the pantry nearly brought a tear to your eye, and you made a mental note to do some shopping later if you had the time.

Sebastian set the second tome down on the coffee table at the same time he called out to you, “Tea is fine, thank you.”

It took a smidge longer than normal to boil the water, seeing as you had to pause your efforts to find your wand buried beneath the piles of maps in your bedroom. Once you had it in hand, however, you whipped up two steaming cups of black tea and returned to Sebastian minutes later to hand his cup over to him. He took it graciously, plainly eyeing you up over the brim of the mug as he took a tentative sip, and your stomach flipped at the suggestive look he fixed you with.

“I’m a little jealous, you’ve got one hell of a collection here. I almost wish I could take some of these old books off your hands.”

“Mm,” you hummed around a mouthful of tea, swallowing pointedly. Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched minutely. “Well, I think it might be time for me to clean house a bit anyways. If you wanted to, you could always come back and take your pick of what you like.”

His brows rose momentarily before settling, a muscle in his defined jaw ticking as he glanced between you and the tomes on the table. Then with a voice like pure sin, Sebastian smoothly said, “And what if I like more than the books?”

Shit, shit. Redirect. You fought to employ every ounce of self-control in your body so you wouldn’t just jump into his strong arms and straddle him right there, but you were acutely aware of a few facts; you looked like you had fought a Hippogriff in your sleep, you had sorely little on under your robe, and Sebastian's eyes had been devouring the noticeable outline of your collarbone for the last minute or so. Fuck.

“Then it sounds, uh,” you started to say, struggling to form words with the broad shouldered Adonis across from you seemingly undressing you with his eyes. “Like we might be on the same page.” It was the truth– you were as interested in the Archivist as you were in the purpose for his visit– but once the unintentional pun registered, you rolled your eyes and dug the heel of your palm into one eye, swearing softly. To his credit, Sebastian just laughed, taking another hearty sip of his tea as you shyly smiled up at him.

With more work to be done back at the Ministry and your tomes in hand, Sebastian dutifully let you know that while he couldn't stay presently, he would absolutely be coming back later that night. He followed you into the kitchen to deposit his cup beside the sink, intentionally reaching over your shoulder to set the mug down before letting his fingers ghost along the skin of your neck. Goosebumps broke out all over your body at the contact, and when you turned around to face him with the counter pressing against your rear, his hands came to deftly adjust the revealing neckline of your robe with a coy smirk tugging at his lips.

“See you at seven,” he purred, leaving you a blushing mess in your kitchen as he stepped back, winked, then apparated away.

—

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, you had bathed, gone to the market to replenish your sorry excuse of a pantry, tidied up the previously demolished sitting area, and started cooking dinner. Part of you felt like you were getting ahead of yourself with everything, but after spending the entirety of your day reflecting on the stolen glances Sebastian had sent your way and his rather telling comment in the living room, you told yourself it couldn’t get any more obvious than that.

He had always been rather cute during your time at school, but something about seeing him grown and fully matured had ignited a fire in your veins that stubbornly stayed burning for hours.

When he showed up five minutes early at six fifty-five with freshly washed hair and wearing a darker version of his earlier outfit, your doubts all but vanished. Clearly you weren’t the only one itching to make a good impression.

Sebastian followed you into the living room, now noticeably cleaner than it had been earlier in the morning, and held up the bottle of wine he’d been holding at his side. “I know you’ve got tea and water, but uh. I figured why not. It’s Friday after all.”

You smiled softly and let your hands brush against his as you took the wine from him, curiously watching as his fingers flexed when his arm returned to his side. “Thank you. I take it the Archivist doesn’t go to work on the weekends, then?”

“The Archivist in training doesn’t, but I’m sure my free time will be a commodity before long. I’m pretty sure the last one frequently slept under his desk at the Ministry Headquarters. What about you? Any drab desk jobs to speak of?”

“Nope,” you said, gesturing to the couch as you turned to head back into the kitchen. “When I need the extra money I’ll help out Sirona at The Three Broomsticks, but for the most part my explorations and Professor Fig’s estate hold me over well enough. I’m hardly ever home anyways, so it’s not like there’s many expenses to keep track of.”

“I see,” Sebastian huffed as he collapsed into the couch, spreading his long arms along the top of the backrest as he took in the neater state of the living room. “I’m guessing your adventuring is why there’s so many books in the first place. Have you ever thought about upsizing?”

“Hardly,” you set the bottle down on the kitchen counter and chanced a look at the man on the sofa, oddly pleased to see him so at ease in the midst of your cluttered home. “I’d much rather downsize the collection. I don’t even need the majority of what I have– I’ve read through it all ten times over.”

He nodded, “Fair enough.”

“Anyway, I imagined you’d be hungry, so dinner’s almost ready.”

“Oh, damn,” Sebastian mumbled, sitting forward to run a hand through his drying hair as you flitted around the kitchen. “You didn’t have to.”

“Unless you planned on feeding yourself later, I think most shops will be closed by the time you leave,” you said pointedly, turning to hide your grin when you observed the brunet flushing bright red. Miraculously you resisted the urge to add ‘if at all’ to the end of your statement. You unearthed the corkscrew buried deep within the kitchen drawers and popped open the wine bottle, filling two glasses before striding back into the living room to hand one over to Sebastian. “Feel free to take a look at any of the books, see if any of them might be worth taking to the Archives.”

The larger man gave you a lopsided smirk as he took the offered glass and clinked it gently against yours, muttering his agreement before shamelessly ogling your retreating form returning to the kitchen. The cinched waist of your otherwise simple dress was incredibly distracting. He elected not to sift through the piles upon piles of books, opting to instead watch as you hummed to yourself and stirred something on the stove, which Sebastian was beginning to realize smelled pretty fantastic. He was grateful for the distance between you both so you couldn’t hear his stomach growling.

Once the food was ready, you ate with comfortable conversation flowing between the two of you the entire time. You asked Sebastian what he did in his soon to be nonexistent free time, and you were surprised to hear that he had taken on the role of Feldcroft’s token handyman. In his own words, the muggle approach to fixing things was relatively therapeutic, and he loved getting his hands dirty almost as much as he loved having his nose burrowed in book pages. It explained his physical appearance, at the very least. Until now, you’d just assumed he had a habit of squatting massive stacks of books in the Archives when he was bored.

In turn he had asked you about your hobbies, about the ancient magic sites you visited, and about living on-the-go so regularly. It was so normal for you now that you barely batted an eye at being away from home for weeks at a time, and you told him as much with a half-hearted shrug.

Lazily, you swirled the remaining wine around in your glass, bringing it to your mouth as you murmured, “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me here, so I don’t mind it.”

Sebastian watched you intently as you finished off your drink, taking in the pretty flush decorating your cheeks and the delectable way you licked your wine-stained lips in the moment that followed. “Anything, or anyone?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have anyone to come home to? No pets, no kids…” he trailed off, the rest of his question dangling in the air like a lone cloud. Your eyes fell to Sebastian’s hand as he sensually ran his pinched fingers along the stem of his own glass, and his half-hooded eyes hidden behind his glasses said everything in place of the missing portion of his sentence.

No lover, is what you knew he was indirectly asking.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you teased, the sides of your mouth curling into a coy smile.

“No,” Sebastian retorted, pushing his empty glass away as he sat back in his seat, amusement etched across his handsome face. “Then again, it doesn’t hurt to check. Had to make sure I was reading things correctly.”

You perched your elbow on the armrest of your chair and balanced your chin on top of your fist casually before asking, “Was that another one of your jokes?” Hoping that you looked more confident than you felt, you mirrored his position and crossed one of your legs over the other, taking immense satisfaction in the way the brunet’s throat bobbed at the sight of your legs outlined through your attire.

Sebastian looked puzzled for a moment before realizing what he’d said, and he rolled his eyes at the same time an airy laugh spilled from your lips. “An accidental one, make no mistake,” he moved forward to the edge of his seat, leaning forward to play with one of the folds of your dress with his index finger. “But I have been thinking about you all day, and I may or may not have convinced myself that you’re way out of my league.”

“You should be more confident,” you whispered, dropping your hand to clutch at the one the Archivist was inching towards your leg with. His fingers immediately spread to accommodate your smaller ones, and you tugged him a smidge closer so your noses were mere inches apart. Jokingly, you taunted him further by asking, “Did you still want to look at my book collection?”

Before you could so much as yelp, Sebastian closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and pressed his lips to yours fervently, any lingering awkwardness falling away like leaves on a tree. His free hand came to curl around the back of your neck, holding you firmly against his mouth as he angled his head to the side to deepen the kiss further, and you couldn’t help but moan against him at the brutish feeling of his broad hand holding you in place.

He pulled away just enough to brush a tinier, more delicate kiss against the tip of your nose before he sighed, “I really don’t give a damn about the books right now.”

A budding Archivist not caring about books? The scandal, is what you wanted to say, but then Sebastian’s lips were back on yours, swallowing your pending comment with a ferocity that had your stomach churning wantonly. Those brilliant hands of his left your neck and your hand to trail along your waist, his fingers digging firmly into the bodice of your dress to pull you towards him, and you followed his guidance all too willingly as he urged you from your seat. Within seconds you were in his lap, melting against him as he ground his hips up into yours while simultaneously using his hands to rock you against his hardening cock, and a satisfied groan emitted from him as you allowed him to move you as he pleased.

In-between kisses, Sebastian managed to croak out, “Bedroom?”

You barely managed a nod, too enthralled by the man under you to form actual words, and at the same time you dove back in for another heated kiss, Sebastian looped an arm around your back and the other under your ass as he stood up, lifting you with him as though you weighed nothing. Instinctively you hooked your legs around his hips, letting him haul you along to your bedroom while your hands flew to his neck to clutch at him ardently in a bid to keep your mouth glued to his. His ability to multi-task was something to compliment later on, because he kept walking and working his mouth over yours with a finesse that bordered on inhuman.

The next thing you knew you were being thrown down on the mattress, bouncing in place briefly before you had to bite your lip to stifle a curse as you watched Sebastian fucking crawl up the bed towards you, predatory and sexy as hell. As soon as he was within reach, you grabbed for one of his suspender straps and pulled him closer, kissing him once again and moaning eagerly when you felt his hand grip at the seductive curve of your waist to squeeze before he settled on top of you. With his knees on either side of you, it was impossible to overlook the feeling of his achingly hard cock pressing down against your leg, and Sebastian groaned loudly when you tried lifting your hips to convey your impatience.

“Someone’s excited,” he murmured against your swollen lips, grinning to himself as you worked to catch your breath. “Have you been thinking about me, too?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your train of thought momentarily derailing when Sebastian moved so his chest was pressing against your clothed breasts, his hips flush with yours to better grind against you. “Don’t you own a mirror?”

Instead of replying to your thinly veiled compliment, Sebastian dipped his head into the crook of your neck to nip and kiss his way along your jaw with a rumbling moan, the force of his ministrations forcing your head back against the pillows. He was as eager as you were, that much was certain. As he rutted his concealed cock against your thigh, you heard and felt him shudder against you, and in an attempt to silence himself, the Archivist’s plush lips latched firmly onto a patch of skin under your jaw to suck a mark there.

The stinging sensation of him biting down had your eyes fluttering shut, your entire being relishing in the light pain his teeth bestowed upon you, and Sebastian blindly reached for your wrist to pin your arm above your head. The dominant display had you voicing your approval in the form of a low moan, enjoying how being stretched out for him allowed for his other hand to rake down your side to start bunching up your dress. His movements didn’t cease as he lifted his hips slightly to free up the rest of the fabric trapped beneath him, and he expertly collected the material into a disheveled heap below your navel. When his dexterous fingers ghosted along the waistband of your undergarments, your next breath caught in your throat and caused you to gasp shakily.

You felt as Sebastian’s lips curved into a smirk against your spit-slick skin before sitting back on his heels to murmur, “You’re so noisy.”

Through his lashes, he watched as a brilliant flush swept up your neck to cover your face, and you timidly tried to hide your cheeks with the back of your free hand. “S-Sorry,” you stammered, but the man above you was having absolutely none of your self-consciousness.

Your mediocre shield was wrenched away from your face and pinned up alongside your other hand in an instant, and you blinked up at Sebastian in blatant surprise as he leaned menacingly over you. “Don’t stop,” he implored you, biting his lip as he took in the sight of you beneath him. “I love it.

The brunet secured your wrists into one of his hands so he could drop the other one back to your aching center, swiping two of his fingers up your slit through your underwear to feel the wetness that had collected there. The sensation left you breathless, another choked gasp weaseling its way past your lips and earning a dark chuckle from Sebastian. His digits moved up to slide beneath the fabric blocking his path, and a low groan sounded from him as he felt how truly soaked you were from his efforts. Without looking away from your pinched features, he gingerly slid a single finger in, biting his lip hungrily at the way your lips parted and your head rolled to the side when he began steadily pumping in and out of you.

When you felt his thumb begin to rub against your clit, your eyelids fluttered shut from the intense pleasure that washed over you, pulling a strangled whimper from you. “Fuck, Sebastian–”

The hand he had securely wrapped around your wrists tightened a fraction to draw your mind out of the gutter, and he roughly gritted out, “Look at me, darling– open those pretty eyes for me.” You couldn’t help but oblige him when he referred to you so sweetly, and when you cracked your eyes open once again, his body seemed to shudder with delight as he growled, “So fucking perfect. My name sounds damn good when you say it like that.”

With his gaze burning into yours and the close proximity between the two of you, you didn’t think the overwhelming euphoria you felt could get any better. That is, until he added a second finger into the mix. The initial stretch was felt only briefly before his thumb pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the persistent ministrations against your clit muting any discomfort and leaving you arching brainlessly beneath him as that hot, incessant feeling in your gut roared to life. It was tantalizing, and your hips bucked off the mattress in an attempt to chase his movements and reach the climax you were utterly desperate for.

“Please, please,” you begged mindlessly, your desire to come so potent that it was almost painful. “Please, Sebastian, please.”

“Already?” he tsk’d mockingly, shaking his head minutely as he eagerly wet his bottom lip and removed his thumb from your center. “I think you can hold on a bit longer, don’t you? I’d much rather end this with my cock, if it’s all the same to you.”

The lack of friction sobered you up instantly, and the lustful haze that had clouded your mind cleared enough for you to blink blearily up at him, a small frown playing on your lips. “Really?”

Sebastian cocked a brow at you, as though daring you to tell him he was being unreasonable. “Would you rather this end with my hands?”

You tried to roll your hips up into his hand before relenting rather quickly, and you muttered, “F-Fine. Just hurry up, I might throttle you if I have to wait any longer.”

Sebastian grinned wickedly at the way your back arched when he curled his fingers inside of you before torturously withdrawing them. A small sigh slipped from you when he let go of your wrists and slid away to hastily begin shedding his clothing, taking care to be gentler with his glasses as he set them down on the nightstand, and once he was wholly bare before you, the only thing you could do was stare.

His physique was mind boggling; toned, defined muscles made up every inch of his torso, accentuated by broad shoulders that you were convinced didn’t belong anywhere near someone who worked in a glorified library of all places. His skin was sun-kissed and peppered with freckles, a testament to the aforementioned physical labor he claimed to enjoy. It hadn’t made much sense to you before when he’d told you– forgoing magic to use his own hands to help fix things. But if a habit like that gave a man a body like his, you would never doubt his preferences again.

All of Sebastian looked positively divine, including his cock. Thick, hard, and twitching tellingly, it arched proudly against his taut stomach, the head violently red and already leaking beads of pre-cum in response to the situation at hand. You swallowed thickly when you realized that that would be inside of you, and you were suddenly grateful that he’d told you to wait. Not to discredit his fingers or anything, but you had a nagging feeling that you would enjoy his lower parts far more than his hands.

Ignoring the nervousness that settled in your stomach, you sat up to quickly pull the sleeves of your dress down your arms, wriggling out of the attire quickly before throwing the bunched up material to the floor. As you reached down to slide your underwear off, Sebastian returned to kneel in front of you and stopped you by lightly pushing you flat against the pillows, then ran his hands along the plane of your stomach.

“Allow me,” he said chivalrously, taking care to gently slip his fingers under the waistband and sensually remove the material entirely. With nothing else separating you from him, Sebastian took his time eating you alive with his eyes, letting his hands drag up your thighs and squeeze at your knees before pushing your legs apart so he had space to siddle forward. The blunt head of his cock bumped against your slick cunt, and a barely there shudder ran down your spine in anticipation.

It took a good amount of self-control for you to let Sebastian press into you achingly slow, his eyes pinching shut while his teeth savaged his bottom lip, and when he was finally sheathed inside of you fully, the brunet was practically shaking with the desire to fuck your brains out. He waited, though, his palms sliding from your knees to your upper thighs to dig his fingers into the skin there, raking his hungry gaze over you while he gave you a moment to adjust.

You appreciated the sentiment, because Merlin– he was big. It was impossible to overlook every delicious inch of him pressing against your inner walls, the subtle grinding of his hips stretching you out more and more to the point where your breath continuously caught in your throat. It felt good, though. Good enough to leave you wondering why you’d never sought him out when the two of you were still in school together.

At some point, however, you realized Sebastian was fucking with you. It probably had something to do with the repetitive, shallow thrusts he teased you with, and when you craned your neck up to look at him, he was already staring at you with a wide grin splitting his face, his tongue poking out between his teeth.

“W-What?” you grumbled, your hands fisting in the sheets. “Are you going to make me beg or something? I already said please.”

“I was just enjoying the face you were making,” Sebastian said, rocking his hips just enough to leave you arching towards him. “You look like you’re trying really hard to keep it together. It’s cute.”

“I’m flattered,” you breathed out around an airy laugh, then wriggled your hips down in an attempt to bait the Archivist into moving. Mercifully, it worked.

Sebastian gave a throaty moan, leaning forward to brace one hand on the side of your waist while the other gripped at your thigh tighter, and he withdrew his cock languidly before plunging back in. Your breathing hitched and your head fell back against the pillows at the abrupt sensation, and the sight of you so obviously enthralled by his efforts was what expelled the remainder of his patience.

Holding onto your thigh with bruising strength, Sebastian fell into a steady, toe-curling pace. He pulled you onto his cock with every deep plunge, digging his feet into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts, and his reward was the sound of your shaky voice reverberating off of the bedroom walls as your spine rounded. You keened loudly, overcome with both the feeling and the sight of Sebastian– because not only was he deceptively good at rendering your mind into a puddle of mush, he looked amazing while he was doing it. The muscles in his arms rippled as he supported himself above you, his brown curls falling into his face as his head hung heavy between his sculpted shoulders, and when your arousal had you clamping down on his cock harder, those full, kissable lips of his fell open around a guttural groan.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he grit out through his clenched teeth, gazing down at you with lust-dark eyes that made your blood burn hot in your veins. “So bloody gorgeous– like a fucking work of art.”

His praises left you whining in earnest, and you didn’t bother to keep your voice down in the slightest. With every sinful noise that escaped you, Sebastian’s hold on you seemed to intensify, and his thick cock filled you harder with every desperate pump of his hips. His ragged breathing left you craving more of him– all of him– and you rutted against him as much as was physically possible in a bid to take him deeper.

Sebastian picked up on your desires wordlessly, and he shifted his hold on your thigh so his hand was looped around it to better pull it to the side, giving him the room he needed to spear into you with wicked precision. It also allowed him to discover what you sounded like crying out for more, your voice reedy and strident within the four walls of the bedroom, and when he shifted his hips down to achieve new depths, your moans echoed around him. He had to be hitting a good spot.

“Right there, Sebastian, fuck– right there–”

Your lower half was positively shaking, and Sebastian was honestly at his limit. He sat up momentarily before grabbing both of your legs, watching as you blearily tried to figure out what was going on while he pulled your knees over his shoulders. Moving over you swiftly and urgently, he bent you back and rammed his thick cock back into your tight heat, animalistic grunts sounding from him as you arched tight and cried out, but you were barely given the space to breathe before he was fucking you hard– hips bucking rough and deep and so fucking good that you were left screaming and gasping helplessly at the sheets.

Sebastian pinned you to the bed and pounded into you, his own moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands grasped at the sweaty, flushed skin of your waist, pulling you close while he filled you over and over and drank in your noisy pleas for more until your back was arching clear off the bed and your thighs were shaking. You were barely holding on, your climax from earlier roaring back to life in your gut and rendering your tongue a lead weight in your mouth.

Forming words was damn near impossible, but you still managed to babble out, “Like that, Sebastian, fuck, just like that– I’m close– please, I’m–”

He obliged you instantly, keeping up his pace while he brought his hand between your legs to thumb over your bundle of nerves, his hips angling upwards with every deep, precise plunge. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, you watched through your slitted eyes as he bent forward to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips, swallowing your breathy whines with a satisfied expression playing over his face. “Come on, darling. Let’s hear how you sound falling apart on my cock, yeah?”

As if you even needed the encouragement.

Every muscle in your body tensed as a wave of unparalleled ecstasy crashed over you, and your hands flew to Sebastian’s shoulders to absentmindedly attempt to grasp at something to ground yourself. His movements didn’t stop as you writhed beneath him– milking every possible noise out of you with unconcealed fervor– and it was only when you sagged into the sheets twitching and whimpering that Sebastian let your legs drop to the sides so he could wrap his arms around you to give you the last of his deep, quick thrusts before he was coming too, your name tumbling over his lips as he fell alongside you.

“Fuck,” Sebastian murmured directly beside your ear, still draped in a boneless heap on top of you as you trembled against him. One of your hands slid up to bury your fingers in his tangled curls, and you mumbled something unintelligibly into the crook of his neck. He pulled back slightly to hear you better, “What?”

Your eyes were still glazed over as you came down from your post-coital high, “Are the Archives chock-full of sex books or something?”

Sebastian smirked tiredly at you, pulling out gently before collapsing beside you with his arms still wrapped securely around your waist. “One or two. Why?”

You stared up at the ceiling in a daze and shook your head softly to yourself, “Because you’re a little too good at that. It’s kind of scary.”

“Good scary or bad scary?”

“Good scary,” you clarified, turning over so you could face the brunet and smile softly at him. The way his entire face lit up at the sight of you would live on in your mind for years to come, you were sure, so you wistfully said, “We should do this again sometime.”

Sebastian paused, leaving you worried for a short second until he wriggled in a way that let him press his hard cock against your stomach, and he closed the distance between the two of you to give you a chaste kiss on your nose before grinning mischievously. “Like right now?”

You raised your eyebrows in silent surprise before laughing playfully, rolling over onto him before taking his face in your hands to kiss him deeply. It was a sweet moment– tender, affectionate, and heartwarming. It only ceased when you let go of his cheeks to move down his larger body, already itching to put your hands to better use.

The only thing that stopped Sebastian from staying holed up within the warm, comfortable confines of your bedroom with you forever was the imminent arrival of Monday, but Saturday and Sunday were days well spent. You were rather disappointed when your time together came to an end– enough so that you actually pouted when Sebastian had slid out from beneath the covers to get ready for work. Thankfully though, the Archivist was as unwilling as you were to call it quits after everything, and following a heated, lengthy kiss, he promised to come back as soon as he was able.

It only took him eight hours to find himself back in your bed, but you knew then that it would be impossible to stay away from him for very long from here on out.

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy oneshot #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow oneshot #my writing #the final word count for this being 6969 is honestly the highlight of my fucking month who would have thought #I'm just a large child

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my-love-is-sunlight · 2 months

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One piece men hear you speaking Spanish for the first time

Ft. Sanji, Law, Ace and Zoro

SFW, swearing in spanish ;), drinking, gn reader

Masterlist

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Sanji

“MIERDA!” (Shit) your scream was followed by a loud thud of the pan hitting the floor

Sanji immediately directed his attention to you running while holding his breath

“Are you o-“ he was interrupted by you mumbling something he couldn’t quite understand

“Puta madre esta demasiado caliente” (holy shit it’s too hot) you hissed while holding your hand close to your chest eyes shut together tightly at the sensation of the sudden burn

Sanjis worried look was replaced by a intrigued one as he realized everything that you were saying was in fact not english, it was something he couldn’t understand

“Let me see that, dear” he offers you his hand and you allowed him to look at the burn, he examines it throughly, being very familiar with this kind of injury, then he lightly touches the harmed zone of your hand making you squirm again

“AY IDIOTA” (you idiot) you remove your hand from his hissing in pain yet again

Sanji fetches the first aid kit as you stand still in your place blowing at your hand in hopes the pain will suffice, he asks you to sit down and you follow his instructions as he cures your burn cautiously

“So” he speaks after a while “What was all that you were saying earlier?”

“Oh…” you realize you had never mentioned that English is in fact not your first language “It’s Spanish, mostly curses” you answer a little ashamed at your behavior

Sanji felt himself fill with excitement at his new discovery “You never mentioned you knew other languages” curiosity itched him at the thought of hearing your voice say things he couldn’t decipher

“You never asked” you offer him a smirk knowing exactly what was going trough his head

“Could you tell me something else that isn’t curses? My dear?” You think for a second before obliging

“Gracias por cuidar de mi, mi principe” (thanks for taking care of me, my prince)

Sanji’s face was completely flushed, hands shaken and mouth dry, the way your voice and confidence shifted as you spoke your native language left him breathless and falling for you all over again

“I could really use some spanish lessons”

Law

You watched the doctor who sat at his desk flipping trough a medical book, his brows furrowed, you couldn’t ignore his annoyed huffs and puffs he had been making for a while now, you decided to interrupt whatever he had going on

“What’s with you, captain?” You giggle at the way he’s basically assaulting that poor book flipping it harshly

“This stupid book it’s not in English I don’t understand a damn thing” he answers still looking for a page, a title, a sentence he could read, anything

You come closer and peak above him looking at the words filling the book, you stop Laws hands for scavenging the pages as you start to read, your touch making him shiver

“La anemia provoca síntomas como fatiga, reducción de la capacidad para realizar trabajo físico y dificultad para respirar”

Law looks up at you surprised before you explain “This is basically explaining what Anemia is” you flip the page “And in here it talks about the flu” you point at the book smiling kindly at your confused captain

He would never admit it but he was really impressed and a little star struck at the way your voice sounded in a foreign language

“What were you looking for in here anyway?” You ask while flipping the pages

Law had to pull himself out of whatever spell you had casted on him before answering

“I bought it two islands ago but didn’t check it until now” his statement made you giggle, specially as you noticed the big title that read ‘Enfermedades y sus Síntomas’ (sickness and their symptoms) in the front of the book in gold bold letters

“I can translate it if you want” you kindly offer which pulls at Laws heartstrings, you were always taking care of him, he answers by shaking his head

“Do what you want” you roll your eyes at your dismissive captain before taking some paper and a pen from his desk

“Didn’t know you were bilingual” the doctor says still a little taken aback at this new information about you

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me” you wink before walking towards his couch, but you were stopped by a tatted hand holding your wrist and a playful smirk

“What about you read it to me instead?”

Red settles in your ears and cheeks before your eyes run aways from Laws and smiling shyly

“Don’t think you can handle all that Captain” you were obviously referring to all the information that the book offered, but the implications of you speaking another language and making Law nervous was obviously there, making him also blush immediately and his hold falter, but he wasn’t gonna let you have this one

“No no” he says before making you sit on his desk “Think I’ll do just fine”

Ace

“ACE DETENTE” (Ace stop) you screamed at the freckled pirate that had tossed you over his shoulder and threatened to make you fall into the ocean at the beach the Moby Dick had docked for the day. What once started as an uneventful aternoon in the beach turned into a wrestling match between you and the commander to see who would fall into the water first, and you were loosing

“What was that now?” He maneuvers you making you land on your feet as he smiles ear to ear intrigued about what you just said

“I said stop” you answered him as you catch your breath

“I don’t think that’s what you said” he starts approaching you slow and steady making you walk backwards as to avoid another attack, you return the playful smile plastered on his handsome face

“Dije Ace detente, sordo” (I said Ace stop, you deaf) you allow him to hear your Spanish once more gaining an even wider smile

“You sound soooo attractive like that”

You aren’t good with flirting, Ace’s smooth talk always manages to make you blush and stumble on your words and he loves it

“Stop it” you say pushing him back now

“I didn’t really understood that can you say it like the first time again?” You knew he wasn’t gonna let this newfound thing live down, you roll your eyes at the back of your head before obliging in hopes he’ll let you scape the danger of the water at your feet. You stop pushing him before standing on your tip toes allowing you to whisper in his ear

“Si me dejas ir te doy un beso” (if you let me go I’ll kiss ya) his breath hitched and a shiver ran down his spine freezing him in place. You stand back to meet his gaze as he stays ogling you, red blush painting his delicate freckles. Taking advantage you tackle him making him fall flat on the ocean

Your laugh explodes meeting Aces ears, still in shock by your teasing he lays on the water admiring your beaming smile that shines brighter than the sunset behind both of you. All he ever wanted was to make you laugh, there was no better price.

You offer him a hand to help him stand up, he takes it before pulling you down to meet the oceans salted water, squeaking at the coldness meeting your body

“You got me” you beam on top of him as he keeps drinking your beauty, wordless and enchanted

“You gotta keep speaking more like that y’know?” This man was absolutely lovesick, everything that had to do with you he loved, it was concerning

“Like what? Spanish?” You asked still surprise at his persistence on the matter

“Oh so that’s what it is” the comment makes you laugh once more making Ace’s heart swoon in pride, he is the only one that makes you laugh like this and he wouldn’t have it any other way

“I can teach you some”

Zoro

The strawhats found themselves drinking another bar dry, stretching your legs after weeks on end at sea and giving poor Sanji a break of having too cook yet another night. You were seated next to Zoro as you watched Usopp tell yet another over the top story about your adventures in the grand line to some locals, the ambience was so warm and welcoming allowing you to indulge in drinking at peace, or so you thought that’s how it was gonna be

A man drunk out of his mind stumbles to your side slurring his word and babbling about kissing you or something, at first you try to laugh it off but the man persisted. The swordsman catches your annoyed and uncomfortable face as you try to keep the wondering hands of the drunken away from you, anger building up in him at every stupid word that left his mouth, but before he could intervene he sees you stand up

“Dije que no! estúpido, aléjate!” (I said no you idiot, go away!) You scream at the man before pushing him, making him fall onto the nearby table

Zoro lets go of the hold on his swords as he watches you fix your clothes before muttering “Maldito idiota” (Fucking idiot)

Whatever you were saying it was in a language he had never heard you speak, he thought you only spoke English like almost everyone else in the crew. There was something in how your voice shifted that left him wanting to hear more. You speaking a completely different language was something that had never even crossed his mind

As you sat back down and took another sip of your drink the swordsman founds himself intrigued

“So now we’re screaming in different languages?” He asks smirking at you, the alcohol pulling his big walls down allowing you to climb them right up

“You know I love screaming” Zoro lets out a deep laugh, thinking what to ask as to make you say another thing in that beautiful tongue he had heard you speak

“Where did you learn that anyway?” You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised at the way he was making conversation with you, something he never did

“It’s my native language actually” he hums in response happy to know more about you before becoming a pirate

“Why so curious?” The question makes him stutter, caught red handed

“‘Just had never heard that language before” he lies trough his flushed face which you immediately catch and makes your heart clench, a smile tugging at your lips

You sit closer to him before you whisper, lips brushing his golden earrings tickling you “No me digas que no conocías el español, verdecito” (Don’t tell me you didn’t know spanish, greenie)

You giggle after feeling every single muscle on his body clench at your words as he now shone bright red. He takes a big swoon of his sake trying to drown the shyness out of him

You lay back enjoying the rest of the night, Zoro not being able to keep the way you spoke out of his mind ever again

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Of course I had to do this! RAAAH 🦅🦅🦅🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽 Also ty for more than 1k on my first one of these, ly guys enjoy

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tightjeansjavi · 22 days

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My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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