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serawritesthings · 4 months

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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

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messylustt · 11 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.2k words

fic masterlist previous part pt seven next part

angst but kinda fluffy? straight after; mention of past violence (minor) — you wanted to know what those spanish sentences miguel made you say meant, him having kept that to himself. and when you do, having scouted miles, you’re left…well…shocked. your friends are also left shocked wondering who asked you to say those things. when you go to question miguel about it you find him in a state you’ve never seen him in before.

You had desperately wanted to translate the Spanish Miguel had chosen not to tell you. So much so, that you had began to scout HQ for a Spanish native speaker. You were too prideful to use your phone for translation, plus Miguel said nothing on not asking someone.

You remember Miles saying his mum was Hispanic. Even if his Spanish wasn’t top notch you’re sure he’ll understand at least a few words. Understand the sentences Miguel made you say.

You spot Pav talking with some other spider variants, using large hand gestures. "Pav!" You call, walking up to him.

He shifts his gaze to you, a smile soon following. “Y/n. How are you?”

You smile. “Good…yeah, no I’m good. I was just wondering if you knew where Miles was?”

“Oh.” He spins. “I swear I saw him over there.” He points in a random direction. “…now he’s gone. Maybe with Gwen.” He nudges you, raising his brows. You chuckle, understanding the meaning of those raised brows.

“Well, this will only take a moment. I just need translation for something.”

“Translation? To what language?” Pav asks.

“From Spanish to English. And I heard Miles knows a bit.”

“Ah…wait, but doesn’t Miguel fully speak it?” Pav pauses. “Yeah, he’d know a lot more than Miles.”

You nod. “He just won’t tell me.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Pav asks, brows furrowed.

You look back up. “Miguel’s just kind of busy right now.” You had no idea if he was or not. “And so I thought Miles might be free.”

“I see.” Pav nods. “Come on, I’ll help you find him.” Pav begins to head down one of the paths in the communal area where bunches of spider variants sat and stood talking.

“Miles!” Pav called out to nowhere in particular. “Miles!?”

“Is yelling his name really gonna help?” Your brows furrow.

“I like to think yelling will conjure up the whole ‘spider-sense’ thing.” Pav says, still gazing around. “Wait, maybe I need to sound more in distress.”

You chuckle, looking around. And that’s when you spot Miles and Gwen. “Miles!” You walk over with a smile. Pav is hot on your heels.

Miles turns, and copies your smile. “Y/n, hey.”

“Okay look, I’m sorry to ask this but can you translate something for me?” You ask, hopeful.

Miles tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, sure. As long as it isn’t French, or Dutch, or Russian. Or practically any language I don’t know.”

Your smile widens. “No, no. None of those. It’s just Spanish.”

“Oh.” Miles stands straighter. “I’ll warn you I don’t know a heck of amount. But I can give it go.”

“Thank you.” You grow more excited in way. All of last night you had been thinking about what you had said, really trying not to just roll over and grab your phone.

“Okay, so it’s two sentences.” You begin. Miles nods. “The first one is…’Me encantaría usar…tu cama para otras…cosas’.” You say it somewhat slowly, making sure you got it right.

When you look back to Miles, he’s staring at you blinking. You stare back. “What?” You ask.

“Um.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m probably hearing it wrong.” He mutters to himself before he’s looking back to an expectant you.

“What was the second one?” He asks, a little more curious this time.

“Uh…’¿No crees que…me vería bonita atrapada entre…tus sábanas?’”

Now miles is staring at you. You eye him, brows furrowed. “What does it mean?”

He coughs. “Who said that to you?”

“Oh, no I said it to someone.” You answer. “Well, they asked me to say it…”

“You said it someone…” he drifts off, slightly gulping.

“What? Is it…bad?” Your brows are further furrowed. “Come on, Miles, please. I’ve been dying to know what it means all of last night.”

“Well, the first one…it means ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.” He mutters it out extremely quickly. That you think you don’t catch it right.

“What?”

“And the second one means ‘don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets?’.” Miles’ has looked away, scratching the back of his neck again, clearly a fraction flustered.

This time you’re staring at him, or more so through him. Then you blink. “What?” You repeat stupidly. That can’t be right. Why did miguel ask you to say something about his bed…

Now you weren’t dumb you were just…in shock. Because how does that make sense. And as the words settle in your mind a little more, you begin to feel the familiar burn in your stomach.

Recently your skin had begun to feel hot. In specific scenarios, around a specific someone. Every moment that he had touched you in some way you had either been injured, or fainting, so you hadn’t realised the reactions in the moment. But now, having your mind clear and your body healthy enough your skin grows prickly.

Then there was the touches on your chin…

At first you thought that they were a form of showing his superiority. It seemed like something he’d do. But when you really thought about it, you realised that he wasn’t grabbing Peter’s face like that, he wasn’t leaning over a chair that Gwen was sitting at.

Now you’ve grown hot. And your cheeks are probably bright red, considering how Pav is eyeing you. “Um.” You nod. You don’t know why you’re nodding. You just need to do something that isn’t stare off into space.

“Who, um, asked you to say that?” Gwen asks.

You shift your gaze to her, still slightly stuck in your own head. You felt the urge to fan yourself, but realised how implicating that would seem. Miguel got you to say that stuff? That seemed to be a repeating question in your head.

“Oh, uh, nobody.” You didn’t really want to tell them that it was Miguel. You felt it would put pressure on something that you were sure wasn’t even something. It wasn’t…right?

But now as you quickly thank miles and skim past them, your mind is whirring. Did Miguel…? You press your lips together at the thought, unbuttoning the first button of your dress shirt. You were sure you were reading into it. Though…part of you was actually hoping the underlying meaning you were thinking of was the truth.

You were even slightly shocked at yourself at this revelation. It’s as if it had always been on the tip of your tongue. Not falling off because Miguel is well…Miguel.

;;

“What was that about?” Pav asks, watching your leaving form. Gwen watches you go as well, eyes narrowing in her own inspection.

Miles was still going over the sentences in his head, really double checking he got them right. “Yeah…nah, that’s right.” He mutters. “My translations right.”

“Who asked her—“

“Asked who what?” Hobie appeared, clearly just back from a mission, as he leaned against Miles, resting his arm on his shoulder.

“Y/n.” Gwen says. “She asked Miles to translate something for her.”

“See, I knew this guy would be helpful.” Hobie slightly shakes Miles’ shoulders.

“I think someone has a crush on y/n.” Pav says, making Hobie shift his gaze to him.

“Who?” Miles asks, suddenly interested in the small ordeal.

Pav shrugs, but Hobie shakes his head, scoffing. Pav hadn’t seen you and Miguel interact a hell of a lot. Gwen didn’t pay that much attention to people’s gazes, and Miles was well…new. So, maybe Hobie could give them a break, but he still couldn’t believe how oblivious they were.

Hobie began to figure out Miguel’s little crush on you when Miguel had called him in for a last minute mission that Miguel could have easily done himself. He hadn’t needed Hobie.

And when Miguel’s jaw clenched at the mention of how he was supposed to be hanging out with you, Hobie began to clock on.

“Come on, you lot.” Hobie says staring at them. “Tell me, who speaks Spanish here? Fluently?”

Gwen looks down, thinking. “Miguel.”

Hobie nods. “Uh huh.” He presses, seeing their slightly furrowed brows. “Oh bloody hell, you lot are thick.”

“Oh…” Pav mutters. “Oh!” He realises, and Hobie gestures to him, sighing in relief.

“Thank anarchy.” He mutters, thankful one person caught on.

“Miguel likes y/n?!” Pav practically exclaims, earning a few side glances from other spider variants.

“It’d seem so.” Hobie smirks.

;;

Later that evening, you stood, not meaning to feel as flushed as you were. Standing in front of Miguel's bedroom door, you felt hot, your breathing quickening. After having found out what he got you to say—and having gone through the stages of confusion, denial and then shock—you've arrived back to sweaty palms.

You take a breath, knocking, but instead of the solid feel of the door, your hand falls through, the door having been cracked open a fraction—your nervous state must have forced you not to notice. It swings wider and your breath hitches.

Miguel's room is a mess, and not just his bed this time. Things are smashed, and his chair is thrown, lying lifeless on the floor. You then shift your gaze up to a heaving Miguel. He finally notices your presence, meeting your wide eyes.

Miguel had always been someone who was controlled. Sure, he got agitated easy, and clearly had some anger issues to deal with, but 'messy' was never a word you associated with him. And here he was hair ruffled, wet from the outside rain, and covering part of his eyes. His chest heaved to a mismatched beat, as his nose twitched in a snarl, his fangs very visible in the dim light. He looked like the definition of ‘a mess’.

"What are you doing here?" His low tone breaks you from your silent stance, your lips coming closed to rub against each other in...thought? You weren't entirely sure.

You gulp. "Did something...happen?" You scan his body for injuries, but find none. You glance at his open window. "Did you go on a mission?"

"Did you need something?" Miguel doesn't mean for his tone to come out so harshly. And watching your face twitch a fraction made him grind his teeth in annoyance at himself.

"I was going to ask you something, but..." Now you weren't so sure that this moment was the right one.

Miguel gulps, turning slightly away from you. "If you have nothing to say…go."

Yes, Miguel was acting clip and rude with you. And yes...maybe he did turn away so he wouldn't see your expressions. But then he hears your steps slowly draw closer. He shifts his gaze back to you.

Right now was the worst time to see you, he didn't want you to see him, he wanted you to go.

"I thought you had nothing to say?" Miguel briskly asks, but you caught the slight crack in his harsh tone. A crack that displayed a mix of emotions—stress, anxiety,...fear?

Before you know it you're moving closer, your feet, the rain and his breathing filling the other wise silent room. "Now's not a good time." His tone cracked even more. This time with anger.

You stop, a decent distance away. And maybe you should leave, leave him to this. But what is this? You voice that. "What is this?" 'This' as in the mess. 'This' as in Miguel's body language. He looked like he was not even a minute away from exploding.

"Are you...okay?"

Part of Miguel's facade broke at that. "I'm perfectly fine. Do I not look it?" He spits this, fully turning to you. Some droplets of water, that had drenched his hair slides down his cheek.

You know not to be taken aback by Miguel's words. But you'd never seen the word 'crazed' written in his eyes before...'frantic'. "No...you don't look it." You say, eyeing him. "You look...you don't look like yourself."

Miguel mockingly nods, his tongue dragging across one of his fangs, and actually drawing blood. "Right." He forcibly chuckles. "I forgot, I'm supposed to look...what? Composed? On task? In control?" He's stepped closer to you, each word coming out like a snarl.

"Not everything stays the same." Miguel is saying. "Not everything goes the way we plan." He grits out 'plan' like he despises the word altogether.

And as you glance from his hair to the window, to then his too clean of a suit, you realise something. It wasn't a mission, but he had gone somewhere.

"Miguel, where did you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere." He scoffs out.

"Yes you did." You say, narrowing your eyes in thought. And maybe now would be a good time to leave, leave him be. But of course you wouldn't, 'worry' now tieing you up tight. Then you pause. "Why are talking about things that don't go to plan? What hasn't gone to plan?"

"You know, you can be real nosy sometimes." Miguel wanted to punch himself. Why did he say that? You had never been nosy, only observant. Maybe too much for your own good, but it was surely a talent of yours. And here he was shaming you.

But in this moment you weren't fazed. Something was wrong. "Miguel, you've clearly just come in here angry. You're hair's wet from the rain, so obviously recently. Your room is a mess. It's never a mess. You're...never a mess."

"Oh, plenty of things can become a mess, y/n."

"Yeah, but never you. Sure, you've gotten angry before, but you've never trashed a room. There's glass on the floor...you broke that mirror." You gesture to the one hanging on the wall, a prominent fist imbedded in the middle.

"Don't tell me you're gonna deduce where I've fucking been by the glass?!" He was yelling. Not at you. Never at you. At himself. But he's always been very good at projecting. Especially when you're around.

"No." You breathe. "I'm asking you." You say, letting a hint of your concern shine through. You were concerned. Very concerned. Maybe Miguel would have noticed your concern, if he wasn't slowly loosing it. If the messed up room wasn't enough of a tell, he's hit his peak.

"What happened?" You ask again, and this time you finally get a response.

"I fucked up, okay?!" He exclaims, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "I can't take it back. And I've tried. I've really tried. But you know what? Maybe this is meant to happen. Maybe I'm meant to screw everything up."

You stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I..." Miguel drifts off, fisting his already disheveled hair. "I let them take it..." Hs voice has softened. But not to a nice kind of softened—a broken one.

You step a fraction closer. "Who? And take what?"

You can visibly see Miguel's strength ebbing away. He looks exhausted, and all in all done. Done with everything. You didn't like that look, you didn't like the inclination of it. "Miguel." You say slowly.

But he's going farther and farther back into his mind, getting tangled up in thoughts you could tell had begun to haunt him. Screwed up? What had he supposedly screwed up?

Then before your mind could work on overdrive, millions of questions wanting to surface, and before Miguel could step further back from reality, you stepped much, much closer, reaching up on your tip toes. And then you wrapped your arms around his neck...hugging him.

Miguel is frozen. Entirely frozen. His mind stops trying to murder him and the drowning sounds in his ears fade away. Now he can hear your breathing, a nervous beat clear. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should do what he’s thinking.

But then you’re slowly drawing back, arms leaving his body. And he can’t have that. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back to him, as his hands clench around your shirt.

Your breathing hitches as Miguel’s breath hits your collarbone, his head choosing to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing part of your skin.

No. He had told himself he wouldn’t think like that anymore. It was exhausting, and he was tired enough as is. His grip tightened around you. To all the doubtful voices in his head, he was using you to say ‘shut the hell up’.

You could feel Miguel’s entire body practically slump against yours. And though your cheeks were red hot, and your heart was screaming you wrapped your arms back around his neck, your wrists meeting together by his hair.

For once Miguel heard silence. He had always had too many voices in his head telling him this and that. And that ‘this was what has to be done’ and that ‘no, you can’t get distracted’.

Now he felt a much relieving calmness engulfing him. You. His breathing slightly shuddered against your neck, the open of his mouth leading his fangs to lightly brush across your skin.

You shivered at this, earning Miguel to lean his head back. But he didn’t let your waist go. You stopped those voices and he’d be damned if he let you step away from his body now.

Your breathes met, as did your gaze. You were close, the seeming millimetre making you seem even more so. You could feel Miguel’s fingers fiddle slowly with the back of your shirt, your front still pressed against his.

“I’m…” You gulp, your voice coming out much shakier than you intended. “Sorry…I probably shouldn’t have hugged you.” You could practically taste his breath.

“Yeah…you probably shouldn’t have.” His tone is breathy, sounding out of body, as his gaze flickers to your lips.

They’re dry—of course. And now at the close proximity licking them made you feel ten times hotter. You prayed he couldn’t see your blushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry that I just…sorta came in.” You felt you had to fill in the silence. Miguel didn’t seem to mind it though, cause it meant that he could listen to your voice. And replacing your voice with the one’s in his head is probably the smartest choice he could ever make.

Well maybe the second smartest choice… He stared at your freshly wet lips, breathing harder. His thoughts had changed from ‘how much more could he take’ to ‘how much more…more…more’. He wanted more. More of your closeness, this seemed to not be enough.

In response to his thoughts his hands glided up your back, making your body lean more against him. Chest to chest.

“A-and I probably shouldn’t have assumed all that stuff…” you breathe out, as Miguel tilts his head, looking down at you. It’s safe to say your were flustered.

“I think you did alright.” He partially whispered.

“Well…you’re not throwing a chair..so..” Stupid, stupid, stupid—you think to yourself. “I mean…”

And to your shock you notice his lips begin to curve up. And not just to stop at a certain point. No. His lips continued to widen until he was smiling. An actual, genuine smile, that oozed amusement, and it made him look…happy?

“Careful.” You say. “You look like you’re expressing a ‘sparkly emotion’.”

“Oh no.” His grin doesn’t fall, and it only makes your heart beat faster. “We wouldn’t want that…would we?”

You quickly shake your head, and Miguel presses his lips together with further amusement, his eyes darting. “…cute.”

You freeze. And Miguel seems to realise his small slip up, as his eyes grow a fraction wider. He had slipped up in English. Goddamn English. You understood.

But what he didn’t know was that you understood a lot more than just that word. And as the reason for your arrival to his room came back to you, the simple word ‘cute’ seemed to mean a whole lot, lot more.

I’m sorry this one’s kinda short, and not too much is going on. but I wanted them to have a close moment like this before they…well…y’know.

at this point I’ve decided to do nine parts (it fits better) so next part…mhm…FINALLY we can get some closer HaPpIniNgS

plus next part im gonna go onto a deeper dive of where Miguel went and who the masked men are — i just needed a bit of tension filled fluff

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

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selfishdoll · 7 months

Text

❛ ..SO, SO MUCH.❜

I need you bad I can't take this pain | Boy I'm 'bout to go insane ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ NEED U BAD.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you thought you were fine breaking up with your highschool sweetheart & avoiding him for a year. when, in actuality, you were not.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

angst (tiny amount), jaded reader (at first) exes to lovers, y’all were highschool sweethearts fr, tattoo artist! choso & college student reader (both 21+), “i missed you” type sex, choso being a sweetheart & very understanding, reconciling, multiple orgasms, oral sex (fem receiving ofc he’s a munch), soft dom choso, pet names & praise, excuse the amount of plot i got carried away, etc.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

jasmine sullivan & yoci carrying most of my plot ideas. this took way too long omg. also, excuse any typos or grammar mistakes as this wasn’t proofread. also this is 4k+ words so yeah.

How did relationships work? How did love work? Relinquishing a part of yourself to someone, expecting them to cherish and take care of it; doing the same for them. It was something you found silly, maybe even a little arrogant. You’ve seen too many woman in your life give a part— even their entire selves to their partners, only for the relationship to fall apart. Cheating, lies, simply drifting away from one another; so many excuses, so many reasons on why you avoided relationships like the plague.

Until you met him, Kamo Choso.

You remember clearly as if it was yesterday. Freshman year, he was seated in the back of your shared English class. Boredly looking ahead as if he didn’t want to be there. He looked rugged, maybe even a little depressed; overall, you didn’t see yourself becoming friends.. let alone lovers.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Choso had somehow slipped into your life through your beloved shared friend Yuki Tsukumo. From then on things fell into place. You don’t know when or why you started falling for him.

Was it because he was so caring to his younger brother Yuji? Or maybe how sweet he was to you? Always asking if you were okay, always by your side when things got tough, always encouraging you..

You fell, and you fell hard. But Choso fell much harder.

To him, you were perfection. Carefully crafted with zero flaws. He wanted to get on his knees and thank your mother personally for creating you. That’s how much you meant to him.

The moment these thoughts entered his mind he acted fast, declaring his feelings for you sophomore year of highschool. Not even letting himself linger for a month. He wanted, no, needed you as his. And to his happiness, you returned the feelings. From that day, highschool was nothing more then a bliss-filled blur.

You two became known for your loving relationship, many believing you two would marry after highschool. It was silly, you two were teenagers— yet the thought did make you smile. Everything was just.. perfect. There was nothing more you could ask for.

Until, talk of the future entered the bond you two had.

You wanted to become a nurse, planning to attend a college that had an excellent reputation for its program. While Choso wished to become a tattoo artist in your city. One wanted to stay, and one wanted to go. Choso declared he could handle a long-distance relationship, but you couldn’t. As selfish as it was, you simply couldn’t bare the thought of being away from him for so long. What if he strayed? What if you did? You couldn’t bare it at all— something you tearfully confessed to him the week before you moved onto campus.

You vividly remember the scene, it burned into your mind with no chance of escaping. How Choso stood silently, patiently; listening to your concerns and worries— expressionless when you apologized and ended the relationship. And what did he do? He approached you, carefully wiping away your tears as he’s done for you before.

“Take care of yourself.. okay?” He spoke, taking your cheek in a gentle grasp and leaning down; kissing your forehead— sealing the deal.

That chapter in your life was over. You weren’t with Choso anymore, mind focused on your studies and nothing more. A relationship would drag you down anyway.. you didn’t need him.. you didn’t miss him.

“Shit..” You hissed softly, quickly pulling the wand away from your eye, blinking rapidly. It was your own fault; rushing to put mascara on. You should have better time management skills given you were in college and all— but no. Here you were, fighting against time while attempting to finish getting yourself ready for a block party. You hadn’t a clue who was throwing it, only told — or more like forced — to attend by Yuki.

You jolted in your seat when a loud honk come from outside your house, moving around your vanity to peer outside; spotting Yuki’s familiar car. You breathed softly, standing from your chair and fixing your attire. You wore a cute white ring halter top, along with blue jean shorts and black wedge sandals. Gathering your phone, keys, and purse; the gold chain around your ankle jingled as you exited your bedroom and soon house, locking the door behind you.

Yuki rolled down her window, grinning at you as you walked down your driveway. “Uber for (Y/N)?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her shenanigans, opening the passenger side door and entering, shutting it behind you. You buckled up after placing your things down, sinking into the chair. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem, I just wanted to see your face firsthand when I tell you Choso would be there.” The words came out of her so nonchalantly, messing with her radio for a moment all while you stared at her blankly.

You reached for your door, but the woman was much faster; locking and starting up the car. You whipped around to glare at her, “Tsukumo! You told me he would be working.”

“Guess the client cancelled..” She mused, taking the car out of park and beginning to drive away from your house. Yuki side glanced, catching your annoyed expression which caused her to sigh, rolling her eyes. “Look, there’s gonna be quite a few people there— maybe you two won’t speak.” She shrugged, raising her eyebrows in hopes you would relax. You only sucked your teeth, leaning into the car door.

An entire year, you’ve two been away from each other. Contact dwindling into nothing after the second month of college. You two were simply busy leading different lives, you told yourself.

But again, it didn’t matter it’s not like you, missed him anyways.

The rest of the car ride was filled with random radio music and brief chatter, Yuki catching you up on things. You had avoided coming back for any holidays, knowing it would be too much for you. Luckily, she was more than happy to tell you about all the dirt she had on your shared friends.

She soon slowed infront of an unfamiliar house, putting the car into park and soon shutting it off. You glanced around, feeling your anxiety lift when you realized you didn’t see Choso’s car. Good, you could somehow melt into the crowd without him noticing you.

Silently you grabbed your phone deciding to leave your purse and charger in the glove compartment, you exited the car and shut the door behind you. Following Yuki up the driveway, porch, and into the house; music quickly overtook you, with the sweet smell of the grill and alcohol. Some people were resting in the living room or crowding the dining room table, but most were in the backyard playing football, or simply shooting the shit.

You glanced around, eyes twinkling at the familiar faces and waltzing up to them. Laughter and hugs ensued, catching up on things given you haven’t seen each other in about a year.

Your arm was locked around Shoko’s waist, talking about nonsense whilst watching Gojo and Geto play beer pong. Or more like Gojo mocking his best friend for missing such an easy shot.

It was nice seeing everyone like this, the stress of seeing your highschool sweetheart leaving rather quickly. For now you were swept away in nostalgia, enjoying being around the people you cared for.

A cup in hand, you recalled the time you walked in on your dorm mate having sex, cheeks burning from the permanent smile etched onto your features. One that faltered the moment excited voices called out to the pink-haired male entering the backyard.

“You’re finally here, Yuji!” Nobara grinned at her close friend, walking over to him; Megumi close behind. The young man apologized, talking about traffic or what not. You weren’t too concerned about that, given your eyes settled on the person walking in behind him.

Anxiety spilled into you, heart thumping against your chest as you took him in, your ex— Kamo Choso. Nothing much had changed about him, still as rugged and handsome as ever; dressed in a simple black compression shirt and baggy pants. It seemed he decided to forgo his usual hairstyle, the black tresses resting on his shoulders in a messy fashion. One that suited him perfectly.

Your breath hitched, watching his eyes zone in on your instantly. You didn’t wait for a reaction, quickly turning away and busying yourself with your phone. Your eyes did lift a little however when the man passed you, the familiar cologne burning your nostrils and causing your stomach to stir. Before you could even think you were lifting yourself from the chair and waltzing back into the house.

Luckily no one noticed or either failed to comment on your disappearance.

You found yourself heading over to the kitchen, grasping ahold of the silver fridge door and opening it; eyes scanning for some water. You murmured to yourself while continuing to look, attempting to ignore the harsh beating of your heart. You sighed the moment you finally found one, grasping it from its place on the shelf and standing up, closing the door.

Taking the cap off you lifted the bottle to your lipgloss stained lips, taking a few sips whilst leaning against the counter— relishing in the cold beverage. Your eyes closed in thought, attempting to map out a perfect plan on how to avoid Choso.

The backyard was a medium size, yet he was bound to be around Yuji. So, as long as you avoided him, Nobara, and Megumi— you could avoid Choso too! It was foolproof and perfect, nearly bringing a smile to your face.

Leaning up you pulled the bottle from your lips, twisting the cap back on and lifting yourself from the counter, turning and freezing. Breaching the threshold of the kitchen was Choso in all his glory, face turning from talking to someone to stare in front of him, eyes landing on you.

A brief silence entered the kitchen, simply taking the other in. Finally, Choso was the first to speak; “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Hey..” You spoke, annoyed by how small you sounded. You watched as he opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and shutting it closed. The man leaned against the wall beside the kitchen’s opening, opening the bottle.

You glanced around, noticing there were no many exits. You were trapped.

“How’s college?”

“Huh—“ Your head snapped back to the man, spotting his raised eyebrows, awaiting your answer. You nervously licked your lips, leaning back against the counter. “It’s uh.. been good. Classes are a little hard but, ya know.” You shrugged, feeling a heat crawl from your cheeks to the back of your ears. You dragged your gaze from the ground to him, “How’s tattooing? I heard you got your own booth, congrats.”

Choso nodded slowly, a lazy smile pulling his lips. “Yeah, thanks.” He mused softly, placing the cap back onto his water bottle. “Clientele has been good. Been going to tattoo parties and special events.. and things.”

“That’s good.” You forced a little smile, gaze faltering the moment his eyes landed on you. You felt the way they carried down your form, a familar gaze, one that always made you feel far too warm.

Another silence entered the room, both of you refusing to speak.. or leave. You told yourself time and time again you hadn’t missed Choso, that you were done; stuck on the path you’ve chosen. Yet here you were, anxiously waiting for something, anything to happen. You just.. couldn’t let go.

You gripped the bottle you held, eyes drifting back to him, zoning in on the bracelet he wore. It had red and black beads, ones all to familar to you. Starboy, was the words etched onto seven of them. You knew this, given you had your own pink and white charm bracelet labeled Stargirl.

“You still wear that?” The words left you before you could think, Choso blinking from his thoughts and glancing at his wrist. The man breathed softly, nodding soon after. “Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

Choso went silent, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyes turned up to the ceiling. Finally he shrugged, “I don’t know.” He spoke lowly, causing you to bite your lip. Feelings you had pushed to the back of your mind began to flood within you, flashes of memories you had kept locked away following after.

You turned, rapidly blinking to eliminate the tears threatening to tread down your face. You were kidding yourself for months, thinking you hadn’t missed him. Thinking you were better then the woman in your life, able to cut a man off without a second thought. Yet your heart betrayed you in the most painful way, wanting nothing more to leap into his arms and cry.

His cologne became stronger, a gentle, familiar hand hesitantly being placed onto the one that held your bottle. Your eyes drifted to his face, spotting the concerned look he wore. That was enough for you, tears spilling and traveling down your dark brown cheeks, mouth opening but unable to speak.

But Choso knew what you wanted to say, knew how you felt. The man gently grabbed the bottle from your hand, placing it off to the side whilst his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He ignored the wet feeling that tainted his shirt, resting his chin onto your head all while continuing to hold you. Choso breathed as your shaky hands reached around, grasping his shirt as your buried your face deeper into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Choso..” You managed to whimper out, sniffling shortly after. The words escaped you again, delving into a soft mantra that caused the man to pull you even closer, softly shushing and soothing you. You stood there in his arms, feeling every bit of resolve melt away.

You missed Choso so much, it hurt. The pain rendering your whole body limp, using him for stability.

It took a moment to calm yourself down, soon pulling away, warming as the man reached over to wipe your tears. Just like he did a year ago and so many years prior.

“Why are you apologizing?.. You don’t have to—“

“I didn’t compromise. I was so stuck on myself, running at the first sign of conflict.” You spoke softly, leaning into his palm the moment held your cheek. “I want to try again.. I want to be with you again, Choso. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

The words had barely left you before his lips were covering your own, taking your breath away easily. The familiar, wonderful feeling took over your mind, hands sliding up to wrap around his neck; fingers curling into his messy hair. The moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip you were parting them, pressing your body into him as a needy sigh escaped you. His hands traveled to the underside of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you on the counter— all while continuing the kiss.

Your legs opened wide, locking around him the moment he stepped between them. The kiss deepened, his hands resting on your ass as soft moans and hisses entering the atmosphere. Sooner then you hoped the kiss ended, pulling away as soft pants fanned on each other’s skin.

“I missed you too.. so, so much.” Choso murmured softly, gripping your plush form as if you would disappear in thin air. No other words followed, the man capturing your lips with such intensity you were tugging at his tresses. Languidly moving his lips, leaving you breathless, threatening to devour you. Your legs tightened around his form, feeling hot beneath your clothes.

His name fell from your lips in a soft whimper, pulling back and resting your head against the cabinet— gasping the moment his lips attached to your neck. Your eyebrows knitted close together, biting your lip as his teeth gently grazed your skin. “Choso, Choso.. not here— we can’t..”

While his lips didn’t stop he listened to your warning, sliding his hands underneath you and lifting you off the counter. You tightened your arms around his neck, face hot with embarrassment as he walked you from the kitchen and towards the back of the house— everyone luckily none the wiser given they were all in the backyard now.

Moving towards a random bedroom he opened the door, shutting and locking it behind him. Waltzing over to the bed he sat down, placing in you in his lap all while his lips continued to press gentle kisses against your neck, collarbone, and throat. Your hands traveled, finding the edge of his shirt and tugging on it, feeling his hands fall from your body to his shirt— peeling it off for you. Tracing his skin, feeling his sculpted sink in the moment your feathery touches reached low— gasped as Choso gently bit your neck, pushing to lay you down on the soft blankets.

“Missed this.. missed your touch, smell, how you taste..” His words drifted, catching onto the the edge of your shirt and slowly pulling off your body. Choso breathed, taking in your naked chest, leaning down. The cool, silver chain he wore tickled your skin as his lips ghosted your chest, a warm hand grabbing your breast to gently squeeze.

You gasped as his tongue glided across your areola and slowly hardening nipple, feeling his free hand flicking the button on your shorts, entering them shortly after. Choso began to suck on your hardened bud, all while his fingers breached your panties, two fingers slowly circling your clit. Your legs rose, hips rising into his touch as your head leaned back against the mattress. Soft breaths of pleasure escaped you, gripping his hair as your eyes were pinched closed.

“You missed this, pretty girl? Missed how easily I could drive you crazy from just my fingers?..” He questioned softly, fingers lowering to push into you, hissing at the way your walls clung to his digits all while his thumb busied itself, rubbing tight circles onto your hard button.

You nodded, clinging onto him as his fingers thrusted and scissored inside of you. “Yes.. fuck— yes.. Missed this so much, Choso.” You gasped, whimpers escaping you as another finger came to stretch you. Wet muffled squelches carried with each thrust and curl into your pussy, bruised lips parted as melodic moans escaped you.

The man hummed softly in enjoyment, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. Sweeter, softer then the way he was ruining you with his fingers, pushing against your gummy walls affectively leading you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whimpered in his mouth, nails dragging from his hair to his arm, feeling the muscles tense with each movement of his hand.

You legs tightened around him, pulling back to gasp, throwing a hand over your mouth the moment you came— muffling the moan that escaped you. Your mess soiled his fingers and your panties, legs shaking as you felt him slowly withdraw his fingers. You breathed into your palm, barely registering his hands latching onto your shorts and peeling them off your body, panties following.

There, his hands slid to the inside of your thighs, pushing them open to reveal the price between them. Choso moaned softly from the sight, hands rising to place his thumbs onto your soaked folds, spreading them. “So messy, princess.” The man teased softly, reaching to press his thumb against your sensitive clit, grinning at the way you whined.

“Choso, please..” You breathed, watching as his body lowered, breath hitching the moment his cool breath fanned across your wet cunt. You whimpered as his thick tongue dragged a stripe up to your clit, the tip circling the button. Your legs threatened to close, causing the man to pull you closer, legs stretched out and resting on his shoulders. Your fingers curled into his hair, crying out the moment his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and running the flat of his tongue against it.

The man pulled back for a moment, hands sliding under your ass and gripping the warm globes, lifting you a little just to smother himself in your pussy. His tongue moved wickedly, gliding up and down your slit before dipping into your warm entrance, thrusting and curling against your walls.

Your fingers clung to his hair, free hand placed against your mouth as you bit your palm, covering the desperate moans that escaped you. Your hips moved, grinding into his face as little tears built within your eyes. Slurping and lapping, enjoying every single drop that dripped from your pussy, moans escaping him. His hips ground into the blankets, chasing your orgasm with such intensity.

Your stomach clenched, arching up off the bed as a muffled swear escaped you, creaming all over his face, feeling his hands tightened as he licked you clean. Your limp body fell back against the blankets, breathing heavily as your legs shook. Soon enough he released you, rising from his spot between your legs and dragging his hands from your ass to your thighs, soothing the warm flesh.

Pushing forward he leaned over your body, hand carrying to your throat and gently grabbing it, pressing his wet lips against your own; you softly moaning at your taste. Slowly, the two of you continued to kiss, his other hand drifting to his sweats to push down his body, boxers following.

Choso pulled away, placing his forehead against your own, sliding his cock between your slit— rubbing against you slowly. Your fingers locked around his wrist, desperate pleas escaping you as your hips rose, searching for more. The man gave a breathy chuckle, smoothing his thumb against your throat. “Needy aren’t we?” The man mused, leaning to kiss between your eyes, hearing you whine.

“Need you, Choso..”

“You need me so bad, put it in yourself.” The man spoke, watching you bashfully blink at him, grinning as you attempted to shy away from his gaze. His hand rose, grabbing your wrist and carrying it between the two of you. Your much smaller hand wrapped around his cock, a hiss escaping his lips from the touch. “Go on, princess..” Choso breathed, gripping the sheets beside him as your hips rose, adjusting to line him up with your entrance before slowly sinking inside.

You never got accustomed to how Choso stretched you— not the first time and definitely not now. Your lips parted, soft moans escaping you as your hips continued to slowly rise. A choked cry escaped you however the moment he flicked his hips forward, burying himself deep inside. “Ch—choso! You..” You whimpered, walls pulsing around his heavy length, feeling him kiss your cheeks.

“Guess I’m just as needy as you baby.” Choso spoke, lip twitching into a subtle smirk. He rose, releasing your throat and resting on his hutches. Hands found the back of your knees, a steady grip as he slowly pushed them down to your chest, watching you breath sharply. Pulling his hips back until the tip was inside, Choso thrusted forward, taking in the way your body jumped and the prettiest moan escaped you.

His rhythm stared quickly, hips snapping back and forth, reaching deep inside; pushing against a spot that caused you to see stars. Your fingers balled up the sheets underneath you, moans escaping you. You had long forgotten the party going on outside, long forgotten the fact you two were separated for an entire year— your mind only focused on how his cock so easily ruined you, toes curling and anklet jingling with each thrust.

The man leaned down, folding you even more as he pressed a hand against the bed, the other curling in your hair, lifting you into a messy kiss. Tongues curling, teeth bumping into each other, eating up the other’s moans as pleasure consumed you. His chain tickled your heated skin, dragging across each time he rutted into you.

“Fuck..” Choso gasped, pulling back to breath, hand moving to gently grabbing your cheeks. “Keep your eyes right here, princess.. that’s it.. look so pretty like this.” He spoke, feeling you clench with each praise that left his mouth.

You felt so damn good, hugging him close; sucking him in each time he pulled back. Your arousal dripped down his length, a sticky ring forming at the base of his cock. Just when your hand rose to cover your mouth again, Choso was snatching your wrist, pressing it against the bed.

“No, no— waited far too fucking long to have you covering your mouth.” He hissed harshly, intertwining your fingers as he buried himself deeper, hitting your cervix.

The pain was quickly washed away with pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came around his cock— a high pitched cry escaping your throat. Tears trickled down your cheeks, other hand falling to his waist to push, and whine; the overstimulation becoming too much.

All for Choso to simply shake his head, pace quickening as he drilled you into the bed. “Know you got another in you.. come on (Y/N).”

You whimpered, head pressed into the blankets as sobs escaped you. “Cho—Choso! Hah.. Can..can’t think, fuck!”

“Then don’t.” The man chuckled in a breathy tone, leaning close as his lips ghosted your lips. “Let me fuck everything out of your mind except for how good I’m making you feel..” A groan escaped him shortly after, eyes glossing over as he felt himself getting close.

Thrusts became desperate, the two of you dissolving into pathetic fits of moans and whines, hands moving across the other’s skin to grip and mark up. Just when you felt your mind going blank you shook, convulsing as you came all over his cock again.

Choso was close behind, burying himself deep and coming; eyes pinched close as he gripped you tightly. His hips stilled, heavy pants escaping the two of you.

The man pulled out shortly after, rolling off your body and falling to your side. Choso didn’t leave you alone long, reaching for your waist and pulling you into his side, turning to place a feverish kiss to his forehead.

A blissful silence covered the silence, simply enjoying the other’s company and warm bodies. Soon though, you rose up slowly, ignoring the aching of your body as your hand found his cheek. “I love you, Choso.”

He smiled at you, thumb caressing your skin as he kissed you gently— mumbling the same on your lips. Moments passed before you two pulled away, you snuggling in his neck arm strewn across his body.

Until.. you blinked, glancing around the room. “Wait.. whose room is this?”

“It’s a guest room.” He murmured back, chuckling softly after. “Gojo might be a little pissed if he finds out about this.”

You shook your head a little, sighing softly. “Choso..”

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #mdni #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x female reader #choso x you #kamo choso #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x black! fem! reader #choso x chubby reader #choso x curvy reader

2K notes · View notes

electrosair · 7 months

Text

Jealous headcanons anemo + cryo ver.

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: heizou + kazuha + scaramouche + venti + xiao + kaeya + wriothesley

word count: 1k

Heizou

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

4/10 He's not really jealous over you, it's more with people who may get close to you, mostly because of the attitudes they may have towards you. It's not something he likes and he's not going to tolerate it either, but he will always do it in discreet ways.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

7/10 Whenever he sees someone start to make moves on you, he will pull subtle acts, as if teasing the person who is looking for a good time with you. He'd never let you know if you haven't noticed, doing things like putting an arm around you or throwing glances when you're not aware of him.

what is he most jealous of?

In cases where you realize it, Heizou would be annoyed if you jokingly and having warned him about what was going on, you jokingly play along with the other person. It's something he would draw the line at and stop doing after he began dating you.

Kazuha

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

3/10 He is easygoing with everyone, so there are no exceptions with people who are looking for something with you. He wouldn't take it too bad either, he would leave it up to you unless you go to him for help, only then would he jump in.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

2/10 He prefers to leave you to your own criteria and freedom, as he himself has decided to do with his life. As long as you spend a certain amount of quality time by his side experiencing new things and places, that's enough for Kazuha.

what is he most jealous of?

It doesn't happen often, but it would be a thorn in his side if you go to places, which you discovered with him during your travels, with other friends or acquaintances of yours. He would like it to be something intimate and meaningful between the two of you.

Scaramouche

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

10/10 Occasionally he may vent his jealousy on you, because of silly arguments or disagreements that you have, but mostly he would do it with those who are going to flirt with you. In the end he understands that it's not your fault, so gradually he tries to fix that problem.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

9/10 Most likely, he already felt this way about you even before you started dating officially. He would have behaviors like asking you to go out with him every day in the hopes that you wouldn't end up noticing someone else.

what is he most jealous of?

If you are outside and someone's attitude towards you really shocks him, he can't help it, an impulse in him would get you out of there immediately without thinking. Scaramouche's not going to tolerate that kind of stare over what he considers his own.

Venti

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

4/10 Even when something in him goes wrong and he feels jealous, it's as if at the same time he knows that he must give you freedom to act as you want and after all, you wouldn't change him, right?

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

7/10 He likes to keep you close all day long, write songs and ballads of his beloved without the need to name names or tell the rest who exactly you are. He's not going to do that if it means that others also know who you are and will approach you, whether to ask about the archon or a simple bard.

what is he most jealous of?

One of his greatest fears is to keep losing the people he loves even though he knows that it is inevitable with the passage of time. Venti would not be able to bear that, apart from factors like this, you would be the one to voluntarily leave his side and go with someone else.

Xiao

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

6/10 I feel that individual acts would make him feel insecure and jealous over you when you're away from his side, so he tries to always keep an eye on you so he knows where you are. That way he could be ready all the time when he needs to do something because of another person flirting with you.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

8/10 His way of expressing that you belong to him in some way or another would be with small marks made by his own teeth on your skin, in places where only he can see and no one else. That's why they are there after all, isn't it?

what is he most jealous of?

When you start spending more time and hanging out with other people, specifically a single one that he doesn't even know by sight and you get to complain to him that he's been checking you out more than usual. Xiao likes to think to himself that he's doing it for your safety.

Kaeya

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

3/10 Even if he occasionally feels upset by people near you, he prefers to trust you enough that he won't try to do anything unless he feels it's too much and you're not doing anything to stop the situation.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

5/10 Only when he is aware that someone is making moves on you will he become more possessive. Whether it's to make you feel a little safer if you send him a look of distress, or to scare off whoever you have after you, no one is going to mess with the cavalry captain's partner.

what is he most jealous of?

It's something he enjoys taking you to bars so you can try his favorite drinks and he can see your reactions. But every time he goes away for more than three seconds and someone comes to buy you a drink Kaeya's face changes, he would come back as fast as possible to your side.

Wriothesley

how jealous is he from 1 to 10?

2/10 Just enough to throw a glance, although he would only do something directly to the person who is flirting with you if their actions escalate quickly. In those cases it would be more to defend you than for his own jealousy, he is not afraid to come to blows.

how possessive is he from 1 to 10?

6/10 He would like to show everyone with a minimal amount of interest that the two of you are doing well together and that you are his, whether it's by pressing you against his body or asking you to stay in his office on his busiest days.

what is he most jealous of?

Definitely some people would only approach you to do you favors and earn Wriothesley's or get closer to him in some way. He would try to keep you away from these people whenever he could, keeping you by his side whenever he saw strange behavior.

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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kaciebello · 3 months

Text

Left on delivered

Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff! reader (use of she/her, no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. One delivery does not go as planned.

Warnings: mention cigarettes, alcohol, jumping off of the astronomy tower.

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only :(

Previously: Delivery fees

Next part: Wrong address

Words: 1242 ish

Notes to deliver: 137

Astronomy Tower was a popular place to meet up even after curfew. Many see it as a romantic spot and meet up there to stargaze with their partner on a Friday night. Tonight however the sky was covered in clouds and there were no stars in sight. That's why a group of familiar boys hung out there. With this weather, nobody is surprised to see them smoking there. Nobody would also question the bubbling cauldron in the corner. Well, nobody should.

Light steps could be heard on the metal staircase, only catching the attention of two boys of the group. From the stairs, a familiar girl appears not noticing the boys yet as she plays with the note in her hand. At this time of day, she no longer wore her school-issued uniform. Her all-black outfit is broken up by the yellow ribbon in her hair. A look of confusion appears on her face as she notices the boys hanging out.

“ Group date?” She teases and walks to them, her arms falling alongside her body. A mocking ‘ haha’ is heard from Mattheo from the other side. The girl cannot tell if it's the mist or just an excessive amount of cigarette smoke that makes the air so stuffy. She makes her way over to the railing and leans her back on it, facing the group.

“ As if, I would have taken myself on something way more romantic. Trying to make moonshine is not my idea of a date, sunshine.” Announces Draco, who is in charge of stirring said moonshine at the moment. Chuckles from his friends can be heard.

“Please, all you could manage is a box of candy and half-dead flowers.” Argues Blaise not even looking up from the oranges he's been cutting and dropping them in the cauldron.

“ Excuse me?” Draco whips his head to him.

“You are excused.” Blaise simply says. A string of words leaves Draco's mouth about how his friend is in the wrong and he should see what amazing dates he can take him on. The girl decides to tune those two out as their conversation seems way too personal to listen in. Her attention turns to two smoking boys standing next to her.

“ Why, wanna join us?” Asks her Matteo, cocking his eyebrow. Shaking her head in disagreement, deciding she’s very much against that idea.

“ Why not? Who can say they have 5 boyfriends.” Argues Theo, cigarette loosely hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I hardly want to date a single individual, let alone all of you. It might be better for me to date a dementor.” She says. A fake offended gasp can be heard from the two. At the same time, Lorenzo approaches the three. He stands next to his friend and crosses his arms.

“None of us, hmm?” He says in a teasing tone. the girl just rolls her eyes and pushes herself off the railing. Turning to face the outside part. A laugh can be heard from them before Lorenzo speaks up again.

“You want me so bad.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The voices in my head are telling me.” He just shrugs and moves on to check on the moonshine. ‘ Unbelibelve ‘ leaves the girl quietly. Interested in the moonshine she follows him and sits down next to Draco.

“ What are you even doing here?” he asks giving up on the stirring and just charming the spatula. She raises the note in her hand to view. Before gloomily setting it on her lap. A noise of understanding leaves him before turning to Lorenzo for a conversation. The two other boys join the group and also it down.

“Is that one for us?” Theodor points out the note. She just shook her head but went to check her watch. Seeing the time she frowns and turns her gaze to the stairs, as if waiting for something. Before turning back to the group with a sigh.

“Oh god, are you here waiting for someone??” A shocked tone leaves Lorenzo as a horrified expression forms on his face. His friends are quick to follow with the same. Lastly, the girl forms a shocked face as well.

“What?? NO!” She yelps in a hurry and waves her hands in front of her. “ Why would you think that???”

“You're all gloomy! and no one comes here other than to meet up with their date! OH MY GOD, YOU GOT STOOD UP!” His hands fly to cover his mouth. The girl sits there in disbelief, her chin almost on the floor from Lorenzo's ‘amazing’ detective skills. A hand gently closes her mouth. She watches them all panic, unaware of what to do in a situation like this. Few not-so-comforting words are thrown in her direction.

“I'm not the one who's getting stood up! Technically.” She says making all of them come to a stop.

“What?” She lifted the note that was sitting on her lap. All eyes are on it.

“ The person who gave me this note is getting stood up.” Was all it took for cheers and sighs of reveal to be heard among the group. The note is snitched from her hand by Blaise as he opens it to read it. She chases it but unsuccessfully. After a few moments a confused look forms on his face.

“ This is a breakup note.” He just says a passes the note to Lorenzo next to him. The girls just nod.

“I was supposed to give it to the person, but he never showed up.” She explains. “ So I guess the feelings are mutual.” Silence falls upon them as the note makes her way to the girl. She sets it down in one of the many nooks on the wall.

“This is why you're so gloomy? Because someone else broke up? Girl, you had me worried.” Says Lorenzo and crawls to the girl. Inevitably, traps her in a makeshift hug as he lays on top of her. ‘ Mate, you heavy.’ leaves her but is muffled. The group returns to their usual chatter and ignores the two. After some time the girl manages to push her friend off her and to the side, where he now fake sobbed from a broken heart. Sitting up, she gets passed a cup of presumably finished moonshine.

She gives that one to her friend and takes the next one, giving it a proper smell. The boys around her, seemingly not worried about the safety of the cauldron made moonshine all chug it down in one motion. She takes a sip and immediately retracts from the cup. Her face twists in disgust. Setting the cup down, determined to never touch it again, she watches as her friends celebrate the bach. Conjuring up some snacks and filling their cups with another round of the disgusting liquid. Making a mental note, not to ever deliver the Slytherin moonshine as it could be a safety hazard.

The night went on as no other student dared to show up at the astronomy tower after hearing the group from the bottom of the stairs. Any deliveries forgot in a second. None of them seem to notice the wind picking up, the note breakup note now gone. Later that night, when everything calms down. A soft chatter of the group can be heard. The girl gets a tap on her shoulder. Turning to her friend who motions for her to lean in.

“Ya know,” whispers Lorenzo, “If you made that all up, I understand. And, I heard I can be a great rebound…” The girl gets up from her spot, makes her way to the railing, and starts climbing over it. The only thing that stops her from jumping is male hands that pull her back to the group and laughter from the other boys.

Notes to deliver: 136

Tag list: @daisiesformylove, @klimovatereza-blog

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mirohlayo · 6 months

Text

MOONSTRUCK | LN4

moonstruck (adjective)

unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love.

( you just made lando loose all his senses )

warning : none, fluff

word count : 886

note : looks like an etablished relationship but no, just lando crushing on you lol. wrote something short for this one bc i think it suits much better. also kind of related with wonderwall post.

!! english not my first language !!

a great race.

it was such a perfect day. time seemed to stop for a while, like people had to enjoy every single minutes of this unreal moment. ends of races were often filled with happiness and a sense of pride always won over fans and racing teams. it was the amazing sport of formula one.

the drivers always celebrated their podium. with friends, race team, engineers, family and any others close people. it was an overload of joy mixed with lot of positive emotions, and these were such precious moments that must be cherished at all costs. but not everyone has this chance. this chance to say you did a great job, to say you drove well. when you feel like you're just not good enough. your being hurts you so much as if you were stabbed everywhere. no one wants to feel like that. and luckily, that wasn't the case for lando.

he did an amazing race. a fantastic job. as soon as he jumped out of his car, his race team congratulated him and praised him for his podium. p2, that's just incredible for the mclaren team. and of course, oscar was proud of his teammate. just like you. you were so proud of lando. you never stopped believing in him, you were always the one to cheer him up. that's why today he hugged you a bit longer than usual, his arms wrapped you tightly against his warm body. in that moment, everything seemed perfectly perfect. the rays of the sun dazzled only you two, in each other's arms, like a reunion of two souls who had been separated for far too long. it felt just like him and you against the whole world.

and with heavy hearts, the pilots had to separate from their favorite person to return to the one final task : post race interview. so as did lando. he gave you a soft smile filled with an amount load of love and let you out of his embrace. he took place in front of the interviewer, and kept his concentration for the race questions. the spot was that the mclaren team was still in front of him a few meters further, so he could still see the people he loved celebrate the efforts of both mclaren drivers. he saw lots of wide smiles, sparkles in all eyes. everyone was still cheering and lando's heart felt full of happiness and love.

his mouth was speaking words, answering bunch of questions about how was the race and stuff like that. a noisy background, filled with laughters and cries accompanied deep lando's voice as he was still talking to the interviewer. his eyes scanned everywhere, sort of a habit he have every times it was post race interview time. he looked from the mclaren engineers to his tired but proud teammate, from the fans of the paddock club to the others drivers. and then he saw you. your person.

his gaze immediately softened, as if he had found reassurance in you. his eyes laid on you so effortlessly because every time a weird but pleasant sensation seized him, as if he was hypnotized by a stunning thing. you were shyly laughing with his manager, charlotte. a crystal clear sound escaped from your mouth which turned into a beautiful smile. the way your eyes slowly squinted, shiny sparkles in them, your cheeks' lines came out and embellished even more your face. your perfect side profile that lando's couldn't help to look at. the sun rays colored your skin in an orange-pink shadow. now it seemed like the world stopped. he captured an unreal moment of you. wow. you just looked like a goddess. a pure gem he wanted to chase after and keep it for himself. and just with this glimpse of you, he started to loose all his senses.

now he was stuttering. he acted clumsy, saying dumb and incoherent things. he stammered on his words, let little "huhh" "hmm" out of his mouth while he was thinking about what he have to say. but he couldn't think because now all his attention was on you. nothing came into his mind but only this picture of you. he even started blushing and a shy smile took place on his lips. god why he was so fucking lost every times it comes to you ? it's just unfair how much effect you did to him. but soon the interviewer finally saw his awkward position and finished quickly the interview.

then he ran to join his team, especially you. you turned to face him, and without any hesitation you hugged him tightly. because it is never enough hugs. oh how his heart craved for your touch. your body pressed against him, your breath on his neck. he was for sure so in love with you. and whenever you would ask him why he acted so clumsy around you, he always had the same answer. "you just stress me that's all" he would shrugged. but actually, the most correct answer would be "i just don't know anymore how to act normal because of you, your person and your presence. because after all i think i'm just a bit too much in love with you".

yeah, it was the perfect answer. and that without any doubts.

#lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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evanpetersmybf · 3 months

Text

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 3,172

Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.

A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.

He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.

He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.

Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.

He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.

“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”

“Huh, excuse me?”

“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.

You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.

“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”

He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.

“Have you listened to Nirvana?”

“Just like… Two songs?”

“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

“Guilty.”

Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?

After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.

For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.

“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.

Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.

After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.

In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.

“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.

He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.

“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”

“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”

‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.

Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.

That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.

“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”

Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.

“I’m sorry, what did you?—”

“Did you like the song?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”

He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.

The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.

With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.

He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.

Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.

Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.

The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.

He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.

Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.

That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.

One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.

“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.

“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,

You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”

Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.

“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.

“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”

“No.”

“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.

Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.

His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.

His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.

“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Hahah, you funny.”

He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.

“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”

“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.

“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”

This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.

Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.

After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.

His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.

The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.

He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.

“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.

Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”

“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.

Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.

“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.

This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.

Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.

He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.

“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.

His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.

Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.

Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.

She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.

You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.

Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.

He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.

He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.

The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.

His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.

Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.

He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.

“Tate, I feel like I’m—”

“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.

All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.

“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”

You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”

Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.

“Y/N…?”

“Mh, what is it, Tate?”

“I love you… Please be mine?”

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rayaverra · 4 months

Text

Love Amidst the Noise // Luke Castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

genre: fluff (i guess)

summary: you get a little overexcited while talking, and your friends find it annoying. When Luke finds you sad and quiet, he comforts you.

warning(s): none

wc: 654

notes: this actually happened to me in real life, so shout-out to my best friend for his kind words :')

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・

"And we visited this museum when my dad took me on a trip to Boston, and the art there was just amazing! So many different types of paintings... all these vibrant colours that matched... and the amount of detail..." You were sharing your winter experience with your friends, feeling passionate about the art. Now that summer break had started and you were back in camp, you were excited to share all your latest stories, but none of your friends seemed to really care.

"Yeah... yeah... we get it! Your father took you to see some old paintings," one of them said, rolling their eyes, and soon afterwards everyone else joined.

"Yeah, who cares about some old paintings that all look the same anyway?" Another one added, and your smile suddenly faded, feeling sad that they spoke like that about something you cared so much about.

"And you've been talking about it for almost an hour! Don't you let anyone else speak?" And with that, you closed your mouth, feeling unwanted; you didn't say anything for the rest of your friends conversation.

Later that day, you were sitting on your cabin's table earlier than everyone else, not being in much of a mood. You started to wonder if everyone thought the same as your friends. You knew that sometimes you talked too much, but you couldn't control it. Did everyone in camp think you were annoying?

A familiar figure approached you. At first, you didn't turn to see who it was, but soon you realized it was your dear friend from the Hermes cabin, Luke Castellan.

He noticed your unusual silence and your worried expression. "Hey, is everything okay?" He asked gently.

"Fine..." You said, avoiding his gaze. And that, with the fact that you replied without using many words, like you always liked to explain the details, made him curious as to who got you sad. Deep down, he was also slightly angry that someone would hurt his best friend like this.

"Come' on, I know you better than that." He smiled softly, reaching across the table and gently holding your hand. "You can tell me everything, you know."

You hesitate for a bit, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Do you ever find me annoying?" You eventually blurted out, surprising both Luke and yourself.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely puzzled. "Annoying? Not at all! Why would you think that?"

You signed, looking into his filled-with-kindness blue eyes, giving him a weak smile. He was so gentle with you that it warmed your heart.

You sighed, finally deciding to share the weight on your shoulders. "My friends, they... They always complain about me talking too much and never let me finish."

Luke's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You're not annoying, not to me. I love how you light up when you talk, how your eyes sparkle. Your enthusiasm is one of the things I adore about you."

Your heart warmed upon hearing his comforting words. You realized that you had found someone who appreciated you for who you were.

"Don't let them get to you. You're amazing just the way you are, and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve your energy." He said, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, remembering how fun it was when you explained to Luke the history of each painting, and him listening intensively.

"Thank you, Luke." You smiled, moving closer, sniffing a little, and resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a hug.

"Can you tell me about that painting with that couple on a swing again?" Luke asked, and you blushed, nodding your head and starting to tell him about the famous Cot's painting.

In that moment, the weight lifted, and you felt a newfound strength. As you continued your conversation, you found solace in Luke's understanding, grateful to have someone who valued every word you shared.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #luke castellan pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x you #one shot

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deansapplepie · 5 months

Text

Everything with you, everything from you

Summary: Daryl and you always loved each other, neither of you acting on your feelings and him always scaring all the men that had interest on you. That is until you can’t take it anymore.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Era: Commonwealth

Genre: Smut, Romance

Warnings: NSFW, smut (there’s a small plot), sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids), creampie, Subish Daryl, Subish Reader, Sweet Dirty Talk, Swearing, Age Gap (everybody is of age, but Daryl’s concerned somehow. Reader is on her 30s and Daryl on his 50s). 18+ Minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 5,505

A/N: English is not my first language so it may contain errors, even though I proofread it. It’s lightly implied reader is plus size, but everyone can read because it’s just small hints of it.

Masterlist

You were infuriated.

He infuriated you in the same amount he made your heart beat faster because of him.

It had been years of the damn apocalypse, years that you met him, years that your mom died and let you alone. It had been years since he became your best friend, protector and trainer. He taught you many things. He taught you how to fight, hunt and track. He also taught you about love, but he didn’t know it or he fakes he didn’t make you fall in love with him all those years ago.

It first started as a silly crush, when the world ended you were so young… you were in your first years of college when it all happened. You and your mom had become close with the Dixons at the quarry, Merle was a dick, but your mom made him respect both of you, as much as he could. Daryl… was Daryl, he was quiet and grumpy, but he was gentle and caring on his own way. Your mom’s origins wasn’t very different from the two rednecks, so she was able to understand them and where they came from, you were lucky that her and your dad could give you a better life. When the quarry was attacked by walkers and you mom got bitten and died, he was everything you had.

Still today, even with your big found family, you and him were like a package, you even shared an apartment at the Commonwealth and raised Judith and RJ together while Michonne and Rick were away. But your package… this package never included a relationship with him. You were on your 30s already, no boyfriend, no relationship and you couldn’t even blame yourself, guys did come to you and wanted to flirt with you, make plans with you… but he… he always ruined everything. He’d scare the men or make it impossible for you to go out with any of them. In the beginning, you thought it was ok, he was just worried, you were young and you were all still careful about people outside of your small circle. Then you started to think he also felt something for you and it made your heart beat fast and butterflies fly on your stomach. He never acted, he never did anything, and honestly you were tired of waiting for him, you were tired of being alone, you wanted to live just like everyone else. Have someone to hold hands, cuddle, have some physical contact and make plans for your crazy uncertain future.

You entered your shared apartment after him and knowing the kids were on a slumber party at Aaron’s, you closed the door with all the strength you had.

“Wha’ was that for?!” He stopped on his tracks and turned to you. He knew what it was for, He was just playing dumb.

“What was that for?” You sarcastically repeated his question. “Why do you have to ruin all my chances of going on a date with someone?”

“That guy’s a prick.” He leaned on the counter of the kitchen.

“Funny, ‘cause every guy that has some interest on me is a prick for you.” You took some cold water from the fridge, maybe it was going to help you calming down.

“Not my problem you’ve got a bad taste in man.” He picked an apple from the tray and started eating it nonchalantly.

You looked at him, more specifically at the back of his head that you could see from where you were at the kitchen, he felt that soon your stare was going to make a hole on his head, but he tried to fake normalcy. “Yeah, I think I really got a bad taste in man. But apparently that’s your problem since you can’t let any of them get close to me.”

“Why do you keep doing that, Daryl?” You asked, honestly, and he turned to look at you.

“Tomorrow, we have family game night. It’s important.” He said, and that was what he had just said to Jake the guy from your work that asked you to go out on Saturday.

“And I can’t miss it one week?” He was full of bullshit when he wanted to. “What about Sunday? Why did you say I couldn’t on Sunday?”

“Because… I don’t like him.” You rolled your eyes. You walked to the other side of the counter, one hand on it and the other on your waist.

“You don’t need to, I’m the one that has to like him.” You blurted out. You were tired incredibly tired of that sick silly game of his.

“I…” you didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t want to be alone, Daryl. Nobody comes close to me because of you. If you feel anything for me, grow some balls and do something about it, or stop getting on my way.”

The following seconds were a blur, in one moment you were feet apart and in the next you were being lifted to sit on the counter, Daryl between your legs and his lips crushing against yours. A hot messy hungry kiss on your lips, for a brief moment you were surprised, but then you closed your eyes and just let yourself enjoy the moment, take this once in a lifetime opportunity that you have been waiting for years. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands tangled and tugging on his hair. You kissed him back with the same enthusiasm and eagerness, you had dreamed about this for so long. His left hand was on your lower back and the right one was holding a handful of your thighs, your thick delicious thighs that he wanted for so long. You tugged a little harsher on his hair eliciting a groan from him, he pulled you against his body and you could feel his hard on, knowing it was all for you. He gave open mouthed kisses on your jaw and descended to your neck, making you grind yourself against him and a loud moan come from you.

And he stopped.

He simply stopped and pushed himself away from you.

“Fuck.” He said as reality hit him, or what felt like reality for him. “I shouldn’t have done this I…”

“Funny, ‘cause your hard dick says otherwise.” You said still sitting on the counter, cheeks blushed, lips plump and all the tension that had gone threatening to come back. “I’m not complaining Daryl, actually it’s the opposite. So why would it be a mistake?”

“This isn’t right. Ya’re younger than me. Shit… ya could be my daughter.” He said, hand on his forehead, the other on his face.

“Unless you fucked my mom, and I don’t know. There are zero chances of you being my dad.” You tried reasoning with him, was it what he was thinking all this time and not acting on it?

“Ya understand what I said. Ya’re way younger. I’m on my 50s and you on your 30s it’s… it’s not…”

“Right?” You asked. “Is it wrong that 2 consenting adults want each other? I’m not a kid anymore, you just said I’m on my thirties. When we met each other maybe it could have been messed up, I mean I was young and naïve, but still of age. But now? You really want to put the age gap talking on me?”

“Didn’t say ya’re a kid.” He retorted trying to not look at you since your flustered image wouldn’t help him controlling himself.

“If you don’t, it doesn’t make any sense thinking that what happened right now was a mistake.” You jumped from the counter and put yourself in front of him. “What is it? Are you attracted to me but is ashamed of me? Am I not beautiful enough? Not thin enough?”

“I ain’t this shallow, Y/N.” He looked at you, and it broke him seeing hurt and self doubt all over you. “I made a promise to your mother, before she died that night in the quarry. I promised I’d protect you…”

“And you did. I don’t need your protection anymore, you taught me how to defend myself. I don’t even need you to eat, I can hunt my own food if needed. So you’re free you from this burden, I should have never been your responsibility.” You were so angry at that moment tears on your eyes threatening to fall down, his promise should have nothing to do with it. “Well. Fuck. So here’s the thing, if you’re not taking me, acting on your feelings or whatever, Stop hindering other people to do so! I’m not gonna wait on you my whole life and be unhappy just because you’re so close minded.” The words left your mouth like the water flowing from a broken dam. You took your bag again and headed to the door.

“Where are ya going?” He asked before you could leave.

“I don’t know. Gonna decide once I leave. Don’t wait for me. I’m not coming back for game night, tell the kids I’m sorry.” You opened the door and left, no looking back.

He stayed there for a moment staring at the door, he had just let you go. He had you on his arms, just like he dreamed many times and he threw it away, he didn’t do all the things he wanted to do to you. He didn’t showed you how much you meant to him, he just pushed you away and probably lost you, not only on the ways he wanted to have you, but probably also as a friend. He was stuck, desperate and helpless, he didn’t know what to do now that you were gone.

When you left the apartment, you didn’t know where exactly you were going. Now, you had two possibilities. You could go to Carol’s she was your friend, but she was also his friend and he would want to go to her and you would lose your moment with her. So instead, you decided going to Rosita’s, they worked together, but he would not look for her to vent about everything and he knew Rosita would kick his ass if he went there looking for you, or at least you thought so. A plus was, you could also use Coco cuteness to calm and warm your heart, since your kids were not around.

When you knocked at Rosita’s door she wasn’t expecting to see you, and right when she saw you she brought you inside and put you on a tight hug. You had watery eyes and when your friend embraced you so kindly you couldn’t control the tears anymore and let them roll.

“What happened babe?” She asked sitting on the sofa with you and holding your hands. “Who hurt you? Was it Daryl? Want me to kick his ass?”

“He ruined my chances to go on a date, again. We fought at home. We kissed and…” Rosita didn’t let you finish given the new information that was something you never said before when you complained about the archer.

“Wow, slow down. What? You kissed? So why are you here crying?” She truly needed to understand, she knew there was probably more to it, but she couldn’t hold herself when you mentioned kissing.

“Yes, and it was the best kiss of my life. But it doesn’t matter, he ruined everything. When it was getting heated, he simply pushed away from me and said everything was a mistake.” You said, the angry feeling about all the happenings coming again to your mind.

“Oh, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did. He says I’m too young for him. He’s…ridiculous!” You wanted to pull out your hair, he was making you crazy. “I hate him!”

“You don’t hun…” Rosita pulled you for another hug and you just rested your head on her shoulders.

“I… I think I’m giving up Rosi… I can’t keep losing time like that.” You had already lost so much, not that he ever made it easy for you to know other people and find someone, but maybe you should have imposed yourself many years ago and things wouldn’t have gotten so bad like now.

Daryl couldn’t stay at home. The silence there without you were deafening, he left the apartment and went to the only place he knew he could find some solace if it wasn’t with you. He knocked on the door and waited for the answer. He wasn’t expecting for this person to get the door.

“Hey, Daryl! Is everything, ok? You look terrible.” Ezekiel told the hunter while holding the door.

“I… I didn’t know ya were here. I’m sorry, dun wanna to spoil yer moment.” Daryl scratched his neck nervously.

“Nah, you’re not disturbing. Come in, Carol and I were just having dinner and talking.” The former king invited him in.

He entered the apartment and ended at the table opening his heart to Carol and Ezekiel about everything that happened. Carol listened to everything in silence, but she already knew everything she needed to know.

“You know she’s right, don’t you?” Carol said when Daryl stopped telling them everything.

“I dunno if she’s right.” He stubbornly answered.

“You’ve liked her since when? The farm? And she also liked you for a long time and you already knew that.” Carol told the obvious, but at the moment she felt like she needed to draw for the observant and smart archer.

“Since the quarry.” He mumbled.

“Ok, since the quarry. Whatever. Even earlier and you still act like you shouldn’t be together because of your 20 years difference or something.” Sincerely she thought both of you would have it sorted out a long time ago. “She’s not a little girl and you’re also not a little boy, so stop acting like one.”

“Daryl, love’s something so rare in the world we live in. You shouldn’t let some prejudice like this prevent you from being happy with the person you love.” Ezekiel spoke for the first time, he was careful with his words.

“I ruined everything already.” He took a deep breath. Damn. The way you looked at him, he felt like the biggest asshole in the world, keeping you away from happiness but also didn’t acting on both of your feelings.

“You can still do things right. You just need to quit this nonsense about age. She’s a good heart, and I know she’ll forgive you if you talk to her.” Carol felt like she needed to grab both of your hands and guide you through this like two kids, or you would stay in this cycle forever. “She forgave when you left with Merle, all the times you lied to keep her safe and I’m pretty sure she forgave you for all the years you stayed out there coming and going to look for Rick, and you ended up with Leah, you and Y/N weren’t anything other than friends, but don’t you think it hurt her while she loved and couldn’t have you? She wouldn’t be around if she didn’t forgive you.”

He didn’t say anything, he looked down and started to chew on his thumb, an old habit of his when he was anxious.

“Now, I know it will sound cliché and cheesy, but forget all this shit and follow your heart. Go find her.” She gave a small squeeze on the archer’s hand and have him an encouraging smile.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Ezekiel asked.

“Maybe. I hope she’s there and not going after that fucking prick.” He answered, jealous rising when he remembered your colleague asking you out earlier. “Thanks, gonna see if I find her. If not I’ll just need to wait for her.” He got up and was ready to leave.

“Go get her pookie! If you need some extra time I don’t mind taking the kids and having game night with them here.” Carol said taking Daryl to the door. “If you both don’t solve this, I’m going to kick both of your dumb asses.” She completed.

He walked on the corridors of the old building following the path he already knew by heart, whenever he’d not find you, he knew you would be there. He was nervous, it could go all kinds of wrong, but he needed to try if he still had a chance. He stopped in front of the door and took some breaths before knocking on it.

You were at Rosita’s kitchen preparing some pasta for both of you to eat when Coco started to cry and she had go look after the baby. In that specific moment you heard a knock on the door. “Can you answer it, Y/N? It’s probably Eugene or Gabe.” Rosita said already with Coco in her arms.

“Yes, of course.” You lowered the fire you were using to cook the sauce and went to the door, opening it without even looking who it was. When you opened you met the last and first person you wanted to see at the moment, damn your lovesickness for him. You were just going to shut the door right at his face, even though the house wasn’t yours, but he was faster and held the door. “What do you want? I told you to not wait for me.” You tried to sound monotone, but you were pretty sure you sounded angry.

“Ya didn’t say anything about coming after ya. I want ya, that’s what I want. I’ve always wanted ya, and I’ve been an idiot trying to deny it. We’re both adults and I was being stubborn and dumb about it. I love you and…” he stopped to catch a breath since he hadn’t breathed since he started talking. “…I’m incredibly sorry. Please forgive me, and come home with me.”

“Daryl, I love you too. You know I love you. If you go back on your words…” you started to say, your voice shaken with emotion, but was interrupted.

“I won’t. I promise.” He took your hand in his and looked at your eyes. “Let’s get home and make things right.”

“Go girlie! Grab your man!” Rosita shouted from behind and you had almost forgot she was there. Daryl had ignored it completely just now being aware of opening his heart to you in front of Rosita, and Coco.

“I’m going er… Can you just wait a minute? I’m finishing dinner for Rosi. As you can see, she’s a little busy with Coco.” You said going back to the stove and checking if the sauce was good.

While you finished the dinner for Rosita he sat on the sofa near Rosita and the baby, and they talked about something you couldn’t hear from the kitchen. You considered you must be dreaming, this moment couldn’t be real, but you just burnt your pinkie on the pan and it hurt like a bitch, so you were definitely not sleeping.

When you finished you told Rosita it was ready, you gave her a warm hug and you kissed Coco goodbye. You left the apartment with Daryl following you and soon his hand engulfed yours and you could swear you were in heaven, you felt all flustered. Daryl was no different, he was a blushing mess from his cheeks to his ears. His mouth a thin line, his lips pressed against each other trying to contain the smile that wanted to come out.

Once you got home you opened the door and entered first, you waited for Daryl to lock the door and when he turned to you… You attacked him, you crushed your lips and body against him pressing him against the door. Daryl wasn’t going to lie that he didn’t want that to happen, he wanted that a lot, but he wasn’t expecting you’d like to engage in such activities so soon. He had imagined maybe cuddling with you on sofa or bed, talking about you or making dinner together. But he wasn’t going to sign a complaint, he was more than fine with your choice for your first night as a couple.

He quickly kissed you back, his hands coming to your back sliding on it and ending on your butt which he grabbed and pulled your body against his. You gasped in surprise and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, your hands were on his nape and on his hair tugging at it and scratching his scalp. You felt his erection against your belly and you couldn’t resist but slip your hand down his body and touch it, earning a groan from him. It was so hard and by the outline you could see it was thick too. You just couldn’t wait to feel and taste his cock, you unbuckled his belt and worked on the zipper opening his pants.

You shoved your hand inside of his pants now groping his dick with only the thin layer of his boxers separating your hand from touching it skin to skin. He threw his head back leaning on the door, groans and grunts escaping his lips.

“Do you like it Daryl?” You asked your eyes on his face registering all of his reactions on your memory.

“Yeah, a lot… ugh…” The way he was at your mercy was so delicious that you couldn’t contain yourself into teasing him.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” Your hand went up a little, your thumb holding on his waistband.

“Yeah, ‘m gonna be good. All for ya… Anything for ya…” he answered, his eyes closed his mouth agape and a little sweat on his temple.

“Good, so I’m gonna take good care of you. Ok?” You said while you pushed his boxers down with his trousers letting his dick spring free from it looking deliciously glorious. You took it in your hand, pumping it, playing with it… gods… your mouth was watering. “It’s this hard for me baby?”

“Yeah, always this hard fer ya.” He nodded, a groan escaping his lips at each different touch on him.

You got to your knees and he wasn’t expecting this, this wasn’t like he imagined your first time together to be, but again, he wasn’t complaining, he’d take everything you wanted to give him and you’d have more time to do it in all the ways you could and wanted.

You pumped his cock a little bit more and before giving it all of your attention you gave a delicate kiss on his balls. “Oh, fuck…” he hissed, goddamn how did you come so boldly like this? You licked them, your hand never stopping pumping his shaft and your eyes never living his face. Now he looked at you he wanted to watch you with the face of an angel work sinfully with your mouth. You started sucking on his balls making him moan and god, it was delicious hearing him moaning. You sucked both sides of it and just by doing it you had already a pool in your panties. Not that you wanted any other man, but after this you’d want to only suck his dick.

Your mouth left his balls and went to the base of his cock, giving open mouth kisses while your hand would wipe its head. You put both of your hands on his firm thighs and licked all along his shaft. “Damn! How can ya do it so well, angel?” He hissed, hands flattened on the door and the wall.

“You cockblocked me all those years, but at least I had some fun before the world ended.” You said before kissing the tip of his dick, just to put it in your mouth and swirl your tongue on it.

He wanted to throw a sassy remark at you, but at this point his brain couldn’t formulate anything coherent so he decided to just appreciate what you were giving him. One of his hands went to your head massaging your scalp while the other continued supporting him on the wall, it was so good that he felt like he would fall. You’d take little by little, more and more of him while you hummed on it at how it tasted deliciously like Daryl and his pre cum. You started bobbing your head up and down, going further and further, his moans and his hand on your head encouraging you to continue and when he alerted he was about to cum you slowed a bit, you wanted it on the top of your tongue, you wanted to fully taste and savor him. You touched his balls while sucking him and soon he was shooting his seed inside your mouth while he grunted and moaned your name. You swallowed every drop of it, not wasting anything.

“Tasty…” You wiped your mouth and he brought you from your knees to stand up.

His lips crashed immediately on yours, changing positions and pressing you against the wall. His taste on your lips and on your tongue making him taste himself on your mouth. He kicked his pants and boxers like he could without breaking your kiss, still wearing his boots, but now his legs were free to move. He lifted you from the floor and you got the cue to put your legs around his waist, her urged you to take your shirt off and took a moment to kiss your neck, shoulders and collar bones.

He started to walk, taking you to his room and you couldn’t care less as you took this time to kiss, nibble and suck on his neck. He threw you on his bed and took his boots off frantically, you were on your elbows observing him as he took your shoes off and threw them anywhere in the room. You observed him only using a black sweater, bare legs and his cock that you had sucked the life of a few minutes ago was already standing proudly. You licked your lips and he didn’t let it pass, having a smirk on his face.

He came back to you hovering you on the bed in between your legs, taking your lips one more time while his hand travelled down your body palming your covered bra. His hand went to your back and how he was able to open it so easily was a mystery to both of you. He massaged your breasts with both hands giving slight pinches on your erected nipples taking moans from you. His mouth came to your left breast while his hand took care of the other and his other hand descended to work on opening your jeans.

Once your pants were open he pulled them from your body taking your panties too. God, there was too many layers he needed to have you. He came back with his mouth to give the same attention to your right breast while his hand covered your wet covered pussy.

“Is this by just sucking my cock?” He took his mouth from your breast spit slipping from his mouth. “I barely played with ya.”

His fingers slipped between your folds making you whimper. “Princess, I made ya a question. Don’t ya wanna be a good girl and answer?” He watched you, observing every reaction you had. His thumb touching your clit and circling it, a cry leaving your lips.

“Yeah… it’s because of your cock.” You replied breathlessly. “It’s so delicious… ugh…” One finger slid inside your cunt.

“Are ya my good girl?” Husky voice, his finger pumping in and out of you.

“Yeah…” A second finger went inside of you. “Ugh… Dar…”

“And who d’ya belong to?” He asked finger fucking you, a lick to your neck savoring you and sweat.

“You… I’m yours…” Your hips bucked onto his fingers. He started scissoring, his thumb pressed on your clit.

“Whose pussy is this, hugh?” You were a trembling moaning mess, your cunt clenching around his fingers.

Damn. You were close. “Daryl’s! It’s yours…” His fingers going in and out of you, playing with your button till you burst out in your orgasm clenching and spasming on his fingers. His name being moaned again and again.

“Fuck. Ya’re so good fer me.” He kissed you passionately, fingers pumping you slowly, till he broke your kiss, just to have a taste of you from his fingers and slipping them in your mouth so you could suck and taste it too. “Such a good girl… what should be yer reward?”

“You know what I want… but first…” you tugged at this black sweater that he was still wearing, fuck, you wanted to feel his body against yours, skin to skin, the mix of your scents with sweat and the smell of sex.

He took out his shirt throwing it on the floor and coming back to you, looking at your eyes, his hands caressing your head scratching your scalp. “Now, tell whatcha want sunshine…”

“I want your dick, full inside of me. Please…” You pleaded your hands wandering on his chest, going down on his abdomen.

“Ya ask so nicely, I could give ya the world.” He kissed you, deeply, slowly and sensually, this time wasn’t like all the others despaired and craving for the other, it had more. It was as if this kiss could mean everything, all the years pinning for each other, all the feelings that were hidden, the lonely nights thinking about each other, the inability to be satisfied never having the other…

He aligned himself to your pussy and he pushed inside. You gasped, it had been so long… and you’ve been wanting this for so many years, that none of your fantasies or attempts to reproduce the feeling with your fingers could compare to having him inside you. He slowly bottomed out and started to move once you were comfortable. His hips trusting onto yours rhythmically and yours doing the same unable to contain your moves and the need for the man between your legs.

“Fuck, ya’re so delicious. I should’ve had give in to yer temptation earlier.” He groaned nibbling and sucking on your neck.

“Dar… ya do it so well…” Your arms around him holding on his shoulders. “Hhgmmm…”

A thought crossed his mind for a single second and he didn’t think twice. He rolled both of you so you’d be on top, his hand moved to your hips. “Ride me, I wanna see ya riding me…” you sat on top of him, he still inside of you. You looked at him and… Daryl has always been handsome but fuck… were he gorgeous right at that moment.

You moved your hips, both hands on his stomach, going up and down right on your rhythm, rolling on top of him. “You feel amazing…” You closed your eyes, throwing your head back, your hair down framing your face… in Daryl’s mind he was being fucked by a goddess., you glowed in all your glory. You felt you were close, that so familiar feeling inside of you telling you’d explode at any moment, you quickened your pace searching for your breaking point. You could feel by the way Daryl’s dick was twitching he was close too.

“Y/N… love… I need to pull out I’m…” you interrupted him, going faster by every second.

“I dun mind. I wanna everything with you, everything from you…” If he didn’t mind of course, but you didn’t had the time to say it, hearing your words were the ignition he need to erupt inside of you, filling you with his cum and bringing you to the edge as soon as you felt his warm seed inside of you. “Daryl, fuck…”

Your body collapsed on top of him, your head laying on his chest hearing to his quick heartbeat and heavy breathing, both of you calming down and relaxing on each other’s arms. He rolled you again, so now you were resting on the bed he was on top of you. He looked at you, his hand on your face admiring you.

“I love ya, I always have.” He confessed.

“I love you too.” You said teary eyes, you were so happy you weren’t able to control.

“Shush… dun cry, I’m not pushing you away ever again.” He said thumb caressing your cheek.

“I’m so happy.” You said trying to control your happy tears and failing.

He pulled out of you, your mixed fluids coming out and spreading on the bed. He took a clean humid cloth cleaning you and the bed the better he could. Then he joined you in bed again, holding you, your head on his chest, a blanket over both of you. You talked about nothing and everything, imagining how the future would be and imagining how the kids would react once they knew you were finally together.

In the middle of talking you fell asleep, while Daryl stayed awake a little more thinking on how long he deprived himself from happiness and how lucky he was that you never gave up on him, until he fell asleep. Little did he know that you also thought you were the luckiest woman for having him by your side all those years and finally being able pour your love on each other.

Final notes: Hope you guys enjoy it, it took me some time, but I’m happy with it.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months

Text

can she make you feel like i do?

Jealous Leila O as promised!!!! smut. this is just smut.

italics are spanish

18+. rougher sex. use of a safe word. aftercare though :) lmk if you like it!

You knew your girlfriend to be a mildly possessive person, but she'd never been weird about your friends. Something about Katie must have really pissed her off for her to act the way she did.

You and Leila saw each other a fair amount, with her playing for city and you playing for arsenal. It was your first season at the club, and she knew how nervous you'd been. Moving from Liga F to England was a big change, and she'd played a huge role in helping you adjust.

So had Katie, to be fair. Arsenal was truly like a family, and Katie had taken you under her wing, made sure you fit in and felt safe and comfortable.

The night before you were set to play man city, you'd gone out with some of the girls and Leila. You were smushed in between her and Katie, and you found yourself paying more attention to Katie than you were to Leila. It wasn't intentional; Leila was less comfortable with english than you were, especially around people she'd just met, so she was quieter than normal.

You hadn't realized it had bothered her until you felt her hand grab yours under the table, holding tightly. You broke off your conversation with the Irish woman, and turned to your girlfriend.

"Are you okay, baby?" you asked quietly, sensing the anxiety radiating off of the older woman.

"They speak really fast." She said quietly. You looked at her closer, and saw that she wasn't just slightly anxious, but a little angry. You knew there was more she wasn't telling you, but you didn't want to push in front of your friends. Instead, you smiled at her sympathetically, squeezing her hand.

"We can go soon, okay?" You promised, and she nodded, not letting go of your hand. For the rest of the meal, you made more of a effort to bring her into the conversations, and she seemed to get a little more comfortable. You didn't fully understand what she was so upset about until you arrived back to your apartment, where she was staying while she was in town.

"What's up with you and Mccabe," she asked quietly, once you'd climbed into bed and turned the lights off. You shifted in her arms to face her, realizing what the problem was. It was dark, so you couldn't really make out her expression, but you could tell her jaw was clenched, and she wasn't looking at you.

"Is that what you were so upset about?" You questioned. She nodded her head jerkily. You weren't used to this; Leila was a very secure person, and you'd never really seen her this upset before over something so trivial. You placed a hand on her cheek, tilting her head to look at you. "Katie is just a friend, my love. She's been really helpful since I got here, really looked out for me. And she's with Caitlin. Besides, why would I want her when I have you?" You said, rubbing your thumb lightly across her cheek.

She looked relieved, and like she was blushing from your last comment, as she buried her head in your hair.

"Okay. I'm sorry, I trust you, I just got nervous." She pressed a light kiss to your neck, and you settled back against her, thinking the issue was resolved.

-----

The thing was, there were two Leila's. Sweet and kind Leila, who brought you flowers and liked nothing more than to have you lay directly on top of her while watching TV. There was also football Leila, aggressive Leila, who showed her opponents no mercy. Both of these sides of her melded beautifully together to create someone who sometimes would slowly, achingly take you to pieces, and other times, would fuck you until you could barely breathe.

It had been a bit since you and Leila had seen each other, and although you didn't have sex the night before the game, it was unspoken that you would be going directly back to your apartment once the game was over. You pushed these thoughts out of your head, though, focusing on the task at hand.

For the next 90 minutes, Leila was not your girlfriend, but your opponent, and you needed to play accordingly. You both managed it well, getting through the first half with no incidents. You were halfway through the second half when things started to escalate.

Alanna Kennedy had tackled you late, leaving you sprawled on the grass. You were fine, the air had just been knocked out of you, so you took a second to regain your breath. Katie appeared at your side, ever protective.

"You alright there mate?" She asked shooting a glare at Alanna as she the Australian patted you on the shoulder, walking by.

"Good. Just need a sec." You said, rather breathlessly. Katie nodded, remaining at your side until you were ready to stand up. You took her outstretched hand and got to your feet. You only saw Leila once you'd stood up. You'd completely missed how she'd begun to come over to you and help you up, before Katie beat her there. You'd missed how she watched with a furrowed brow as you talked quietly with Katie, as she helped you up.

You caught her eye, where she was standing with her arms crossed halfway across the pitch. You mistook her jealously for worry, and sent her a thumbs up. Her face didn't change as the game resumed.

You didn't realize Leila was upset, again, until a few minutes later. She'd gone completely for Katie's legs, her own feet nowhere even near the ball. Katie clutched her ankle, swearing loudly, as you ran over.

"Leila!" You scolded, almost forgetting where you were for a second. You bent down, resting a hand on Katie's back, and Leila scoffed at you. You looked back up at her, shocked that she was behaving this way during a game. She turned to walk away, ignoring the yellow card from the ref. You helped Katie to her feet, and she grumbled after the retreating form of your girlfriend.

"Some girl you got there, y/n." Katie remarked.

"She gets jealous." You said shortly, wanting to put your focus back on the game. You managed to do so, none of the three of you getting into anymore tousles.

The game ended in a draw, and as you waited outside the visitors locker room for Leila, you couldn't help but be a little annoyed with her. But if you were a little annoyed, Leila was fuming. She didn't know what it was about Katie McCabe around you that made her so upset, but she couldn't help it. And then, instead of understanding why she was upset, you yelled at her on the pitch, and helped Katie up. Look, Leila knew she was being ridiculous. She didn't really care.

This was evident when she stomped out of the locker room, grabbing your hand in hers and tugging you wordlessly to the car. You followed after her, a little shocked at the turn of events, but you weren't going to say no.

The car ride home was tense, with Leila not speaking a word to you. It was evident that she was upset, and honestly, so were you. You weren't sure what kind of mad Leila was gonna come out, though. Angry Leila who wouldn't speak to you, except to say goodnight, or angry Leila who had plans to rail you into next week the moment you stepped into your apartment.

You got your answer, though, when you shut the door to you apartment, and Leila was suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

"Strip and get on the bed." She breathed into your ear. You wanted to stay mad at her, but it had been so long since she'd had her way with you, that you simply nodded, and followed her instructions.

You lay on the bed, naked, waiting for your girlfriend to come into the room. She took her time, and by the time you heard her footsteps padding into the room, you were wet at the thought of all the things your girlfriend was about to do to you. She walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. She didn't say anything, just walked to stand right by your body, trailing a finger across the bruise blooming on your thigh, from the hit you took during the game.

For a second, you saw concern wash over Leila's face, and it remained when she looked up at you.

"You tell me if you need to stop?" She questioned, voice softer than before.

"Yes," you replied, trying to keep your own voice even as Leila's intense gaze met your own. As soon as the words left your mouth, Leila was on top of you, pressing her lips to yours in a searing kiss, tongue immediately bypassing your lips and jutting into your mouth. You gasped in surprise, but she didn't let up, pressing you down against the mattress, hard. You tried to bring a hand up, and tug her tight ponytail out, but she caught your hand, and shoved it back against the mattress.

"No touching," she hissed, pulling back to speak for only a second, before diving back against you. You tried to keep up, but the feeling of her holding your hands down to the mattress, the way her hips pressed hard against yours, had you gasping for air in between kisses, unable to get enough in through your nose. She kissed you senselessly for a few more minutes, her tongue darting in and out of your mouth.

Leila pulled back, then, and stood next to the bed, quickly taking her own clothes off. She looked up at you as she did, watching your face staring at her with a hunger in your eyes. The defender climbed back on the bed, pushing you down with a hand against your chest, as she lifted herself to hover over your face.

"Make me come," she told you, and you whimpered in response, hooking your arms around her thighs to pull her down. Your tongue flicked out to meet her core, and you go right to work, delighted to find her as wet as you were sure you were. Despite the cold act she was putting on, she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.

You dragged your tongue through her center, circling her clit with it before dipping at back down, pushing into her entrance. She let out little sounds above you, pressing down harder on your face. You repeated the pattern a few times, before focusing on the swollen nub. You took it into your mouth, sucking lightly, before flicking your tongue over it, and Leila moaned loudly, her body jerking at the stimulation.

"Fingers," she instructed, and you didn't waste any time, unlacing your arm from her thigh, and bring it up to tease her dripping cunt with your finger. You knew better than to tease for too long though, and pushed in, pressing along her front wall as you did. You felt her body shift on top of you, but your eyes were closed, so you didn't know what she was doing until you felt her fingers rubbing harsh circles around your clit. You gasped against her, but kept your motions going.

Soon, one finger became two, and you were pumping in and out fast, working her up with your tongue on her as well. Her motions on you were distracting; she'd barely touched you until now, and the sudden stimulation was almost overwhelming. She pressed hard on you, and you tried to hold your legs still as they tensed and twitched.

Thinking that if you got her to come, she'd let you, you added a third finger, curling them just right against her, rapidly flicking your tongue over her clit. It didn't take much longer until she was coming on your face, leaving quite a mess behind. As she did, though, her fingers withdrew from you, leaving you pressing your thighs together.

She grinded down against your fast as the aftershocks rolled through her, before rolling off of you, and climbing down your body. Before you knew what was happening, and at an impressively fast pace for someone who had just come, she was shoving her face against you, her tongue working in and out of your whole.

"You're dripping. Who is it for, hm? Me? Or her?" she asked against you, the vibrations of her voice sending a wave a pleasure through you. She sounded angry, furious even. You didn't respond, to overcome with the sensation of finally, finally, having her mouth on you. You startled back into the present, though, when she lightly slapped your thigh, prompting a response.

"You, baby, only you"

"Hmm", she replied, bring a hand up to pinch hard at one of your nipples. Your upper body jerked, the pain of it barely being overtaken by the pleasure. She kept moving her mouth against you, tongue lapping at the abundant wetness. Leila's motions were so fast, so perfect, and you had missed her so much. You were nearing the edge, almost humiliatingly fast.

"Close," you managed to gasp out, hands gripping tightly at the comforter. As soon as you spoke, she was pulling away, pressing her hands onto your thighs, leaving you completely without friction.

"No, baby. Leila, please," you whined, eyes opening to look up at her. She was looking down at you with a teasing smile on her face.

"You don't get to come. Not until I say so," Leila told you, pressing her fingers hard into your legs. Leila didn't often edge you, preferring to make you come until you couldn't move, but when she had, it had taken... a long time until she gave in. And this time, you felt even more desperate for her, for the release you knew she could give you. She waited for your breathing to slow, looking down at you almost condescendingly.

This time, she moved back against you achingly slowly, running her fingers along your thighs, skipping over where you needed her. You did your best to hold you body still, once again shutting your eyes. She pressed 2 fingers against you, pushing in. You moaned at the stretch, not used to having her inside of you.

"Open your eyes," she told you, and you blinked them open, your eyes meeting her dark ones. She didn't say anything else, just staring at you as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out.

"Leila," you murmured, not really sure why you were speaking, but so overcome with need for her in that moment, you had to say something.

"I know, you missed me huh? This pussy is dripping for me." she replied, voice slightly mocking. You nodded pathetically, squirming against the bed, hoping your agreement would make her change her mind about your punishment. No such luck, though, as a few minutes later, when your moans increased in volume, and her fingers were sliding in and out rapidly, she pulled out again. You cried out this time, unable to form words as your legs shook beneath her.

You'd normally be able to last longer than this without getting to the point of begging, but you'd missed her touch so much.

"Please, baby I'll do anything, please just let me come," you asked shakily. Leila smirked down at you, keeping her hands pressed against your thighs once again.

"You need me that bad, love?" she questioned, and you nodded frantically. "Tell me again. Tell me how much you need me, and only me."

"Fuck baby, I need you, only you, please, you're the only one who can make me feel this good," you cried, blinking up at her pleadingly. She hummed, looking down at you appraisingly. She let go of your thighs, and you didn't dare move them, as she reached up and tightened her ponytail. You watched her arms flex as she did so, and had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop open.

Her body on full display in front of you, muscles rippling as she worked you to the brink, was almost as stimulating as her touch.

"You beg so nicely for me. One more, then you can come. And once you start, you aren't stopping." she promised and you sighed in relief, not really processing the second part of her sentence. Your face quickly became one of confusion though, as she stepped away from the bed, instead of lowering herself back to your core.

Leila walked to the bedside table, yanking the drawer open and pulling out the harness and dildo. She put it on quickly, walking back over to you. She pulled you by your legs until they were hanging off the side of the bed, and she could easily slide into you from her where she was standing. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her expectantly. She reached a hand up to your face, cupping it under your chin.

"Spit," she told you, and you did. You knew she was doing it more for the display of power, to remind you that you'd really do anything she asked, than because she needed the lubrication. Regardless, she stroked the fake cock a few times, coating it in your spit, before pressing the blunt head up against you.

Leila didn't waste anytime, pressing in and bottoming out almost instantly.

"Jesus," you choked out. She fucked you hard, and you did your best to keep watching to take in the image of her. She was holding your legs for leverage, veiny hands on full display. Her abs rippled with every thrust, and her pupils were blown as she looked down at her cock disappearing into you.

"That's right, baby, taking it so well," you knew she wasn't mad at you anymore then, the words for praise increasing the feeling of heat in your lower abdomen. She pushed you right to the edge this time, until you were seriously worried you would finish before she could pull out. She did, though, and you let out a sob, overcome with desperation. You felt a tear run down your cheek, and you lay back, throwing your arms over your face.

"So good for me. Waiting like a good girl," Leila told you, gently rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles over the skin of your legs. "Flip over for me," she instructed, and you rushed to comply, resting on your stomach. Her hands pulled your waist, until you ass was up into the air. She smacked your ass once, grabbing it aggressively , and you whined.

"Alright, I'll fuck you. Come whenever you need to," she said, and you sighed in relief, the side of your face pressed against the mattress. Leila climbed onto the bed, slotting herself in behind you, pushing in slowly this time. Her thrusts remained slow, and you whimpered with need as she failed to speed up right away.

When she did speed up, it was immediate, and her pace was unrelenting. Her hands pulled your hips back to meet her every thrust, and the room was filled with your gasps for air, and the sound of her hips meeting yours. She pushed a hand on your back, making you arch more, and suddenly she was hitting your spot with every thrust. You came almost immediately, crying her name out loudly. She didn't slow, and your first orgasm bled into the second one, until you weren't sure where the first one ended and the second one began.

You had the comforter in a white-knuckled grip, as Leila continued. her breaths were coming faster and faster, and you knew the feeling of the strap pressing against her was getting her closer and closer.

"S-so good, baby, fuck," you stuttered, voice half muffled from where your face pressed into the bed. At your words, Leila shifted, bringing a foot to rest on the bed, and moving one of her hands around your front, to rub at your clit. You saw stars. Her pace somehow increased and she was fucking you even harder, your hips trying to press back into her.

"Come again for me," she told you, and you did, feeling tears spill out of your eyes. As the pleasure from your third orgasm faded, you felt the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation as she rubbed hard circled against your swollen clit, fucking into you as fast as ever. She pressed you right over the edge into your fourth orgasm.

"Leila, my god," you cried out, this one seeming to last longer. Your legs were shaking, and you could barely keep your ass in the air. Leila wasn't showing any signs of stopping though, and you knew she wouldn't unless you said something. The sensations were too much, and you knew if she made you come again, you'd pass out.

"Red, Leila, fuck," you whimpered, reaching a hand back to try to reinforce your message. Leila stilled her movements immediately, bring her hand away from your core to rub your back gently.

"Alright, baby, okay. Can I pull out?" She asked, and you whined, nodding into the bed. You felt her pull out, and you winced at the sensation. She gently rolled you onto your back, before her touch was gone. You knew she was just taking the harness off, but you couldn't help how needy you were, reaching a hand out, needing her touch you again, much differently than you needed it before. Your whole body was trembling, and the tears in your eyes were still leaking out. You felt so good, so so good, that it hurt, in the best way possible.

"Lei," you said, forcing your eyes open to look for your girlfriend. She was climbing back onto the bed with a bottle of water extended to you, and you shook your head, reaching out for her free hand instead.

"I'm here, I've got you," she said, putting the water down and pulling you into her arms. You leaned into her, resting your head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply.

"Okay?" She asked quietly, her hands rubbing softly at your back. You nodded against her, trying to find words.

"So good, Lei." you replied, sounding so fucked out that Leila chuckled lightly. She pulled back after a moment, and you groaned your complaint.

"Drink some water for me, please," she instructed, and you complied sipping slowly at the drink that she held up to your lips. Your whole body was still unsteady and Leila was practically holding you up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, concerned at your state.

"Promise, just need a bit," you told her, and she nodded, putting the bottle back down. You nestled back into her arms, pressing light kisses to her bare chest.

"Missed you, so much," you murmured.

"I could tell." she remarked, and you groaned.

"You're too good at that," you said, and she chuckled again.

"Won't apologize for it." she joked.

"I'd never ask you too," you responded, before your tone grew more serious. "Perfect for me. Always," you mumbled, aware that it didn't really match up with your previous phrase, but wanting to make sure she knew there was nothing to worry about.

"I know. Sorry I acted like that," she said. Only post sex Leila could apologize that easily. Every other version of her was far too stubborn to give in so fast.

"I love you, more than football. More than anything." You said, and the unspoken words were there; more than Katie McCabe, you idiot.

"I love you even more than the way you scream my name," she replied cheekily, and you smacked her arm halfheartedly.

"Leila Ouahabi!" You scolded, blushing. You both laughed, and you pulled yourself from her embrace, looking up at her tiredly.

"Help me shower?" You asked, knowing that if you tried to stand on your own, your legs would probably give out.

"Of course," she replied. She'd do anything for you.

-----

straight up could not figure out how to end that so sorry if it seems abrupt :) hope you enjoyed!!!!

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi

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captainfern · 6 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part One - Pink Tape •

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - your introduction to the rugby union team and your new job as their physiotherapist. and the team winger ensures you have a warm welcome lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 7k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], gaz has insane rizz in this, f!masturbation, oral [f!receiving], fingering?, praise, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Gaz is a winger, or wing – fast, agile and play on the "wing" or outside edges of the field. this position tends to score the greatest number of tries.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

part two ->

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

When you received the phone call that you had been hired by one of the best rugby union teams in England, you were overjoyed.

It was a dream come true to be a physiotherapist for a professional sports team, and although you were excited to be apart of such an incredible work environment, you were also excited to see a significantly higher amount of money enter your bank account on paydays.

Your first day, you woke up earlier than usual, a good twenty minutes before your alarm. Nerves swirled in your stomach as you got ready for the day, completing your usual morning routine and getting dressed. Putting on the team's colours, with staff across the back made a smile grow wide across your face. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a while, butterflies fluttering rapidly around your stomach as the time ticked closer to the start of your workday.

Before you headed out, you pulled out your phone and searched the team up one last time. You tapped on the first link, and then proceeded to find the team list that had every player and their statistics available to the public. Their age, height, weight, the amount of games they've played, the amount of tries they've scored. In most of the photos, the players were posing in ways that made you roll your eyes– pointing at the camera, shouting with a fist in the air, pointing at the logo on their jersey with a huge grin. You couldn't help but laugh a little.

As you scrolled, perched on the end of your bed, four specific players caught your attention, your thumb hovering over your screen before you could scroll on. There was just something about them that made them stand out, even when they looked similar to everyone else– the same shirt, same background in the photo, same layout of statistics between them.

The scrum-half was posing like many of the others– pointing dead at the camera, a cocky grin on his face. In the photograph, he had a freshly shaven mohawk, too, the sides trimmed neat and the strands on top sitting perfectly on top of his head, as though he had got himself all done-up for picture day. Even in the photograph, you could tell simply by the way he grinned at the camera that he'd be cocky on the field. All good scrum-halves were, to be fair.

The winger held a finger to his lips, shushing the camera with a slight quirk in his lips, as though he was trying not to laugh when the camera went off. He was the only player wearing a cap, one with a Union Jack printed on the front, and you wondered whether he was allowed to do that, or he somehow managed to just keep quiet and get away with it. What amazed you the most though was the sheer amount of tries he had for his age. He was one of the younger players of the team, but his try-count for the previous season was impressive.

The number eight made your eyebrows shoot up as you took in the sheer broadness of him. His shoulders barely fit into frame, and he had his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps and pectorals grow bigger in front of the camera. He had a passive look on his face, dark blond hair recently cropped by the look of it, and one of his eyes was bruised and slightly swollen– a recent black eye. His arms were huge, one tattooed, and you couldn't help but stare a little longer at the expanse of his chest before scrolling on.

The flanker, and captain, was the fourth player that caught your attention, especially with his neatly-kept facial hair. Like the number eight, he had his arms folded across his chest and his face was void of a smile or a wink. He looked serious, definitely, and you wondered what kind of a captain he was to the rest of his team. He was in his late thirties and would be probably nearing retirement, but he had played a large number of games over the years, so his experience would be unmatched.

You looked up briefly at the small time at the top of your phone screen, and jumped to your feet when you realised that, holy shit, you had to go. It'd be so embarrassing if you were late on your first day of work.

Quickly, and with first-day nerves churning in your stomach, you grabbed your bag and all that you needed before sprinting out the door, the cool morning air kissing your skin as the sun peaked over the horizon.

•º•º•

Meeting the team was even more nerve-wracking than you thought. When you arrived, the coach welcomed you and gave you a rundown of all you needed to know about the players and other staff. He then introduced you to the other staff, assistant coaches, team physicians and nurses, sport directors and personal trainers. There were so many people that worked with this team behind the scenes, it almost made you feel a bit out of place.

Sure, you were qualified and literally one of the best sporting physiotherapists in the United Kingdom, but the idea of working with such an infamous team was making doubts worm into your head. You shook your head and took a deep breath as the coach led you into the main meeting room of the stadium, where the players talked strategy and game plan between games and during the off-season.

The room was full of players, nearly forty of them if you had to make an estimate. The main thirty-three, including the starting fifteen and the bench, as well as other players that looked to be recovering from injury or training to become apart of the main squad in the next season.

The murmur of conversation died down when you and the coach entered the room, and you suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious as all eyes fell onto you. The coach stood beside you, patting a comforting hand on your shoulder as he got his players attention with a short whistle.

"Lads, meet our new physio," he said, and then introduced you by name, urging you to smile and offer a polite wave to the crowd of sportsman sitting in front of you. The coach continued. "She's bloody good at her job, so she'll be able to get you lot into working shape quick as a flash. But, that doesn't mean you can go 'round acting like idiots and getting hurt by doing stupid shit–"

You laughed to yourself as the coach divulged into a very coach-like rant, grilling the players about looking after themselves and taking care of their bodies, especially with the start of the new season rapidly approaching. They all needed to be in top shape.

"And remember," the coach said, and then pointed at you. "Physiotherapists are not doctors or nurses, so don't be crying to her with a cut finger, got it? You roll an ankle or strain your neck, or something– god forbid– worse than that, then you make an appointment to see her, got it?"

There was a collective murmur of acknowledgment from the team, many eyes still focusing on you. You smiled politely, and thanked them for their time before the coach was gently leading you back out of the room and into the spacious hallway. The walls here were lined with photos and trophy cabinets detailing every win and award this team has ever had.

The coach shook your hand one last time. "It's a pleasure to have you on, miss. I appreciate you taking the job at such short notice, too. Our last physio..."

You stifled a laugh at the disbelief on the coach's face. "What?"

"Our last physio got scared off," the coach almost laughed. "She was an older lady, real nice too, and had been with us for a while. But we've got a new wave of younger players that do stupid shit and get themselves hurt, so she wasn't exactly happy when they'd turn up every day with a new muscle to be strapped up."

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "How was she scared off? Surely a bunch of twenty-something year old union players aren't the scariest of people."

"You'd be surprised," the coach joked. "Nah, I'm kidding. She retired, but what I said is true. A lot of the younger players'll probably be knocking at your office door within the next couple of weeks, so prepare yourself for that. Most of them you can just give an icepack and send them on their way, though."

You smiled, nodding. "Right, sounds easy enough."

The coach smiled too. "You will probably have regulars, too, by the way. Players that have had pretty bad injuries that need weekly physio, but the info's all in your books. If you have any questions, come and find me. Or ask Price, I'm sure he'll help you."

"Price?"

"The captain. John," the coach said. "Most of the boys call him Price, or cap, but you can call him whatever you feel comfortable with."

You nodded, eyes drifting down the hallway, admiring the gleam of the silver and gold trophies stacked in trophy cases along the wall. You turned back to the coach. "Do a lot of the players have preferred names?"

"Some, yeah," the coach nodded. "But they'll tell you when you get to know them a bit more. And don't stress if you don't remember names within the first week or so. You have plenty of time to get used to it."

You smiled, the nerves in your stomach beginning to ease. "Thanks, coach."

After the talk in the hallway, the coach led you to your office, which had a large window overlooking the training grounds. The field was in immaculate condition, mowed to perfection with a light veil of due covering the grass. The white goalposts reflected a couple of fragments of golden, early-morning sunlight.

Your office was a good size, which surprised you. You had your desk and shelving units that were stocked full of books and folders, no doubt about each player's injury record for the past hundred-odd years. And on the other side of the room, the carpeted floor shifted to linoleum, cabinetry and a medical bed placed in the centre of it. There was a door beside it, no doubt leading to the cupboard where all your physio equipment would be kept.

"Is this alright?" The coach asked, gesturing to the room.

"Is this alright?" You said in slight disbelief, looking around the room. "This is amazing. Thank you so much."

The coach smiled again. "No worries. Come get me if you need anything but otherwise, good luck and have a great first day."

He left the room and allowed you to be alone with your thoughts for a moment. You took a deep, calming breath, taking a good look around the room. You then looked out the window, where the players were now jogging out onto the field for their first practise of the season. You smiled softly, watching them interact with each other, throwing balls and pushing the scrum-machine out onto the field.

The nerves in your tummy were almost completely gone now. You were going to be just fine.

•º•º•

Your first two weeks were eventful, especially when getting used to a whole new working environment. You spent most of the time researching current players injury history, particularly those who had repeat injuries, or injuries that required extensive physio over the season. A couple of sprained ankles, a few over-worked muscles in the back and shoulders, even a torn ACL which had been receiving extensive physiotherapy for the last one and a half years.

Early into your third week with the team is when you met Gaz.

He had sauntered into your office with the sun streaming through your window, the rest of the team out doing warm-up drills on the training field below. He smiled widely at you, flashing his perfect teeth, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

He wanted to make an appointment for a possible strain to his wrist. He emphasised that it had happened over the weekend after a bit too much to drink. You asked him to elaborate and he simply told you he fell out a window. A window.

"How on earth do you just fall out a window?" You asked, beginning to book his appointment on your computer.

He shrugged, eyes watching you carefully. "Not sure. Can't remember much."

"I thought you weren't meant to be drinking during the season?"

He smiled bashfully. "Yeah, I'm not. You're not going to tell coach, are you?"

He battered his eyelashes, and you rolled your eyes. "I won't. But I'll take a look at your wrist now, if you want."

Of course he wanted you too.

You deducted that it was simply a strain, and nothing that a good, tight bandaging won't fix. You bandaged him up and told him he was good to go.

"Will... will I need to come back to make sure it's healing well?"

"No," you told him. "It's a pretty simple strain. Just make sure to change the bandages, especially after training. You should only have to wear the bandages for a week or two."

"Uh..." He looked from his wrist, back to you. "I... I don't know how to wrap my own bandages."

You raised your brows. "Really? A rugby union player can't tape himself up?"

He shrugged. "Nope."

You sighed, shaking your head. How was it possible that a professional sports player couldn't wrap a simple sprain-wrap around his wrist?

"Fine," you conceded, patting him gently on the arm and slowly leading him towards your door. "I can change it after each practise, but you should definitely learn how to do it yourself, okay?"

Gaz beamed. "Thanks, doc."

"I'm not a doctor, Kyle," you said. "I'm a physio."

"Same thing," he smiled wider. "See you after practise, doc."

And that's what happened. For the next two weeks.

He claimed he just couldn't wrap it himself. It hurt too much, you see. You were the only one who could wrap it secure enough that he felt safe to play.

"I thought I told you to learn to do this yourself, Kyle." You said, wrapping fresh pink tape around his wrist, smoothing your fingers across his hand and lower arm in the process. It was just a few days after he initially came to you.

"You can call me Gaz, doc," he corrected, eyes watching your hands. He trailed the movement of your fingers, before his eyes shifted upwards and scanned your face. He watched you with his warm brown eyes as you fixed the strapping tape into place. "And I just can't seem to do it as well as you."

You scoffed. "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere, Gaz. You need to learn to do simple strapping by yourself, got it?"

"Will you be proud of me when I finally learn?" Gaz joked, eyes still on your face as you finished strapping his wrist.

"Very," you said, pulling away and examining your handiwork. It was good, as usual. "Does that feel secure enough."

Gaz was still looking at you, his eyes drifting over your face as you looked down at his wrist. He hummed a reply, and that prompted you to look up and meet his gaze.

"Gaz?" You questioned. "Does that feel good?"

The warmth of your fingertips ghosted over the pink tape, and Gaz could feel the ticklish sensation beneath it, his skin warming beneath the bandage. "Oh, yeah," he blinked, then looked down at his wrist. "I– what–? Doc, pink tape?"

You smiled. "What's wrong with pink?"

"Nothing, nothing," Gaz shook his head. "Yeah, uh, that feels good. Thanks."

•º•º•

The very first game of the season came in your fourth week as the team's physiotherapist. It was against a team from Scotland, that had travelled down to play the team on English soil.

You found yourself skimming your teeth nervously along your nails, your stomach drawing tight and heart racing as you sat on the bench beside a couple of medics, their medical bags at their feet. The sky was a steely grey, the smell of rain lingering in the air and the wind picking up a tad, blowing icy wind across the field. No doubt, if the rain decided to fall today, the field would turn to mud.

The game was held in a much smaller stadium than usual, not like Twickenham in London that could fit upwards of 80,000 people. Nevertheless, the stands were packed full of whistling and cheering spectators. The shouting and waving of colourful flags increased when the teams jogged out onto the field in a line, and you found yourself clapping alongside the crowd. You found Gaz immediately, his wrist bound in white tape rather than the pink tape you had bound it in a couple of days ago. You smiled to yourself, realising that he had bandaged it up himself.

You hummed to the national anthem, too nervous to open your mouth and sing. You had watched this team play a million times before, but this was different. The anxieties were stacking up within your conscious, and you wondered whether it would have been better to have a strong drink before you came.

The game started and within minutes, Gaz had the ball. He avoided one, then two opposition players, before breaking into a sprint along the sideline. You watched him speed past the bench, the benched players up on their feet and cheering. But it was short lived– Gaz was spear-tackled by one of the Scottish players, tumbling off the field and skidding through the grass. The crowd and bench turned from cheering, to jeering.

You sprung to your feet to get a better look, watching as the Scottish player helped Gaz to his feet, giving him a firm slap on the back as Gaz handed him the ball. He looked pissed off as he jogged back onto the field as the Scottish players readied their lineout. You watched as he rubbed at his wrist, flexing his fingers a few times with a grimace on his face.

"Ah, shit..." you mumbled, noticing the way he held his wrist close to his body. Some of the bandaging was slowly peeling away, making you sigh through your nose. Maybe you should have just done it for him, for goodness sake.

England won the lineout, and the ball was passed rightwards through the team. The captain grabbed the ball from the air, taking it to ground as two Scottish players wrapped their arms around his legs and midriff. Other members of his team came to his aid, a ruck building as more and more players attempted to volley the ball back into their possession. But England held on, with Gaz spotting an opportunity when the ball was popped out of the ruck by the scrum-half with the mohawk.

Gaz broke into a sprint just as the scrum-half turned and saw him, throwing an impressive pass over the top of other players' heads. The entire bench let out a sound of astonishment when Gaz leaped, snatching the ball from the air with one hand and managing to hold onto it. The crowd erupted into cheers as the winger dodged one Scottish player, and then took off down the sideline once more.

Take two, and he seemed to be more successful– speed building until opposing players were dropping behind, unable to keep up as his legs blurred with his pace, grass kicked up behind him. He reached the try-line, diving through the air near the corner and slamming the ball down, his body sliding through the grass behind it. The crowd cheered louder, and so did the bench– and you, too. You were on your feet alongside the subbed players and the other medics, clapping as both the captain and the scrum-half ran up alongside Gaz, patting him on the back and the top of the head.

Sitting back down as one of the water-boys ran the tee out for the conversion, you looked up to find Gaz running towards the sideline, beckoning at you to come closer.

You scooped up your medical bag and met him just over the sideline.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and Gaz answered you by outstretching his arm, offering his wrist to you. The tape was beginning to peel off, brushing against his forearm, and Gaz's brows were pinched, jaw clenched.

"It's painful still?" You asked another question as you quickly began to unwrap the tape.

He nodded, wincing when you ripped the rest of the tape off, taking a couple of his arm hairs with it. You whispered an apology as you kneeled down, unzipping your bag and pulling out a fresh roll of injury tape– bright pink, of course. You heard him groan as you stood back up, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What's with you and pink tape, doc?" He asked you, voice a bit hoarse. Probably from yelling at his fellow teammates over the past ten minutes. The boys all tended to just shout at each other when they wanted something done, which you found incredibly amusing.

"I like pink," you told him, making quick work of re-taping his wrist as the kicker lined up his kick and concentrated on his conversion. Your eyes flicked up to Gaz's face for a moment. "I thought you said you didn't mind me using pink tape?"

Gaz offered you a cheeky smile, and you realised the two of you were quite close. You could see the thin layer of sweat covering his dark skin, his face glistening beneath the strong overhead lights. He flashed his charming smile as he began slowing his breathing, moving out of puffs, the rise and fall of his chest calming. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and smell the light tang of sweat beneath his cologne.

You felt something flutter in your stomach as a smile stretched onto your face. It didn't last, and you immediately felt embarrassed– instead, you dropped your head back down and quickly finished strapping the bandage just as the kicker converted a successful two points.

"No, I like pink," Gaz said after a prolonged pause, eying you carefully as you stepped away and scooped your medical bag off the ground. "It reminds me of you, actually. And it might be my good luck charm, you never know."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you backed off the field. "Whatever, Garrick."

Gaz flashed his smile again. "If I score another try, it'll be because of this pink tape." Then, he winked and jogged back to where the game reset was taking place.

You found yourself shaking your head, smiling to yourself as you return to the bench. A good luck charm. Whatever.

•º•º•

A couple of hours later, you were back in your office, running through a few extra things before heading home. The team would have nearly finished celebrating their 31 – 14 win, and would soon begin to head home, ready for a new day of training in a couple of days time.

Typing one last report into your computer, there was a knock at your door. It opened, and Gaz stuck his head in.

"Hard at work, doc?" He asked, slipping into the room. He gently shut the door behind him, leaning up against it.

You smiled at him. "I'm finishing one last report, then I'm heading home for the night. Are you boys finished your celebrations?"

Gaz grinned. "Yeah, just about. Just thought I'd pop over and say thank you for redoing my bandages.”

You noticed he looked bashful when he said it, his eyes darting away from yours when the words left his mouth, roaming around your office. His eyes found the medical bed in the corner of the room, staring at it as he finished his sentence.

"It's okay, Gaz, don't worry," you told him, reassured him. "It's my job, anyway." You finished with a laugh, and his dark eyes found yours again. You began packing up your belongings when he shuffled further into the office, his wrist on full display. The pink tape was soggy and mud-stained, and you frowned at him when he held it out to you like a shy child showing they had broken something.

You didn't say anything. You didn't have too. You simply beckoned him towards you, urging him around the desk as you picked up a half-used roll of pink tape from one of your desk drawers. You made him peel the old bandage off.

"I don't understand how you got that so... wet," you remarked, casting a look of disgust at the old bandage now sitting in the waste-paper basket near the base of your desk. "This tape is meant to be water-proof."

Gaz barked out a quiet laugh. "It's probably got a bit of beer on it. And I did spend... you know, a bit of time in the shower, rinsing off the mud and all that."

"Right..." You mumbled, slowly wrapping the pink tape around his wrist.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, except for the low buzzing of the overhead light, and the distant voices from other players beginning to go home.

Gaz watched you silently, his eyes never once leaving your face as you wrapped his wrist. You felt the weight of his stare, the warmth of his gaze, and it made your body slowly begin to heat up, something tight pulling in the base of your gut. You ignored him at first, focussing solely on reapplying the tape. But when you had finished, you made the mistake of looking up and into his deep, dark eyes while still standing in close proximity with him.

His pupils had expanded, his eyes darting all over your face as you gently held his wrist. His fingers had grabbed hold of your arm, the searing heat of his fingertips making heat prickle on the back of your neck in nervousness.

"Does that feel secure?" You managed to whisper, throat drying. "I– does it feel–"

"You gonna let me kiss you, doc?" Gaz whispered an interruption thick with lust, his tongue darting out to swipe against his lower lip. "Please let me."

You bit your bottom lip, eyes scanning his face and waiting for him to tell you that he's joking. But it didn't come. Instead, you were left there, standing in a haze of his cologne and shampoo, his entire body radiating a warmth that made your legs begin to tremble.

"Kyle..." You murmured.

He groaned, eyes closing for just a second. "God, you're killing me here, doc."

"Gaz," you corrected, barely above a whisper. "I– we can't. I'll lose my job–"

"You won't," he responded instantaneously. "You... you won't, doc, I promise. Just... god, just one. Let me just–" he cut himself off with a low groan as he lowered his mouth to yours, brushing his lips so gently against yours that you weren't sure they even touched. He hummed, eyes fluttering shut as he spoke against your lips, his words ghosting across your face. "Just once... one kiss, that's– that's it."

He closed the gap all the way this time, slotting his mouth against yours with a hum from the back of his throat. You were still surprised, struck across the face with confusion as he moved his lips against yours, the warmth of his mouth making your brain short-circuit. His hands moved to cup your head, holding your face to him as he licked your bottom lip and attempted to slip his tongue into your mouth.

"God, you're so good." He whimpered against your mouth, before shoving his tongue further inside, yours meeting his with force.

But with a low whine, you stopped him– placing a hand to his chest and pushing him away. He grunted, breathing hard as he opened his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours. He dropped his arms, grasping at your hips instead, trying to bring you closer, but you resisted with a stab to your heart.

"We can't..." You breathed, slowly backing away. Gaz dropped his arms and watched you shift away from him, the corners of his mouth downturning.

Gaz exhaled with the tip of his tongue pressed to the inside of of his cheek. "I know."

"M'sorry–"

"Don't you dare apologise," Gaz said sternly. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll see you later, doc. Have a good weekend."

You sighed. "Gaz–"

But he was already gone, closing the door softly behind him, leaving the rich smell of cologne in his wake, lingering around your office like incense.

•º•º•

You thought about the kiss the entirety of the weekend, and it was like it was eating you alive. Every time you got a message from the staff group chat, or an email from the coaching administration, your heart lurched out of your chest. Not because you were scared that you'd somehow been found out, but because seeing the name of the team pop up on your lock-screen make you think about him.

The winger. Gaz.

You couldn't help it– he was just so warm against you, his mouth soft and inviting as the solid, wet heat of his tongue slipped into your mouth and drew the breathiest of whimpers from you. Your body grew hot at the memory, and the memory of his hands on your face, holding you, cradling you as though you were the most perfect thing on earth. All for him, too.

You expected a wave of regret and humiliation to his you over the weekend break, but nothing came. The only thing that did come was, pun absolutely intended, you.

You just couldn't help it. The memories of the way he made you feel, how he felt, had been festering inside your brain long enough that it needed to be expelled someway. And that way was best fit for the later hours of the night, when you were curled up beneath the covers of your bed, your fingers teasing the wet hole of your cunt, another on your puffy clit.

You just couldn't help it. Rethinking the kiss again and again as you sunk two fingers inside yourself, pumping them at the phantom feeling of Gaz's lips against yours, the muscular plains of his chest and abdomen pushed up against the soft curves of your body, his hands keeping your face against his. He felt so good, smelt so good.

The noises slipped from your mouth as you fucked yourself with your fingers, the sheer amount of your arousal evident by the soft, wet squelches and the sensation of it rolling in pearls down your bare thighs. Your clit was so puffy, so sensitive, that you were coming around your fingers in barely a minute, moaning Gaz's name into the dark emptiness of your bedroom.

You needed him. So bad.

And that's why you called him the following morning. Why you picked up your phone, still in bed with your blankets bunched around you, and dialled his number. Why you waited patiently until he replied with a deep, sleep-clogged voice and why you invited him over. Why you got excited when he accepted almost right away, and why you showered with your heart thrumming, buzzing, racing in your chest. Why you answered your door with a bright smile and allowed him to crowd you back into the entrance hall of your flat, closing and locking the door behind him. Why you let him back you against the wall, his hands straight away grabbing your face, fingers warm on your soft skin, and especially why you let him slot his mouth against yours.

You weren't thinking about anything but him at that point. Not about your job, the coach, the captain or any other player. You were thinking of Gaz, the winger, the rugby union player that was currently dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling your trousers down with him. He kissed your bare legs as he helped wriggle your trousers away from your ankles, kissing the sides of your knees as his hands roamed up your legs.

His face trailed up your inner thighs, dragging his nose against the smooth skin, eyes flicking from your clothed core to your pretty face. You partially gaped down at him, chest heaving, your palms flat against the wall to ground yourself. Gaz's mouth found your core through your underwear, already soaking the fabric, and he nudged it with the point of his nose, catching on your clit. He smiled against you as he pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt, and you rewarded him with a pretty little moan that echoed through your quiet flat.

"Mm, jus' so wet already," he said it as though he was in genuine disbelief, but the smile never left his face as he placed another hot kiss to the underside of your underwear, his hands now kneading the fat of your arsecheeks, pushing you away from the wall and closer to him. "Soakin' these pretty little things, hm? Don't want to ruin them, do we, baby?"

You mewled down at him, one of your hands settling on his shoulder as he gently shifted your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening core. He groaned, low and breathy, eyes transfixed on where your leaking hole clenched around nothing, your clit sitting all pretty between your puffy lips. He groaned again, pushing you closer to him and settling his face right up between your legs, his mouth immediately attaching to your clit.

He sucked it into his mouth with a gentle scrape of his teeth, a scrape that sent bolts of electricity through your system, your back arching off the wall as Gaz's hands returned to your arse, groping. You could vaguely feel your underwear pushed into the crevice of your thigh, but you weren't focussing on that– you were focussing on the way Gaz circled your clit with his tongue, before he dragged his tongue through your wet folds and around your hole.

You moaned loudly, and Gaz hummed in response against you, his tongue running in tight circles around your slick hole, licking over it. The sensations were making your body light up, fiery hot pleasure coursing through your veins and you were worried that you were going to come before he even put his tongue inside you. You gripped at his shoulder as finally, finally, he slipped his tongue inside you, a loud whine ripping from his throat.

You could barely keep your eyes open, trying desperately to remain eye-contact as he held your gaze, tongue moving in and out of you, lapping up each drip of your arousal. He was vocal, too– grunting and whining as his tongue moved, his lower-face no doubt drenched. His hands gripped at the flesh of your arse like it was his lifeline, his fingers squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing each time his tongue licked into you.

The world around you was spinning, the morning light streaming in from the small window above your front door. You can't believe you were in this situation. But here you were– leaning against the wall of your hallway, one of England's best rugby union winger's gripping your arse, his face buried between your legs and eating you out the best you'd ever had.

"Gaz, Gaz, oh my god–" You whispered, honeyed with your on-coming orgasm. It was building, burning hot inside you, slowing the thoughts of your brain and forcing you to hone in on the feel of Gaz's solid, wet tongue inside your cunt.

He only broke the movements of his tongue for a moment, his nose still nudging your swollen clit. "Tha's a good girl, baby. Say my name while you're comin' round my tongue." Then, his tongue was back inside you, thrusting in so deep that stars burst behind your pupils and your body wracked with shudders.

You came, moaning out a blissful "Gaz–!" as your orgasm washed over you– no, slammed over you. You gushed around him, your legs trembling in his hold, sweat beading along your hairline as the warmth overtook you. You moaned out again, stretched around a desperate whine, as he licked you through it, sucking up as much of your arousal as he could before he reluctantly pulled away, placing one last kiss to your clit before sliding your underwear back into place.

His entire lower face was wet, glistening with you. You groaned, shutting your eyes as he got to his feet and proceeded to kiss you, rubbing your slick all over your face as well. He smiled into your mouth, tongue probing for yours, meeting it and passing on more of your slick. You moaned, and he moaned too.

"Been wanting to do that for so long," Gaz said in between kisses, his hands on your hips now, rubbing you against his front. You could feel the tent growing in his trousers, and a whimper escaped you. He dragged his mouth down your neck, sucking and biting and licking, spreading more of your sticky arousal across your bare skin. "Pretty little thing she is too, isn't she?"

One of his hands dragged down between your legs as he said that, fingers rubbing through your folds over your soaked underwear. You whimpered, and he hummed, increasing his speed. He still didn't move your underwear, just kept rubbing at your wet, puffy clit with his fingers, his hand moving back and forth between your legs.

"I– I take it your wrist is all better now?" You questioned him, almost out of breath as he rubbed your clit. He was using his injured wrist, the pink tape still visible working between your thighs.

Gaz smiled against your neck. "I had a great physio, didn't I? The best physio..." he increased the speed of his fingers, rubbing you quicker, circling your clit. Your arousal was further dampening your underwear, small whimpers falling from your lips, overstimulation creeping up. Gaz licked at the pulse point behind your ear. "You're just so good, doc. Such a good girl. So fuckin' good letting me play with this pretty pussy, hm? So fuckin' good."

You mewled, turning your head so you could kiss him. This time, it was your tongue shoving into his mouth, and he moaned quietly around your tongue as your lips moved together. His fingers sped up, circles deepening.

"M'gonna come, Gaz..." You whispered, and he shushed you with a kiss. When he pulled away, he did so with a low whine, eyes raking down your body, absorbing each and every little bit of you with his dark eyes.

"You can come, baby," he told you softly. "Come in these pretty things–" he punctuated his sentence by pinching at the fabric of your underwear, pulling it back and letting it slap against your clit, before resuming his previous movements. "–and ruin them for me, yeah? Come all over them and I'll take them home, how's that sound?"

You moaned loudly, clawing at his clothed back.

He chuckled deeply. "Yeah? You like the thought of me takin' these home and wrappin' them around my cock? Hm? Want me to fuck them while thinking about this pretty pussy? O'course you do, doc, cause you're just such a good girl for me. So good, 'n such a good fuckin' pussy too."

That made you come– slick flooding the gusset of your underwear, soaking through and dampening his fingers. He hummed, pleased, against you, his mouth roving over your neck and jaw again as you came. You were breathing hard, and the weight of Gaz's hard cock was making you even more breathless, pushed up between your thighs.

Heaven on earth, it felt like.

But it ended all to soon. Way to fucking soon. Gaz's phone began ringing in his pocket, and he fished it out with his fingers still tacky with your arousal. He kept you pinned to the wall with his body as his eyes swept over his phone screen and he sighed, showing you the screen too. It was the coach, and he mouthed an apology as he answered.

The phone call felt like it went on for an eternity (it was probably just over a minute) and you watched as Gaz's brows drew together in frustration. When he hung up, he angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket and rested his head against your shoulder, groaning as his hands circled your hips, massaging the pliable flesh there.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and he groaned into your neck again.

"I forgot I had sprint training today."

"Oh..."

"Yeah... fuck, m'sorry–"

"Don't apologise," you said, taking his head into your hands. "You need to stay at the top of your game, don't you? And you don't want to make coach mad, either."

"S'pose you're right," he mumbled, and then leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "See you tomorrow?"

You smiled. "See you tomorrow."

•º•º•

When you got to work the next day, you found a new set of folders on your desk. Placing your belongings down, you picked up the next folder, which had a new patient for you to begin working with, who had received a small injury during the last game that had gotten a bit worse over the weekend.

Your mind was still lingering on thoughts of your and Gaz's encounter yesterday morning, but you picked up and opened the file anyway, intent on not letting sex, and that handsome winger, distract you from doing your job.

"Pulled muscle in the calf, hopefully not a tear..." You read through the file. You flipped the file shut, reading the name on the front. "MacTavish, nicknamed Soap," you laughed. "What kind of name is Soap?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

my first chapter of this series. let me know what you thought, and stay tuned for the next one !!

#captainfern #141rugby!au #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut #cod gaz #gaz x female reader #gaz call of duty #gaz smut

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sortagaysortahigh · 2 years

Text

Maneater | Steve Harrington

A/N: besties i was gonna post this sooner but i had to let my drunk fade away, anyways i present to you sub!steve (season four steve to be exact bc he is so fucking MMM MMMM MMMMMMMMM), also had to make the reader a lil punk rock bitch ok

Summary: “I thought she’d be like mean and shy but not she wasn’t shy at all-she’s like-she’s like a man eater-Definitely an apex predator if I’ve ever seen one. Steve she was looking at you like she wanted to eat you”

Warnings: so much smut but theres plot!, cussing, spelling and grammar errors, kissing, spitting, hand jobs, crying, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving/giving), P in V sexy time, praising, degrading, marking, biting, sub!steve + dom!reader

Word Count: 9k (way more than i thought there would be like jfc the plot came out the cut, then the smut is like omg ok bitch period)

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

(JUST LOOK AT HIM OH MY FUCKING GODS DGSDHGHSDGHSDHGHIRDSHIG MY COOCHIE)

Steve Harrington was a lot of things, and as of late a ladies man was not one of them. Sure he could get dates now that he actually listened to the advice that Robin gave him, however he wanted more than just meaningless hookups and dates with girls who could barely hold a conversation. He wanted a relationship, craved the closeness and intimacy of it all, he wanted a best friend and a lover in one, but somehow day by day he lost hope that he’d find that in Hawkins.

That was until he laid eyes on Y/n Y/l/n. He remembered her from highschool-solely because she hung out with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his group of metalhead losers-granted now Steve didn’t consider them losers, after all he did experience a large amount of character growth throughout his senior year of high school. He’d still won prom king though.

People knew Y/n, not because she was stereotypically popular, but because she was a hot commodity-people wanted her but she let a very select few get that-hell Steve knew exactly zero people who’d managed to get past her mean facade-or get past the layers of black, denim, leather, and eyeliner.

The girl was attractive-that much was a fact. Guys always talked about wanting to see “if she was as freaky as the shit she’s into”-something that Steve usually brushed off, ignoring them due to his relationship status alongside his social status. He had English with her, and for their Shakespeare analysis project she’d been partnered with Tommy H. The same Tommy H. decided to brag about sleeping with her for two weeks after the project was presented-that was until she’d smashed his front windshield with a baseball bat in the school parking lot during lunch-then he admitted to lying about it-she was suspended for two weeks.

However Steve wanted more than to sleep with her-there was something else to her-something he’d noticed the day she walked into the Family Video with Max Mayfield in tow. While Max said her hellos to Steve and Robin, Y/n looked around the comedy section-a shock to Steve as he expected her to be a Horror kind of girl. That’s when he realized that there was always more than meets the eye.

She worked at the arcade next door to his job, and after cornering Lucas and Dustin he found out that she was rather close to Max, the redhead had gone to the Arcade often-trying to find a distraction while she grieved her brother’s death-and Y/n just happened to be the one on the mid-day shift.

Lucas and Dustin did a horrible job explaining her friendship with Max, however from what they did know she was the only person Max found herself talking to-telling her about the things she was going through-and opening up to. In a way Y/n filled in the role of an older sister for Max, and when she found out some of the Junior and Senior boys at Hawkins were trying to bully Max, while simultaneously bringing up her douchebag brother’s death she did not hesitate to show up to the high school, bat in tow.

Everyone knew Y/n wasn’t afraid of being arrested-she’d been arrested more than once, Hopper letting her off the hook each and every time because the missing Sheriff-supposedly deceased which Y/n did not believe-had a soft spot for her. After all, the girl was just a troubled teen-and she found her way by standing up for herself by any means necessary.

All Y/n had to do was speed into the parking lot, get out of the black Monte Carlo with her bat in hand and make her way towards the convertible full of jocks-some she remembered others she asked Eddie about-and hop on top of the front hood. She pointed the bat at the boys, a smile on her face, black lipstick perfectly applied as she smiled down at them.

She only said two sentences: “You see that pretty little redhead over there-Max-yeah talk to her again and I’ll personally knock your teeth in” followed by “Nod your empty little heads if you understand me”, then got off the car, knocking the bat into the hood, leaving a sizable dent before blowing them a kiss and walking off. Of course the teenage boys tried to explain what had happened at lunch-however the beauty of it being the Fall of 1985 was that there were no active security cameras monitoring the outside of the buildings and because the boys were all bullies-there were no other witnesses to prove their case.

After it happened Dustin explained the entire scene to Steve, Robin excitedly nodding along while mumbling about how badass Y/n looked, then going on a tangent about how pretty the girl was-all the while Steve found himself thinking more and more about her.

Then a week later he finally saw her in the parking lot, the two pulling into work at the same time. She stepped out of the black car wearing a black The Ramones baggy shirt tucked into a pair of black frayed denim shorts, ripped fishnets on her legs, her voluminous hair framed her face. He watched as she slid her black sunglasses off, eyes adorned with black eyeliner and messy eyeshadow, lips lined with black, colored red.

From that moment he was Smitten. She was the pretty, mean, punk rock girl that worked behind the Arcade counter and he wanted nothing but her.

The only problem was that Y/n Y/l/n did not like Steve Harrington. The minute she spotted him staring at her all she did was raise a brow, before telling him to “fuck off pretty boy”. But even then the way she said ‘pretty boy’ made him blush and he thought about it all day.

All of that happened four months ago, it was now January and he was still smitten. He’d see her walking into work, and occasionally when he’d close so would she. He’d see her walk through the front doors of the Arcade, locking it up, and he would wait in his car in the parking lot, looking around, making sure she was safe before she got into her car and sped off. That was also something he’d noticed about her-the girl drove as if she was training for a NASCAR race.

He’d noticed a lot about her, and anytime she caught him staring to any capacity she’d repeat the same four words “fuck off pretty boy”. Sometimes she’d add more, always something along the lines of “Can I do something for you Harrington?” or “Don’t you have VHS tapes to rewind?” whatever it was-it was always sarcastic-and that had Steve in too deep.

So deep that in fact once he found himself asking Max what kind of flowers he thought Y/n would like while the fifteen year old was in the Family Video, finding a rental for their weekly movie night-to which Max replied with “I don’t know-why don’t you ask her you weirdo”.

That was the last time he asked Max anything about Y/n.

Some days he was positive there was something else in the way that Y/n looked at him, a glint in her eye-something floating through her piercing gaze-then suddenly it’d be gone when she’d flash him her middle finger before walking into her job, Arcade vest in hand.

“Steve, you cannot be serious right now! You want to ask Y/n out? Y/n Y/l/n? She wants nothing to do with you! No offense dude but I don’t think you’re her type” he scoffed at Robin's words, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance at his best friend, mouth agape and brows furrowed in shock.

“You really think that lowly of me?” Robin laughed, nodding her head “She’s like this totally cool, hot, punk rock chick and you’re a guy who probably owns more hairspray than does! You two are like polar opposites, you were prom king and she smashed car windows with a baseball bat!” he scoffed again, shaking his head a few times while he focused on the road ahead, turning the steering wheel as he pulled into the parking lot in front of their job.

“Oh come on! You really don’t think I have a chance?” Robin tilted her head, brows knit in concentration while she pursed her lips inward before nodding her head a few times “I’d say you have a .0001% chance with her” just as Steve was about to respond, he noticed Y/n’s car speed into the parking lot which was definitely more packed than usual.

Then she pulled into the spot next to his, her window tint not dark enough to disguise the way that she grabbed her Arcade uniform vest-screaming into it-then closing her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Steve’s lips were parted as he watched her-mesmerized by the simplest of actions-granted he’d never really seen much out of her past her being mean, cussing him out, and the few soft moments she had when she was with Max, the two laughing in an aisle of the video rental store.

He was dazed-so much that when she turned her head to open her door she caught his stare, immediately giving him a dirty look as she rolled her eyes, then her gaze flickered to Robin who was now looking at her as well, so she flashed the girl a closed mouth smile, then she gathered her things and got out of her car, shutting the door and locking it before making her way towards the front door of her dreaded job.

Before Robin could make any comments Steve practically jumped out of the car, calling Y/n’s name as he sped walk towards her-by the time he shouted her name a second time and she stopped in her tracks to turn and face him he was only a few feet away from him.

He’d taken a few moments to trail his eyes along her moving figure while she walked, today she had on a pair of black thin stockings-the tops of them slightly showing, accompanied by a black leather miniskirt-something he questioned due to the forty degree weather outside, but he guessed her black knit sweater and oversized leather blazer were evening out her body temperature.

When she turned to face him he practically lost his train of thought-eyes focused on hers while she stared at him, the thick black eyeliner and shadow around her eyes only accentuated them-an expectant look on her face while she slightly shook her head, a brow raised.

“Pretty boy I don’t have all day. Speak-I’m waiting” the slight dominance in her tone was bringing heat through Steve’s body-his cheeks flushing slightly as he nodded his head a few times with his lips parted as if he was about to speak but he couldn’t get the words out.

After a few more seconds of looking like a lost puppy he finally blinked, nodding his head “Yeah uh-hey-so I was wondering if you were free-uh maybe tonight? After your shift” she blinked a few times, furrowing her brows before smirking at him. “Are you asking me on a date, pretty boy?”

There it was again, the underlying dominance-something he wasn’t used to-something that had his mind melting. She was confident as she spoke, the smirk on her face made him want to get on his knees and worship her, not to mention the way that she shifted her weight to one foot, one hand holding her black leather bag and uniform vest, the other near her face-one finger resting against her bottom lip as she lightly brought the black acrylic nail between her teeth as she smiled.

But the glint in her eye was evident.

“Uh-uh yeah-yeah I am” she nodded her head “and where do you plan on taking me hmm?” her tone was almost degrading, it made his already melting mind feel fuzzy while she spoke to him. “Any-Anywhere you wanna uh-go” she moved her nail from between her teeth, now puckering her lips slightly, finger tapping against them while she mimicked a thinking expression.

“Seeing as I close the rest of this week-and based on the fact that you and her are just getting here-you do too-nothing’s open after we leave work Pretty boy. So where’s that leave us?” Steve so desperately wanted to say ‘your place or mine’ but he knew that she’d just scoff and walk away, that was the only thought he had, he had no other real answer so when he turned into a stuttering blubbering mess she smiled before shushing him.

“I can think of a place-or two you could take me-but what do you wanna do huh?” At this point she stepped closer to him, the same confidence in her voice and she sounded so sultry-Steve couldn’t tell if it was because he was a blushing dizzy mess, or if this was actually happening.

Before he could respond she simply patted him on the chest twice-then she gripped his denim jacket-tugging him a little closer “Cat got your tongue Pretty Boy?” with that she let go, turning around and walking off-the cocky smile now on her face.

Robin got out of the car, wide eyed, jaw dropped, mouth gaping like a fish out of water while she stared at Steve who was still staring in Y/n’s direction, his hand now on his chest where hers was while he processed everything that just happened.

“Are you serious?! She’s so into you? How is she into you?! Steve C’mon” with that Robin quickly grabbed the keys from the car, locking her door then running to the drivers side and locking it before running towards Steve-grabbing his sleeve and pulling him with her into the Family Video where their co-worker Ryan was already clocking out-the older man not saying a single word to the two as they got behind the counter.

Steve was still stunned at everything while Robin smacked his arm excitedly.

“I don’t know how you did it Steve-but she’s so into you! I mean did you see the way she was looking at you! She was laying it on thick” Robin rambled while she took their time sheets, clocking the two of them in “I thought she’d be like mean and shy but not she wasn’t shy at all-she’s like-she’s like a man eater-Definitely an apex predator if I’ve ever seen one. Steve she was looking at you like she wanted to eat you” he blinked a few times, processing Robin's words.

However his mind was still fuzzy, and his filter was long gone by the time the words left his lips “I wanna eat her out” Robin gagged slightly, a look of horror on her face now “TMI Harrington! TMI!”

In the building next door Y/n sat in the worn red stool behind the counter, chewing gum while she thought about Steve. Sure she knew Steve in high school-he was a douchebag, he was mister popular, the star of the show, prom king himself. She hated his friends, especially Tommy-God she was so glad that she’d smashed his windshield in. But she always knew Steve was different-he wasn’t as much of a prick, he wanted to be popular, wanted to fit in, so he stuck to those that were popular.

Then something changed their senior year-after he’d broken up with Nancy Wheeler-he wasn’t the same, hell he changed for the better. That wasn’t enough for Y/n to want to associate with him though, she liked her friends, she liked Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and the rest of the Hellfire club-hell she designed their shirts.

But now things had changed, they were out of school, still living in their hometown, working next door to one another, and she had to admit, his continuous pinning was cute. The way he’d stare at her, the way he would stay late to make sure she got in her car safe, and the way that he’d always have a deep red blush on his cheeks anytime she called him Pretty Boy-that blush made her mind wander, she wanted to see him blushing, see his chest rapidly rising and falling, see him flustered, a stuttering flushed mess-that’s how she wanted to see him.

That’s what she wanted to do to him. However she was never a fan of making the first move-mainly because people never really caught her eye. She wasn’t a virgin-that was a fact-but she wasn’t someone who enjoyed casual hookups often, she liked relationships, some days she missed having a partner-but other days she simply rolled her eyes and went about her day because relationships meant commitment and they also meant heartbreak.

Steve Harrington made her question that, he was a change of pace, she’d only had a few actual conversations with him, most of the time telling him to fuck off for staring too hard-but secretly under her hard exterior she loved the way he stared at her, and the way he payed attention to her. The way his eyes would rake across her figure, not in a ‘I wanna fuck you’ kind of way but more in a ‘you’re so beautiful’ kind of way. She knew how to differentiate the two because of Steve-he was the only one who showed her the ladder.

She’d been waiting months for him to make a move, she was patient, and honestly she didn’t care-she wasn’t interested in anyone else nor did she feel the need to rush anything. She was content with her sex life and romantic life, of course being content didn’t mean she’d decline Steve Harrington’s head between her thighs.

Y/n spent her entire shift rolling her eyes at teenagers and kids, reluctantly helping them and acting as if she was doing something on the large computer at the front desk-rather she was just playing pong. She hadn’t spoken to many of her co-workers today, most of them walking around the arcade and working in the storage room, so her day was pretty simple and very boring. Her mind constantly floating back to the possibility of Steve actually making a move tonight.

Then it was time for her to close, everyone was already leaving while she finished sweeping, then she wiped the counters down and washed her hands, thankful one of her co-workers cleaned the bathrooms already. Finally she grabbed her things, and left through the front doors, locking them up-glancing to her left to see Steve standing there, leaning against the Family Video windows with his hands in his pockets-to most he would look relaxed and maybe even cool-but Y/n immediately noticed the way his chest was falling a little too fast.

He was nervous, and that lit a fire inside of her.

“So did you figure it out, Pretty Boy?” Steve practically jumped at the sound of her voice, he was too busy hyping himself up to notice Y/n locking up a few feet from her-and now he was embarrassed as she spoke to him. He expected her to stop a few feet away, but no, she walked until she was inches away from him, now slightly looking up at him, a smirk on her face while they held eye contact, one of her fingers gliding along the length of his denim jacket.

“I’m waiting for an answer” her degrading tone was back and it only made Steve blush even more, he bit his lip, eyes dropping from hers to her red lips, all the while his lips were slightly parted.

Steve Harrington had never in his life been this flustered. He usually did this to other people-he wasn’t used to the change of pace and yet he was melting under her touch. She moved her fingers, now gliding along the white sweater he wore below the jacket-he felt her apply a little more pressure-just enough to make her touch known. She was teasing him, luring him into her trap-and he was falling head first.

“Yours or mine?” was all he managed, he tried saying it with confidence but her gaze shot right through his facade, eyes still focused on her lips, now they were upturned in a wicked smile. She leaned closer to him, lips right next to his ear as she whispered “make sure you can keep up, Pretty Boy” with that she placed a gentle kiss right below his ear-and due to her close proximity she didn’t miss the small whimper that slipped past his lips.

She quickly moved, shooting him a wink while walking to her car, easily unlocking it and getting in-the sound of the car roaring to life was what reminded him that he had to follow her-so he ran to his car, nearly tripping on the way-then he got in and the second he was inside, she was pulling off.

To say that it felt like a game of cat and mouse was crazy-especially because Steve felt like a mouse chasing the cat. Hell he had no idea where she was taking him and for all he knew she might just be ritually sacrificing him under the moonlight.

But his doubts were gone by the time he pulled into a driveway behind her, the house was in the same neighborhood as Dustin’s place, she only lived four houses down-it surprised him that he never noticed. He was always here dropping him off and picking him up, and Y/n’s Monte Carlo was hard to miss, maybe he’d just been too wrapped up in his ‘adopted’ little brother to see it.

He shook his head while hyping himself up again, now was not a time to think of Dustin, he was about to hook up with Y/n Y/l/n-the girl of his dreams-literally he’d had more than one dream about her. However none of them had her as dominant as she seemed, they usually involved him holding her hands above her head, while he was above her. Occasionally she’d be riding him, other times he just dreamt of the sweet sweet sounds she would make while he laid between her thighs, her hands tugging at his hair.

The second she knocked on his car door window he blinked a few times, turning the car off before opening the door-she was thankful she stepped out of the way, this wasn’t the Steve Harrington she’d heard so much about-he was smooth and in charge-this Steve was awkward, nervous, and somehow kept tripping over his own feet.

He cleared his throat while she looked at him, a small smile on her face, and a devious look in her eye.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’ll take good care of you” with that she grabbed his hand, and his heartbeat immediately quickened-hell it felt like it would beat out of his chest as he followed behind her. He watched as she unlocked the door with one hand, kicking it open as she twisted the knob, then they were inside.

For some reason he never thought of Y/n’s house-or of the fact that she probably lived with her family, he always just thought of her so when he followed behind her in the house he was somewhat taken aback. The warm hues of color throughout the furniture, the plants delicately placed and taken care of, alongside the framed photos-including Y/n’s graduation photos side by side with her kindergarten graduation photos.

He didn’t have much time to admire the house, instead she was guiding him upstairs, and he couldn’t help but focus his eyes on her ass, her skirt slightly sliding up as she walked-the material hugging her curves perfectly. It was driving him crazy.

Then she stopped in front of what he assumed to be her bedroom door, dropping his hand-now turning to face him. He was already flustered-she thought it was so cute-the way he stared at her while he blushed, unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Tell me Pretty Boy, are you gonna let me take care of you tonight?” His mind was now a jumbled mess of Y/n, he didn’t have one coherent thought outside of her, so instead of responding and babbling, he simply nodded his head-lips apart while he stared at her. “Do me a favor-” as she spoke she trailed a finger along his jawline “-use your words”

“Y-yes” she raised a single brow “yes to what?” “I’ll let y-you t-take care of m-me” his stuttering made her smirk, with that she opened her door, easily pulling him inside-her strength somewhat surprised him but his gaze caught hold of her room, something he definitely didn’t expect. Much like the rest of the house it was decorated in warm tones, not a single black item anywhere-outside of the leather jacket placed on her desk chair, she had plants hanging near the large bay window, brightly colored pillows along it, the girl had stacks of books, she had dice sets on her desk, a singular small lamp on letting a dim red orange hue spread throughout the space, and a few paintings leaning against the wall next to her large mirror.

“Surprised? It’s called duality” she spoke as she watched his eyes scan the room, her voice snapping him back to her gaze, she looked at him expectantly, before cracking a smile.

“How long have you wanted me, Harrington?” he bit his bottom lip for a second “too long to tell” she nodded her head “aw, we’re gonna have fun huh? I wanna see you red and begging” his eyes widened at her words, her sweet tone a direct contrast in comparison to her words.

His lips parted now while he nodded his head, brows slightly raised, unable to say anything-watching as she took her blazer off, tossing it towards her closet-then her hands were back on his chest-both of them gliding along his jacket while she held eye contact with him. She slowly slid her hands under the denim, pushing it back until he finally took it off, throwing it elsewhere-too focused on her to care where his clothes ended up.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” he nodded his head “y-yes, an-anything” she smirked at that “All it takes is one little touch to get you dumb huh?” she spoke as she tugged at the hem of his sweater before sliding one hand under it, her cold fingertips against his warm abdomen, fingers tracing the toned muscles.

Steve's mind was a haze and she’d barely touched him, he would never live this down-even if it was just coming from himself.

“Take it off” she didn’t have to ask twice, it only took a few seconds for Steve to pull the Sweater over his head, revealing his toned chest, she smirked at the patches of hair along his chest, and the evident happy trail he sported “uh-I-sorry for the hair if it’s not your thing-” before he could continue rambling on Y/n shushed him.

“You’re so pretty Steve” she spoke as she glided a finger along his happy trail, resting it against the waistband of his hands, tugging on it slightly before hooking her finger onto it-all while she held eye contact with him.

He felt as if he was about to combust, his skin on fire while she looked at him as if she wanted to devour him. Her gaze had him holding back a whimper-and when she pushed him back against her bed he didn’t expect it-knees buckling over the edge of her frame as he fell flat onto the mattress. In the moment he was embarrassed-but then he watched as she easily pulled off her top, tossing it on the ground, a black lace bra holding her chest ever so perfectly.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” her words were teasing as she straddled his lap, the evident bulge straining against his pants while she looked down at him, both hands now on his waist, thumbs slightly grazing his skin-back and forth.

His body was on fire-it had to have been on fire-she had to have tossed a match on the bed before pushing him into it. His mind was melting away as he tried to figure out how her subtle touches were sending him higher and higher up the ladder of sexual frustration. He was so turned on it hurt, and seeing her, looking down at him with the faux innocent look in her eyes as she sat on his lap-sat against him-it was enough to have him start begging.

“Tell me what you want Pretty Boy, tell me what you think about when you can’t take your eyes off me” his lips parted as she leaned lower, supporting herself on top of him, her face now less than a foot away from his. “I wanna hear it, I wanna know what you’re thinking about, what you wanna do to me” he swallowed hard, breath picking up slightly

“Y-you, fuck all of you, wanna kiss you and hold you, sh-shit” his words left his lips without a single thought, all rushed out and jumbled. She bit her bottom lip, a smile on her face now as she moved her hands off his waist, now placing one next to his head on the bed-she was in charge and he knew that.

“Yeah? You wanna make me feel good? Wanna feel me cumming around you?” he nodded his head, lost in her-it was like she was sending his senses into overdrive. “You think you deserve that? You think you deserve to touch me?” her degrading tone made him whimper while he nodded, she was quick to lean over, talking directly into his ear “I want you to beg for it, tell me how much you want me” with that she started peppering kisses along his neck, red lipstick stains on his skin before she started licking and sucking at his warm skin-sure to leave marks behind.

He couldn’t hold in the moan that slipped past his lips the second he felt her lightly bite against his skin-his hands now finding her waist-but when she stopped kissing him-he immediately moved his hands-somehow knowing what she was expecting. “C’mon Pretty Boy-let me take care of you” he let out another low moan at her words, her kisses now against his collar bone as she worked on leaving another mark against his tanned skin.

“Fuck-want you so bad, need you, God I need you so bad, I’ll do anything-please” she smirked, now moving back, her lipstick smudged while she looked at him, then she pressed her lips against his, it didn’t take long for him to kiss her back-one of her hands now on the side of his face as she deepend the kiss, sliding her tongue against his soft lips-slipping past them as he let her in.

She started moving her hips against his, he moaned into the kiss feeling her move-the friction giving him some sense of relief. The kiss only getting more heated the longer their lips stayed together, Steve poured everything he had into the kiss-all of his want-his desire-his everything, and she gladly took it.

When she moved apart she let out a whimper against his parted lips “do you wanna touch me? Wanna make me feel good?” he nodded his head “fuck please-please let me touch you” she smirked, nodding her head, his hands immediately on her exposed waist, then she winked before getting off of him-easily pulling at his arms-directing him to hold himself above her-and the second he did she was kissing him again, her hands now tugging at his belt loops-pulling his hips closers to hers while she parted her legs.

He was in heaven-this was it-he was in actual heaven.

She tugged on his hair-the feeling making him groan-then she did it again, a little harder this time-getting him to move back-but his blood was flowing south. He panted while he sat above her-in this moment he knew she was in charge-regardless of the position-regardless of how he was fucking her-she was in charge.

Her hand was still in his hair as she spoke “Use your mouth Pretty Boy” that’s all she had to say, his lips now against her neck, kissing down her body, he cupped one of her tits, groaning at the sound of the high pitched moan she let out, then he slid the bra down-he didn’t bother taking it off of her-rather letting the straps fall as the cups now leaned against her stomach, tits out, nipples hardening at the cold air against them. It wasn’t long until his hands were back on them, one hand cupped her left breast, fingers tugging at her hardened peak making her moan, then he peppered kisses along the right one, his tongue finding her other peak, lapping at it before lightly sucking against it before bringing it between his teeth-tugging at him-earning a louder moan from her.

Her hands were back in his hair as she tugged at the soft brown locks, moaning as he switched his position, making sure to pay attention to every single part of her. He had to make her feel good, that’s all he wanted to do, so he continued kissing down her stomach, eyes meeting hers as he reached the top of her miniskirt. She smirked “hike it up, I want your mouth, want you to be good for me, you wanna taste me?” he bit his bottom lip, nodding his head as he moved his hands to her thighs-easily hiking the skirt up, moaning at the sight of her black thin lacey panties-they left little to imagination.

He was quick to spread her thighs more, laying between them as he licked and sucked marks into the skin of her left thigh before placing it over his shoulder. The sight of him between her legs had y/n biting her lip again, one hand in his hair, tugging at it, the other holding onto her tit, squeezing it, toying with her nipple while she watched him.

“Please-can I taste you-fuck need to taste you on my tongue” she smirked “such a desperate little slut huh? Been waiting months for this-just imagining what I taste like-tell me Pretty Boy-do you think of me at night? When it’s just you?” he nodded his head, looking up at her, lips parted, heavy breaths.

“Yes-fuck-yes, always you, everything about you-please” “then show me” he didn’t hesitate to lick a stripe up her clothed slit, the motion making her whimper, then he slid two fingers along her damp panties, easily pulling them to the side, exposing her to him-and he couldn’t stop the gutteral moan he let out at the sight of her glistening cunt.

“So pretty like that, between my thighs, begging to tongue fuck me” he groaned, nodding his head before licking another stripe up her cunt, then he lapped at it, moaning at the way she tasted against his tongue before focusing on her bud, he rapidly flicked his tongue against her clit, groaning against her at the feeling of her tugging his hair. Her back arched off the bed while she moaned-loving the feeling of his mouth against her.

She bit her lip, grinding her hips closer to his face, moaning. “Just like that-so so good” her praises made him moan, he slid two fingers between her thighs-his other hand gripping her left thigh, holding it close-practically pinning her in place while he harshly sucked at her clit-her moans only motivating him to keep going. Then she felt him slide two fingers right into her entrance, her moans louder now while he curled them into her-over and over again.

He needed to make her cum, needed to taste her, needed to make her feel good.

“You feel so good, oh my god, right there Pretty Boy-fuck make me cum like a good fucking slut” Steve moaned again, her degrading words mixed with praises only sending heat throughout his body as he grinded his hips against her bed-needing some relief while he chased her high-then he felt it-felt the way she tightened around his fingers and tugged at his hair.

She was cumming, her toes curling and back arching even harder while praises slipped past her lips, soaking his lips and chin in her nectar. He moaned while she came, lapping up as much as he possibly could-wanting to keep going-but he knew not to-knew to listen to her.

He slid his fingers out of her, bringing them to his lips, moaning as he sucked every last drop off off of them. She watched him with a smirk on her face.

“C’mere” with that he got up, leaning over her-and she pulled him into another heated sloppy kiss-this time her hands working at his pants, unbuttoning them, followed by his zipper, then she slid her hand inside of his briefs making him moan against her lips. She started to palm him while they kissed, each time her hand lightly squeezed the base of his cock he’d lose rhythm in the kiss.

Y/n thought it was cute, the way he couldn’t even focus on kissing her back while she toyed with his constrained cock. When she pulled away from the kiss she kept palming him.

“Please-” she tilted her head slightly “please what?” “Please-fuck please need you-need you to stop teasing” she pouted for a second “but you look so pretty like this, you’re so red, and your eyes are barely open-I’ve barely touched you and you’re already fucked dumb” he moaned at her words, nodding his head.

She shoved him, rolling so she was now on top of him, and she straddled a little lower than his waist, easily sliding his hard, thick, cock out of it’s confinements, she bit her lip while gazing at it. His veins were so prominent, it curved slightly to the left, and the tip was swollen, red, and dripping pre cum.

“The tip of your cock is the same color as your cheeks-nice and rosy-just for me” she spoke in a degrading tone as she placed a singular hand on the length of his cock, slightly tightening her grip as she slowly slid it up and down his length-she then paused-gliding her thumb across the tip, swiping it against the slit-spreading all of his precum around then she leaned over and spit on it-making his cock a wet sticky mess-all while he moaned and whined under her.

“Please-fuck please y/n-please” she raised a brow “tell me what you want-you want me to fuck you like the whore you are? You want your cock down the back of my throat-you wanna watch me gag on it? Make you cum over and over again until you cant even think straight?” he nodded his head rapidly at her words, vision hazy while he watched her above him-she was like an angel-but angels didn’t do things as sinful as this.

As she spoke her hand’s pace picked up, squeezing him tighter while she pumped his dick, holding eye contact with him-only going faster and faster-while he moaned and whimpered-his hands gripping her sheets. “Such a pretty fuck toy” he felt himself getting closer and closer-and based on the way he twitched in her hands-she knew it too.

“You gonna give me the first one? I want you to cum for me my sweet, sweet boy, cum all over my hand” he nodded his head, chest rising and falling, feeling himself closer and closer to the edge-then she leaned over him, now pumping his cock at a different angle while licking and sucking at the other side of his neck-making sure to leave more marks.

He moaned, his head thrown back slightly as he gripped the sheets “you wanna touch me? Wanna let me know how much you like me fucking you?” he moaned at her words, she was near his ear, low words sending vibrations down his spine-leading him to letting out a loud moan “you can touch me baby, hold me while you cum for me” he nodded his head, his hands on her hips now-fingers digging into her skin as his vision greyed over-feeling his orgasm flow through his entire body.

She smirked, feeling his cum land on her stomach and his, then she sat up, still smirking while he struggled to catch his breath-but she was nowhere near done. She leaned over, tongue tracing the ropes of cum on his stomach, all the while she looked up at him.

Then she moved on to her hand, licking his cum off of her fingers “you made such a mess-can’t let it go to waste, you did so good for me-but now you’re gonna do even better” he simply nodded, biting his lip while he stared at her through hooded eyes-never in his life had he experienced the amount of pleasure that was surging through his body.

She moved further down, kneeling on the bed while she looked at him “lean against the headboard” he nodded, doing as told, chest rising and falling rapidly while he watched her lie between his legs, he winced and whimpered as she grabbed his sensitive cock, not wasting a second before placing the tip into her mouth, lapping at it-sucking on it-and sending him into a pool of overstimulation-hands gripping the sheets while he felt dizzy. He’d never came more than once during a hookup-everything about this was new to him-and he was going insane.

She pulled back “you gonna give me another one? Cum down my throat? Be a good boy for me?” he nodded “use your words” “gonna be good-gonna be so fucking good” he was whining, whimpering as her mouth was back on him-his cock slowly growing harder in her mouth as she sucked on him, toying with his length, using one hand to pump him while she bobbed her head along him-all while holding eye contact with him.

She moved away to spit on his cock again-except she used the tip to smear her spit along her lips, Steve placing his hands over his face after seeing that-letting out loud uncontrollable moans. She wanted him desperate-and that was exactly what she was getting.

It didn’t take long for him to have to cum, his eyes watering from the pleasure while he gripped the sheets, constantly shifting in place-trying to stay as still as possible before she stopped all together.

“Please fuck-please can I cum-please-fuck can’t-cacn’t hold it” she smirked, taking him out of her mouth, still pumping the length of his cock while looking up at him-the string of saliva connecting his tip to her lip was driving him insane.

“You look so good when you cum-so flustered-so fucking pretty” he moaned “gonna cum all over my tongue for me? Be a spoiled little slut for me?” he nodded his head, watching as she stuck her tongue out, tapping his cock against it a few times-the sight sent him into overdrive as he shot ropes of cum along her tongue-one landing on her cheek slightly. She swallowed it all gliding her index finger along her cheek before smirking.

She sat up, smearing her finger across his bottom lip-before sliding it into her mouth-watching as he sucked on it “look so good like this-so fucked out-haven’t even been inside me yet” she leaned closer to him, taking her finger out of his mouth, sliding it along his lips and chin.

“Haven’t even felt how wet, warm, and tight I am-just for you to fill-to stretch-want my pretty boy to cum inside, wanna see how you look while I fuck you hard” he moaned at her words, nodding his head, whimper, lost in his world of her and overstimulation.

She grasped his cock again, pumping it over and over, slowly with a tight grip as she peppered kisses along his jaw-she moved to straddle him again-making it easier to kiss his skin. He looked like a fucked out slutty mess, hair in every direction, lips slightly parted and swollen, eyes hooded, skin flushed and covered in lipstick kisses and bruises and she loved every second of it.

“You gonna give me another one?” he nodded his head, unable to speak-words all jumbled in his head “good-cause I wanna feel you” he moaned at her words which made her mock him “such a cum drunk slut huh? Never been fucked like this huh? Never had someone use you pretty boy?” he shook his head-moaning as her grip tightened.

She smirked at his hard cock in her hand-he was so easy and she knew it was only for her.

She moved against him, sliding the tip of his cock along her dripping slit, he bit his lip so hard he thought it would start bleeding “u-use me” she smirked at his words “I already have been” it hadn’t occurred to him exactly how much pleasure she got from this-from watching him squirm and moan under her-watching the way she affected him.

“Look at me while I fuck you, wanna see those big brown eyes” he nodded his head, now gazing at her-eyes hooded while he tried not to shut them-tried to stay focused on her as she lined him up with her sopping entrance-sliding right down his cock-inch by inch.

She didn’t bother holding back a single moan, her head thrown back slightly while she felt him stretch her out and fill her until he finally bottomed out-their thighs touching again while she moaned.

“So big-feels so good-fuck I’m so full-can’t get enough of this cock-can’t get enough of you” he nodded his head, his loud moans never stopping as she started grinding herself against him before bouncing on his cock, up and down-then deciding to slide up his cock until only the tip was inside of her before slamming down onto him-the pleasure making his eyes start watering again.

She set her rhythm-fucking him as hard as she could-finally looking at him, her hands on his shoulders-using them for support as she continued bouncing on his thick cock, moaning his name alongside praises about how good he felt in her.

“Oh God Y/n-fuck-I can’t hold it-fuck so close” she bit her lip, her gaze had been held between their bodies, watching as he disappeared inside of her cunt, cock coated in her slick while she fucked him. Then she looked up, practically moaning at the sight of the tears running down his face while he threw his head back, biting down on his bottom lip while he tried not to cum.

“Look at you-” she moved on hand-grabbing his chin-forcing him to look at her “a crying stupid mess-hold it for me-or I’ll tie you up and make you cum all fucking night” her words had a slightly slur to them as she bounced on his cock, listening to him fall deeper and deeper into his world of pleasure.

He didn’t expect for her to lean forward, tongue against his jawline-licking the tears that rested there before sucking a mark into his skin-the feelings making his vision blur and all he heard was static-he was so lost in her that he felt like he couldn’t find his way out.

Then she let out a loud whimper-leaning her head against his shoulder while gripping his skin.

“Gonna cum-want you to cum for me-pretty boy I wanna feel you cum inside me” he moaned at her words, nodding his head-hands now gripping her waist-guiding her movements while he fell apart-the feeling of him filling her made her moan his name, eyes rolled back slightly as she quickly followed suit.

After the both of them caught their breath she slid off of him, walking-rather slowly at that-to the bathroom. When she came back Steve was trying to get dressed, eyes still hooded while he tried to balance himself-the sight made Y/n laugh, a smirk on her face.

“Really fucked you stupid huh?” he gazed at her, now blinking as he noticed the oversized t-shirt covering her figure, he watched as she trailed her eyes along him-smirking at his disheveled state.

‘Do yourself a favor Pretty Boy and stay the night-you’re too fucked out to be driving anywhere-you look like you can barely see” he sat down on her bed-running a hand through his messy hair while shaking his head “because I can barely see” his voice was strained-so she tossed the waterbottle on her desk his way-it landed on the bed next to him and he gladly opened it and drank most of it.

“Do you do that to all of the guys you’re into” she laughed at his joke, glancing over-watching as he took off his jeans completely before laying back onto her bed-staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were all on her-on the way she had him in tears less than fifteen minutes ago to the way she was now taking her smeared makeup off.

“Only the ones that end up being my boyfriend” his eyes widened at that, immediately sitting up while staring at her. She simply shrugged her shoulders, eyes now focused on the small mirror sat on her desk as she continued wiping away her makeup.

“Y-y-your boy-boyfriend?” she rolled her eyes, tossing the cotton pads into the trash can under the desk before glancing at him again, her hands now on her hips while she gave him an ‘are you serious’ expression, head slightly craned forward-brows knit together while she stared.

“I mean that’s c-cool, I didn’t know you were like-into that? I guess? I just thought-” she nodded slowly at his rambling, he ran his hands through his hair a few times while he tried to figure out what to say next-and truthfully his brain was still a pile of mush-recovering from the three orgasms and mind blowing sex.

“Into what? Having a boyfriend-or you being my boyfriend? Is the thought of me wanting to be in a relationship really what's shocking you the most Harrington-as if you haven’t stalked me for the past four months” his jaw dropped at her words-she wanted him to be her boyfriend-his mind now solely focused on that. He’d been into her for what felt like forever-and even after everyone told her that she’d never want him-she was here-telling him that she wanted him to be her boyfriend.

“No-no! No not at all! It’s just I didn’t really-uh think I was your type is all” she scoffed “I took you to my house and fucked you until you literally cried. I think it’s established that you’re my type”

He nodded slowly “but you’re all-like punk rock and like into metal and you wear leather and black, and you hated me in high school and you’re friends with Munson, and you’re-well you-uh-” she nodded her head slowly, brows raised, holding in a bubble of air in her cheeks while his words started to melt together as he tried to save his ass.

“Steve do you or do you not want to go on a date with me-If you don’t want to eventually probably end up being my boyfriend that’s cool-just say no. You’re being weird and I’m about to make you sleep in your car outside”

His eyes widened at that, the red flush back on his face, and now as she sat in her bed, only in his boxers, she noticed the way the blush traveled through his neck and onto his chest as well. He was covered in marks, the lipstick stains and hickies making Y/n smirk-proud of her work.

“No-wait no that’s not what I mean! Y-yes-yeah-of course-yeah” she nodded, walking towards him until she stood between his legs, she then pulled him into a soft kiss, one hand toying with the hairs at the base of his neck, the other gently caressing his jawline. He was quick to kiss her back, his hands on her waist while their lips moved in sync.

Then she pulled away, resting her forehead against his “stop being such a weirdo Steve-I like you-clearly-now shut it”

The next day the two of them woke up late, both of their shifts scheduled to start at two in the afternoon and the clock read one fifteen, Y/n was quick to shake Steve awake, telling him they had to go to work-and once he noticed the clock he practically shot out of her bed, rushing to put last night’s clothes on while Y/n pulled a new outfit out of her wardrobe-changing without a second thought.

The sight of her pulling on her clothes-stepping into her panties-had Steve’s jaw dropped while he stared-only to be met with “fix your hair-you look like you just got laid” when she turned around, facing him in just her bra and panties. She then pulled on a pair of black jeans, accompanied by her hellfire club t-shirt, and the faux fur lined leather jacket she kept for colder days.

She pulled Steve behind her to the bathroom across the hall, grabbing him a toothbrush and shoving it in his direction-the two of them still rushing-to the point that Steve hadn’t realized he still had lipstick stained kiss marks along his neck-plus the few hickies that were visible above his neckline.

What shocked Steve the most was Y/n tossing his keys at him, telling him that he was driving today.

So when he pulled into the strip parking lot just as Y/n finished applying her black lip liner and red lipstick combination-Robin opened the front door of the Family Video-fully prepared to curse him out, however when she noticed Y/n sitting in the passenger seat of his car her jaw dropped. She then noticed the way that Y/n grabbed Steve by the collar of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss before shoving him away and getting out of the car.

“See ya later Pretty Boy.”

Y/n simply waved at Robin, she then made her way towards the entrance to the Arcade, a smirk on her face the entire time.

Steve however got out of the car with a dopey smile on his face, glancing in the direction of his future girlfriend while locking the doors.

When he finally headed in Robin’s direction the look of pure shock was hard to miss-so much in fact that all Steve did was shrug-the smile still on his face. Then as the two got inside and stood behind the counter-Robin practically screamed.

“Holy shit! Your neck! Wait are you wearing yesterday’s clothes-oh my god you are-oh my god you two had sex-oh my god you drove her here? You stayed the night? Holy shit-these are like purple-she’s like a damn vampire!” Robin spoke while she poked and prodded at Steve’s neck-his eyes widening as he looked around for any reflective surface-when he came up short he walked to the back room-then into the employee restroom-eyes widening at the lipstick kiss stains on his neck accompanied by hickies.

Usually he’d be mad that a girl left marks on him-however in Y/n’s case it only made him smile, the familiar blush on his face-he was head over heels and now he finally had a date with her.

Taglist: @anxietyandtacos @dmonchld (my slutty friends)

If you’d like to be added to the Steve Harrington taglist heres the link :)

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington filth #sub!steve harrington

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loserforeddie · 2 years

Text

Shot In The Dark

(yes again the song is based on the Ozzy Osbourne song. But it makes sense trust me)

Summary: When the popular good-grade student start to talk to Eddie Munson, he thinks it’s too good to be true. They become quick friends, but when she asks him out, learns that it was too good to be true...

Eddie Munson x fem! reader

Warnings: Bullying, Eddie thinking he got asked out by the reader as a joke, Eddie not understanding feelings, shy reader

Word count: 3.3k

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG YALL. also this is gonna be two parts! also male version of this story will be posted soon!

Part 2 here :)

. . . .

Eddies eyes followed you as you walked down the aisle of the cafe. Your tray in one hand and an English book in the other.

He watched slowly as your eyes pointed straight ahead, not even glancing at him. Not that he had expected you to.

You, being “Hawkin’s Pride and Joy” would never give him the time of day. Not with your grades or social standing. And it was pathetic of him to even hope you would.

And yet still, you had given him the time of day.

Four weeks ago, to be exact.

He was in the library, a place he rarely was, trying so hard to study for Mrs. O’Donelle’s next test. It was getting late, nearing eight, and he knew he should get going.

But still, he had no idea what this test was even on. He stared blankly at the test review page in front of him. Hoping if he stared long enough, it would somehow make sense.

But, it didn’t.

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. Flinging his head back and rolling his eyes.

Normally, he was sure someone would have shushed him or given him a dirty look for all the commotion he was causing. But no one was in the library at that time, he knew that no one would be as dumb as him to stay this late-

“Excuse me,” a voice behind him said, “Is that seat taken?” You asked so politely as you pointed to the seat next to him.

He jumped, startled by your soft voice.

Your eyes stared down into his, you had your normal amount of makeup on, but the lipgloss you wore made your lips stand out more to him. You wore something so casual, a normal every-day-outfit, but still, everything about you screamed polished, pristine.

He gulped, nodding before saying, “N-No, it’s not.”

You gave him a small smile before setting your bag and books down next to him.

Up until that moment, he had never truly given you the time of day, never looked in your direction, never even thought about you.

And yet, here you were, sitting next to him, almost elbow to elbow.

You turned over to him smiling, “My name is Y/N, and you’re Eddie right?”

He gawked at you for a minute. You remembered his name? What mythical world was this?

After a very strange and long silence, he finally said, “Uh-yeah, yeah that’s me. Eddie.”

God, he wanted to shoot himself.

But you just smiled at him, “That’s cool. What test you’ studying for? Mines for Pinleiy, his class is seriously kicking my ass.”

His eyebrows quirked up, he didn’t expect someone like you to swear. And yet, he also didn’t expect you to sit with him.

“O'Donnell,” he said, a bit quietly.

You groaned, “Oh my god, she’s such a bitch! I hated her class. She made everything so difficult for everyone, those homework assignments always kicked my ass.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. Where you, Y/N L/N, really trying to start a conversation with him?

He paused for a minute.

“Yeah, she sucks man. I failed her class twice.”

You looked over your shoulder, checking to see if anyone was there. Before looking back at him smirking, “Don’t tell anyone, but on her last final I totally cheated!”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, “No way, the Y/N L/N? Na, I ain't buying it.”

You giggled, “It’s true! I wrote my notes on my arm.”

Eddie scoffed, “Please, that’s the oldest shit in the book. You probably got caught but Mrs. O’Donnell let you get away with it because of how much of a goody-two-shoes you are.”

You gasped at him, “I’m hurt! I’ll have you know I was super slick about it!”

Eddie let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, “Please, I highly doubt that.”

You huffed, “You know, I was going to ask if you needed help studying, but after this, I will no longer be offering my services.”

He chuckled, “You? Help me? Come on, this has to be some sort of sick joke.”

But you shook your head, “Nope. I mean it, if you want, I can help you. Seriously.”

He looked at you, your eyes twinkling with sincerity.

He let out a sigh, “Yeah, I mean if the smartest girl in Hawkins offers to tutor you, you kinda have to say yes, right.”

You giggled, “I don’t know if I’d say I’m the smartest-”

Eddie let out a laugh, “Oh come on, don’t be so modest. You and that Wheeler girl are like, stupidly smart. And popular, Jesus what a match.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not popular-”

But Eddie cut you off again, “Uh-huh, you tell yourself that, sweetheart.”

At the mention of the nickname, he notices your composer shift, only for a moment. You become flustered, your calm and charming exterior cracked for just a moment. Replaced with a shy, flustered girl.

“But,” Eddie continued, “yes, I would appreciate any help.”

After he said that, you perked up.

“W-well, um, let’s get started!”

You two stayed for a while until he felt confident about his ability to actually pass this upcoming test.

He beamed at you, “Wow, thanks Y/N. Damn, might even get myself an A.”

You giggled at his pride, your eyes shining with admiration. “You worked hard, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Eddie gave you a goofy grin, “Na, I could never get this far without you…thank you Y/N.”

He saw your eyes dart away from his, face flushed, “Oh yeah, yeah don’t even worry about it. Just think of it as..as a favor.”

Eddie cocked a brow at you, “Damn, one heck of a favor. You know you didn’t have to do this, right? I mean, we don’t even know each other.”

You smiled at him, and a felt a small pull in his gut.

“I don’t know, I thought it would be nice. And besides, I had nothing else going on. And you’re pretty good company, Munson.”

He didn’t know why, but he felt his heart start to race in his chest, and the feeling of his stomach doing jumping jacks when your eyes met his. Had you always been so pretty?

He gulped down his nerves, “You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N.”

You smiled at that, “Glad you think so.”

. . .

After a few days, you talked to him again.

He was at one of his favorite music stores, He lost his favorite tape of Iron Maiden (Piece of Mind) and realized he needed it in order to be able to jam out properly.

And he loved this little music shop. Notably, it had mostly rock and metal songs, but it also had popular and more mainstream artists as well. He grimaced at the Beatles and Bowie cover next to his beloved Black Sabbath.

He sighed, finally finding the album he needed.

Just as he was about to head over to the counter, he heard the door open followed by a familiar voice.

“Pardon me,” he heard you say, “do you happen to have any Metallica tapes? For a walkman?”

He swore his heart did a double-take, seeing your pretty face in such a dark place as this small music shop, really made you stand out.

Not to mention, you had just asked if they had any Metallica. That was enough to get his heart pumping louder than it had before.

As one of the employees showed you the way to one of the metal sections of the store, he followed you.

“Right here, ma’am. We even got the newest album, let me know if you need any help,” the employee said politely, before walking away.

As you searched, he came up behind you.

“Didn’t realize you liked Metallica.”

He saw you jump at his words, your face shooting back to his.

“Wow!” He said, “Easy there! Didn't mean to frighten you.”

You shook your head, “Sorry I just didn't see you there. And um… I'm not a Metallica fan. I just- I just heard they were good.”

Eddie nodded, smirking, “Well sweetheart, you heard right. Metallica is pretty good man, especially if you just trying to get into metal. But you don't really seem like the metal type.”

At that, he saw your face flush, “I wanted to try something new, I guess.”

He smiled, “Hey no shame in that. I respect it actually.”

He looked around before pulling a tape out of his pocket, “Here, take this one so you don’t have to pay for it. Just give it back whenever.”

The album was Master of Puppets. It was new, considering the album had just come out, so it was in pretty good condition.

Your eyes widened as you took it, “No, I couldn’t-”

But he just smiled, “I insist. Just give it back to me the next time you see me, alright? I’m returning my favor, from when you helped tutor me, remember?”

You nodded, smiling, “Well, that’s very generous of you, Munson, I appreciate it. And yes, next time I see you, I’ll give it back.”

. . .

And he did see you again. In a place that he least expected.

His band was playing at the Hideout, a not-so-popular bar in town. The crowd is maybe filled with four or five drunk old men, and the smell of cheap booze lingered in the air.

But I didn't care, he played his guitar until his fingers felt like they couldn't strum a single chord anymore. He played until he physically felt like he was going to fall off his feet.

And when he finished playing, the one thing he least expected to happen, came true.

Applause was heard in the bar, from one pair of hands.

His eyes widened, seeing your pretty face beaming up at him.

You were seated in a booth, near the back of the bar. You were dressed in a normal, comfy outfit. But still, it made his lungs run out of fresh air.

As you continue clapping, you looked up at him smiling, a genuine smile.

He felt his heart do a flip.

As the band started to pack up their equipment, you made your way over to him.

“Wow! You guys are so good!”

Eddie’s eyes widened, where you really here for them?

As if you could read his mind, you said quickly, “I-I just came in because I was studying nearby and saw you playing. But wow! I didn’t even know you played!”

Eddie could feel his heart skip at your praise.

“Ah, well. Thanks, sweetness, but we don't really get that much of a crowd.”

Eddie gestured around the bar where most of the men were now almost completely passed out.

You smiled, your eyes locking with his, “Maybe you’re just ahead of your time, Munson.”

He could feel his cheeks becoming hot, and he had to look away from your eyes so you wouldn’t notice.

He coughed and laughed slightly, “Yeah..yeah I guess you could say that.”

Before you could respond, one of Eddie’s bandmates made his way over to you two, “Hey man, the vans all packed up,” he looked over at you, raising an eyebrow, “Sorry was I interrupting something?”

Eddie paused, but you shook your head, “No, I was just saying how good you guys were! You’re the drummer, right? You did really well! I’ll have to come back again and listen to you guys more.”

Gareth gaped at you, eye’s in disbelief.

You shuffled awkwardly, before saying, “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name Y/N L/N, I think we had English together last year.”

As if broken out of a trance, Gareth nodded vigorously, “Um-yeah. English…yeah with Mrs. Kelly. Yeah, I remember, you were my partner for a project. Something about The Great Gatsby?”

You laughed a bit, and Eddie was suddenly very aware of his fist clutching his guitar pick so hard he felt a sting of pain in his palm.

“Yeah, I remember. We had to make a poster about the life-changing aspects of the 1920’s. Oh my god, it was so boring.”

You and Gareth laughed at a shared memory, and Eddie decided that he had had enough.

He tried his best to sound nonchalant, but he knew he just came off brash, “Here man, take these and get the van started.” Eddie handed him his keys, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Gareth took the keys from Eddie, giving a knowing smirk as he walked away. Eddie could have even sworn he saw him wink at him as he walked off.

You shifted nervously from foot to foot, before Eddie finally piped up, “So um- you liked the show?”

Your eyes lit up, “Yeah, I really did! Oh my gosh, and you’re guitar playing? It was so sick!”

Eddie laughed, “Wow, you might be our first-ever fan, Y/N.”

You smiled up at him, lashes fluttering lightly, “Then I hope to stay your number one fan.”

He smiled at that. How cute, he thought.

Your eyes lit up, and you reached into your pocket, “I almost forgot!”

You pulled out a tape, handing it back to him, “You were right, the album was so good! I loved every second of it. Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah I mean of course. I have a few other recommendations if you’re every not too busy-”

“I mean, I’m not busy right now?”

Eddie smiled, preparing fully to blow off his band mates, “Well then, sit down sweetheart.”

. . .

You too continued to talk more and more after that, mostly out of school. And most of the time, you’d somehow find him.

And yet, he couldn’t get you out of his brain.

It had actually started to interfere with his life. He couldn’t write any new D&D campaign ideas because all he could think about was your smile, he couldn’t play his guitar because all he could think about was how you praised him that night at the Hideout.

He had even stopped making a commotion whenever you were around, choosing to stay quiet whenever you entered a room.

But that was because he normally couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

And yet, for the last few days, he had heard nothing from you. Not a nice small conversation, a “how are you”, not even a few glances at him. Nothing.

He normally wouldn’t have cared, who was this girl? Some prissy prep? Why should he care if she come up to him and started talking to him again?

But he did. He cared. He wanted to hear her sweet voice again. To watch her pretty eyes light up when she was working on homework. He wanted to see her smile up at him, to feel his heart beat out of his chest. He wanted desperately to walk up to her himself.

But he stilled himself. He knew that he probably shouldn’t read into anything, he didn’t want to seem desperate. Even if he found himself falling for someone he desperately wish he didn’t.

He sighed, walking to his next class after lunch was over.

He spent the whole period thinking about you, which wasn’t uncommon for him anymore, he’d usually think about you for most of the day.

He hated how he couldn’t just go up to you. Why’d he have to wait for you? Why couldn’t he just stop being a pussy and start a conversation with you?

But he knew the answer, it was because he was a coward.

He sighed as the final bell rang.

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath as he left the school, walking over to his van.

But as he got closer, he saw a familiar face.

He felt his feet hiccup on the ground, the air flying out of his lungs.

But your face lit up as he approached, eyes sparling under the sun's light. Your beautiful face illuminated by the suns light made his heart momentarily stop working.

God, you were driving him insane.

This was definitely new, however, you would never approach him at school. He tried to calm himself down as he approached you, trying his best to become more nonchalant.

You waved at him, “Hey Eddie!”

“Hey there sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

Your eyes faltered, looking down at your shoes. “Well- I,” you breathed in heavily, hands fidgeting lightly.

He raised an eyebrow, why were you suddenly so nervous? You had been waiting by his van after all.

“You alright, Y/N?”

Your eyes looked up quickly, you bit your lip shyly.

“I-um…I had a question…for you.”

He gave you a confused look, “Alright, shoot. I’m not gonna bite,” he said laughing.

Your hands shook and somehow you found your voice, “I was wondering if…maybe you’d wanna…go on a date?”

Eddie immediately felt like he had been shoved to the ground, the air in his lungs escaping him as he gaped at you. Eyes blew wide as he tried to comprehend what you had just asked him.

He, go on a date, with you? This couldn’t be real, like some sort of dream, or-

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw them. Your friends, pointing and laughing, at him.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Of course, you’d never ask him out, of course, you’d never actually have any sort of feelings for him. You avoided him like the plague at school, why would you ever want to be seen with him? And why right now? You would never go out with a freak like him.

Of course, this was some sick joke, it was so obvious. He had just been so blind by his own feelings that he pushed reality aside.

And when they saw him staring back, your friends continued to point and laugh, giggling at his dismay.

“Eddie?” Your sweet, soft voice called back to him. Your eyes were looking at the floor, leg bouncing anxiously, “You don’t have to say yes, I understand. It’s fine, I just wanted to be able to tell you that I-”

Eddie cut you off with a cold laugh.

“Whatever Y/N. You can drop it now.”

Your eyes shot up, looking at him confused, “Wha-”

Eddie shook his head, a mad grin plastered on his face, “I knew that someone like you couldn't be so nice. So what was it then, a dare? A bet? Come on sweetheart,” the nickname dripped with venom, “you don’t have to pretend anymore. I saw your little friends laughing over there. Don’t play so innocent.”

He pointed over to your friends, watching as they stumbled back with laughter.

Your eyes widened as you saw your supposed friends (the girls on the cheer squad that you would sometimes sit with at lunch) laughing at you two.

“Wait, Eddie, please I-”

But he shook his head, “I don’t want to hear it Y/N.”

He started walking away, towards the door of his van, you protested as he did so.

He snapped, turning around to you, “You know, I thought you were different, I thought you were nice. I thought…hell, I don’t know what I thought. But you seemed so genuine. But I guess that was all an act, huh? Should have known, yeah I should have known. Stuck up Y/N, always thinks she’s better than everyone around her. Such a bitch and everyone knows it,” he hated seeing the hurt in your eyes, but he kept going, “such a goddamn stuck-up priss, a goddamn people pleaser. An attention whore. I should have known better.”

He hopped in his van, slamming his door as he refused to listen to your pleas.

“Eddie stop! Really, I meant it!”

But he had already started driving away, leaving you in the dust of his tires and tears running down your cheeks.

. . .

Part two coming soon!

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