#ignoring all the things that make that impossible
Text
four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)
summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.
word count: 1.8k
a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*
You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.
A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.
I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.
Hi beautiful in the mornings.
I'm sorry.
You're still my girl.
And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.
Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.
Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.
How many?
How many what?
His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.
Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.
It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.
"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.
"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"
He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.
"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.
He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.
"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.
Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.
You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.
"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."
Silence.
You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.
"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.
You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.
He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.
Two days passed before the first text came in.
"I'm sorry" is all it said.
You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.
At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.
Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.
More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.
Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.
Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.
You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.
You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.
Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.
You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.
You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?
Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.
What the hell? you thought, confused.
Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.
You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...
...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.
Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:
"Done"
And then:
"I love you!"
"I'll be looking for you 😍"
You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.
And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.
It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.
part two - coming soon!
taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#rafe obx#rafe imagine#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#hockey rafe
451 notes
·
View notes
Text
Enamored by Envy (Rafe Cameron x reader)
Pairing- Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary- when all you wanted was your boyfriend’s attention and while he had other plans, you decided to take matters into your own hands.
Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), nickname-princess (but in a derogatory sense), fingering, jealous!rafe, brat!reader.
Author’s note- i am back and i promise i will provide you with fics as much as possible. enjoy reading <3. also, this fic ends in a cliffhanger.
navigation rafe cameron masterlist
He wasn’t looking at you, and that pissed you off. You wore your favourite red satin silk midi dress which hugged every inch of your body just so Rafe could ogle at you and later fuck your brains out but now, that seemed impossible because here you were sitting on those bar stools with a Martini in your hand and Rafe was sitting across from you making a business deal. You understood that he had work to do and you let him but it was already past an hour and he did not so much as even look in your direction, this only made you grow impatient and annoyed.
You looked at him, in hopes that at least now he would look back at you but you found no such luck. God, you were growing annoyed and agitated, so you did what you always do best. Make him learn his lesson. You scanned the dance floor which was filled with people who were either too drunk or they were on top of each other, quite literally and dancing like there was no tomorrow.
So you walked your way to the dance floor and started dancing. For the first few minutes that you were dancing, you kept looking at Rafe to see if he was looking at you. Nada. He didn’t even bat an eye in your direction and as the music grew louder and touched every atom in your body, you forgot about him. Your hip swayed sensually and your hands touched your entire body as you felt every bass and the melody of the music.
You didn’t even notice the guy behind you who had his hands on your waist and swaying with you. He moved his hands with you, his breath hitting your neck as he lowered his head down to inhale your scent.
Your music-induced haze snapped and you looked over at the counter to see him, jaw clenched and his eyes shooting daggers at the guy you were dancing with.His gaze not leaving yours even for a second as he strode towards you like a panther ready to hunt its prey.
Rafe lowered his head down and whispered in your ear, “Go back to the car, princess.” his breath hit your neck which elicited goosebumps. It happened every damn time. His voice, his touch and his words always made you feel something, like your whole skin was on fire. You hated him for doing these things to you, you hated that he ignored you and he dared to come here and tell you what to do. It was all so messed up. You looked up at him and spat, “Fuck.You.” and left.
You knew he would probably punch the guy that was dancing with you but you couldn’t stay there any longer than necessary and honestly, you couldn’t care less about the guy. You made your way towards the parking lot. If Rafe wanted to come home he can use a fucking cab for himself.
When you were about to get into the car, a hand caught your wrist and turned you around. Your back slammed into the car as a looming Rafe stood in front of you with his entire body leaning on you. You tried to break free from his hold but that asshole had a steady grip on you. He lowered his face, only inches away from yours and spoke, “And where do you think you’re going?”
His face was so close that if you moved even a little bit you’d probably kiss him. Your eyes trailed from his face to his lips and back to his eyes. His eyes were already undressing you and it took all your willpower not to give in to his games. “Away from you,” you said through gritted teeth. You somehow broke free from his grasp and managed to open the car door, got inside and drove away.
All you could see was red, maybe you were overreacting but he needed to be reminded that you are not just anyone and that you are your own person and if anybody wanted you, they had to work for it.
As you pulled over in your parking lot you saw a silhouette of a person, no, Rafe. How the hell did he reach faster than you? Ignoring that you made your way towards the door, he stood tall and strong and opened the door for you and said, “After you, princess.”
What was up with him? Why was he saying stuff like this? You had no fucking idea. You entered your hall after which Rafe closed the door behind him. You made your way towards the dining table when his hand gripped your waist and slammed you against the dining table, the wood dug into your hips as you let out a harsh breath.
“Now what was all the attitude about, princess?” he whispered as his hand held your waist in an almost bruising hold.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you spat out as you tried pushing him away but he didn’t budge. “You didn’t even look at me! I tried calling your name but you wouldn’t respond. It was as if you were fucking ignoring my whole existence!”
He brought his head down to your ears, hot breath hitting your ears and spoke through gritted teeth, “If I so much as looked at you, I would’ve lost all my senses and control and fucked you right then and there. You see I had a deal which needed to be looked into but you had other plans of going out there and dancing with that worthless fucker-” he moved your hair from your neck slowly and torturously that you had to close your eyes and bit your lips to tamp down the unwanted thoughts that were building up. He bit your neck hard causing you to cry out as you held his arms on either side. “You know what happens to a bad girl don’t you princess?” he whispered, making you clench your thighs together.
You had gotten to him alright and now you had to face consequences for it which you happily will. He got back up from your neck and looked straight into your eyes when his hand covered your neck pressing it firmly yet surely. “Now, you know what happens to girls like you don’t you, princess.” and with that, he kissed you hard causing you to sink deeper into the dining table wood. His tongue entered your mouth without permission, assaulting you in ways that sent a wave of pleasure right to your core. His hold on your neck tightened as he sunk deeper into your mouth, pressing his hard length right against your already wet cunt.
A moan escaped from your mouth as he continued to kiss you, messily and eagerly. He broke apart the kiss as your chest heaved from the impact. In one swift movement, he lifts your dress, throwing your panties away and laying you down on the dining table. “Spread your legs, princess,” he croaked, licking his lips as his eyes practically devoured your entire being.
“No,” you replied, challenging him and pressing your thighs together to avoid him from doing anything to you . He turned his head to the side, the corner of his lips lifting into a half-smile and with one shift of his strong hands your legs were pulled apart. He lowered his head and licked your bare pussy. That single action made you close your eyes and throw your head back.
He made a grunting sound before he put his thumb on your clit massaging and palming it. Your breaths became quicker and your eyelids started to get heavy. “Eyes on me,” Rafe’s firm voice floated through your haze and made you quickly snap your eyes open and look at him. You would usually put up more of a fight but you were too into the sensation that even if you tried saying anything it would come out as gibberish.
His mouth mapped every bit of your inner thigh, marking and branding you his. His mouth then moved onto your clit, sucking and biting it. While he was busy assaulting your clit, two of his fingers thrust, hard, inside your cunt. His fingers worked professionally as if you were a canvas and he were the artist, painting a masterpiece for the world to see.
He was continually hitting the right spot, again and again. Your hips jerked from the force building in your core just one more stroke, lick and bite and you would come undone. As soon as you were close to the edge, so close, he withdrew his fingers and mouth. You made the most guttural noise known to mankind and glared at him for denying you an orgasm.
He simply smirked and removed his pants and boxers, freeing his big cock. His pre-cum dripped from his tip and he was hard. You looked at him to find him already looking at you, his dick positioned right in front of your pussy. One hard thrust got you screaming his name. He held you by the throat and brought you closer to him so now your face was closer to his chest. He leaned down, his voice breathless, “Look at us princess, our bodies were made for each other. You are mine to fuck, mine to see and mine to taste. No one gets to touch what’s mine.” As he said the last words, his grip on your throat tightened. His words made your skin heat with lust. You grabbed his hair in your hands and crashed your lips to his. This encouraged him to pick his pace up and he fucked you raw. The only sound that echoed the room was your skin slapping against his. His thumb massaged your clit and his cock hit the right spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Ra-rafe…ah!” you screamed out as you came apart. Your eyes shut taking in the feeling of total bliss. He came right after you with a grunt and you could practically feel his warm cum leaking out and dripping down your thigh. You let out a sigh and laid back down the dining table. You were exhausted from the night's activities and as soon as you were coming down your high Rafe lifted you up and hauled you over his shoulder. You yelped in surprise.
“Rafe put me the fuck down!” you exclaimed. He took up the stairs and set you down on the bed. His eyes roaming all around your body, from your hair to your legs. You were sure you were a mess with your hair strands falling all over the place and your cheeks flushed.
His eyes came back to yours and he replied, “I’m not done yet.” His hoarse and commanding voice set a jolt of electricity straight to your core
#outer banks#outer banks fic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#obx#:☆ﾟmay writes
258 notes
·
View notes
Text
mercury notes
trauma through mercury signs 🥀
warning - content may be triggering, following are not absolute facts take them with a grain of salt. And please reach out to your loved ones and take care of yourself.
〰 aries mercury
they probably had a childhood were they didn't feel heard enough so growing up they learned to communicate by being loud and as quickly as possible or either learned to kept it all in. Someone older or leader of the family may have controlled them in their childhood, could be a teacher as well. probably grew up in a family where yelling was normal.
〰 taurus mercury
they had to learn to adjust a lot, they were probably the 2nd choice growing up. they learned whom to trust and whom not to at a very young age. they could've went through an experience where someone close to them broke their trust and hence they learned not to share too much of them to others.
〰 gemini mercury
gemini mercury was the odd one of the family who had to learn how to deal with their parents (parents could have different style of communication or either were ignorant towards the child or busy). They learned to entertain themselves at a young age through gaining knowledge this may also happen due to them wanting to be interesting enough so that their parents would spend time with them. can be prone to oversharing or not sharing at all.
〰 cancer mercury
cancer mercury tend to hold on their feelings until it is impossible to do so anymore and if they ever try to communicate and the other person does not recognises it, it could be hard for them to do share their feeling with that person in the future. They may tend to get emotional or cry while talking about how they feel. they can hold grudges (if underdeveloped)
〰 virgo mercury
They were probably criticized as young kids for whatever they did resulting in them being so cautious as adults and sometimes manifested as anxiety or nervousness. Healing work can be really good for them.
〰 leo mercury
as kids they may have gotten to much attention or no attention at all resulting them to learn to take charge of the situation as adults. They learned to create boundaries to protect themselves and learned to be as straight forward as possible. some can be people pleasers is underdeveloped.
〰 libra mercury
they probably were criticized or made fun of as kids resulting in them having some kind of insecurity. they likely put a facade around people and act as if everything is fine. they tend to flourish into very reliable people later in their lives.
〰 scorpio mercury
went through a lot as a kid. learned to shut their feelings and isolate. didn't know how to stand up for themselves and all this comes with them even in adulthood. they tend to not trust people's words easily as they have had experiences where there trust was shattered. self love is key.
〰 sagittarius mercury
they felt better at school than at home. probably were pretty know in their school for their humour and smartness. they learned to push away their feelings and to avoid them and rather focus on other things. they probably were the kids making dark jokes about how messed up their life is.
〰 capricorn mercury
they had quite practical parents who taught them things like work and practical skills at a young age. they were told that they must be able to take care of themselves. they learned to communicate in an assertive manner and had good values as kids. their parents weren't that affectionate and could be strict, creating fear around the child of not wanting to disappoint them.
〰 aquarius mercury
they were the kids who either barely talked as kids or were nervous to talk or let their thoughts be heard maybe because when they tried to share their thoughts they were either laughed at or judged. they were called the alien or odd ones of the group. very eccentric people honestly.
〰 pisces mercury
they had difficulty understanding people so they learned to give half answers or vague answers as they didn't want to come off as dumb or wrong in front of others. They probably were the kids who weren't able to stand up for themselves during fights. They may have trouble conveying what they are feeling in the moment.
this post was created by @carmelcoco on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits
#astroblr#astrology#astro community#astro notes#astro observations#mercury#mercury signs#aries mercury#taurus mercury#gemini mercury#cancer mercury#virgo mercury#leo mercury#libra mercury#scorpio mercury#aquarius mercury#capricorn mercury#pisces mercury#sagittarius mercury#natal chart observations#natal chart analysis#natal chart#mercury observation#Spotify
263 notes
·
View notes
Note
🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air
could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼
happy 3k again my love!!
twin flames
pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.
a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!
wc: 1.1k
warning(s): all fluff
“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?”
“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged.
“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?”
The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud.
“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.”
“Is that true?”
Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours.
“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.”
You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.”
Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.”
That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?”
He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.”
“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.”
His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him.
“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?”
Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?”
“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”
“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.”
“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.”
At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour.
“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?”
“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.”
“A twin flame?”
“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.”
“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.”
Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?”
“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.”
Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment.
“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.”
“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer.
You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?”
“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.”
You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing.
“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.”
“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.”
“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”
“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?”
You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.”
“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.”
“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.”
Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough.
“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.”
“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?”
Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.”
#realized it has been TOO Olong since ive written so i finished this real quick before work lol enjoy#sadie's 3k celebration#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict x reader#bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton fic#benedict bridgerton fluff#bridgerton fic#bridgerton fluff#sadie writes
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
Devotion 🖤
III. Path to the Future (Ch 9)
CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader
Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?
Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.
*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*
PREVIOUS
III. Path to the Future
CH 9 (6k)
“She left.”
The words ring in his ears, drowning out the cacophony of multiple things happening all at once. He’s trying to throw a jacket and shoes on while Tess is grabbing at him and begging him to wait until first light. He’s grabbing at Danny and demanding to know everything while Diego wails, apologizing that they didn’t look after you enough. The noise brings the other women downstairs and they all shout over each other, some arguing Joel should wait for a search party to be formed and some saying they’ll go with him and should leave right now.
In the end, Joel acquiesces to Tess, not wanting to ignore her heartfelt pleading after the hours they just spent commiserating together. He waits until first light to leave with Danny, Diego, and Sasha in tow. He orders Danny and Diego to ride their mounts to the east and west, climbing opposite peaks on either side of the valley to look for any sign of you. He sends Sasha north along the valley to look for the same and orders everyone to send up smoke signals if they see anything and to meet back at the house no later than sundown. But he knows all of those efforts will be fruitless.
He already knows that you wouldn’t bother coming back through the town when your goal was clearly to get as far away from him as possible. You would have left the farm and continued south, which is the direction he goes. As Sasha stuffs snacks and canteens in everyone’s packs before they split up, she repeats Joel’s words back to him several times, meet back here by sundown, but by the look on her face she already knows what he does, that he won’t be back until he’s found you.
---
Joel watched for smoke signals behind him all day until the sun began to sink below the treeline, making it impossible for him to see anything short of flares, which he knew they didn’t have. He figured he’d be the first one to see signs of you anyways, which he did eventually. The next town south in the valley was about a four hour walk and while he knew you’d probably never been through there, it was well picked over by his people and had been free of infected every time he’d been there.
He thought you’d be cautious and avoid the town, his hunch confirmed when he made his way up the gentle slope just north of the town and saw the footprints you’d left. The spring sun had melted the snow and left the ground muddy, and when you’d come through here late last night you most likely hadn’t even thought about covering your tracks. But now he knows he chose the right direction, and he pushes forward along the ridge, following the breadcrumbs you unknowingly left for him.
Joel follows your tracks along the river - just beside the interstate - noticing you keep to the treeline instead of traveling along the roadway, which has better footing but would leave you exposed. You also head east, which is the opposite direction of the bigger mountain range and also away from the state’s most populated city. You’re avoiding overexertion and big-cities. Maybe you do have some survival instincts after all.
He nearly loses your tracks mid-afternoon when you veer away from the river at another city but takes a gamble and catches signs of you again along the road leading towards the New Hampshire border. You’re not looking for populated areas here, there isn’t even any evidence you’ve stopped anywhere along the way. He assumes you’ve already got a destination in mind and are focused on heading there.
Long after sunset Joel finally decides to find a place to lie down for a while. He lays there in the dark and tries not to think about how worried Tess must be since he never came back, or how you’re somewhere out here too - all alone in the cold darkness. He knows this is all his fuckin’ fault. What a mess he’s made. He actually convinced himself that he was helping people, that he was saving them. He let himself believe them when they told him what a good man he was, a protector and a provider.
He falls into a fitful sleep and when he awakes a short time later he decides to forgo any further attempts at rest and continue on your trail. He hopes you spent more time with your eyes closed than he did and he can make up some ground on the head start you got. He follows your winding trail along the woods’ edge, through overgrown fields, around a quarry, and over creeks, all avoiding any majorly populated areas.
The only time you leave yourself exposed is through an hours-long stretch going through a wooded valley, where walking the roadway is your solitary option to avoid climbing up and down the rocky hills on either side of the pavement. By his calculations you probably traveled this section last night while he attempted sleep, which would have made your trek along the road a more protected position than he is currently in, trudging though the early morning hours and into the rising sun.
He hikes on through the morning, thinking over and over in his head what he’ll say to you when he finds you, and eats the last of his packed food around noon. He knows he can refill his canteen in the river just ahead, which creates the border of Vermont and New Hampshire. He also knows there’s a major city if he continues on his path and knows that’s the reason your tracks start to head south into what his map tells him is a wide forest.
This might be good he thinks, since he’s been hiking for nearly 30 hours and only slept a handful of them. He knows he could use a shady and secure place to take a nap. He waits until he’s about an hour’s hike from the last farm he passed before he walks off the trail to find somewhere to rest. Keeping the road just in sight, he walks straight through the woods and over a brook, finding a soft collection of last autumn's fallen leaves on which to rest his head. With the bird songs in his ear and the soft rustle of trees above him, sleep quickly overtakes him.
He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs.
He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.
Before he can get up from his sleeping position he hears quick footsteps behind him and a blunt crack to the back of his head, the pain radiating across his skull. He slumps forward and groans in pain, his hands loosening around his gun. He hears footsteps move around the front of him and feels his rifle being snatched out of his slackened grasp. A foot kicks at his torso and he groans again.
“He’s not out, you gotta hit him again,” he hears you say above him.
No, it can’t be you. There’s no way.
“I’m not getting near him again, you said he was dangerous,” he hears a male voice behind him say.
You’re goddamn right he’s dangerous, and as soon as his head stops pounding he’s going to-
A second thump, this time on the side of his head, is the last thing he feels before everything goes black.
---
Joel doesn’t gain consciousness quickly, like coming up for air after being underwater. Instead it comes back in waves, just a few words here and there, a musty smell, the familiar sound of your voice, the beam of a flashlight hitting his eyelids. He’s trying to make sense of it but it’s all jumbled up and he’s not sure how to put the pieces together. He tries to sort out his thoughts bit by bit, every time he’s conscious he tries to figure one thing out and hold it in his mind, to remember it before he passes out again.
He knows he’s in a chair, he can hear murmured echos so he imagines the room is large, but the soft sounds of crickets outside tell him there's at least one window nearby. He knows he’s tied up, he can feel bindings wrapped around him and his arms are pinned behind his back. He knows he’s been relieved of his guns, the usual weights at his hip and ankle not present. When he’s finally able to stay awake for long enough to string a coherent thought together, he decides to open one eye for a peek at his surroundings.
He’s in a very large and long room - wooden tables and chairs scattered around - creating a maze of objects between him and five figures standing on the opposite end of the room. It’s dark - he’s been out for a while - and he can’t make out their faces or their conversations but he can see that two are tall and three are shorter. He thinks at least one of them is a woman. Could it be you? He thought he’d heard your voice.
Unable to hear any actual words amidst the murmur of conversation, Joel looks around again, trying not to move his head so he still appears unconscious. Divided windows line both sides of the building, moonlight pouring in from what he imagines is the south side and reflecting off the stark white rafters above him. He takes in the amount of chairs and tables in front of him and although he can’t turn his head, he would wager money there’s a kitchen behind him. If he had to guess where he was he’d say this was probably an old summer camp’s dining hall, the craftsman style construction pointing to a mid-century build.
He hears shuffling and sees two of the figures crossing the room towards him so he shuts his eyes and pretends to be unconscious again. Around tables and chairs he hears their soft footsteps, he’s still out muttered by a deep, gruff voice. He hears the footsteps stop just in front of him and feels a couple pokes to his chest. He does his best to play possum until he hears your voice - definitely your voice - shouting from across the room.
“You better make sure you double check him for weapons.”
“You already told us that three fuckin’ times,” a nasally voice with a southern twang shouts back.
A different, deeper voice says to quit hollerin’, then there’s a short back and forth between the two men in front of him filled with curse words while he hears stomping feet making their way over from the other side of the room. He hears your voice again but this time all three of you are cussing in hissed whispers, the most prominent phrase being fuck you, and he can’t take it anymore. He lifts his head up and stares right into your eyes.
“Oh fuck,” a tall asshole with the deep voice says, raising a pistol in front of him aimed right at Joel’s face.
“I told you,” you say.
Even in the dark Joel can see purple bruising around your left eye and a split in your lip, still oozing wetness. That’s a fresh wound.
“Shut up, whore,” a nasally twat that might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet barks at you.
Okay, Joel thinks, he’s gonna snap this rude twig in half first for talking to you like that. Did he give you those marks on your face?
“Quit fuckin’ callin’ her that,” the tall one elbows the twig and then pulls you into his grasp.
He watches you break eye contact with him as you wrap your arms around the giant’s middle - seriously, this guy must be nearly seven feet tall - burying your face in the center of his torso. He hears your muffled voice say I told you he’d come for me into his dirty sweatshirt as his free hand moves down your side and squeezes your hip. Change of plans. The big fucker dies first.
The other two people make their way across the room as String Bean grabs a knife off his hip, which Joel recognizes as the knife he put on his own hip when he left the house yesterday morning. He watches this idiot flick it around in front of him like some kind of hillbilly ninja, the knife glinting in the moonlight. It’s pathetic but it’s the only thing keeping him from boring holes into the back of your head as you remain clutched to that big oaf like a goddamn koala bear. He subtly tests the ropes used to tie him to the chair.
The two that join the group are a chubby guy maybe five and half feet tall, and a girl just a bit shorter than him, both of whom look to be teenagers. The tall one tucks the gun into his waistband and they all engage in a terrible exercise of whispering, pointing back and forth. Joel knows he’s half-deaf in one ear but they know they’re talking about him right in front of him, right? From what he can surmise, the two younger ones are a couple, and the girl’s big brother is the tall guy you’re climbing like a tree. He’s not sure how the scrawny one fits into the equation or how you got mixed up in this. Do you know these people?
“So are we gonna get rid of him, or what?” Skinny asks.
“That’s not part of the plan,” you snap, pointing your finger in his face.
Joel watches him slap your finger away and then get pushed by the big guy before all of you devolve into loud whispers again, cursing and hissing. This is getting very old very quickly. He tests the ropes again, flexing his arms and chest against them. He’s tied pretty tight with more than one length of rope. Jesus, what did you tell them, that he was Houdini? The bickering still hasn’t stopped so Joel clears his throat and the noise finally ceases, everyone turning to stare at him. Except you. You won’t meet his eyes.
Just like old times.
“You ready to get the fuck outta here, baby?” he says, looking right at you.
He watches everyone else’s face swivel to look at you. You tilt your head slightly and meet his eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole,” you twist your last word like a knife into his gut.
He watches Big Guy snake his arms around your middle from behind, drawing you back to his chest. Who the fuck does this jerkoff think he is putting his hands on you? And why don’t you seem to mind? Skinny points at Joel and starts to get mouthy but Big Guy lets you go and drags Skinny and Chubby away from the group and behind Joel, leaving you and the girl alone in front of him. He figures this is as good an opportunity as ever.
“PJ, I’m sorry-”
“Fuckin’ save it, Joel,” you hiss.
“Seriously though, what are we gonna do now?” Girl asks you, side-eyeing him.
“What do you mean? This doesn’t change the plan at all,” you say with confidence.
“You said he’d kill us,” Girl whispers loudly.
He watches your face as you pull her away from him but you don’t look back to meet his eyes. Your face is passive, giving nothing away. You told these people he would kill them? Why would you say that? You’ve never seen him kill anyone. You’ve probably never even heard about the terrible things he’s done. Of course he’s killed people, but so has everyone. He thinks you might have even had to do your fair share to survive. But why would you tell these people he’s a killer?
All three boys come around from behind Joel, Skinny stomping around with a large folded up paper in his hand. He shoves it in Joel’s face and points to it forcefully.
“Show us where you came from,” Skinny says.
Joel sees the paper is the map of the state of Vermont he’d been traveling with. Luckily nothing on it is marked, so there’s no indication where the Valley might be.
“He’s not gonna-” you start.
“Slut,” Skinny snarls. “You really need to learn when to shut the fuck up.”
“No she’s right,” Joel says, drawing Skinny’s attention back to him. “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”
Skinny opens his mouth to protest but you speak first.
“I told you I know how to get there, we don’t need a map,” you sigh.
“I don’t fuckin’ trust you!” Skinny whines, turning around to throw a mock punch in your face. You wince.
“You need to calm down,” Big Guy hums at his rageful companion, pulling you towards him again and away from Skinny’s reach. “She told us she���d get us there and it’s in her best interest not to fuck us over.”
Joel doesn’t miss the way Big Guy’s hand tightens around your arm when he says it’s in your best interest to cooperate.
“We been on the road for nearly two fuckin’ weeks and I’m gonna be real fuckin’ pissed if this little whore is jerkin’ us around,” Skinny hisses.
“I’m not,” you say, looking up at Big Guy.
“I hope not, ‘cause we’re really hungry,” Girl says.
“Yeah,” Chubby agrees.
“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Skinny snaps, pointing a crooked finger in the girl’s face. “You ate your weight in pickles this morning. Besides, your fat ass could go another week without food.”
This time Big Guy has had enough. He yanks you to his left by your arm and steps towards Skinny, right arm pulled back and threatening a punch. Skinny jumps back, arms in front protecting his face and starts muttering apologies, saying he was just kidding, avoiding the punch Joel isn’t sure Big Guy even intended to throw. Maybe he’s more bark than he is bite. However, he thinks Skinny is exactly as much bite as he seems to be, no impulse control and a violent streak, and most likely the one who gave you those bruises. Joel can’t wait to kill these idiots and save you from them, then bring you back home where you belong.
“It’s late and it’s been a long day, we all need some rest if we’re gonna make the long trek tomorrow,” Big Guy says.
Joel thinks that it seems like Big Guy is the brains of this little operation, watching as he orders the young couple to sleep on the opposite side of the room where they can guard the doors. He tells Skinny to take first watch of Joel - who he refers to as the old guy - and then mumbles something to you about keeping you close before dragging you back into the kitchen behind Joel’s back.
---
It’s a muffled sound Joel hears at first but he’d know it anywhere, your soft sighs. He never thought when he heard you making those sounds again that he’d be so fucking pissed off. What is that fucker doing to you? He tests the ropes a third time, wishing he could reach into the back of his pants where he keeps a second knife tucked away, a small one clipped to his boxers for emergencies. Emergencies like this.
Skinny sits in a chair just across from Joel, about five feet away, watching him with a shit-eating grin on his face. If this idiot closes his eyes for a few minutes Joel thinks he can try and go for his knife. He’d be able to cut his bindings and start eliminating these morons one-by-one. But Skinny hasn’t closed his eyes. And you’re behind him with Big Guy right now, making gentle moaning noises. He needs to get free now.
“Ya hear that?” Skinny asks, smiling. Joel doesn’t answer. “He’s gonna dick your girl down real good.”
Joel feels his face heat, his ears burning while he clenches his teeth to avoid letting go of the growl that wants to escape his throat.
“She told us all about you, ya know?” Skinny sneers.
“Oh, did she?” Joel scoffs.
“She sure did,” He whistles. “She sang quite the song. Said you have the biggest stockpile of shit she’s ever seen, and you have all these fuckin’ people doin’ your bidding.”
Joel tries not to let surprise paint his features. You little shit. You told this jerkoff about the town, about all the food and supplies, about him and his flock? What did he do to you to make you confess all that? It’s fine, he’ll just play dumb, convince him you lied.
“That sounds pretty nice,” Joel muses, nodding his head slowly.
“Yeah, that’s what we thought,” Skinny laughs.
“Almost sounds too good to be true.”
“Does it?”
“Come on kid, it’s been ten years since the fuckin’ world ended,” Joel drawls, a smile on his face. “No one is livin’ like that. We’re all just scrounging for our next meal.”
“Yeah… she said you’d say that.”
“One thing you should know about her?” Joel’s smile disappears. “She’s a lying little bitch.”
“Well she’s certainly a bitch,” Skinny huffs. “...’cept I’m starting to think maybe she ain’t lyin’. She told us you’d follow her, and you did.”
“Oh? What else did she say?”
“She told us you’d have a hidden gun on your ankle, and you did.”
“Interesting,” Joel hums, the reminder that they took all his guns creating a renewed anger at his current situation.
“And she told us you’d lie your ass off to keep us from raiding your shit,” Skinny laughs. “And here you are, tryin’ to lie to me.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her,” Joel mocks.
“I trust you even less, old man.”
Joel settles back in his chair, flexing to test the bindings again as he hears wet noises coming from behind him. He hears a low grunting, what he assumes to be that tall fucker getting off with his fucking woman. He lets the growl rumble in his chest now, hoping it’ll drown out the sounds behind him and quell his murderous rage. Skinny makes a grating noise that could be a laugh. Joel stares at a dark knot in the hardwood floor and imagines wrapping his hands around Skinny’s stick neck.
“Sounds like yer girl isn’t yer girl anymore, don’t it?”
---
12 hours earlier…
You knew that you’d been hiking for over a day, although there was no real way for you to keep time. You left the farm at sunset and now the sun was rising on your second day. You tried to do a lot of your walking at night, pushing aside the childlike notion that the dark was scary while also trying to ignore the very real threat of actual monsters. Scary as it was, you knew that logically, you would at least hear clickers coming. It's more dangerous to be quietly stalked if seen by humans in the daylight. Still, you kept to the trees for most of your trek and even climbed one for a quick nap the first afternoon.
You weren’t sure if anyone was after you but figured there was a pretty good chance Joel would send out a search party once he heard, so keeping a steady pace and stopping as infrequently as possible were your main priorities. You thought you would outsmart him by heading away from the populated areas or outrun him by walking almost non-stop until you hit the ocean. You didn’t risk stealing a map from Hank’s shelves but you stared at it for long enough to memorize the route numbers you’d need to take, even making up a song to fit them into so they’d stick in your mind.
So now you were just next to Highway ninety one, which - according to your rhyming song - takes you south to Lebanon. You spot the sun shining off ripples of water through a brief clearing in the trees and decide to fill your canteen away from the more exposed river, heading to what ends up being a serene lake surrounded by a thick forest. It’s gorgeous here. The sun is shining and keeping you warmer than the crisp spring air would otherwise allow. The landscape glows green, finally coming back to life after a long winter.
This place reminds you of the lake you’d swam in during the summer camp you went to five years in a row as a child. Grab a swimming buddy, plug your nose, and jump in. God, you were fearless in those days. It's too cold to swim now but you wouldn’t anyways, not all by yourself. You walk the perimeter until you find a dock that will take you far enough away from shore to get some clear water without vegetation mixed in. Not that eating a little grass would kill you, but you’d prefer your water to just be water and not a salad.
God, you could go for a salad right now. Rosie made the best salads with a homemade vinaigrette that rivaled any dressing you’d had before the world ended. Why were you thinking of that now, of Joel’s house? You shouldn’t be thinking of that. Or of him. Fuck him. You were far away from him now, having finally escaped. You were staring out over the gentle ripples of a beautiful lake on a peaceful morning all alone. Enjoy this moment, you earned it, you tell yourself. You stand up and twist the lid closed on your canteen, stuff it into your pack and turn around.
Only you’re not alone.
There is a man at the end of the dock blocking your path.
Shit.
The fear starts to grip you, its icy tendrils shooting up your limbs and threatening to seize your rapidly beating heart in its grasp. No, you can’t freeze now, you have to keep your wits about you, you have to get yourself out of this situation. Making mental calculations as quickly as you can, you take off running down the old wooden dock, towards the shore, towards him.
Surprised by your sudden movement, the man takes a couple steps forwards on the dock, planning to take up even more space on your path. A few more steps and you’re within spitting distance from him. You see his arms come out in front of him to grab you. You quickly turn and leap off the dock, landing in the shallow water by the shore several feet away. You use your paltry headstart to your advantage and take off running along the shore.
You turn your head to look back and you see him, stumbling over his own long legs, having tripped and fallen into the shallow water. Relief bubbles up inside you like a percolating kettle, warming your insides and making you feel almost buoyant. You’re still looking backwards which is why you don’t see the six-foot-plus wall of man in front of you. Not until you smash into him and turn your head back, finding that his chest fills your entire field of vision. The pungent smell of his body odor stings your nose, nausea washing over you.
He twists you around so your back is to his chest and two anaconda arms wrap around your torso, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You see the other man coming closer, soaking wet but laughing his fuckin’ head off, a mouth half-full of crooked, rotting teeth. He’s more of a boy than a man, now that you can see him closer. Probably early 20’s and around six feet tall. With his clothes soaking wet you can see how skinny he is, hardly any meat on his lanky frame. A nasal twang comes out of his voice between sputters and chuckles.
“You- You thought you were real slick back there, didn’t ya, bitch?”
“She gave you the fuckin’ slip, Roy,” a deep voice huffs above your head. “She woulda gotten away if I wasn’t here.”
“Whatever,” Roy mutters. “Shut up.”
---
You were practically carried around the lake until you arrived at an old summer camp, a worn wooden sign calling “Aloha” to its campers. Pulled inside a small white building, you’re tied to a chair by Roy - still dripping wet - in what looks like a space once used for arts and crafts. You see the really tall smelly guy and two shorter kids - one boy and one girl - going through your backpack, pulling out the food you’d stolen from the Mansfield’s root cellar. They’ve already eaten half of a jar of pickles by the time the ropes are secured around you tightly.
Roy strips off his wet coat and joins the group, prying open a container of applesauce and greedily drinking it straight from the mouth of the jar. You hear the girl offer the tall guy a wrapped up parcel and she calls him Mike. You watch Mike open your package of homemade smoked jerky that you were saving for later on your trip and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He looks over at you, catching you watching them, and holds it up above everyone’s heads.
“Where’d you get this?” he asks.
“I found it,” you whisper, your voice hoarse due to your too-tight restraints.
You don’t even have time to process the fist that Roy throws at your face until after it lands. You feel his knuckles hit the edge of your left orbital bone and slide into your eyeball, sharp pain shooting around your skull and straight back through your eye. You cry out and tears spring to your eyes, pouring even harder out of your left eye, which you can’t open. Your chest tries to heave with sobs as you hiccup, struggling to take deep breaths against the bindings. You hear Roy’s piercing voice over you.
“...so stop lying if you don’t want another one,” he finishes, flecks of applesauce flying out of his mouth to hit your face.
“I- I ca-, I can’t-,” you feel a tightness in your chest and you worry you’re going to start panicking, the blinding pain and the reality of your current situation hitting you simultaneously. This is bad. You’re sputtering. “I c- can’t b- b- breathe.”
Roy completely ignores your tears and your pleading, tipping the applesauce jar to his face and drinking down more of it.
Pain spreads across your chest like a white hot heat, quickly becoming all you can think about, even pushing the throbbing in your eye to the back of your mind. You continue to gasp and choke, breathlessly begging anyone who’ll listen, but unable to focus on any faces. It feels like your body is being crushed, like you’ve been buried alive, every breath you can’t take in fully is another bucket of dirt thrown on top of you. The bindings across your chest seem to get tighter and tighter, the ringing in your ears growing louder.
Finally relief is delivered when you realize the young girl is at your side, her hand on your shoulder and a knife in her hand. The pressure is gone. She’s cut the ropes away from you, leaving you to take the deep lungfuls of the air you need to calm yourself down.
She pats your shoulder to reassure you before Roy - realizing what she’s done - drops the jar of applesauce to the floor. Ignoring the shatter of the glass jar and the splatter of the rest of the applesauce all over the floor, Roy grabs her by her hair, causing her to yelp in pain. He begins to scream in her face, calling her every name in the book before a massive hand is pushing a pistol into his temple. The tall guy, Mike, shoves the gun so forcefully into Roy’s head that it pushes him to the side, away from the girl. He lets go of her and stumbles back a few feet.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on my fucking sister,” Mike says.
Sister? This is good. This is very good. If Mike is willing to protect his sister from Roy then he could be willing to protect you too. You watch the girl run to the third young man’s arms, his face still covered in baby fat. You watch as he kisses her cheeks, petting her hair and telling her everything is okay as tears spring from her eyes. Once Roy has calmed down Mike lowers the gun, uncocking the hammer, and looks to you. He raises his other hand, still holding the package of jerky.
“Where’d you get this?” he asks again.
You look around, surveying the faces of his companions, each of them looking at you expectantly. They look weary. They look hungry. Looking in Mike’s eyes last, you see his deep blue eyes under heavy lids looking at you. They look like kind eyes. His floppy haircut curls up at his ears, giving him a youthful appearance but you’d guess his age was close to thirty. He seems quiet. He seems safe. You hope you’re not fucking wrong about this one.
“I can take you there,” you squeak, sounding as meek as possible. “There’s a lot more where that came from. They’d let us stay as long as we wanted. We’d be safe there, well fed... I can help you.”
“He asked you where, cunt” Roy snaps as he moves forward, his rage restored.
“I know how to get there, it’s a day’s hike away from here. I can take-”
You feel a whoosh of air right before the crack of his bony palm hits your face. Unrestrained, you fly off the chair and land crumpled on the floor, barely catching yourself. Roy has slapped you. God, it fucking hurts. Roy steps up to you and bends over your folded frame, shouting obscenities down at you before he’s elbowed out of the way by Mike. He must have put down the jerky because he reaches out to you with both hands, practically picking you up off the floor like a child. Instinctively you grab onto his arms and once on your feet, wrap yourself around him, drawing your face into his chest.
Ignoring the pungent smell wafting off him, you lick at the wetness on your face, salty tears and metallic blood. Blood? Fuck, your lip is throbbing. You touch your tongue to your lip and the source seems to be a split in your bottom lip. That fucker has hit you twice now. You wish he’d fucking choked on that applesauce he guzzled down like he owned it. You cling to Mike even after you’ve calmed down, raising your eyes to meet his, hoping your gamble pays off.
“If you help me, Mike, I can help you,” you whisper - just loud enough so only he can hear you.
His ocean eyes scan your face, no doubt looking for hints of deception. It’s hard to trust others in this world, you know that better than anyone. He looks for long enough that you hear Roy call out ‘what’s she sayin’?’ over his shoulder. He looks back at Roy, then over to his sister, and then back at you. He nods his head.
🖤
NEXT
I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you so much to my bestie Bug for helping me edit this. ILYSM.
🚨GOING FORWARD I WILL NOT BE USING TAG LISTS - THEY DON'T EVEN WORK HALF THE TIME. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON NOTIFS FOR @nox-notifs AS I WILL POST *FIC UPDATES ONLY* THERE.🚨
TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @blvckmvgicwoman
#devotion series#cult leader joel miller#noxturnalpascal#ofc!reader#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 8b: Last Night
From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series
Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader
Summary: It’s Bucky’s last night on your farm
Word count: 2,645
Content/warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, p in v protected sex, crying during sex (well technically after), dry humping, vaginal fingering, sweet soft intimacy, kissing
Author’s Note: This could probably be read as a stand-alone, but I’ll catch you up in case you feel confused. Bucky made a business deal to work on your farm for a month. This is the last afternoon/night of that after spending all that time side-by-side. If you’re interested in the series, you can catch up with the link below or check out the rest of the Outta Nowhere AU
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >
On the final Saturday that Bucky was at the farm, the two of you practically stayed pressed together. It’s not as if you were unproductive, but you were glued at the hip, never leaving the office for too long without the other under the guise of tying up loose business ends before his departure. You knew once he was gone, he’d have to take all his burdens back off Steve, leaving him swamped with work, unable to pay you any more attention than he did his other associates.
With your efficiency and his inability to say no to you, all ‘work’ had been completed before noon. Sure, you could’ve dragged it out, but then you wouldn’t have had time to just enjoy each other’s presence like you had gotten used to. Before that could happen, though, you presented him with one last task.
Bucky sat on your oversized desk chair with you in between his legs. His chin was tucked over your shoulder as he rubbed up and down your thigh with his ringed hand. The cool metal gave you goosebumps on your bare skin, the nice weather allowing you to wear shorts and the lack of physical labor giving Bucky the opportunity to don his jewelry once again. You ignored the way your body shuddered at his touch, instead looking back at him over your shoulder with a smirk.
“Okay, cowboy. I think we’ve got your first few months of shipments all planned, so now onto my last order of business.”
He cocked his head to look at you with an amused, but tentative smile. “And what might that be?”
“Pull out a pen.” You stood up and shuffled the papers on your desk, looking for a blank one and setting it in front of him. You took a seat on the other side, not missing his slight pout and confusion as to why you moved so far and what was going on.
“Now that we’ve reached the end of the month, I want to assess what you’ve learned. I’m gonna shoot questions at you, and you write your answer so we can determine whether or not you actually took in information or just followed me around and mooched off my free meals.”
Bucky laughed when you shot him a wink and happily obliged you, a sparkle in his eyes, admiring the way you were demanding something of him with a sweet smile on your face, just like the first time you met. He gave a slight nod, pen at the ready. “Alright, sweet Honeybee. Hit me with it.”
You crossed your arms and legs, watching him as you rattled everything off you could think of, from super obvious things, like which animal lays eggs, to asking nearly impossible things, like the brand of feed given to the dairy cows. Bucky’s reactions to each question were a treat, some causing him to light up with knowledge, others making him roll his eyes at your specificity.
“Last question. This one’s worth a thousand points. Write something you think will impress me. Something out of the blue, whatever’s on your mind. Anything at all.”
Bucky sat there for a moment, tapping the cap of the pen against his bottom lip in thought. You watched his playful features morph into something serious, something soft, as he scribbled one line at the bottom of the paper.
‘I wish I could stay here longer.’
You leaned forward so could read his paper upside down, scanning the answers, each one surprisingly correct. Not a single one was off and he even put more information than you’d asked for on some of them. You were not only amazed with the way he indulged your ridiculous request, but with how this whole time, he had actually been listening and watching, holding onto every word and fulfilling his side of the deal.
As you looked up from the paper and into his eyes, you could feel the warmth through his gaze even that far apart. You stood up again and Bucky did the same, coming around to meet you. It was as if your bodies were magnetic, drawing you towards each other until his one hand was on your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist as yours perched on his hips.
His eyes shifted between yours and he closed his eyes, drawing his forehead against yours before he spoke against your lips. “I’m serious. I love every moment with you. And I’m sorry it’ll have to end.”
You swallowed and let your eyes flutter closed as you leaned into his touch and nodded. “I know. But I get that you have work to do and it was already a lot for me to request you being here for so long. But just…for right now, be with me. Enjoy what little time is left of this with me. Please.” It came out as a whisper, a plea for him to remain present while he still could. You opened your eyes and looked up through your lashes to see him searching for your gaze.
He whispered back, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Say the word and it’s yours. I’m yours. And I’ll be right there if you ever need anything. Whatever you want, Honey. And right now, I’m here with you. I only want to be… with you.”
Your eyes closed again and you nestled into his chest in satisfaction at the depth of his words. You knew he was saying he would be present, but it meant so much more. For him to make a promise like that, extending beyond just business, made you feel supported, protected, embraced.
He pulled you closer if that was even possible and pressed his lips to your hairline, then using his hand against your cheek, he pulled your head so you were both leaning back enough that your gazes met before he smashed his lips against yours. It was with purpose and a new sort of urgency that you hadn’t really experienced in the slower kisses and pecks you had shared. You began to walk backwards and Bucky followed, lips attached to yours in a near-lock as your tongues danced, not unlike your feet, performing similarly to the two-step you had taught him weeks before. Your hands slid up a down his chest and began to pop open the buttons of his flannel shirt as his ran under yours, feeling the softness of your belly and tracing upwards, raising the hem of your shirt as his callused fingertips sent a thrill through you.
The two of you removed your clothing piece by piece, discarding them carelessly as you crossed through the living room and waltzed carefully up the steps, grateful Peter was out of the house for the day and helping Curtis with the weekend chores.
Clad only in underwear, you grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards your room, falling down on the bed as he crawled over you. His lips met yours once again as you widened your legs, allowing his hips to grind on your core. Your gasp at the sensation allowed Bucky’s tongue to explore your mouth, swallowing down each other’s moans and drawing closer and closer. Bucky pulled away for a second to catch his breath, the both of you looking deeply into the other’s eyes and panting.
His fingers traced down your side to play with the hem of your cotton panties, and you nodded, wordlessly giving him the permission he needed to pull them down. Bucky groaned at the sight of the damp fabric as he dragged the material down your legs, kissing back up your body and stoping to lovingly lick and nip at your neck as you whined and writhed for some sort of friction again.
“Jamie, please.”
He smiled and sighed at the way you begged for his touch, not used to being the one in control of anything since he’d been here, and now holding your pleasure in his hands. His fingers reached down to find your clit, dipping towards your entrance first to gather your arousal before making slow, teasing circles on the sensitive button. His soft touch set your body on fire. It had been so long since you’d been this intimate with anyone, all of your focus on the farm, and the exhaustion after a long week, not to mention the hurt from Jake deterring you from the desire for a partner.
“I’m here, I’m with you, Honey. I’ve got you-give you whatever you want. Just wanna make you feel good.”
Sensing your sensitivity and deducing how long it had likely been for you, Bucky slowly slid his middle finger through your slit, his eyes never leaving your face. He didn’t want to miss a single second of the way you nearly crumbled under his touch. Your eyes were half-lidded in pleasure as your body lurched forward at his slow, gentle intrusion, accompanied by a moan. He drank in the view, more gorgeous than he imagined you could be, back bowing at his touch. Bucky added another finger and the sensation of the cool metal against the heat between your legs was almost too much to handle.
Your legs began to shake as he slowly coaxed in a third finger, his thumb gently strumming your clit, deft fingers stretching your entrance. The feeling was overwhelming and pushing you impossibly close to an edge you hadn’t experienced in years at the hands of another.
“Jamie, Jamie it’s so much. So good. I’m so close.” It came out between hiccuping gasps as you tucked your face into his neck, throwing your arms around his muscular back and legs around his waist, pinning his hand between your bodies. You were clinging to him with your whole being as you reached your peak with a keen, pussy clenching his fingers almost painfully, but Bucky didn’t mind. He would’ve let you break his arm to see and feel the way he was wringing pleasure from the distant corners of your body right now. He continued to slowly pump his fingers against your walls, bringing you down from your high.
You would’ve collapsed onto the bed if Bucky hadn’t had a firm arm behind you, holding you to his chest where you had curled into him, as you gasped for air. You were finally able to pull your face away and look into his eyes again, his burning with desire and yours hazy with post-orgasmic bliss.
“Do you, uh, do you have a-“ Bucky’s eager nod cut you off as he pressed another sloppy kiss against your lips before slinking back off the bed and walking towards his bag in the corner of the room.
“I think so. Let me check.” Bucky hadn’t expected anything like this to happen over this month, so he definitely didn’t have a condom prepared. Perhaps his emergency one was still in his wallet, but he honestly wasn’t sure. He was pleasantly surprised to find it easily, rolling it on and coming back on the bed towards you.
As he hovered over you, you ran your hands along the scruff on the sides of his cheeks before pulling him down for another kiss. You could feel the weight of his hard length resting against your lower stomach, reaching down to stroke him gently. Bucky tensed at the sensation with a groan, throwing his head toward your shoulder and taking the opportunity to kiss your neck and down your collarbone before making his plea.
“Ride me, Honey. Need to feel you.”
You bit your lip nodding, complying with his request and moving to sit up as Bucky laid down against your pillows, right next to where you had just been sprawled out. You shuffled on your knees to straddle his hips, grinding down and letting his cock run through your folds, slick in preparation for him. You reached a hand down to perch his tip at your entrance, basking in the groan he let out at the sight. You slowly lowered yourself, the broad tip pushing your walls outward, pressure causing you to sharply gasp when he passed the threshold of your tight hole.
Your thigh muscles strained as you attempted to slowly but steadily lower yourself on his length, hyper aware of the delicious stretch of his thick cock inside you. The two of you sighed in relief as you bottomed out, nails gripping tightly into Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky held your hips as you adjusted to him, careful to not squeeze too hard from every time your tightness choked his dick. He fought the urge to throw his head back against the headboard, wanting to keep his eyes on you and where your bodies were connected. The sight of you splitting yourself open over him nearly made him come on the spot, but he tightened every muscle in his body again, trying to resist the urge. He only had one condom, after all, and he wanted to drag out this feeling for as long as possible.
He could see it on your face and feel your body start to relax as your nails gently scratched over his tattooed chest. You rocked your hips, testing the waters, and dragging a whine from both your lips. Your speed picked up, his hands continuing to guide you, finding a smooth rhythm that pulled moans, grunts, and gasps out of the two of you, until just like before, Bucky could feel you clenching again. He lowered his one hand, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tender circles, leading you both barreling towards a shared peak. Your hips stuttered and wavered with exhaustion, but Bucky continued guiding you with his firm, strong hand.
“C’mon Honey. You can do it. I can feel you’re close. Let go for me, sweet thing. Please. Come with me.” His voice was gruff, dripping with desire.
Your hands ran down the muscles of his torso and squeezed against his abs, nails digging in slightly. You used your last bit of energy to nod your head and urge him to help you along. Bucky planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting in tandem with the grind of your hips. You leaned down for a final kiss, wanting to be ever closer to him. As he gave into the gesture, it felt like everything hit you at once along with your shared orgasm: the sweet, tender moment, the reverence and respect he was treating you with throughout, and the fact that you didn’t know if it would ever happen again or if you’d see him after tomorrow.
Bucky came with a deep, but soft growl beneath you as he stroked your hair after you’d pulled away from his lips and tucked yourself into his neck again. He sat there, letting you cling to him for a second before he felt the unexpected wetness against his shoulder. Tears has started streaming down your face, and when Bucky caught a glimpse, his look was similar. Jaw clenched with water in his eyes.
The next morning, it was time for Bucky to go. The two of you had arranged it so you could have one last drive to the gas station together where you’d be meeting Gio.
Bucky convinced you to let him drive your truck for a final time, and you agreed, easily giving in to his request. He drove with the windows down, radio low on the dash, and one hand on the wheel. The other rested on your thigh while you clutched the arm attached to it against your chest and rested your head on his shoulder. His cheek was pressed against the top of your head. Bucky’s callused thumb made small circles on your skin as the breeze blew through the cab, paired with the warm glow of the early morning light, sun shining on your time together like it always had.
Next >
Bonus A/N: All this writing and this is the first time I’ve done smut for Bucky. I hope you enjoyed, I’d love to hear what you thought from a comment, reblog, or ask!!!
Series Taglist: @mrsnikstan @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22
#bucky barnes#bucky Barnes x reader#bucky Barnes x you#bucky Barnes fanfiction#bucky Barnes smut#outta nowhere au#you catch more bees with honey series#outta nowhere#mob Bucky#mob Bucky smut#bucky Barnes x reader smut#mob Bucky x farmer reader#mob! bucky x farmer! reader#you catch more bees with honey#mafia Bucky#mafia Bucky x reader#mafia Bucky smut#farmer#farmer reader#Bucky Barnes fluff#soft!mob Bucky#fluff#Bucky fluff#mafia Bucky fluff
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
nuts. (m) | knj
title: nuts. (m)
pairing: knj x reader(f)
rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; neighbors au , age-gap au (reader is 25, namjoon is 30); grad student au
summary: Your future is clear. Pass the LSAT. Go to SNU law school. Become a prosecutor, and be successful. At least, that’s what your mother wants. But when you fail the LSAT, you have to come to terms with the fact that your mother’s wishes might not line up with your own. Out sulking in the rain after an explosive argument, help comes in the form of your sex-crazed neighbor, Kim Namjoon - the very man who’s constant moaning and fucking from next door is the reason why you became so distracted from studying!
And since it’s his fault things have resulted this way, it’s only fair that he take responsibility, right?
note: heavily inspired by the first 4 chapter of the korean webtoon "where the heart is" - 가족이 되어주라 , with minor dialogue and event changes
note 2: this is pretty unedited lmao.... so if there are mistakes i'm so sorry.
warnings: language, reader is stressed, best friend! taehyung, dialogue heavy, namjoon is cold, very much rpwp joon, joon is half naked a lot, dilf joon, slight angst, a little too relatable to a mid life crisis, a little bit of drinking, kinda rough s*x, CONSENSUAL protected s*x, cunn*lingus, finger*ng, attempted blowj*b, b*ckshots, joon is too smooth, RIDING, n*pple play, french kissing, did i mention this is her FIRST TIME, yeah and first kiss, namjoon is vague about his living situation?
drop date: May 28th, 2023, 1:00pm pst
word count: 6.9k
crossposted on ao3 here
—
“Remember, you’re the one that asked me to show you.” Namjoon’s voice is a low, steady rumble, his breath hot against your ear as he pins you down on his bed, his strong hands gripping your wrists.
If you could, you’d give anything to return to that moment. And you really mean anything.
On that extremely rainy day, when your neighbor approached you, trudging through the downpour.
That unforgettable day was the first time you had sex.
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚
You pace around your bedroom, frustration bubbling up inside you. The muffled moaning, thumping and groaning coming from the other side of your wall are impossible to ignore. You’re so done! You try to distract yourself, playing some lofi beats softly in the background but no, the noise is relentless, making it hard to focus on anything else.
How are you going to manage to pass your exam to get into law school if all you can hear is the fucking from next door? You need to get into law school and if you don’t, your mom is going to kill you.
With a huff, you throw yourself onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you unlock it and open the KakaoTalk app. You scroll through your contacts until you find Kim Taehyung, your best friend. If there's anyone who can offer some comfort or at least a distraction, it's him.
You begin typing furiously, your thumbs flying over the keyboard as you pour out your endless complaints and rants.
But all of a sudden, there’s a quietness. Huh? What’s going on? Why did the sounds suddenly stop?
You get up and lean your head against the wall, hearing a murmuring from people on the other side. You try to make out the words.
Turn… Around…?
Wait. Turn Around?! Your face flushes in embarrassment from hearing these words and thinking about the implications of them.
The ding of a new text from Taehyung yanks you out of the depths of your mind and you yell, dropping your phone on your bed.
A few seconds later, your mom opens the door to your bedroom. “Y/N, I brought you some snacks...”
“Mom!” You yell this time, startled by her sudden appearance and taking a deep breathe. “You… scared me.”
“Why are you so jumpy? Don’t tell me you’re looking at something weird again.” She scowls at you.
You grab your phone, faking a phone call with Taehyung. “H-Hey, you don’t have to yell into the phone like that. You startled me Tae!” You can't have her getting suspicious or hearing the sounds from next door.
Her scowl deepens. “You were reading those gay japanese comics again, weren’t you?”
“No, of course not, I was talking to Taehyung..!” you whisper urgently, hoping to divert her attention.
That was one time! Months ago, might you add! You should’ve never left your phone face up while you went to pick up your package from the front door.
She doesn’t seem convinced by your excuse and sighs in exasperation.
You get up, head toward the front door of your apartment and slip on your slides. “Mom, I’m gonna step out for a bit and talk to Tae on the phone.”
“Be back in 30 minutes then,” she responds, her tone softening slightly.
You close the door behind you, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. That was close. If your mom ever found out you were eavesdropping on what the guy next door was doing, you'd never hear the end of it. You look at your phone again and check Taehyung's text.
You sigh, walking over to lean against the railing on the veranda, overlooking the city from the 4th floor.
The summer sun is bright and the heat is strong as it hits your skin. It’s been a while since you’ve had such a nice day. You’ve mostly been stuck inside studying. But despite not many people out and about, it’s so noisy. It’s all these cicadas.. And if you’re being completely honest, the noises from next door are nowhere near as loud as these damn cicadas. Your neighbors’ sounds are so faint that you have to press your head against the wall and yet, you’re the one who can’t stop eavesdropping on what’s happening next door.
You look at your phone again as you hear another text notification. You appreciate Tae trying to lighten up the situation, but you don’t want him to make too much of a fuss over it.
You begin to type a response: Nah, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll try to ignore the moaning…
Before your finger hits send, It's in this moment that you hear a creak from a door opening behind you. You instinctively turn to view the source of the sound.
And there he is.
It’s your neighbor, pulling up an unlit cigarette to his lips as he walks to stand against the veranda railing for a smoke break. He wears gray shorts, his short-sleeved black shirt unbuttoned, with a full display of his upper body, abs and all. Wait, his abs? Chest? Oh my god, he’s basically naked.
He looks exactly like one of those dilf or daddy dom characters you read about in manga. Strong, commanding, and ridiculously hot. These men really do exist…
“Huh?” you end up saying out loud, which makes him look at you in confusion.
Fuck fuck fuck. What’s wrong with you? Eyeing your neighbor like this!?
In a panic from being caught checking him out, you suddenly lean too far against the railing and feel yourself slowly falling off. Huh?!
You try to grab relentlessly at the air for some sort of hold as a last resort, but it’s useless.
Is this really it!?
You brace yourself, heart racing, but before you can comprehend what’s happening, a strong arm grabs you, pulling you back to safety. You find yourself pressed against someone’s chest, a strong male hand still gripping your arm firmly.
Holy fuck that scared you half to death!!
When you turn your head, you see that it is your neighbor who saved you. What? How did he—? Before you can conjure up more questions, your eyes slowly look down and you are against his check. Holy shit… you never realized how broad he is.
“Hey. You can move now,” he says, his voice deep and unamused.
You nod, your face flushing with embarrassment as you quickly step back, putting some distance between the two of you.
“O-Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to… um, fall.” Goddamn it, get it together, Y/N. “Thanks… you pretty much saved my life.”
As you fully take a good look at him, you realize you had no idea he was hiding this hot ass body under those baggy t-shirts you always see him wear. But holy shit, he’s ripped.
He may be some sex fiend, but no wonder he’s been getting all that action.
You don’t realize you are still staring at him, frozen in your spot. But before he can say something, you hear another voice approaching.
“Hyung, when are you coming back inside?”
A shorter male with a smaller build and blonde hair appears, his casual demeanor catching you off guard. Huh? A guy?
“I’m just going to take a shower,” the guy continues, and this is when you notice he’s also shirtless.
What?!
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll head back inside after this smoke. Go on in,” your neighbor says nonchalantly, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to you.
No way… does he sleep with men too?
Before you can unravel the tangled web of questions in your mind, your phone starts ringing. You check to see the caller ID is Taehyung.
"Hel–”
“Hey! Y/N! Why aren’t you texting back?!” Taehyung interrupts, his voice loud and concerned. “Don’t tell me you went over to your neighbor’s place by yourself!”
Fuck, not right now! “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about… Sh-Shut up…” You whisper aggressively, pleading to God that he gets the idea that you cannot be talking about this right now!
“You’re the one that told me he’s a sleazy fuck boy that has sex with a different person every day!” Taehyung, oblivious to your situation, yells out.
Did you mention you were on speaker? … oh.
Oh, fuck.
Without missing a beat and looking back, you hurriedly retreat inside your apartment. Despite not seeing his reaction, you could very well feel his eyes on you. Fuck…this is so embarrassing. Initially, it was just the sounds, and now this? This summer just got a whole lot more complicated.
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚
After that day, you felt like you were in some kind of spy movie with the way you kept trying to avoid ever seeing the guy next door again. Every time you had to go outside, it was a mission of stealth and timing. Is he out there? Or is he not? You’ve tried to calculate and observe the times you’d hear him leave.
However, four days after the incident, as you walk out the door of your apartment, you find yourself face-to-face with him.
Shit.
There’s a long, awkward silence as you stare at each other before you finally break it.
“Uh, hello.”
No response. He slides a cigarette from the box and places it in his mouth, lighting it up and ignoring you as he looks out at the city, leaning against the railing. He’s on another smoke break, you say to yourself.
The way he can’t even casually say “hello” back to you just once? Be serious!
You groan, turn around, and decide to head to your old college library to get some more studying done before the LSAT in four days.
As you walk away, you catch a glimpse of him giving you a side glance before puffing out a cloud of smoke and sighing.
––––––––––––––––––––
On the day you got your LSAT results, the rain was so heavy that it felt like the raindrops could pierce through the walls of your rickety old apartment building.
The day when everything happened in a flash.
Coming home. Having to tell your mom you failed the LSAT. Having to tell her that you won’t be able to get into law school just yet.
“Y/N, you graduated with honors from Seoul National University. There’s no need to be so disappointed just because you didn’t pass your law school exam.” She pleads, squeezing your hands. “You know I’m not asking for too much from you. All I want is for you to graduate from your university’s law school and become a prosecutor. That’s all I hope for, really.”
This is pissing you off. She thinks that this is supposed to comfort you when it’s only adding to the pressure.
“That’s all you hope for…?” you spat, words laced with bitterness, “You’re the one putting these burdens on me because you couldn’t be the one to do this.”
“What…?”
Does she not get it? This was never your dream to begin with. All these years of studying, being the top student, going to the best university in the country, striving to get to law school… it wasn’t what you wanted to do at all. This was something your mom wanted for herself, but she couldn’t do because she got with your dad, gave it up and had you.
“You want me to live the life you would’ve had… for the rest of my life? I never asked for that!” You yell out, tears falling, frustration taking over.
You haphazardly put on your slide and leave out the front door with a slam, not giving your mother a moment to respond. However, she doesn’t chase after you. She stands there, stunned, only looking at the food and broken pieces of glass and plates that scatter your bedroom floor from the fight.
As if anything could make this worse, when you stand outside, you see your terrible and hot neighbor on a smoke break on the veranda. He turns when he hears your door automatically open and lock, then looks at you.
Dammit… He’s the last person you wanted to see you like this. You wipe your tears with your forearm, hoping that it’s not obvious that you’ve reached one of the lowest points in your whole life at the ripe age of 25.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
“Hey, your face—” He begins, but you immediately scurry away down the stairs, out of the apartment complex.
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚
You run. And run.
Running as far as your legs and your cheap worn-out slides could take you.
As exhaustion overcomes you, you stop and glance around. Oh, you’re at a park down the street? You take a deep breath for the first time realizing you don’t know what you’re even trying to achieve. Ha…this is so stupid.
You sigh, taking cover under a slide in the playground, shivering as you hug your knees. After the adrenaline rush goes away, your body is now noticing that you’re cold. It’s no wonder since you’re drenched in the rain. You realize your eyes are probably puffy too from the outburst earlier. Things are starting to come back to you.
As you sit there continuing to watch the rain pitter patter against the playground and the sand, you hear footsteps approaching you. When you look up, you see that it’s him.
Your sex fiend hot ass neighbor, holding an umbrella.
Your tear ducts start flowing tears once again.
“Y-You startled me…” You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hand. “What’re you just standing there for? If you came here to mock me, then go ahead and laugh all you want.”
He looks down, seeing your clothes completely soaked. He notices that your white t-shirt has become transparent, letting him see your nipples perking out.
Goddamit, he thinks, looking away.
“Here.” He places the umbrella next to you, now covering you from the downpour and walks away.
“Ah..” Your hand reaches out to his figure as he slowly moves further from you. Something about him calls out to you. You don’t know what, and you can’t explain it. Maybe you should follow him back home for now.
And you do.
You make it back to the apartment and up the stairs to the floor where the both of you live. As he unlocks his door and enters, you call out to him before the door can close.
“Hey, wait…”
Maybe you should go in and just give back his umbrella.
Nah, you shouldn’t go into a stranger’s house.
“Close the door if you’re not going to come in.” He calls to you from the inside.
And so, the door clunks shut, and now you’re inside.
This is incredibly awkward.
“To be honest, I didn’t think you were coming in,” he says, his voice low and slightly hoarse as he wipes his wet hair with a small towel. Droplets of rainwater cling to his skin, accentuating the contours of his jawline and the muscles in his arms. “Guess you changed your mind.”
“Well... I still had your umbrella, and... I can’t exactly go home right now,” you say carefully, fidgeting with your hands before crossing your arms under your breasts. His eyes flicker down for a moment, lingering on your figure before meeting yours again.
“Could you lend me a towel, please?” you ask, shivering involuntarily as a chill runs down your spine.
He looks away, his expression unreadable, before sighing and handing you the towel he was just using. The fabric is warm from his body heat, and a faint scent of his cologne lingers on it. “Just use this to wipe yourself off.”
Uh, why would he give me the one he was just using? And what’s with the sigh?
“I don’t care if the floor gets wet, so you can go sit in the living room,” he suggests before walking into the bathroom, his figure disappearing behind the door. The sound of running water fills the air, mingling with the steady rhythm of the rain outside.
“Alrighty then…”
For the first time since entering his home, you take a moment to observe your surroundings. It’s a pretty ordinary looking small apartment...
No, it’s not. His kitchen table is riddled with bottles of soju and books lying around, their pages curled and yellowed with age. There’s laundry that has gotten stiff on the drying rack from who knows how long it has been there, giving the room a slightly musty smell.
You shouldn’t be so judgmental. It’s not like you live here anyway.
A better observation you note are the several paintings hanging up on the wall. Some look like contemporary Korean art pieces that you recognize from reading art books you enjoy during your free time. One is Sung Yeon-Woong’s “Korean People - I Love You,” 2022. The monochrome colors and bold strokes of the people embracing each other in the nude captivate your attention, momentarily drawing you in.
You’ve always liked art and wanted to pursue it, but those dreams were locked away when…
The illusion of being at an art museum fades, and you’re suddenly reminded of where you are when you feel your wet underwear sticking to you. It feels gross and icky, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin.
You plop onto his living room floor, which you realize is also a makeshift gym area when you spot dumbbells of various weights beside you. The metal gleams dully under the soft glow of the overhead lights, a testament to their frequent use.
Your hand moves against something and you notice a card on the floor. When you grab it, you realize what it is. His student ID card from Seoul National University?!
He went to the College of Engineering? Or does he still go?
Woah? You’re from different departments, but it’s the same school. What the fuck…
You had absolutely no idea.
This is also the first moment you find out what his name is:
Kim Namjoon.Bachelor’s DegreeCollege of EngineeringChemical Engineering
Chemical engineering? He doesn’t look like one.
Also why would he just leave his student ID lying around like this?
“Go and take a shower. I can’t have you catching a cold in my house,” Namjoon requests, coming out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower. You slide his ID card back on the floor pretending you didn’t see anything. “Here, change into these clothes after.”
“Oh, okay–” Your words are cut short when he throws a gray t-shirt and shorts on top of your head.
You can’t tell if he’s being nice or a complete jerk.
When you walk into the bathroom and close the door, you finally notice in the mirror that you’re not wearing a bra.
“AHHHHHHH!” You scream internally over your stupidity and lack of rationality. How could you be this careless? How could you forget that you weren’t wearing a bra!
Hold up, did Namjoon notice and not say a thing?! Oh god…
This guy isn’t nice or a jerk.
He’s a straight up sex machine. A fucking sex fiend pervert.
You can’t believe you just willingly stepped into a minefield. But wait! You can get out of here without any trouble so long as you keep your head straight.
Or not… you don’t have anywhere else to go. You don’t want to burden Tae with your shit.
Sigh. Just be cautious Y/N and avoid eye contact as much as possible. You’ll get through this!
After your shower and change of clothes, you walk out of the bathroom and see him on his futon bed sipping his beer and watching a variety show on his laptop. You plop down next to him, trying to pretend all is normal, but it’s not.
Shit, this is still awkward. How can you become less aware of the situation you’re in? You notice an unopened beer can on his table and crawl over to grab it. Oh! This can work. He’s not going to mind, right?
When you do that, Namjoon notices your exposed crotch in the loose shorts he gave you and begins choking on his beer. He can’t believe you didn’t put on your wet underwear again and are just walking around bare like that.
Huh? What’s up with him... you think, confused, but not surprised. You crack it open and take a few sips.
You know what, everything will be fine if you keep a clear head. Clear thoughts. Clear mind.
Yeah, you can do that.
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚
She hasn't even finished her beer and already looks out of it, Namjoon thinks to himself, sighing.
He reaches over and takes the beer can from your hand. “Hey, you’ve had enough to drink,” he says firmly. “I’ll get you some blankets, so just lie—”
“Honestly... It’s partially your fault...” you interrupt, your voice slurring slightly as you crawl over to him, suddenly pushing him onto the bed. Your movements are unsteady, but you manage to straddle him, arms planted on either side of his head. “...that I flunked my exam.”
Namjoon is caught off guard by your sudden action, his eyes wide with surprise. He stares up at you, at a loss for words.
“What the hell are you talking about? What did I do?” Namjoon asks, his confusion evident.
“What are you on about? Why are you suddenly acting crazy.”
“Get off m—”
“Is it fun... to live the way you do?” you interrupt, your tone dripping with a mix of sass and bitterness.
“What?”
“If it’s that exciting... then can you show me how to live like you?” Your hands move to his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt.
“What exactly are you saying?” Namjoon grabs your right arm, but you swat it away.
“Well, you seem so carefree, and all you ever do is sleep with different people every day.” You scoff, your frustration bubbling over.
Namjoon chuckles, a humorless sound, as he grabs your wrists and effortlessly flips you over, pinning you beneath him. Now, you’re the one looking up at him from the bed, stunned and embarrassed, and suddenly sobered up.
“I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but what makes you think you can say that when you don’t know anything about me?” His words are laced with annoyance. “And just to be clear, I have no reason to sit here and listen to you judge me, no matter what I do. If you’re so unhappy with your life, then do whatever you want. No one’s forcing you to live that way.”
You tremble slightly, anger and humiliation mixing as you look away. “You don’t know anything!”
You smack his chest with your fists, but he doesn’t flinch. “Figures you wouldn’t understand since you do whatever the hell you want all the time!”
Namjoon sighs, clearly reaching the end of his patience. “Does this seem like the home of someone who’s content and living life on their own terms, to you?” He gestures around the room, his hands clenching the sheets beneath you.
You have nothing else to combat his question with, so you pout and look away. Namjoon’s not going to let you get what you want though, and grabs your jaw to turn you to face him again.
“Fine. If you really want to know, then I’ll show you.”
Keeping you pinned, Namjoon leans in, his lips inches from yours.
Your heart races, and you freeze in place. You’ve never kissed anyone before in your life. But before you can feel his mouth against yours, he notices you flinch and decides to pull back, creating distance between you once again.
“You know what? You should just leave.” He chuckles, feeling the ridiculousness of the situation he’s found himself in. “Haha.. What was I thinking? There’s no way I’m doing anything like that with someone like you.”
Before he has the chance to get off from straddling you, your hands grab at his shirt and push him forward.
“W-Why am I the one who has to live like this?” You start to hiccup, tears streaming down your face once again. Why are you being like this? How many times have you cried today?
“What’re you talking about? Let go.”
This only makes you pull him even closer. “And you!! Why did you stop?! Why? Man, woman, old, young! I know you’ll sleep with anyone... so why not me?”
“The hell are you talking about?! I told you to let go!” He grabs at your wrists, trying to remove their grasp on his shirt gently.
“You just… you just feel sorry for me… I know I may not be good enough. I might be a lousy daughter, not as conventionally attractive as other girls, and I’m painfully aware of my shortcomings just as a member of society… but still!”
“You’re driving me nuts here…”
“Fuck… it’s not like I want to live this way.” You cover your eyes with your forearm, sobbing.
“You’re fine as you are,” Namjoon says softly, the gentlest thing he’s said all day.
“What did you say?”
“I mean you’re good enough. In fact, you’re plenty good enough, okay? So stop crying and let go of my shirt, please.” He says, gently grabbing hold of your chin.
“Then... do you want to have sex with me as well?” Your face reddens, asking boldly.
Namjoon internally fights with himself, thinking about what he’s even supposed to do with you.
“Yeah, I do. Just not today,” he answers.
You turn your head to the side. “Liar. You don’t want to have sex with me.”
“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” he tells you honestly, looking into your eyes.
You glare at him, and for the hundredth time today, he sighs.
“Okay, fine, fine. Let’s do it,” he declares.
“Wait..Really...?”
He looks at you, seeing your innocent expression. “You better not come crying to me afterward.”
Namjoon takes his shirt off, revealing his whole upper body in full view. His skin glistens slightly in the dim light, each muscle defined and firm.
“I’m saying this because it seems like you’re completely misunderstanding the situation, but I’ve already told you ‘no’ like a hundred times.”
You look at him, dazed, mesmerized by his pecs and defined abdominal muscles.
As he nears closer to you, you think he’s actually going to kiss you this time, until he moves down, licking your collarbones. His hand squeezes your breasts
And I held back at least ten times, he thinks inwardly.
His right hand lifts the t-shirt, your breast coming into full view, jiggling from the action.
You’re the one that kept provoking me, so this is partly on you.
“Mmph..ah..” You moan out, and quickly cover your mouth.
“What’re you doing?”
“Well, they can hear me moan next door…” You say, muffled.
Namjoon looks at you as if you’re insane, “Your voice won’t carry through these walls that easily unless you let out a scream.”
“Oh..”
“Be honest. You were eavesdropping by pressing your ear to the wall, weren’t you?” He begins questioning.
Fuck.
He continues, “Unless there’s another pervert like you living in this building, then you don’t have to worry. No one will hear a thing.”
Oh. This changes everything, actually.
Namjoon suddenly turns you over, removing your shorts and pulling your ass up. “Y-You didn’t have to do that so suddenly! Or you could’ve at least turned the lights off..”
Namjoon stares blankly at your naked figure, then slowly rustles his hands in his shorts to put on an unopened condom he had lying.
“W-What are you doing?”
Is this what you think it is? I’ve only seen them in comics…
What… holy shit..
“W-Wait!” You move away towards the wall.
“What now?” Namjoon groans, but then you leaned back up and start observing the large cock that he just pulled out from his shorts.
Are they normally this big? But then again, you remember reading and watching hentai where the bottom characters struggle to take in a large penis…
“Do you want to suck me off?” He looks down at you, overshadowing you as you appear small and curious.
Do I? Should I?
Your tongue peeps out and gives it one lick. Oh. Oh no. Oh god, that tasted gross. You start to cough and gag.
“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to gag like that when you’re giving someone a blowjob?”
“Then how do you expect me to react? The rubber tastes super weird! Have you tried liking one of these? Of course you haven’t!”
“It’s a condom, it’s supposed to taste like that. What, did you think it was going to taste like vanilla?”
“So you DO know what it tastes like…”
“Why would I? You know what? Forget it, what would I expect from you?” He leans forward and pushes you down on the bed again. He lifts your legs up in the air and settles in between them.
“W-What’re you doing?!”
“What do you think? You keep getting distracted. I’m helping you concentrate” He spreads you open on his tongue and licking every sensitive dip and corner he can reach. His tongue is warm and firm no matter where he licks, and only softens up when he goes to lick a flat stripe up your slit, essentially sucking up all of the wet you’re offering him and savoring it through whimpered groans at the way your legs attempt to squeeze around his head.
“Ah.. no! Wait! This is way too embarrassing..”
He pays no attention and continues at his task.
He knew you’d taste good but this is on a whole other level. He can’t help it when he grips your thighs and spreads your legs out further, and he certainly can’t help himself when he prods his tongue into you, trying to taste more of what you have to offer.
“Ah!” You can feel his tongue dipping in, and the way he grips your thighs renders you nearly useless if you were to try and wiggle away, not that you’d ever want to but it almost tickles with how good it feels. Your legs begin to shake in his grasp, and he only spreads them further at that, tilting his head at an angle to suck and lick into you even deeper.
“I kinda figured you weren’t all that into this because you kept going on about stuff like how the condom tastes and feeling embarrassed. But you’re getting so wet I guess you are a little turned on…”
“That’s enough,” You sigh out, reaching down frantically to hold his head in place so that you can grind your hips forward against his stiffened tongue.
“Yeah. Since, both you and me… are getting impatient…” Namjoon’s fingers are instantly at your entrance, sliding in so easily that it nearly makes you forget that you even told him to do it. His fingers are slender, and each joint on the digits are felt against your aching and gripping walls. The sounds of squelching only turn you on even more. “We might as well cut to the chase.”
He takes out his fingers, now moving them to hold his length. “This, might hurt a little.”
You look at him puzzled before you gasp, feeling a sudden pressure from beneath you. “Huh!? W-Wait, it won’t go in! I said it won’t go in!” Your handle trembles, grabbing onto the bedsheets harshly.
“It already is.”
No way.
“Ah… wait, really? It’s all the way in…?”
It has to be all the way in. It’s feeling really tight right now and you can’t imagine how the whole thing can’t be inside. You glance down at your cunt, seeing the point where you and him connect. Oh.
“No. Not all the way in.” He scratches his head. “You can tell me anything if you’re feeling too tired or just wanna call it quits. And I’ll stop.”
Arrogant little…
“I have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m totally fine! I can’t even feel you inside me…”
There, the two of you look at each other for a brief moment before you feel him suddenly start to thrust forward again, sliding his cock further into your drenched core. You let out a whimper.
Then, giving you no time to adjust to his whole size, he takes his cock out and quickly pulls you up and spreads you into doggy style, pinning your hands behind him. Without warning, he roughly thrusts into you, feeling yourself being split apart by his huge, thick cock.
“Ah! Ungh…F-Fuck!” You moan, tears beginning to prick from overstimulation. His hips thrust brutally against your own at a set rhythmic pace, pulling almost all the way out before ruthlessly drilling back into you, it would probably be more painful if it wasn’t for your dripping arousal creating your very own lube and his fat cock hitting the right spot with every thrust.
“I thought. You said. You were. Fine?” He thrusts repeatedly, with each word being punctuated by a thrust.
He comes to a slow stop and you don’t respond, your lips agape as you remain stuck in a euphoric daze from how good this pleasure feels. You’ve never done this before. You’ve only read it in literature, watch it from hentai… but holy shit, does the real thing not compare.
“You’re making so much noise, I bet the whole neighborhood knows we’re going at it.” Namjoon whispers in your ear with a teasing tone.
Fuck!? You immediately cover your mouth and turn to face him, which makes Namjoon chuckle at your cute behavior, grabbing your hand. “No one’s actually gonna hear us with the rain pounding like this”, he thinks internally.
Namjoon takes this opportunity to switch positions and place you on top of him. You sit there with your legs on either side. Glancing down, you notice that his cock is still hard and it rubs against your clit, making you more and more impatient for him to keep on fucking you.
He moves you forward a bit and raises your hips so he can line your entrance with his tip. For Namjoon, he needed to see you come undone. He deserved it after all the nonsense you kept scolding him about. And there’s nothing more satisfying than the moan you let out when the tip is in. His cock stretches you out once again, filling you in all the right areas, making you pant and whine from the girth.
He grunts as you sink further down his cock. His hands grip your ass, pushing his cock in deeper and deeper before pulling back up, all in a rhythmic motion. The sheer tightness of his grip on your ass was sure to leave bruises tomorrow, but he was the last person to care.
You gasp when he lifts you up, almost pulling out with only his tip still inside, before bringing you down and slamming back into your cunt. A loud moan exits your lips and you throw your head back from the static of pleasure that shoots through your body. You grip his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself, your manicured nails dug into his skin and leave long scratches.
“Ah!!” You scream as the squelching and thumps get louder, making your pussy tighten around him even more. “Ungh, ah! W-Wait! I feel strange–!”
What is this feeling?! Is it what you think it is...
It’s only with one more thrust hitting your cervix that leads you to your answer.
“F-Fuck…daddy!” As if on cue, the knot that had been building in your stomach pops, and your orgasm came crashing down on you. Your cunt clenches around his cock and your mouth flies open in a silent scream, thick and clear cum gushing on his cock.
Namjoon is surprsied by you using the word ‘daddy’, but continues at his ministrations, licking against your chest now and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as you shake amid your orgasm. You continue your strong hold on his shoulders.
“Agh… I want you to stop squeezing so tightly.” He slowly holds you up and removes his dick from inside you. He removes his condom and discards it in the nearby bin.
“Huh? What did you say…? You want me to what?” You’re completely out of it, your mind fogged by the sex, and perhaps some remnants of alcohol. “Kiss you?”
“Huh? No, that’s not what I—” Namjoon starts to protest, but before he can finish, you gently grab his chin and press your lips against his.
The kiss catches him off guard. Your lips are soft and hesitant, trembling slightly. Namjoon’s initial shock gives way to a moment of stillness, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. For a brief second, he almost kisses you back, but then he pulls away, his hands firmly but gently pushing you back.
“Holy shit, that was my first kiss…” you murmur, panic setting in. “I can’t believe it’s with some older guy like you!”
Namjoon sighs, exhaling sharply. “You’re not even trying to hide it, huh?” He gently grabs your cheeks, squishing them with his hand. “I figured as much, so I was trying to be considerate. And then you went and kissed me first.”
“If that’s what you were thinking, then you should’ve just told—”
“Too late for that,” he interrupts, taking his turn to kiss you. This time, he doesn’t hold back, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is intense and demanding, catching you completely off guard.
Your mind blanks out, every thought drowned by the sensation of his lips and tongue moving against yours. His hands move to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. You can’t help but moan softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth.
Namjoon’s kiss is forceful, almost punishing, as if he’s trying to prove a point. You can feel the frustration and desire in every movement, in the way his hands grip your hair, in the way his tongue explores your mouth with a fervent urgency. You try to keep up, but your inexperience makes it hard, and you end up just following his lead, letting him control the kiss.
When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing heavily. His eyes are dark, filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher.
“There,” he says, his voice rough. “Now you know. Your first kiss isn’t something to take lightly. Understand?”
You nod, still trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. The room feels like it’s spinning, and you’re starting to feel more sleepy as the seconds pass.
Namjoon sighs again, softer this time, and releases your cheeks, his fingers trailing down to your neck. “Just… think things through before you act next time, alright?”
You nod again, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. This wasn’t how you imagined your first kiss, but something about it feels right, even if you can’t fully understand why.
He leans back, giving you some space, and you both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentler now, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.
“Yeah,” you whisper, still trying to process everything. “I think so.”
“Good,” he says, leaning back against the headboard. “We can talk more in the morning. For now, just get some rest.”
You nod, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. Despite everything, you feel safe with him, and that’s enough for now. As you lie down beside him, the exhaustion of the day finally catches up with you, and you drift off to sleep, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips.
╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚
“I… uh, I’ll wash these clothes and return them to you later,” you say to Namjoon as he walks you to his door. The hallway outside his apartment is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance across the walls.
“...Don’t. You can keep them or, better yet, throw them away.” His voice is calm, yet firm, as if he’s making a point.
“Um, okay. If you say so. Then I guess I’ll do whatever I want with them. Thanks for letting me stay over. And I’m sorry for saying and assuming things about you.” You glance up at him, feeling the weight of your earlier accusations hang between you.
“The assumptions you made about me being a sex fiend when it was just me inviting my friends over for a gym workout?” He arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“What?!” Your eyes widen in shock. Holy shit… were those groans actually grunts from them heavy-lifting those dumbbells and workout gear in the living room? It can’t be. It had to have been something else, right? “Are you being serious?!”
Namjoon chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes your cheeks burn. “I’ll see you around, girl next door.” You groan at him shooing you away.
“It’s Y/N...”
“Alright, Y/N,” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing glint.
You realize he still hasn’t told you his name, but you already know it.
You nod awkwardly and step back, your mind still reeling from his revelation. As you turn to leave, you hear the door click shut behind you. The rain has stopped, and the cool morning air feels refreshing against your flushed skin. You stand there for a moment, processing everything that’s happened.
How the fuck can you go back to your regular life after that?
Even Namjoon must think it’s insane that he just got tangled up with his younger neighbor.
You’ve both completely gone nuts.
-
-
-
a/n: ahhhhh the fic made it out of my brain! wow. i had read this webtoon last week right before rpwp came out and i thought how the male character was lowkey namjoon coded. and then when i heard nuts... oh you know i just had to cook this up! though i would like to add that the webtoon i based this off of goes in a completely different direction with different several plot elements added, and it's still ongoing, so this was just inspo from the first 4 chapters. thank you all for the support and for reading!
➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out one of my current ongoing fic series "love u lately"
#bts#bts fic#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon#namjoon smut#namjoon fic#smut#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts smut#fanfic#fanfiction#kpop
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
black tie losers
geto suguru x f!reader
in which you’re at a charity gala and come to the realization that maybe being best friends with suguru is no longer an option
a/n: when i thought of this i ran to write bc geto in a suit
feedback is so appreciated <3
“stay still. if you keep moving, you’re going to look like a clown.”
geto sits in front of you on a stool, tie messily done up as he holds a lipliner pencil in his hands. he’s grinning at his work — because true to his words, you looked like a clown.
“suguru, you can’t line lips for shit.” you sigh, rummaging through your things to find some makeup remover. “remind me why i let you do this again?”
geto laughs, grinning at you in a way that was oddly wholesome. “because i wanted to help you get ready for tonight. there’s nothing better than taking credit for the date on my arm.”
date indeed—a platonic one.
you and geto were attending your university’s biggest charity gala tonight. as one of the most successful black tie events on campus, each attendee was required to look straight out of vogue magazine to ensure they raised enough money to make a difference.
geto—ever the gentleman—asked you to be his date. he wouldn’t get hounded by the customary droves of girls, and you’d have someone to match with.
of course, being your best friend, he decided to help you get ready.
he watched patiently as you dabbed the streak of lipliner away, smiling gently when you turned back to meet his eyes. he wordlessly moved forward to cup your cheeks, finishing up lining your cupids bow.
“there,” he said softly, “now some lipstick.” you gestured to the various tubes on your desk as you moved to dust some highlighter on your cheeks.
geto picked a particularly lovely shade and smoothly glided it across your lips. he seemed proud at his handiwork, beaming at you happily as soon as he finished.
“take a look,” he smirked, and you did just that. the mirror showed you someone beautiful.
somehow, stupid suguru had actually done a good job.
“nice job,” you mumbled, feeling oddly shy beneath his gaze. he cleaned up nice tonight—a bit too nice. so nice that you weren’t sure how to act around him when he attempted to tie his tie.
“you mean sensational job,” he laughed, flinging his tie around. “also please help. i can’t do this.”
you sighed as you moved closer to fix his tie. you could catch a whiff of his cologne — something fresh and oddly mouthwatering and it nearly made you screw up the final flip of the fabric.
suguru was acting a bit different, and it was driving you crazy. his presence was much closer than usual, and with every passing day, it seemed impossible to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that’d been looming over you for weeks.
geto suguru, your best friend, was an extremely attractive man.
you still weren’t sure how to handle this information. so far, it’d been unwarranted blushes and a whole lot of random butterflies where there shouldn’t be.
you supposed the gala would give you time to think—but you were wrong.
geto walked in through the ornately decorated doors with a smile, an arm threaded through his hair and the other wrapped around your waist. from this point, you could see all your fellow students interacting with the heads of various charities, and donations racking up by the second.
suguru stayed close, his touch firm and steady and searing and confusing in ways you couldn’t understand.
“would you like to explore a bit?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.
too flustered to speak, you wordlessly nodded as he dragged you to the photo booth at the edge of the venue.
“these are awesome,” he laughed, holding up a particularly unclassy mustache prop. you cringed, distancing yourself as much as you good within the tiny space to show your disapproval.
suguru pulled you closer again, his hands caressing your waist in a way that was more reverent than anything you’d ever felt. he was too close…it was too much.
he leaned close to you, gently pressing his forehead against yours.
“maybe i did too good of a job tonight,” he said lowly, tracing your lips with his finger.
“suguru,” you breathed out, “what is going on?”
he pulled away grinning. “you had a dusting of highlighter a bit too close to this one spot of your nose. i had to distract you so you wouldn’t stop me from touching your face.”
you groaned in frustration while suguru posed jubilantly for the camera.
the gala was beautiful. the pictures with suguru were super candid. neither of those were your major takeaways.
as you returned to your room for the night, you knew one thing for certain. suguru geto had become someone more than a best friend to you and there was nothing you could do about it.
unknown to you, suguru fell asleep that night dreaming of you, and all the ways he’d kiss you if he had the chance.
#nova scribbles#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#jjk headcanons#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x y/n#geto fluff#geto headcanons#geto drabble#suguru geto fluff
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty | Joost Klein
description: joost klein x f! reader You and Joost manage to find a moment of intimacy over the phone amidst a time of hardship in your relationship. (very much based on of this song <33 so lyrics are scattered throughout!)
content 18+ NSFW, MDNI- phone sex, mutual masturbation, relationship issues, angst/comfort, lots of comfort (if you catch my drift),
word count: 2425
I'm only trying to work this out / So if you call me at all don't tell me that I'm ordinary / because I won't be passing you, please don't leave
Your stomach churns at the sound of your phone buzzing, over the last week you had associated the sound of your phone buzzing with nothing but tears and heartache.
You roll over, letting the thick comforter that covers you slip down your shoulders as you reach for your phone from the nightstand. Just as you expected. An anxious hand hesitates to pick up the phone, not in the mood to engage in conversation with who you were sure within the coming days would be your ex-boyfriend.
A sharp pang vibrates throughout your chest looking at the screen that shines at you.
Joost <3
Rather hurtfully paired with a picture of the two of you together, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressed against your cheek in a soft kiss.
You roll your eyes, he was going to keep calling if you didn't pick up. You huff, giving in, ripping your phone from where it sat next to your bed. Reluctantly you answer, your chest tightening waiting to hear the voice on the other end.
"Y/n?" The trepidation in Joost's voice was apparent, "Are you there, schatje?" The inclusion of the pet name made you wince, sounding all too sweet for your displeasure with him at the moment. Usually, you'd revel in his compliments and sweet nothings- but not now, you couldn't.
Things had been unusually hard lately, only exacerbated by the fact that Joost had been away on tour. It seemed like all the two of you had done in the last few weeks was fight. Usually about petty, little things- things that didn't even really matter but in the moment they seemed like everything. Half the time you couldn't even remember what the arguments were about, all that remained were bitter feelings and tear stains that lingered on your cheeks.
It had all culminated last night- a screaming match unparalleled to any other petty argument the two of you shared in recent weeks. You knew deep down that neither of you had meant any of the horrible, venom-dripped words you had spit at each other. But right now it felt impossible to ever forgive, much less forget.
"I'm here." You respond, short, monotone- trying not to give too much away about how you were feeling.
"Oh, y/n," He breathes, "I've been worried, I've been trying to talk to you since last night."
"I saw." You answer, just as short and uninterested as your last statement. Joost had been blowing up your phone for the last 24 hours- so terribly you had considered blocking his number at least for a little while.
"I know you're mad at me, y/n, but I still worry about you, you can't just ignore me like that." His voice is firm like he's scolding you- but you can sense a pain behind your voice, and if you hadn't been so fed up at the moment, you'd almost feel sorry for ignoring him.
"Oh," You snap, "So you're going to tell me what I can and cannot do now?"
"Why are you looking for a fight, y/n?" He sighs, "I'm just saying I was worried about you, how was I supposed to know what happened?"
"I'm not looking for a fight."
"You're always looking for a fight," Frustration is heavy in Joost's words.
"Is that really what you think of me?" You scoff, covering the ache you feel in your heart with anger.
You hear Joost let out a breath on the other end, "No," You note how tired he sounds as he continues, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that."
"I don't know that. It sounds like you did." You're having none of his apology, weeks of growing resentment were not going to be fixed by one simple apology.
"Mijn lieve meisje" (My sweet girl) He coos, "I don't mean to make you so angry." His voice has softened, a stark contrast to the harsh tone of your own voice, "You know I hate to hear you sound like this- even worse to know I did it."
Something about the gentleness of his voice, and the way he seems so aware of his own role in all of this makes your heart thump- and you almost want to forgive him altogether. But you can't, not right now- not yet.
I hear you breathing on the line... / I leave you hurting every night
"Het spijt me (I am sorry), I want to make things better between us."
"I don't know," You mumble, unsure of if there is even anything that could make things better.
"You don't know how badly I wish I was with you," His voice rich with longing, "I need to make these last few weeks up to you. I miss you liefje, I miss us."
You can't lie, you want that too, wishing so badly just for everything to go back to normal, to no longer have this hole in your chest, for your body to no longer ache with this profound sadness.
"It's just going to be so hard to forget last ni-"
"I know, schatje." He cuts you off, "You have every reason in the world to be angry with me."
"Are you angry with me?" You ask, wondering if he mirrored your own upset feelings towards
"Angry isn't the right word, no." And suddenly your stomach churns with guilt, "I'm just tired of how things have been."
You're tired too, tired of dreading his calls, tired of the tears, tired of the sleepless nights regretting every awful word you've said.
"Me too," You murmur
"I won't force you to forgive me," Joost sighs, "Not until you're ready. But I know you're upset, and I want you to feel better."
His words are so soft, so gentle, melting away your anger with each. careful syllable.
"Can you talk to me, please?" He's practically pleading.
"What do you want to talk about?" You're unsure of what conversation could fill this dead air, how you could possibly talk and things feel okay.
"Tell me what you're doing now," He requests, his words quick.
"I'm just in bed," You shrug nothing special.
"Breaks my heart to think about you all alone in that big bed." You can't tell if the pity in his voice is mocking or genuine.
"I guess it's okay," You had gotten used to the loneliness, it was worse in the first few days he had been gone.
"Mh-mh," he mumbles in disagreement, "Hate thinking about how my pretty girl has to sleep alone every night."
There's a sensuality in his tone that makes you clench your jaw, and your breathing deepen. His pretty girl. His.
"In my bed, at that." He adds.
You supposed he was technically right- you had been the one to move into his apartment.
You hum softly into the phone, not able to come up with many words to say, he seemed more like was simply just thinking out loud than having a conversation.
"I miss you," He says again, "Tell me you miss me too, schatje, I know you do."
There's something about the way he speaks that makes you oblige so easily,
"Miss you too," You mumble, head falling to the side as your eyes close.
"Mmm good," He's practically purring to you, "You're so good."
The praise was simple, you hadn't done much past admitting something the two both knew was true, but it felt like it had been so long since the two of you had spoken so gently to one another, and so you absolutely drank it up.
"You're saying so little, what is on your mind?" He pries like he's looking for something specific.
"Nothing, really." You're entirely self-aware of how boring you must sound to him, but it's the truth- sort of.
He hums in response, "Can I tell you what I'm thinking about?" He asks, his voice oozing with anticipation
"I won't stop you,"
"I'm thinking about you, thinking about how beautiful you must look right now, about holding you, how your body feels against mine, about-" He stops short,
"About..?" You trail off, wanting him to continue his pretty praises. A delightful tingle was beginning to spread through your body, his kind words making you weak.
"More of the same," He says quickly, "Just thinking about being with you now."
A soft smile sweeps over your face at the thought, though you assumed your thoughts now had to be a lot less innocent than his. You couldn't help yourself, you'd been so pent up since he left that the smallest words of adoration were setting you off.
Your hands trail down under the covers, rubbing at your inner thigh, before softly grazing over your panties. You let out a sigh, rubbing soft circles over your clit through the thin lacey fabric.
Your breathing quickens as you deepen your movements, rubbing with more intention now. You arch your back, thinking about how this would be going down if Joost was here, the two of you had never needed to have makeup sex before- but you supposed now was as good of a time as ever to imagine it.
You think about how Joost said he needed to make it up to you, about how the last few weeks had been- at this moment you couldn't have thought of a better way for him to make things up to you than with his tongue, or his fingers, or his cock.
Your pussy ached at the thought of him- the thought of you stretching around him as he mumbles sweet words in your ears about how sorry he is.
You slip your panties to the side, a finger sliding down your now-soaked folds, the contact making you gasp, "Fuck,"
You can hear Joost clicking his tongue on the other end of the line- and suddenly you realize what you had just done, your body growing with an uncomfortable and shameful heat.
"So dirty," He chastizes
"W-what?" You sputter, attempting to feign innocence about what you had been doing.
Who wouldn't let you scream 'oh' into a soft pillow / I'm such an animal, and baby honestly these teeth won't let you go
"It's okay, schatje, you don't have to act stupid," His smirk is audible through the phone, "Don't be embarrassed, keep going, let me talk you through it."
Your body relaxes and your embarrassment subsides.
"Now, will you tell me what you're thinking about?" He asks sweetly
"Thinking," A soft sigh falls from your lips, "About you," Your hand slowly crossing your thighs to return to your throbbing cunt, "About how bad I want you." The words are a struggle to get out as you resume drawing circles around your swollen clit.
"Yeah?" He encourages, and you hear some shifting on the phone, "What do you want?"
"I want," You breathe out, "You," Another breath, "Inside of me."
"Fuck," He groans, his breathing becoming louder, "Want this cock, pretty?"
"Y-yes- ah!" You can't suppress your high-pitched yelp as you slip a finger into your leaking entrance.
"Say it, tell me how much you want me to fuck you." He begs, his voice low and gritty.
"So bad, Joost, need to be fucked so bad" Your words are breathless as you pump your fingers in and out, making your eyes screw shut tight. "Fuck, I haven't had you inside of me in so long, I need it." You feel your lower stomach tightening, pleasure taking hold of you.
"How about my tongue, hm? I'd love to taste you right now, always so sweet for me," Joost sounds just about as breathless as you do right now, and the thought of him on the other end only makes you want to work your fingers harder.
"Uh-huh," You whine, thinking about his tongue lapping at your arousal, his tongue trailing from your swollen clit to your quiver entrance, teasing, before taking a dip inside. "Anything- just need you."
"Oh, you have me, you'll always have me." His words are hungry, and you can tell he's speaking through a clenched jaw, "Fuck, liefje, you have me so worked up like this and you're not even here, love hearing that pretty voice of yours."
You're almost positive you're certainly in an even more worked-up state than he is.
"Mmmneed you to fuck me until I can't walk," You sigh, unable to help but think about him absolutely ruining you, his hands groping your flesh as he pounds into you, unrelenting. "My fingers can't reach as good as you do," You can't help but stroke his ego a little, he deserved it after the hell you had been putting him through.
"Oh," He whines, "arme schatje, (poor baby) I know, I know, just keep working those fingers for me though, okay?"
Despite your fingers not being able to hit all the same places Joost can, the pressure in your body is still building, and you can tell you're losing control, especially as a long string of groaned expletives falls from Joost's mouth, his obvious pleasure only working further to push you to the edge.
"I'm c-close," You stutter, your legs starting to shake.
"Speak up, baby- want to hear how you cum for me."
The pace at which your fingers pulse in and out of you increases, working to bring yourself over the edge. You imagine Joost inside you, imagine him bringing you to an orgasm and cumming all over the length of his cock.
You can't talk now, your words are simply replaced by loud moans and gasps as you hope to god you don't wake up the neighbors.
In the throughs of your orgasm now, your back arched- near screaming, "I-I'm cumming, fuck, Joost," You can't finish the rest of your sentence, all you can focus on is the wave of pleasure that overtakes you, the way the tightness in your body is shattering.
"Hold on," Joost grunts, "I'm almost there- hold on,"
You lay on your back, legs shaking, out of breath, listening to Joost on the other end.
He finishes with one final strained "Fuck"
Neither of you speak for a few minutes,- your mind is racing, your thoughts absolutely dizzying as the silence is only filled by the two of you attempting to catch your breaths.
"Still angry now?" Joost asks, finally breaking the tension.
"I don't think so," You're not, you were way too blissed out to feel anything but complete, overwhelming love.
"So you love me again?" He jokes, chuckling to himself.
"I never stopped."
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Batfam Voices as Instruments
Batfam voices as instruments bc i think of things very musically and it struck me others don't
Bruce: bass guitar. he's low and deep and when he speaks, you feel it in your eardrums, straight into your jaw. his words are like injections into your skull, feel intense and impossible to ignore-- but he has softer moments, too. quiet, gentle plucking of strings, the careful, slow strums of a man who plays only for the ears who will know what the notes will mean
Alfred: viola. slightly deeper than a violin, but mostly just warmer. a voice you hear and want to hum along to, a voice that sits in your ears before it sinks into your chest. it's gentle and sways with grace across strings and notes, it plays a harmony that supports and compliments, that is a steady through-line for everything that surrounds it
Dick: trumpet. brassy and loud and present and fuck do you KNOW when he's in the room. he's so bright and warm and MEANT to be heard. you hear him in your heart, every time he speaks, feel it deep in every vein like he's writing gospel into your DNA. and usually it's jazzy, it's excitement and riffs and improv and leaping off the page and doing cartwheels across a music staff-- but he's just as capable of whispersoft confessions of heartbreak and loss in D minor, can let loose a lament of all he's lost in an elegy of epic proportions
Barbara: harp. a challenging instrument to understand and play, and one she plays with ease. she is plucking strings with careful fingertips, strums across them all with a single hand. she's a melody that glides past your ears, a song that doesn't sink in-- if you're not paying attention to the hooks that latch into your brain. she is careful compositions and sweeping songs arranged for each audience with care. yet when she feels wrath, she shreds herself to make sure you feel it-- she takes scissors to her own strings to cut deeper than the song could alone
Jason: cello. deep and contemplative, with a sort of vibration that bites into your bones from the moment he opens his mouth. waxing poetic is his native tone, and it sounds like a bow dancing across strings and fingers traversing the frets like they were made for it, a soothing melody that could be a lullaby. when fury comes, the sound alone is so sharp where it's settled into your joints that you can't fight back; it's vicious strokes across the strings that shred the bow's hairs without care, wrath in every pull like it's a sword. he can settle into the orchestra or he can sweep them all offstage to stand alone against the conductor that dared to direct him
Cass: marimba. light and soft and so very deliberate. all those bars close together, and each hit with precision, because when Cass speaks, each sound and syllable is effort and choice and control. she is range and gentle dancing note to note and a sound that settles on your skin like a gentle rain, clinging and soft and so very present. to hear it is to hear if a storm could sing and serenaded the sky it calls home. she is echoing in an empty room until she fills it herself (i think of this specifically)
Tim: piano. it's all about the force put into it-- he can be the most careful, calculated guy in the room, playing with all the rigor and rigid professionalism of a NY Symphonic pianist. but the real Tim is the one who's fingers flutter playfully over the keys, who's voice cracks from laughter and sleep deprivation and stress, who trembles between octaves as his fingers tire but makes the leap anyway. he is clear ringing notes in a crowded room and rambling words like a glissando back and forth across the ivories, he is a song quiet enough to fall to the background but a complex and delicate tune if you care to listen
Steph: drum kit. she is all intensity and living in the moment and sharp impacts and a beat that never stops, never waits for the rest. she can get lost to the rest of the voices in a room, but you'll never shake that she's in your head, that her voice is there and present and presses against the base of your skull like it wants to worm straight in. she's rhythm and motion and changing things up just to do it; her voice hops from the snares to the bass to the snares and back to bass and never lets you think between notes, she's moving so fast, because it's all her, nothing she ever has to question, even if she makes you question with every slam on the cymbal
Damian: violin. he is careful in his every motion, ever meticulous with all he does; he lives in fear of being out of tune, of off-key notes for a long time, and so each one is practiced and known to the point of monotony. but over time, he thaws and the notes become more loose, more free-- he speaks less like his eyes are glued to the page, furiously tracking each note he'll play and more like the natural he is-- he becomes sharper in a different way than the rest of him, notes out of place that jut from the rest and it's okay that they do, a hum of songs that don't follow classic melodies and don't feel the need to. don't mistake it though-- his voice has always been as regal and pointed as the rest of him was raised to be, and his voice grabs both your ear and your eyes, dragging you to look at him, for him to be seen and noticed and given attention
Duke: saxophone. he is deep and rich and resonating. his voice is emotion and expression and honesty. his voice sits on your tongue because hearing him makes you want to speak, want to talk and chat and ramble with him, to reply to his melody with any harmony to match. he is a voice meant to be heard by many, who may not stand out in a room naturally but makes himself stand out by the passion in his voice. he is a slow, experimental hand that plays notes with hesitance until the rhythm hits him and suddenly, it's a melody of energy and power and a presence that he doesn't even know he has
#dc#batfam#bruce wayne#jason todd#tim drake#dick grayson#damian wayne#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#duke thomas#alfred pennyworth#cassandra cain#if i had the brainpower i'd have given an example song for each of them but i have actual writing to do on a deadline so whoops sorry#val says words
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi! Remember this?
I decided to finally make a part two. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t a happy ending. I tried and tried but couldn’t find anything that would let them be happy. The quality of this is also not as good as the first one, I fear. Alas, it is here. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: 1147
Contents: bro just sadness
utc!
Arlecchino doesn’t come home for hours. The night ticks on and for the first hour, you just sit there in tears, your outfit not at all matching, though that seems to be the least of your problems. By the second hour, your eyes and throat burn, and you feel like it’s almost impossible to stop crying, and you wonder if you ever will. You drag yourself out of the bed, the bed you’ve made love on so many times, the bed she has laid you on as she coaxed our every single orgasm you’ve ever had. The tangled bedsheets and what’s remaining of her imprint from her body is a cruel, painful reminder. A reminder that you are not the one she’s been in love with this entire time, that you were just a replacement.
You wander the halls of your home, a gigantic, lavish home. Much larger than it needs to be, really, but Arlecchino always loved to show off her wealth. You don’t look towards the walls, you know that you’ll only see many, many photos of you and Arlecchino. Ones you that you hung there, and you remember the grin on your face when they were in place. You remember how your smile faded slightly when Arlecchino replied with a simple “that’s nice, dear.” You assumed she was only tired. Every single thing you remember but ignored comes crashing onto you, and all you can do is stare at the floor like some pathetic dog being scolded for doing something they shouldn’t have. You feel pathetic, or worthless, or angry. You can’t really tell which when they all blend together. You pad around the hallways aimlessly, a hollow, miserable look in your eyes.
You find yourself in the bathroom, and one look at yourself breaks the dam and your eyes fill with tears again. You can only see her, yet you look nothing like her. Therein lies the problem, you realise. Your hair is not red, nor do you have her white headband. You stare at yourself, muttering hateful words until yourself is not yourself. Your reflection is just a blur and you can’t tell what you look like. Your fist clenches, and you understand you have to leave the bathroom before the mirror shatters over the floor. Sombrely heading towards the living room, you’re met with pure rage at the sight of the lumidouce bells. A scoff is heard from you as you notice the picture of you three right next to them. Yet again, it went unnoticed, or perhaps, ignored. In a fit of impulsivity, the photo frame crashes to the floor with a guttural scream of “I hate you!” And of course, the vase topples to the floor too. You give no fucks as to the fact it’s four in the morning, or that the neighbours will probably complain. Let them complain, you think.
Arlecchino finally comes through the door at 9am. Your face is so swollen and puffy she wonders if you’re even the same person. You hear rustling and look towards her. There, in her hands, lies a bouquet of lakelight lilies, and yet it stings more than ever before, being the second choice. But doesn’t it fit so well? Perhaps too well. You quickly look away to avoid the sixth batch of tears.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
A bitter laugh leaves your throat before you can even stop yourself, your gaze refusing to even glance in her direction, your voice practically a sneer.
“What, did they run out of my favourite?”
“Stop that. Please. You know I love you.”
How are you so angry, so hurt, yet your heart still beats for her? Her lips come to your forehead in a kiss, and there’s a whimper before you burst into quiet sobs again.
“You admitted you don’t. What am I to you? A friend, a lover, the way I thought we were? Or some sort of sick rebound?”
Arlecchino has a tendency to stay silent when someone is correct and she does not want to admit it. Maybe because she won’t can’t admit it to herself, maybe because she can’t see you cry anymore.
“You are a cruel woman, Peruere. You use me all these years, you pretend I am someone I am not, you ruin me, and yet I find myself choosing to wait for you to want me like a dog with a bird at the door. A stray dog chasing after any sort of attention you will give me, don’t you realise, you stupid woman? I whine for you and your affection and you choose to muzzle me and leave me at the side of the road to favour someone who died so long ago. Is that what I am to you? A mutt, waiting and ready for you to kick when you’re down?”
Your outburst is unexpected, the usually stoic and unfearing woman flinching at the sheer desperation in your words. Her lips begin to form your name, but you snarl, cutting her off.
“Call me for who you think I am. Strays and mutts cycle through names anyway, so why does it matter? Say it.”
When she doesn’t respond, your anger explodes, and you push the lilies out of her hand, trampling on them and shoving her over and over again as you demand that she calls you the name you know she’s been secretly calling you. If anyone were to push and shove her the way you’re doing, they’d be ash, a new spirit to haunt her in her dreams. Yet, she withstands it with a blank face, her eyes swirling with regret and sadness.
“Shall I bark for you, Peruere? Get on my knees and beg for you to pay attention to me? Would that make you feel better? Or shall I dye my hair red and buy a white headband, and wear that damned necklace I know you keep?”
Eventually her eyes close, and she mutters a word so quiet you almost can’t hear it over the sound of your rushing heart and your ragged breathing. Your eyes burn again, but you only wish you could burn her in her own flames until she herself becomes a spirit.
“Clervie.”
That seems to do it for you, barking out a harsh laugh that’s anything but happy. You move towards the door, sliding whatever shoes you can find on.
“Oh, my poor, mad, cursed knave. You live up to who people think you are, after all. When you’re dying in the war that will occur when your precious god gets what she wants, I hope you scream for me. I hope I’m there to watch.”
With your final words, you slam the door so hard it almost comes off of its hinges, leaving a stunned, hurt Arlecchino Peruere to clean up the mess of what she had caused, both physically and mentally, though she wonders if she ever could.
#knavesflames#Ayo sorry I am not happy with this#arlecchino#arlecchino angst#genshin x reader#genshin impact#arlecchino genshin#arlechinno genshin#arlechinno x reader#arle#genshin fanfic
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
Omggggg can you stop with the Sugawara fics??? I love them both and really want to know what happens next 😭😭😭 I’m so invested pls pls pls I hope there’s a part 3 🙏🙏🙏🙏
parts: 1 / 2 / 3
—
"hey."
you freeze in your tracks a few steps outside the grocery store and wince. you should've known this would end badly.
"are you actually trying to run away?"
you pout, mildly offended that he'd implied that the effort was futile. "i was succeeding until you showed up." you turn to face suga's disappointed stare—a gently wrinkled brow and the corners of his mouth softly turned downward. a cold breeze brushes across the air and while it ruffles his hair, it makes your hands shake.
"can you please just stop this?" he tells you, as if scolding you. you try not to bolt as he approaches you. he opens his mouth when he stops in front of you, and you have to tilt your head up to keep his gaze. "i—" he starts, then sighs. "i did something, didn't i?"
you swallow down your nervousness. "what do you mean?"
"you're acting like i—" he stops himself and shakes his head. "look, i—i'm sorry. you've been avoiding me all week, so whatever it is i did, i'm sorry." he reaches forward to take your wrist and you try not to shiver.
"you didn't do anything," you can't help but mumble, your stomach roiling.
his face melts into what can only called pure sadness. "then why do you keep avoiding me?"
your heart twists and you can't help the prick of heat behind your eyes. "i—" you try to say, but it lodges itself in your throat. you look down, blinking rapidly.
"hey." suga's voice is soft and warm and comforting. "why are you crying?"
"i'm sorry," you say, but your voice cracks. you're overwhelmed with emotion—sadness, embarrassment, longing. your body handles it the only way it knows how: through tears.
suga collects you into his embrace. "hey, it's okay," he murmurs into your hair. "you're okay."
"i'm—so—sorry," you sob against his shirt. "i don't know why i acted that way. you probably hate me now."
his chest rumbles with a gentle laugh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your upper back. "that's impossible. 'hate' is the furthest thing from what i feel for you."
you pull away with a sniff and wipe your eyes with your knuckles. "i'm sorry," you say again, voice thick from crying.
"stop apologizing," suga laughs. "you didn't do anything wrong, okay? stop apologizing."
"i ignored you," you pointed out, embarrassed.
his smile turned impossibly understanding. "that doesn't mean you did something wrong."
his words make you inexplicably annoyed, and a fresh wave of tears fall from your eyes. "can you stop being so nice to me?" you say, yanking yourself away. "you should hate me."
"but i don't," suga insists, letting you pull away. "can you please just—please, just talk to me. i don't get why you're acting this way." he tries to reach for your hand again but you pull it back and it makes him shake his head. "i don't understand why you're pulling away. did i do something? do you—" he sighs. "do you hate me?"
you feel cornered by the question and shake your head.
"so please, tell me what's going on!" suga practically begs. "you're my best friend, okay? this is—i want to help, whatever it is. but i can't help if i don't know what's going on."
you read his face and see the silent plea. with a shaky breath, you push back your hair and wipe away your tears and try to stand as tall as you can. this is as much as you can take.
"i like you," you say. it comes out softer than you would've liked, so you clear your throat and repeat yourself. "i like you."
suga watches you with wide, curious eyes.
"i can't be friends with you anymore," you tell him, trying not to break. "i can't be, not anymore, because i can't—i can't—" you roughly wipe at your cheek with the back of your hand and meet his gaze defiantly.
and then he laughs.
it's a rich, deep sound that you know has his belly aching, and it's all the more humiliating. you watch him keel over as he guffaws, and your insides turn cold, but it's not a shock. it's like you hoped for this outcome, and your body finally loosens after it tensed itself for the inevitable blow.
once you get sensation back, you turn to leave, but his hand grabs your arm and holds you in place.
sugawara's laugh peters out not long after, and when he straightens, he looks radiant. his eyes crinkle at the corners with joy, his mouth curved into a satisfied smile, and his cheeks are a lovely shade of pink.
"god," he laughs, "we can never do things normally, can we? we really have to do this in front of a grocery store after not talking for a week?"
your brow wrinkles and you open your mouth to demand what exactly does he mean by that, but your mind blanks out when he catches your jaw in his hand and slots his mouth against yours.
#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#x reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x reader fluff#hq fanfic#📝 — my writing#sugawara koushi x reader#sugawara x reader#suga x reader#hq x you#haikyuu x y/n#🙏🏻 — requests
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: My control
Summary: You were impossible, but Elliott wouldn't have you any other way.
Pairing: Elliott Marston × Fem! Reader
Warnings: Smut
Author's Notes: Hello everyone. I think I'm going to be away from Tumblr for a while, so don't be surprised if I stop posting regularly. I'll be busy with some things and it may take me a while to get back, but I promise I'll return. 🥰 As for the story, I was inspired to write it by a Brazilian film. I hope you like it.
Also read on Ao3
Elliott Marston paced restlessly in the grand foyer of your house, his tall frame and piercing gaze filled with anger and frustration. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the floor as he waited for you to return. He should have known better than to marry a woman as bold as you, but her beauty had ensnared him, blinding him to the challenges that came with it. Now, he regretted it all—the impetuous decision, the spirited arguments, the nights of passion that turned into confrontations.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and he heard your voice calling from outside. "Elliott, open the door. Let me in."
He strode to the door and yanked it open, his baritone voice cold and cutting. "You're late," he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he took in your appearance. "What, were you at a pub, carousing with the local riffraff?"
You stood there, a defiant expression on your face, your hair windswept from the journey. "I was at Mrs. Murphy's, as I said I would be," you retorted, holding your ground.
Elliott scoffed and backed away, his anger palpable. He gathered the clothes he had already prepared for you and began throwing each piece at you. "This is a respectable house. You will not enter, you shameless woman," he declared, his voice laced with disdain.
You were indignant, scrambling to collect the clothes that were tossed at you. "Elliott, please, can't we discuss this like civilized people?" you pleaded, your voice rising with frustration.
He ignored your plea, his face darkening with fury. "You will sleep on the street tonight so everyone can see what a wanton woman you are," he spat, slamming the door in your face.
Outside, you gathered the rest of your scattered clothes from the floor, seething with anger at your husband's arrogance and stubbornness. "Damn you, Elliott!" you shouted, hurling the last garment towards the door. "You cannot treat me like this!"
Your voice rang in the quiet night, and you paused, listening for any response. But there was none. Anger burned in your chest as you stood alone in the darkness, the cool night air stirring around you. The grand house loomed darkly, its windows like accusatory eyes.
After a moment, you gathered your resolve. "Fine, if he wants to make a spectacle of me, so be it," you muttered to yourself, your tone defiant. You straightened your shoulders and turned towards the path leading away from the house.
In the distance, you saw the silhouette of one of Elliott's employees hurrying down the lane. You recognized him as Tom, the stable hand. He was Elliott's loyal servant, dutifully following orders no matter how cruel they might be.
"Tom!" you called out, your voice cutting through the quiet night.
Tom turned towards you, hesitating for a moment before he reluctantly approached. "Ma'am," he greeted you with a nod, his eyes avoiding yours.
"You're going to fetch the town priest, aren't you?" you asked, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you.
Tom glanced at the ground, uncomfortable with the task he'd been assigned. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.
You took a deep breath, holding Tom's gaze firmly. "Tell the priest that he will find me here. I'll wait," you said, your tone commanding.
Tom nodded again, turning away without another word. As he hurried back towards town, you watched him disappear into the night, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon you.
Alone in the dark, you took a moment to collect yourself. "I can't believe it's come to this," you whispered to yourself, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and anger.
But as you stood there in the dark, an idea began to take shape in your mind. You quickly formulated a plan, a reckless gambit driven by equal parts desperation and determination. A small smile touched your lips as you turned back towards the house.
Steeling yourself, you walked up to the grand front door. "Elliott!" you called out, your voice carrying clear and true through the night air.
Inside the house, Elliott's baritone voice barked back, cold and dismissive, "You're not welcome here, woman! Go away!"
Ignoring his venomous words, you continued, "Elliott, please open the door. I can't live without you. I love you too much to go on without you. I'm going to kill myself, Elliott."
Inside, Elliott laughed bitterly, the sound echoing through the heavy wooden door. "Lies! All lies! I sent for the priest so he can see what kind of woman you truly are," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Your heart raced, the pain of his rejection cutting deep. But you didn't hesitate. With a swift movement, you reached for the pistol you had hidden on your thigh, your hand closing around the cold steel. Holding the gun up, you shouted a last, desperate goodbye to Elliott, "Farewell, my love!"
With a quick and determined motion, you drew the pistol from its hidden holster, your fingers trembling with adrenaline and resolve. Without another moment's hesitation, you aimed the gun at the ground and pulled the trigger. The deafening crack split the silence of the night, echoing through the grand estate.
Inside the house, Elliott's eyes widened in shock at the sound of the gunshot. "My love!" he shouted, his heart clenching with terror and despair. Without a second thought, he bolted towards the door, his mind racing with fear that you had taken your own life.
Frantically, Elliott threw open the door and rushed outside, his hat askew and his mustache bristling with panic. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching desperately for any sign of your body. "No, no, no!" he muttered under his breath, his voice choked with anguish. "Please, my love, don't leave me!"
But then, he heard footsteps passing behind him, and he whirled around in confusion. There you stood, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, blowing him a teasing kiss before disappearing into the house and closing the door behind you.
Elliott's shock turned to indignation as the realization dawned on him. "It was all a setup," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with resentment. Clenching his fists in frustration, he marched up to the door and pounded on it, demanding entry.
You swung the door open with a flourish, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you tossed a pile of clothes at him, just as he had done to you earlier. "This is a respectable house, Elliott," you declared, your tone dripping with mock disdain. "You will not enter, you shameless man."
Elliott was stunned, looking at you in disbelief. But you merely chuckled, relishing the taste of revenge as you slammed the door shut in his face. "You will sleep on the street tonight so everyone can see what a dissolute man you are," you retorted, your voice ringing with satisfaction.
Outside, Elliott seethed with frustration, his pride wounded and his heart yearning for reconciliation. "Damn you, [Your Name]!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the night. But there was no response, except for the distant laughter of the wind as it swept through the trees.
He kept pounding on the door, his baritone voice filled with anger and desperation. "Let me in, woman! This is my house!" His shouts echoed through the night, growing more insistent with each passing moment. Inside, you listened with satisfaction, refusing to yield.
Just then, the town priest arrived, a lantern swinging from his hand as he hurried up the path. His eyes, weary from years of settling domestic disputes, took in the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What in heaven's name is going on here?" he called out, his voice steady and authoritative.
Elliott turned to the priest, his frustration palpable. "Father, she's gone mad! She’s locked me out of my own home! She came home late that night, and—" He gestured wildly at the closed door, his mustache bristling with indignation.
Before the priest could respond, you opened the door just wide enough to throw a bucket of ice water at Elliott. He shouted in shock, his sharp attire now clinging to his frame. "You vile woman!" he bellowed, shaking off the water.
"Don't listen to him, Father," you said, your voice quivering with feigned distress. "He's drunk and raving. He doesn't know what he's saying."
The priest's eyes widened with concern as he turned to you. "Is this true, my child? Is Elliott intoxicated?"
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you put on a show of desolation. "Father, I'm so tired of this. Every night he comes home late, reeking of alcohol. I can't take it anymore." You wiped away a tear, your voice breaking.
Elliott spluttered, trying to regain his composure. "Lies, all of it! She was the one who arrived—"
The priest raised a hand to silence him, his expression stern. "Elliott, I will not tolerate such behavior. You will ask your wife for forgiveness at once."
Elliott's face turned red with rage and humiliation. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain his anger. "This is absurd!" he protested, but the priest's unwavering gaze left him no choice.
With a deep breath, Elliott turned to you, his voice strained. "Forgive me," he said through clenched teeth, his pride wounded beyond measure.
You held out your hand, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "Of course, Elliott. I forgive you," you replied, relishing the taste of victory.
Elliott bent down, his heart heavy with resentment, and kissed your hand. Inside, he seethed, but outwardly, he maintained the facade. The priest nodded approvingly, believing the reconciliation to be genuine.
"Good," the priest said, his tone final. "Now, Elliott, you will show your wife the respect she deserves. I expect to hear no more of this drunken behavior."
Elliott's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of anger and grudging admiration. "Yes, Father," he muttered, his baritone voice low and defeated.
As the priest turned to leave, you gave Elliott a look of triumph. He had no choice but to accept his defeat, at least for now. The tables had turned, and you were in control, your victory as sweet as the cool night air.
The heavy wooden door creaked as you opened it wide, allowing Elliott to enter. "Come in," you said, your voice laced with a mix of triumph and concern. Elliott picked up his hat from the floor, his eyes burning with fury, and stormed past you, dripping wet as he made his way to the bedroom.
You followed him, your heart pounding with a mixture of defiance and apprehension. As you entered the room, Elliott was already stripping off his soaked clothes, his movements sharp and angry. You moved to help him, but he suddenly grabbed you by the neck, his baritone voice a growl of contempt.
"You're manipulative," he spat, his grip tightening. "It should be you asking for forgiveness, not me!"
You struggled for a moment, your pulse racing with fear and anger. Then, with a swift motion, you broke free from his hold. "Elliott, please," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil within you. "Let me help you."
He glared at you, his breath ragged with rage, but as you reached out to help him take off his wet clothes, he didn't resist. His muscles tensed under your touch, but there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, a crack in the hard exterior.
As you gently peeled away his soaked shirt, Elliott huffed in anger, but he couldn't completely hide the way his body responded to your touch. His eyes softened slightly, betraying the struggle within him. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his neck, and felt the tension start to melt away.
"You know the power I have over you," you whispered, your voice a soothing balm to his wounded pride.
Elliott's breath hitched, his resistance waning as you kissed him softly. His hands, which had moments before been filled with fury, now rested gently on your waist. "Damn you," he murmured, his voice a mix of anger and longing.
But despite his words, he didn't pull away. Instead, he drew you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. In that moment, the battles of pride and power faded into the background, replaced by the undeniable connection between you.
You helped him out of the rest of his wet clothes, your hands moving with a mix of tenderness and command. Elliott's anger seemed to dissipate with each touch, each kiss, as if your very presence had the power to soothe the storm within him.
As he stood there, now free of his wet clothes, Elliott looked at you with a mixture of frustration and desire. "You're impossible," he muttered, but his voice had lost its edge.
You smiled softly, your fingers trailing along his chest. "And yet, you can't resist me," you replied, your tone both teasing and tender.
Elliott's eyes darkened with a mixture of emotions, and he pulled you closer, his grip firm but no longer harsh. "I hate that you're right," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours once more.
The tension between you melted away completely as the kiss deepened, the room around you fading into insignificance. In that moment, all that mattered was the undeniable bond between you, a connection that neither pride nor anger could break.
As you held each other, the night's earlier conflict seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth and passion that only the two of you could share. And as the cool night air seeped into the room, you knew that, for now, you had won the battle, and Elliott was yours once more.
Elliott's hands roamed down your back, settling firmly on your ass. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed, feeling the raw power in his grip. His anger still simmered, palpable in his touch. "Do you think you can leave whenever you want and return without consequence?" he growled against your lips, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
You were startled when he broke the kiss abruptly, pulling you towards the bed with a force that sent a shiver of anticipation through you. Elliott sat down, yanking you over his knees, his grip unyielding. "This is what happens to naughty girls," he muttered, the first slap landing on your ass with a sharp crack.
You screamed, more in surprise than pain, the sound echoing in the quiet room. His hand came down again, and again, each slap igniting a fiery sting. But instead of cowering, you laughed, your defiance only spurring him on. You tilted your ass upwards, inviting more of the punishing blows.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Elliott's voice was a mix of frustration and grudging admiration. "Naughty girl," he growled, feeling the heat in his palm and the wetness seeping through your panties. He pulled up your dress, yanking down your panties to reveal your reddened ass and glistening pussy. The sight of you, so brazenly aroused, stirred something primal within him.
"Damn, you're insatiable," he muttered, his own arousal evident. He couldn't deny the effect you had on him, the way your defiance only made you more irresistible. His hand traced the curve of your ass, fingers teasing the sensitive skin before delivering another sharp slap.
You moaned louder, your body arching in response. "Please, Elliott," you gasped, the line between pleasure and pain blurring deliciously.
"Please, what?" he taunted, his fingers dipping between your thighs, feeling the slickness of your arousal. "Do you want more?"
"Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.
"Say it," he commanded, his breath hot against your ear.
"I want more, Elliott," you begged, your hips pushing back against his hand.
"Good girl," he murmured, his fingers finding your clit, circling it with deliberate, teasing strokes. The sensation was maddening, your body trembling with the need for release.
Elliott's hand continued its merciless rhythm, alternating between sharp slaps and teasing caresses. "You're so wet for me," he said, his voice thick with desire. "You love being punished, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers plunged into you, curling just right.
He groaned at your admission, the sound vibrating through you. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, pulling his fingers out and slapping your ass once more, harder this time.
Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, but when Elliott did nothing, you knew it was your turn to take control. Pushing yourself up from his knees, you straddled him, your movements deliberate and assertive. You could see the surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a glimmer of excitement as you undid his pants just enough to free his cock.
“Think you can control me?” you whispered, your voice dripping with challenge as you positioned yourself over him.
Elliott's hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly. “You love it when I do,” he countered, his tone filled with that familiar mix of arrogance and lust.
Ignoring his words, you sank down onto him, a gasp escaping both your lips as you took him in. Your hands gripped his shoulders for support as you began to ride him, your movements fierce and determined, like a wild horse taming her rider.
Elliott thrust up to meet you, matching your intensity. “You're like a wild thing,” he muttered, his eyes dark with desire. “So beautiful, so defiant.”
“Always trying to break me,” you replied, leaning down to nip at his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “But you never will.”
He groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding your movements. “We’ll see about that,” he growled, thrusting harder, trying to regain control. “You forget who you belong to.”
You laughed, a sound of pure defiance. “I belong to no one,” you shot back, increasing the pace, riding him with a fierce determination that left him struggling to keep up. “And I will always make you remember that.”
Elliott’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and admiration. “You’re a vixen,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands roaming up to your breasts, squeezing them possessively. “A beautiful, infuriating vixen.”
You moaned, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure and power. “And you love it,” you teased, grinding down harder, making him gasp.
“Damn you,” he muttered, his control slipping as he matched your rhythm. “You drive me mad.”
You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his. “Good,” you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. “I want you mad with desire.”
Elliott’s response was a low growl, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing hard as he thrust up into you with renewed intensity. “You’ll pay for this,” he promised, his voice thick with need.
“Promises, promises,” you taunted, throwing your head back, your movements wild and uninhibited.
The two of you moved together in a fierce battle for dominance, each trying to assert control over the other. Elliott’s charm and raw power met your beauty and defiance in a clash of wills that left you both breathless.
“Admit it,” Elliott said, his voice ragged. “You love it when I take control.”
You shook your head, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Never,” you replied, tightening around him, driving him to the edge. “But I love watching you try.”
With a final, desperate thrust, Elliott cried out, his body shuddering with release. You followed moments later, your own climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you both trembling.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against him, both of you breathing heavily. Elliott’s hands moved to your back, holding you close, a grudging respect in his eyes.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, his tone softer now, almost affectionate.
“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” you replied, resting your forehead against his, a satisfied smile on your lips.
For a moment, the conflict between you faded into the background, replaced by a rare moment of intimacy. In the dim light of the room, with the night still stretching ahead, you both knew that the battle for dominance would continue. But for now, you were content to savor the victory, and the undeniable connection that bound you together.
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic: Never You, Part 11 (Penelope x Colin)
andom: Bridgerton (TV show)
Spoilers: S3 released scenes.
Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.
Excerpt:
“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”
“Of course you would think that.”
“What else is this if not punishment?”
Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)
A03 link if that’s more your jam
Chapter 11
Penelope exited the hack and started walking home, clutching the small knife in her hand. As always she exercised full caution, refusing to be complacent about safety. In the beginning when she first started to publish Lady Whistledown sheets, late night treks through the city were imperative. Thanks to Miss Delacroix and the network they cultivated in the past year, it was no longer necessary. However she needed to discuss things with Mr. Banfield, her solicitor, and he had suggested meeting at the same tavern they used to convene at during the early Whistledown days; there was no chance of them being discovered in such a place.
Now that marriage was no longer an option, she had to find a way to escape her family. Thankfully Mr. Banfield, who had guided her initially on how to publish, was happy to provide his assistance. Tonight was their second meeting over the past week, and they had continued their discussion on how to carry her plans to fruition. With his help she would leave Mayfair, perhaps even the country, and make a new life elsewhere. Yet her heart was still heavy with sadness.
Only a fortnight ago she had looked forward to a different future, one that involved marriage and children. A loving home, a happy family – all the things she wished for whilst growing up. But that was no longer a possibility, thanks to her own foolishness. And Colin. Anger rushed through her immediately, her gaze landing on the Bridgerton house across the street. Her heart lurched, remembering their last encounter a week ago. Since her confession to him, there had been no contact between them. That didn’t surprise her, of course. Societal expectations dictated ladies be pure and innocent and she was no longer that. It was only natural he no longer desired her, he likely never did.
Colin’s strange obsession with her had been some kind of a temporary madness, his feelings never in earnest, which meant she had ruined her future with Arthur for no reason at all. And the thought of it filled her with so much rage and self-loathing that she wanted to scream. Why? Why did Colin have to play with her emotions in such a manner? Why did she allow herself to be swayed towards him despite knowing better? She had begged him, pleaded with him, to leave her alone but he had insisted – no, demanded – her body and soul, crossing all respectable boundaries of society to get his way. Along the way, he had stormed through all the walls surrounding her heart.
A part of her resented him, wishing that she never knew what it felt like to be ravaged by his kiss, the sensation of his mouth on her body. It was so much easier to live with ignorance because then she wouldn’t be haunted by dreams of him, the piercing intensity in his eyes while he claimed her. If only she could feel hate for him, things would be so much easier –
A large hand closed over her mouth, the other grabbing her from behind. It happened so quickly she was too startled to react. Fear rushed through her body, making it impossible for her to think rationally. Was this how she would die? Without accomplishing any of the things she wanted? No family, no children. Alone. No goodbyes with Eloise. No Colin. And suddenly everything became clear again. No. She wouldn’t die like this. Immediately her survival instincts kicked in and she started fighting back, kicking, using the knife in her hand to strike against her attacker.
“Pen, calm down! It’s me!”
Colin. She dropped the knife, circling around. Her heart was pounding in her chest while she stared up at him frantically. “You scared me half to death!” Her breath was labored, still recovering from the fright he gave her, she pushed him away. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you?” He trudged forward, closing the distance between them. “It’s past midnight and you’re roaming the streets with no concern for your safety. Do you know how daft that is?”
“Is that why you snuck up on me? To teach me a lesson?”
His blue eyes darkened with furious indignation. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in? What if I was a brute with bad intentions-”
“You’re bleeding!” She quickly grabbed his hand, seeing the cut on the side of his arm.
Oblivious to the blood, he continued to chastise her. “At least you had the foresight to carry a weapon. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t completely lost your mind.”
She retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, too worried about his bruise to continue the argument. “We need to clean this before it becomes worse.” Wrapping the cloth around his arm, she led him towards the back of the house where Martha had left a door unlocked for her. “Everyone is asleep, we must be quiet.”
They crept through the house, the kitchen, up the staircase, down the corridor to her bedchamber, all the while his long, lean fingers intertwined with hers, gripping her hand securely. The adrenaline rush from earlier had already started to wear off but her heart continued to flipflop due to his close proximity, her body fully aware of him. When they finally reached her chambers she knocked on the door in a specific rhythm, signaling to Martha she had returned. Her maid opened the door right away, her eyes widening in surprise when she spotted Colin standing behind Pen.
“Miss? Is everything alright?”
Penelope walked past her, leading Colin to the nearest chair and directing him to sit down. “Martha, can you get me a pitcher of water and the ointment Mrs. Varley keeps in the kitchen? Quickly? Mr. Bridgerton has suffered a wound.”
While Martha exited, Penelope busied herself by removing her cape, heading towards the wardrobe. Inside were clean cloths and she quickly retrieved some before returning to Colin’s side. Standing in front of him she gently lifted his hand, removing the stained handkerchief to inspect the cut. The blood had started to coagulate, he was no longer bleeding.
“Miss, here’s everything,” Martha placed the bowl of water and ointment on the table. “May I assist you in some way?”
“Thank you, but no. Penelope and I would like some privacy,” Colin replied in a gentle but firm tone. “Please.”
Casting him an annoyed glance, Pen addressed the other woman. “You’ve done enough, Martha. Thank you for your help tonight. Please get some rest.”
She followed Martha to the door, speaking in a low voice so Colin wouldn’t hear. “Did anyone come to my door while I was away?”
“No, Miss.”
“Have a good night.”
Locking the door, she turned around to confront Colin. “I don’t appreciate you ordering my maid about.”
“And I don’t appreciate her enabling your reckless behavior.”
Annoyed, she wandered closer until coming to a stop in front of him. With him seated, she was only slightly more elevated which made it difficult to avoid his gaze, especially as he was determined to scrutinize her while she tended to his wound. His breath hummed against her, his other hand purposely caressing her trembling fingers as she wiped his skin with a wet cloth. No, she wouldn’t look at him. Absolutely not. It was easier to hold onto her righteous anger than to think about his wild, unkempt curls that begged to be brushed, the haunting depth of his eyes penetrating her to her very core. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, as evident by the scruff on his face, and instead of lessening his looks it only made him more beautiful.
“Where did you go tonight?” he murmured.
Considering his harsh demeanor from only a few minutes earlier, his gentleness was surprising. Putting aside the wet towel, she dried his arm with a fresh one, then started rubbing ointment on him. “I was not feeling well and decided to go for a walk.”
His free hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close. Dark, riveting eyes peered up at her, holding her spellbound in his arms. “We both know that wasn’t a leisurely stroll, Pen. Do not lie to me.”
“What I do is none of your concern, Colin.” Despite her frayed nerves, her voice was calm and resolute, surprising even herself.
His unrelenting gaze refused to waver from her. “Everything about you concerns me. Especially when I catch you sneaking out to a brothel in the middle of the night.”
“Have you gone mad? Of course I didn’t go to such an establishment!”
“Perhaps you were too preoccupied with your guest to notice the brothel above the tavern.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yet you seem to be very familiar with it. Why is that?” She waited for him to deny her accusation but he said nothing, simply watching her. Jealousy flooded over her like a tidal wave, the implication of his silence fully sinking in. It was one thing to accept the inevitability of Colin falling in love and marrying another woman, at least then she could reassure herself he was genuinely happy even if it caused her agonizing pain – but to know he was lying with other women and behaving like a complete scoundrel? It was so infuriating she wanted to scream. “Is that where you were tonight? Patronizing the brothel?” How dare he? How dare he demand anything from her? “Let me go!” She spat out viciously, forcibly removing herself from his arms. “Get out! Get out of my chamber, get out of my life! I never want to see you again!”
Disgusted with him, she started to walk away when he stood up swiftly and pulled her close. Gripping her tightly from behind, he held her caged in his embrace. “It hurts, doesn’t it? To think of me screwing someone else?” he growled in her ear.
“Go to hell!” She yelled back, fighting him. Despite her struggle he overpowered her easily, maneuvering her between his body and the desk behind. She gripped the edges around the table to maintain her balance but it was hard to do with him bending forward to meet her at eye-level. Heaving, she glared at him defiantly, only quivering when he positioned his hands on either side of her to confine her in place.
“That sick, repulsive jealousy in the pit of your stomach? That’s what I’ve been feeling this entire time, thinking about you fucking men after men in my nightmares. Every time I close my eyes you torture me!” His gaze burned with ferocity, lips pursed into a thin line. “And when you’re not fucking them, you’re laughing with them, flirting with them!”
“So you’re using your dreams as an excuse to rake about with harlots? That’s pathetic!"
“Of course I didn’t go to the fucking brothel! I’ve been laid up in bed all week, too sick at the thought of you with other men!”
His words were so preposterous she started laughing. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. And completely out of his mind.
“It’s not funny, Penelope.” His voice was a raspy threat, his darkened eyes roaming over her face.
“Isn’t it? You’re making yourself sick over silly dreams.”
He shook his head. “Not dreams, nightmares. Nightmares that eat away at my soul, make me want to rip my eyes out because I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else.”
His face was achingly close, only a few inches separating them, his intoxicating eyes holding her enthralled. She couldn’t breathe, not when he was studying her so intently, his gaze locked on her lips. “Colin…” she whispered breathlessly.
He kissed her with absolute desperation, like a man starving, and she clung to him, returning his kiss with equal fervor. It wasn’t enough, she needed more, so much more, and her arms tightened around him while he lifted her and settled her on the desk.
The madness that took over was overwhelming, his hands all over her body, claiming her as his own, and she yielded to him fully when he pressed her to lie back on the table. In his haste to situate her on the desk so she was comfortable, he pushed aside the bowl of water, and she heard it drop to the ground, the loud noise it made when it crashed, but it didn’t matter, none of it did, when his mouth was roving over her neck, his hands squeezing her breasts.
The small voice in her head burst through, reminding her how unseemly she must have looked to him right now. In a simple day dress that wasn’t flattering, no adornments on her face or hair, legs propped on the table so he was positioned between them, she felt undignified. She opened her eyes, intending to ask him to stop but the words died in her throat when she spotted the reverence on his face. Eyes glazed, mouth open, he was watching her as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him.
Her heart raced, his heated stare melting her inhibitions away. And she reached out to caress his hair, running her fingers through the silky strands before cradling his face.
He kissed her palm, smiling shyly at her. Only a few seconds earlier she was filled with trepidation but now it was passion that surged through her blood, filling her veins, leaving no space in her mind for anything else. Eyes locked with his, she started to untie the laces on the bust of her dress and he followed her every move hungrily.
She peered up at him, her fingers pausing on her partially uncovered breasts. “Do you want to touch me?”
Whatever semblance of control he was under seemed to dissipate in an instant. His mouth was voracious on hers, kissing her frantically while his hand trailed up the inside of her leg, past her thighs, sending shivers along her spine when he finally reached her core. Last time he had touched her so intimately there was a barrier of clothes between his hand and her body, but there was nothing that existed now. Unexpected sensations rippled through her while he penetrated her with his finger, one at first, and then another, curving into her so expertly she almost screamed. She couldn’t understand how his pulsing fingers felt so good, how she was supposed to breathe when all the nerves in her body were so heightened. Writhing, she dug her fingers into his spine, the other hand circling the back of his neck, clinging to him while he whispered the naughtiest things to her.
“You feel so good. So tight… and wet… and hot…. perfect,” he murmured, kissing the underside of her right breast before licking his way up to the center His tongue laved over the nipple, over and over again until it puckered, his hunger for her insatiable while he sucked on the hardened nub, teasing her, taunting her. “Perfect for me… my fingers… my cock…”
The rhythm of his fingers changed unexpectedly, drawing out a sound from her she didn’t even know was possible. “Colin…” she moaned, drowning under the pleasure of his hands, his mouth. His sensual words.
“…God, if you only knew… if you only knew how good you feel…” He was breathless, his body trembling like her own. “Look at me, Pen…”
Amidst the haze, she heard his plea and obliged. The blue pools of his eyes had never been this dark before, the sheer emotion so pure and potent it left her stunned.
“Your sweet, tight cunt…begging to be filled with my cock…”
“Please…”
“Want my cock inside of you, love?”
Love. The word registered somewhere deep in her brain but faded right away, tension building higher and higher inside her.
He pulled back a little, peering at her. “Do you?”
“Yes…”
He nipped her chin, traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue, his teeth. “Taste you so badly… fuck you with my mouth… my tongue inside you…”
Everything was amplified, her body on fire. “Please…” She was close, so close, his thumb brushing against her clit with just the right amount of pressure so her body keened. And then his fingers twisted inside in her such a way that the world exploded.
Ecstasy flowed over her, through her, fireworks exploding into stars. She was floating again, like the last time with Colin, her body boneless and fluid. Her senses slowly returned. Awareness sank in as she drifted back to reality, becoming cognizant of the gentle, warm kisses he was peppering on her neck. His hand on her right breast, cupping it, squeezing it. His hardness jutted against her thigh, strained in his trousers, because he had been too focused on bringing her pleasure.
She cradled his face, nudging him to look at her. “May I touch you?”
Colin’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight, his voice velvety smooth. “Yes.”
She nodded her head, smiling shyly when he helped her sit up on the table. The tender expression on his face left her heart thudding in her chest, how he looked at her with so much affection. For so long she had wanted to love him to her heart’s content, caress him without any reservation, and this would very likely be her last chance. Soon she would be gone, and there would never be another opportunity to enjoy him again. With that thought in mind she traced his eyebrows with her fingers, the contours of his face, the shape of his lips. He was beautiful, a Roman sculpture come to life. She sucked on his bottom lip, nibbling on him gently. Not only did he like doing that to her, he liked having it done to him.
Her hand lingered down the length of his neck, removing the shirt from his body until he was standing half naked in front of her. She caressed the soft, crinkling hair on his chest, excited to touch him. Remembering how he lavished over her nipples, she did the same to him, her mouth on one while her fingers played with the other. He fisted her hair, letting her continue while she teased him mercilessly.
“If you keep doing that, I won’t last long.”
In her limited experience she knew it took men longer to recover once they were spent, and she definitely didn’t want to lose her chance at pleasuring him. “It’s not very fair that you can have all the time you want with me while I have to hurry along.”
A delightful, mischievous smile marked his lips, causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. “Next time you can have your turn first.”
Her smile stiffened but she didn’t respond, instead refocusing her attention back on him. Her fingers traced the planes of his hard stomach, lingering along every angular ridges of his body. Then she lowered his breeches, with his help, allowing his hardness to spring forth, and the sight of him stole her breath - just like before. Except tonight she was the one stroking him instead of Colin pleasuring himself. He was slick to the touch, the girth of him daunting, but she slowly started to mimic his movements from the other night.
His mouth opened but there were no coherent words that came out, not like when he’d been loving her and being very explicit about his wants. Now there were only gasps and groans of ecstasy, heightening her own excitement, and she watched his head loll back while he lost himself in her touch completely.
***
They were laying in bed together, facing each other. Her eyes were heavy with sleep but she didn’t want to give into it quite yet, not when he looked so beautiful and sated next to her. She wanted to freeze this moment, lock it somewhere deep in her memories so she could look back upon it fondly. But her bliss was short-lived, as always.
Love. He had called her love, more than once, in the throes of passion. He had used the term of endearment so easily, with complete nonchalance. Even though he didn’t feel the same, even though he was fully aware of how much she loved him. Her heart throbbed. The more Colin was in her life the more he would hurt her, perhaps not deliberately but through indifference or carelessness. This is why she had to get away from Mayfair, not just far away from her family but also him because she didn’t want to live in perpetual agony.
“You should leave, Colin. It’ll be dawn soon.”
He didn’t budge. “Why were you at the tavern?”
She contemplated her response. If he had been true about not being at the brothel, that meant he had spotted her at the tavern with Mr. Banfield. Thus, it would be foolish to lie to him – but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. No one could know of her plans to leave. Deciding a half lie was better than a complete one, she answered him. “Cousin Jack owed a lot of money from the scheme he concocted.”
“I’m aware.” Colin drew circles on her arm, playing with her. “What does that have to do with you?”
“Fortunately he didn’t escape with the funds, but Mama also hasn’t been overly concerned with returning the money to those he stole from.” She exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “So I’ve been meeting with Mister Banfield in secret every month, giving him whatever amount I can so he may settle the accounts for those Cousin Jack wronged.”
“Where are you getting the money from?”
Of course she couldn’t tell him all of the accounts had already been settled from her Lady Whistledown profit. “I’ve been managing the household accounts for a while now and siphoning the money from there.”
He clutched her face. “This is no longer your concern. I will meet with Mister Banfield this week and return all the funds to him.”
Penelope stilled. The last thing she needed was Colin spending any of his money on her behalf. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve already paid back everything.”
Colin’s eyebrow quirked up in disbelief. “You were able to gather all that simply from the household fund?”
“And my dowry,” she added quickly. “Of course Mama doesn’t know about that.”
“Your dowry isn’t needed anyway. Father was very generous to all of us.”
It took a few seconds for his words to fully register in her brain. “Colin-”
He slid off the bed, picking up his shirt from the floor. With quick and agile movements he dressed himself, tucking the shirt into his trousers. “Tomorrow I will call on Lady Featherington and ask her for your hand in marriage.”
That woke her up instantly. She scooted forward until she was on the edge of the bed, facing him. “We can not be married, Colin. I’ve already told you this.”
He paused, regarding her closely. “But you love me.”
“So what?” she bit out. “It will fade with time.”
There was anger in his voice, in the clench of his jaw when he spoke next. “Maybe, but I don’t plan to give you that time.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around his selfish words, this was so unlike the Colin she had come to know as a friend. “Don’t you think I deserve to marry someone who loves me back? You used to believe so.”
He approached her, until he stood directly in front and reached out to cradle her face. “I know you Pen, inside and out, and you are not fickle, far from it. Your love is strong, it’s passionate and unrelenting. I experience the sheer depth of it every time I’m near you, when you look at me, when you touch me.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “No one will care for you as strongly as I do. I can make you happy, the happiest you’ve ever been.”
“I don’t need your charity, Colin. I am perfectly capable of being happy without marrying you.” She wrung his hand away. “Especially as I’m betrothed to another.”
She tried to stand up but he blocked her path, causing her to sit back down on the bed. He knelt down in front of her. The hard glint in his eyes was now familiar to her, a look she had grown wary of in these past few weeks. “It would be a shame, would it not, if everyone were to find out about Mister Banfield’s activities with marriageable ladies in the middle of the night? What do you think would scandalize the ton more, the fact he’s meeting them in the first place or conducting business with the fairer sex?” He took her hand in his own, his thumb stroking her skin in a very deliberate manner. “I’m certain Anthony would no longer do any business with him. Others in society would probably quickly follow suit.”
The vindictiveness in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. He may have resembled her Colin with his soft, pleasing voice and manner but she saw right through the ruse; he was diabolical.
He tipped his head to the side, peering at her. “And I worry about Martha’s future if your Mama were to discover how lax your maid has been with her responsibilities. Letting you sneak off unchaperoned, allowing me to come to your chambers so late at night. Do you think your mother would continue to employ her after that?”
She shot him an incredulous look. “You would harm innocent people to get your way?”
A beat passed. “I would do anything to keep you in my life.”
Before she could respond to him, he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head before standing up. “I will call on you later today.”
She sat there in shock, watching after him as he quietly exited her chamber.
To be continued...
A/N - As always, feedback is loved and appreciated. I'm sticking with the names I had chosen originally, a.k.a Martha for Pen's maid (instead of Rae) and Arthur (as opposed to Alfred for Debling).
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don't know what title to give this.
Ok, Idk if some of you missed it, but I'll give you the context, (I'd like to share the story, but honestly, it's not mine, and the author himself deleted it on his own, so I'm unsure if I can give you anything about it).
But I'll give you a little summary of the situation. The delegates from each kingdom are preparing for a sports festival in which all the kingdoms are participating.
Bael comes up with the idea of giving Mc as a trophy, because Bimet was the one who suggested giving a juicy reward, and Sitri, reluctantly, accepted it. Mc could not oppose the idea because Bael said goodbye too quickly, and Mc meets Marbas, who guides her to the stadium.
On her tour, Mc sees our favorite kings from afar, and Lucifer. Marbas tells her that he chose the outfit, and she tells him that if she continues to count her as a prize in the horse race, if she continues to look at them lewdly.
Marbas leaves MC at the end of the race, for a better view, and then Azathot is the one who narrates the events of the race; Satan on his remodeled motorcycle, Mammon throwing money while calmly galloping, Beel eating a donut while flying in a cluster of flies in the form of a horse, and Levi, who was threatening his horse to win the race, and finally, after all this, Lucifer.
We are mentioned that Lucifer had a habit of riding unicorns, and not only that, but Mc waits impatiently for Lucifer to win. To no one's surprise, Lucifer grabs Mc by the waist and takes her to the stables, where they practice… not questionable acts, of course.
And they make it clear… three things:
The angels' dicks (it is not clear if all of them) provoke orgasms at the slightest penetration (don't laugh, it's real).
2.Lucifer is brutally honest… And he says things that kill the moment (Like Satan, of course).
Ignore that there is something else there, simply, that happened to say hello.
(Now he thought not only of God, but also of his brothers, how thoughtful.), and I don't know exactly what that is supposed to mean, if they were having sex.
Open speculation, because I think there is a reason they have chastity belts, and Luci is laying the cards on the table.
3. The unicorn was impregnated, because she witnessed Lucifer breaking Mc's vagina/ass.
Apparently, in the WHB world there is no Holy Spirit, but rather, simply the miracle of conception happens upon seeing the sexual act involving an angel (I am doubtful as to whether this works with all angels, and whether God is also included in this phenomenon). It's even made clear that the unicorn is a virgin, so it was “impossible”.
Y… I want to know what exactly it is that gives PB the craziest ideas to put in a single card. Being honest, the really good thing about it all, were the kings' costumes, and how the relationships between the nobles of other countries are.
And an honorable mention to our baby Morax, who almost went with god, because the bandages came undone. :(
Also for Abbadon, who is half prison (why would there be a prison in hell if his rules are so non-descriptive?).
#whb#what in hell is bad#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#pretty busy#whb lucifer#Information for angeles in whb headcannons
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Written for a @astrangersummer.
Imagine the Stars
Week #5 Prompt: Constellations | Word Count: 680 | Rating: T | POV: Max | Pairings: None | Characters: Max | CW: Canon Injuries, Recovering After Vecna | Tags: Post S4, Max Thinking About the Stars, A Bit Melancholy, But No Infinite Sadness
Max sprawls in the grass, and closes her eyes. Not that it matters. Dark is dark. It just feels less overwhelming when her eyes are closed. Like things are still the same, even if they really aren't. Not at all.
It's all just noise at his point: the doctors, the specialists, all saying that she might get her sight back, or at least some of it. But they don't seem sure, are only guessing, she knows that, and she's not betting on anything right now.
Because they don't know, can't know, how it actually happened. So, finding a treatment might be impossible. It's probably pretty damn hard to fix magical wounds by mortal means.
But it's fine. Whatever. It kind of has to be, since she doesn't really have a say in the matter. She's gotten used to it. The sunglasses and the cane. The constant babying by all her friends. Steve Harrington hovering, mothering, worse than ever before.
She's not alone. Almost never is. But she sure feels isolated a lot of the time.
Lucas reads to her, but it's not the same. She wants to hold the book in her own hands, let her eyes skim across the text, taking in, or ignoring, as much as her brain is in the mood for at the moment.
El paints her nails, but Max can't see the shock of color, so does it even matter? She gets no joy out of it, not really, but she thinks El does, so she lets her continue. Because it hurts nothing.
They're all laughing off in the distance right now, and she can pick out all of their voices, imagining them just as they were the last time she'd seen them all.
The last time she'd seen anything at all.
She needs to think about something else. Something more manageable.
The grass. The grass under her is soft and almost cool, and she stretches her arms out, grasping two fistfuls of earth, squeezing. And she feels grounded. Centered, once again.
It's daylight. Mid-afternoon, with the sun beating down overhead. But to her, it could be night. The sky could be the clearest blue, or the darkest red.
She believes it to be the bluest of blues, these days.
But in her own private cover of darkness, she can also picture the night sky. The same inky, dark blue-black sky that her dad used to point out the constellations in, looking overhead, when she was a little girl. Him, giving their names, their shapes, tracing the paths in which she was supposed to be able to see them.
Max would look, would study the stars, and while she could find the Big Dipper, that was about it. Could see the double stars that make up the second point in the handle. Could trace the outline of the whole constellation with her finger.
But more often than not for the others, though, she'd just pretend to see what he so easily could. Her dad knew them all, and always told her she'd be able to see them too, when she was older. Now she's older, and she most definitely can't.
And she may never be able to, not now.
So, she does the next best thing. She pictures the handle of the Big Dipper, counting the stars until in her mind's eye she can see little lines tracing around the stars, stitching them together into something bigger. Something different. All the parts connecting themselves together, making up a bigger whole.
She did that, too, she knows. In that attic. She sealed her own fate for the greater good.
And she'd do it again, even if she wouldn't be happy about it.
They killed Vecna. Not immediately. Not until after there were victims, and damages that may never be undone.
But they're free of that terror, now. Hawkins, and hopefully, the whole goddamn world.
The world is blue, not red.
And because her friends finished what they started, it's safe for her to lay in the grass, soaking up the sun, while she imagines the stars.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌌
#a stranger summer#week five#prompt: constellations#stranger things#max mayfield#max mayfield gen fic#stranger things s4#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: a stranger summer
18 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
furiouswinnerbakerycalzone-blog
meu pecado é te amar
klinikkecantikanaesthetic-blog
E3A CLINIC
buffalolake
Chequamegon
futuristiccollectorkrypton-blog1
Most Frequently AskedBackbone.jsInterview Question
shinjukuinnvideo
spatial resynthesis