Shooting Your Shot

Shooting Your Shot

Shooting Your Shot

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Words: 3.4K

Summary: Arthur makes good on his promise to teach you how to shoot. You struggle with this time alone with him due to your seemingly unrequited feelings for him.

Warnings: sfw, guns, shooting, bullets, me not knowing anything about guns so being intentionally vague about them, reader and Arthur are both fools, kissing, Arthur and reader are touched starved, physical affection

A/N: @sharinkashaf Fucking please let Arthur teach reader how to shoot. ❤️❤️❤️

thank you for the idea for this one! also thank you for all the love on my first one shot that I posted the other day, I will be working on a part 2 for it! please if you have any ideas or things you want to see me write for Arthur let me know! once again, warning that it has been years since I’ve last written anything so it’s not perfect

Shooting Your Shot

You smirked into your coffee mug as the high pitched whines of Sean’s complaints sounded around camp. You had been half sitting on one of the camps tables, watching as Tilly had defeated Sean in dominoes for what must have been the fifth time in a row. Despite Sean’s insistence that the younger girl must have been cheating, or was secretly a professional dominos player, his words were met with rolling of eyes and laughter as the games continued.

There was a good mood sunken over the camp that morning. It had seemed like you had all reached a string of good luck - for once, you didn’t have to be constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next bad thing to happen. The donation box was full, people were smiling amongst themselves and even the coffee didn’t taste as bad as it normally did.

You knew who this all was thanks to. For weeks, Arthur had been slaving himself, constantly out of camp and on missions, scouting out new resources and pulling through with every plan Dutch had given him. Your heart fluttered at the thought of him, but you willed yourself not to turn to look for him, even though you had noted his absence near the centre of camp all morning. Silently, you prayed that wherever he was, he was able to take advantage of the peacefulness in camp that he had helped bring about.

A hand settled on your shoulder, causing you to jump and loose grip of your coffee mug. With one hand still on your shoulder, Arthur swooped in and grabbed your mug before it could clatter to the ground. Speak of the devil, you thought - you didn’t dare say it out loud, not wanting the man to know how at home he was in your thoughts.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” he said, his body so close to yours’ that it felt like he was whispering directly into your ear.

His hand was still resting on your shoulder. Your coffee mug and what little coffee remained in it was forgotten as Arthur set it on the table you rested by.

“S’alright. Didn’t startle me too bad.” you replied, craning your head to look up at him from your close proximity. Arthur just stared back at you, seemingly in thought.

“You need something?” You asked, suddenly aware that any moment longer in this position might have you spontaneously combust into flames.

Arthur blinked, removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step back. His lack of touch made the spot on your shoulder where his hand had sat feel cold.

“Was just wondering if you’d be free. Shooting practice. Like I’d promised you.”

You remembered this promise vividly. You had been certain that he hadn’t though. It had been weeks since that talk. You had been running with the gang for close to a year now. While you were good at pickpocketing and scamming out drunk men, you were deeply aware that your gun work needed immense practice. There had been more than a few close calls that frightened you by now, ones that would have frightened you less had you been more skilled in shooting. Your skills were passable - you could pull the trigger on the gun enough times to scare off more passive enemies but you were slow to draw and even slower to hit where you wanted to. After a few drinks round the camp fire, you had confessed this insecurity to Arthur. You weren’t sure why him. Maybe because he was there. Maybe because he was the best gunman in camp by far. Maybe because you were hopelessly in love with him.

You took a deep breath to try simmer down the swell of emotion in your chest. He had drunk that night too - you were certain that his promise to make you a better shooter was just the alcohol speaking.

“We’ll make a proper gunslinger of you yet, darlin’.” he had slurred, before chugging another sip of whiskey and passing you the bottle. When you drank from the bottle after him, you did it slowly: it wasn’t just the whiskey you’d wanted a taste of now.

“I’m free. I’ll just go get my horse ready-”

“Ain’t no need. We won’t go far, we can just go on mine if it’s alright with you.” he interrupted, breaking his stare from you to peer off at nothing beside him. His hand rubbed at where his shirt collar touched his neck as he waited for your response. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“S’alright with me. Where we going?” At your confirmation, he began to walk off with you beside him towards where his mare stood.

“I set up some targets in the clearing east of ‘ere earlier this morning. Empty enough we’ll not be heard, but still close enough to camp that we won’t be bothered by anyone,” He replied, setting up a layer of blanket just behind his saddle on his horse, “You alright sitting behind?”

You would sit anywhere as long as it let you be close to him. You didn’t tell him that - you just hummed a yes and watched as he pulled himself up onto his horse, sitting slightly farther forward than he usually would.

He held out his hand and you accepted it, trying to ignore how small you felt in his grasp. You have yourself a boost with one leg in the empty stirrups, and flung your other leg over the horse.

“Sitting alright?” He asked. Your hand was still in his, his finger closed over yours with his thumb gently dragging up and down your hand in a way that weirdly comforted you. You weren’t sure if he noticed, but it was increasingly difficult for you not to.

“Yeah, m’fine.” You responded. You felt like your whole body was on fire. Your chest was pressed up against his back, your knees pressing against his upper thighs to secure your place on the horse.

Arthur’s thumb stopped moving as if it suddenly occurred to him that he was still holding your hand. He released it, grabbing his horse’s rope and grunting a response back to you. With your hands now free, you placed them underneath his bent arms, gingerly clutching onto his waist. If your touch had bothered him, Arthur did not say.

Your journey to the clearing was uneventful and quiet. An uneasy anxiety settled over your stomach. You had wished that Arthur could have a day of peace, but here he was, having to teach you how to shoot because you were too bad of a shot to protect yourself. You felt bad that you had pressured him into this. You felt bad that he was always made to look after everyone in camp all of the time. You felt bad that despite this, all you could think about was the feeling of his stomach underneath your fingertips as your arms wrapped around his waist.

His horse came to a stop and you could see what Arthur had been doing all morning. Crates had been stacked up around a tree, the various heights of the crates displaying different sizes and shapes of tins and glass bottles. The bottles had been placed in the branches of the tree itself, with shards of glass strung up, hanging down from the tree by strands of a thin rope. The sun shone down on the tree, reflecting the colours of the glass onto the ground, a mirage of different colours.

“Wow. This looks great Arthur. Like a proper shootin’ range an’ all.” You said to him as he stood on the grass beside you, helping you down from his horse.

“S’nothin’. Just took a lil’ time this morning.” He looked away from you, pulling his hand away from yours once your feet were steady on the ground. He rubbed at his neck again.

“It ain’t nothing, Arthur. Must’ve took some time. Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry, I know you got better things to be doing.” It was getting hard to swallow with how full your heart felt.

Arthur turned his head back to you at your words. His brow furrowed as he began to speak.

“You don’t got nothing to be sorry about. There ain’t nothing better for me to do but to spend time with you.” Arthur froze slightly at the end of his sentence, as if he had said something he didn’t mean to say. A slight blush spread across his face and he looked away from you again.

You reached out bravely and touched his upper arm.

“Thank you, Arthur. Truly.”

Arthur nodded before turning and getting his pistol out of his saddle bag behind you. Upon a further glance, you realised it wasn’t his usual pistol at all. It was new you thought, a shiny Schofield Revolver with a pearl handle and gold metal. Something was engraved onto the frame, but in the reflection of the sun you couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Arthur passed you the gun and a hand full of bullets, indicating for you to get the gun ready. Thankfully, this was something you didn’t need taught - after finishing, you hand the gun back to Arthur where he inspects it and hums out a response.

He passes you back the gun and begins walking closer to the tree. As you follow him, you note that he’s created a guideline in the grass of where the stand, with another stack of creates beside it. He sits down on the crates and nods for you to stand in position on the grass.

“I just want to see what we’re working with first - aim for the glass bottles on the second row if you can,” He says, leaning back on the crate and taking out an apple from his bag. He starts to cut it into slices with his knife, eating it piece by piece.

You hold the gun in front of you with two hands. You’re trembling slightly. You hate the fact that he’s watching you. More than that, you hate the fact that he’s watching you and you don’t know what he’s thinking.

The sound and recoil of the gun makes you jump slightly. You miss any bottle completely, the bullet skimming into the vacant air beside the crates. You shoot again, less shocked by the recoil this time, but still an awful shot. Again, you shoot, this time hitting the corner of one of the crates. It’s still no where near where your aiming, but you’re hitting something so you can’t help but feel slightly proud. You shoot, again, again, again. You manage to hit a tin can four objects down from the bottle you aim for on the second row. Your ears are ringing in your head and your hands feel tight from their grip around the gun. From behind you, you hear Arthur come towards you from his place on the crate. He’s good at going unnoticed when he wants to despite his large size, but now, he makes his presence known to you, his chest skimming your back.

“Right foot backwards, steady yourself.” He’s leaning his head down to speak directly to your ear. Your heart beats a little bit quicker but you follow his request, moving your right leg slightly backwards till it connects with his. You position your foot right in front of his. His left leg adjusts to settle right behind your left one. Your breathing gets a bit quicker also.

“Need you completely straight. Always facing towards where your aiming to match up your sights.” His voice rings in your head. Need you, need you, need you. His hands land on either side of your waist, swivelling you slightly to face you completely towards the tree, your legs staying in the same position supported by the feeling of his behind you. You think his hands stay on your waist a few seconds longer than they should do.

He guides his hands up to your shoulders. He moves them slightly too, more gentle than anyone who’s ever met him would ever expect him to be capable of. Except you. From the day you’d met Arthur, you knew exactly what he would be capable of, despite his insistence that he was a bad man. But you knew: a bad man would not be spending his day holding you so close and so gently like this for no benefit of his own.

He grabs each of your hands with his own from underneath your arms. He’s holding them up, supporting you, slightly stretching forward now to position the gun in front of you. His front is fully pressed up against you. You can feel it now - his own heartbeat is just as quick as yours.

His head is resting against yours, his neck craning down to adjust to your smaller size in comparison to his.

Together, as one, you lift the gun to aim at the bottle on the second row. His finger wraps around yours to guide you into pulling the trigger. He speaks again, so close to you he’s almost apart of you, his voice meant for nothing else except for speaking to you.

“Breathe in as you aim. Keeps you still,” You do as he tells you, feeling his own chest expand behind you and you breath together, “Shoot on the exhale. You got this sweetheart.”

You exhale at the same time as him, the heaviness of your breaths cancelled out by the loud bang as the shot rings out. You hear a splinter and crack as your bullet collides with its target. Not dead centre, but you’ve hit it, and that’s good enough. If you were so preoccupied on steadying your heartbeat at the feeling of Arthur pressing against you, you might have cried out in triumph.

“Good girl.” Arthur whispers to you. You aren’t sure if it’s the sound of the bullets ringing in your ears or his voice anymore. You know that because you can feel his heartbeat in his chest behind you, he can feel yours too. You know that the smirk you feel spread across his face as he presses against the side of your head is because he can feel how his praise made your heart skip another beat.

You keep shooting like that; Arthur guiding you with his own body and you hitting every target every time. After a while Arthur pulls his arms back from yours. You almost deflate at his absence but he doesn’t remove himself from your back. Instead he places his hands on your waist and tells you to keep going.

When you shoot again, Arthur’s lack of guidance is noticeable - but not extremely. You’re better than you were, the bullet landing a centimetre off from the tin can you now aim for. You shoot again creating a whole just off the centre of the can. You shoot again, the bullet disappearing seamlessly into the previous hole. Arthur squeezes at your hips as you grin.

It continues on like that: you shoot, more often than not hitting the target spot on or hitting it on your second try, and Arthur, a constant behind you squeezing his hands in congratulations on your waist, inching them closer and closer until eventually he has almost enveloped you completely in a backwards hug. He murmurs appreciation every so often, and your heart has stopping beating a little quicker every time this happens. In fact, his mere presence has made your constant heartbeat so fast already that there is little change.

The gun clicks, the chamber empty. You’re scared to breathe, worried that any sudden move will scare Arthur out of your arms, like a prey spotting it’s hunter. But it’s Arthur who breaks the stillness, removing his hands from your waist to bring your arms down to your chest, the gun still clutched between your hands. His arms come to clutch around your waist again, circling you completely as his hands meet by your stomach. You feel him swallow heavily. In this moment, there is nothing else in the world but him behind you and his hands round your waist.

You hold the gun in one hand and with the other you gently place it over his hands on your stomach: you’re scared that as you spin in place on your feet to face him that he’ll move away, so you hold his hands in place.

You can’t meet his eyes, looking at his chest and downwards as you place the gun from your hand into his holster around his waist. It’s your turn to swallow heavily now.

As you raise your gaze to look at his face, you find him already staring at you. You are still, desperately away of his hands, now settled low on the small of your back.

“That was great work there.” He says, not breaking eye contact with you as his voice barely breaks past a whisper.

“I had a great teacher.” You whisper back. He smiles at that, and you smile back as though you’ve just shared a secret meant just for the two of you. As the blue of his eyes brighten in the sun, you think that maybe you have.

His head tilts downwards, just barely enough to notice it. But you notice. You’ve always noticed every detail about Arthur, just as he’s always noticed you.

“Please.” You ask him, voice quiet and pleading as you break his stare to glance towards his lips.

He answers.

You’re practically on your toes, supported by his tightened grip around your back. His mouth connects to yours, gently and unsure at first. You hand comes up to rest against the side of his face, the other holding on to the collar of his shirt, brushing against his neck. At this, his kiss deepens, pulling you tighter against him. You use your grip on his collar to do the same, pulling yourself as close as you can into his chest.

After the moment passes, you both pull apart. He rests his forehead against yours. He’s breathing heavily, eventually chuckling out a laugh on the exhale.

“Been wanting to do that for a while.” You can hear the smile in his voice with your eyes still closed. His hands on your back, his forehead against yours. You feel like every atom in your body is on fire. For a while, he had said. For a while, you thought back, that I have been missing out on every moment like this.

“Should’ve done it sooner, then. Thought it was just me feeling like this.” You said, a deep sigh erupting from your chest. He can hear the smile in your voice too.

One hand leaves it place at your waist to hold your face. Не pulls further away to look down at you. He’s still smiling.

“And I thought it was just me.”

There’s a little bit of an ache in your chest. A bit of sadness on how long you both had wasted hiding away from each other. But neither of you are hiding now. You press your palm against his chest and feel his heart beat under his shirt. It’s fast, just like yours.

A moment passes before you both realise there is more than each other left in the word. The sky has darkened considerably, the sun settling in the early evening. Neither of you had eaten and you were both starting to feel a hunger for something other than each other.

“We should probably head back to camp.” You say, still unmoving from your proximity to him. Neither of you want to leave this moment.

“Probably. And you can show off everything you’ve learnt today.” He says. He still cradles your face in his hands, his thumb moving softly back and forth on the apple of your cheek.

“Everything I’ve learnt?” You smirk up at his, loosing your previous fixation of your hand on his chest. He chuckles, and he feel the movement of his chest course right through you.

“Maybe not everything.” He replies, his eyes soft as he looks into your eyes.

You can feel the moment come to a close. Not wanting to waste any last second you could spend alone with Arthur like this, after having missed out on so many others in the past, you cling to every bit of it. Before either of you can detach from the other, you grab him by his shirt collar again and pull him down for another kiss.

Shooting Your Shot

Additional Content:

You both depart from Arthur’s horse a little before necessary as you make the journey back to camp. The horse clambers along behind you both. You’re both pensive and quiet, but when your hand grazes against his from it’s place by your side, Arthur grasps it and keeps it intertwined with his. You walked further before Arthur’s stops to a sudden holt, his grip on your hand forcing you to stop with him.

“Almost forgot.” He murmured, looking bashful as his cheeks blushed red. He reached down with his other hand, not loosing his hold on your hand, grabbing hold of the pistol you had practiced with and holding it out to you.

You aren’t sure what he means so you respond by raising your eyebrows at him and waiting for him to expand.

“S’a gift. For you. Got it custom in town for ya.” He’s still blushing but he manages to glance into your eyes. He’s searching for something, and you realise he’s worried about how you’ll respond.

You can see the engraving on the gun more clearly now as it rests in his hand. Flowers, your favourite, blooming up through an imprint on the outside of the metal. Your name intertwines with the flowers, the letters flowing into the blossoming leaves.

You reach out towards his outstretched hand, but instead of grabbing the pistol you clasp your hand together with his and pull yourself towards him. You press a small kiss to his lips and as you pull away you smile at him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you say looking up at him, hoping he found what he was searching for before, “for everything.

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1 year ago

The Fall

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

The Fall

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.


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9 months ago

— penned by silk.

— Penned By Silk.
— Penned By Silk.
— Penned By Silk.

silkie :: twenty-five :: she/her

warning: this multi-fandom blog contains & potentially promotes mature content. If you are under the age of EIGHTEEN please do not interact. If you are easily triggered I may not be the writer for you as some of my work will include dark subject matter. Don’t be fooled by the soft aesthetic, we get crazy here.

 ⭆ 001. About Me  |   ⭆ 002. Guidelines  |   ⭆ 003. W.I.D

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— Penned By Silk.

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© all rights reserved — writing belongs to silkfyre..

A Song of Ice & Fire account can be found @grcnseer

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1 year ago

“You okay honey?”

Inspired by this post

Summary: the TF141 boys play rock, paper, scissors to determine who will play the role of the doting yet protective boyfruend for you tonight so pervs don’t come flirt with you

It’s short, but my brain isn’t working lately

warnings: some sexual content

“You Okay Honey?”

“Guys come on, seriously.” I stared on as Price and Soap were in the ‘finals’ of their competition to see who’d be your fake boyfriend tonight at the bar. Price cheers as he finally defeats Soap, wrapping his arm around you and placing a sweet kiss to your temple.

This had been an ongoing thing with the four of them since you had an altercation with a creep at a bar and had to punch said dude in the face. The boys didn’t want you to worry about that anymore, so they always play the role of the protective boyfriend/fiancé/husband for you. It’s worked well so far, so you can’t complain.

You also won’t complain about the attention you get from them.

Each man had a different way, each with their own pros and cons.

Gaz was sweet and affectionate, and he was calm of a guy were to come up to you. He handled everything with grace, but he wasn’t too keen on being super touchy. He’d compliment you, stand behind you during conversations and maybe place a hand on your tight, but that was all.

Ghost, was hardly a boyfriend type. He didn’t ever touch you, unless you physically forced his hand into yours, and even then he’d tense at the action. As much as he cared and wanted to protect you, he wasn’t there to pretend to be your boyfriend, he was there to pummel any man who looked in your direction.

Soap, he was so much fun when he was your fake boyfriend. He was touchy, clingy, fiesty and all over perfect. He was always by your side, hands around your waist, lips pecking your neck lightly, teasing you. That was his approach, he’d tease you all night, make you want him. Most of the time, the moment you both left the bar, you’d burst out laughing at how you two acted, but there’s been some nights you ended up in his bed.

Price, was a beautiful fake lover. He was sweet and tender. He catered to you and always had a hand on you, silently claiming you as his to everyone in the bar. He’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear when he saw another man looking, making you squirm. He was your favorite by far, the way he so gently held you, kissed you. His actions were tender, the fire only showing up if a man wouldn’t leave you alone.

“You ready doll?” Price’s voice sounded out. You nodded, leaning into him.

You all headed out to the bar, the night going wonderfully. You had beaten Ghost in a game of pool, had the bartender buy you all a round of shots, and more. The music had you swaying your hips as you lined up your shot in pool. You were against Soap now, the championships.

You were lining up to hit the 8-ball, your jeans tightening around your ass when you felt a pair of strong hands grope you. You smiled, prepared to see Price, but before you could turn around, your eyes met all 4 men across the table from you. All four of them looked angry. You fully stood up, turning around to see an older man, maybe a couple years older than Price looking down at you seductively. “Can I help you?”

“Your ass looked to delicious, I couldn’t help myself.” He licked his lips.

“I suggest you back off.” Your voice was matter of factly.

“Why? You gonna hurt me? A little thing like you?” He cooed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the man. “What’s so funny?” He smiled.

“I won’t hurt you, but they will.” Throwing my thumb over my shoulder to the four men.

“You okay honey?” Price’s voice purred beside me, his hand landing on my back.

The guy looked up to Price, who towered over him. “I don’t know, am I?” I said, smirking at the man.

“I was just telling her how pretty she looked.” He gulped.

Price chuckled. “By grabbing her ass? Nuh uh.” Price stepped forward. “Let’s go have a little talk.” Grabbing the man’s arm, he took him outside of the bar.

Soap ran to you, asking if you were okay. You smiled and nodded your head. “Yeah I’m okay Johnny.” You patted his bicep.

Ghost and Gaz stood by the pool table, watching everyone’s things, including Price’s car keys and your purse.

Soon, Price waltzed back into the bar. His hips swaying as he sauntered back over to you, swooping his arm around your waist and pulling you in. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.” He kissed the top of your head as you returned to your pool tournament.

A couple of weeks later, you were all out a new bar across town, Soap’s arms wrapped around your waist as you spoke to some people. He had won the rock, paper, scissors that night. Your eyes widened as you heard a familiar voice, “You!”

Your face turned as Soap straightened up to his full height, one of his hands remaining on the small of your back. Your eyes met the man from the bar that night with Price. “Who’s this man? You get around fast.”

His voice was confident, like he had caught me doing something wrong. I looked at Soap, who looked ready to pounce. The fire was in Soap’s eyes as he bared his teeth in a smile. “You like my lady? Like what you see?”

“She’s a fiery one she is, just look at her.” The man bit his lip as he made a curve motion with his hands to simulate the shape of your hips. Soap let out a low chuckle.

“Any man knows you don’t answer that question honestly.” He dead panned, Soap’s voice deadly. “Why don’t I make this easy on you and let you walk away unharmed?”

The other man licked his lips, unmoving. Soap took a step forward, his hand sliding off of you as he stood just next to you, his size defined next to you.

“Either you walk away or you never walk again.” Soap growled.

The man quickly cowered, eyes widened. “Where do you find these men?” He shouted before scampering into the crowd.

“Thank you.” I said, kissing Soap. He was always much more willing to do PDA than the others, really making it believable to those in the bar that you were a couple.

“Anything for you my dear.” Soap said sweetly. “Shall we ditch this joint?”

I giggled, grabbing at his chest. “Are you gonna do that thing with your fingers again?” I bit my lip.

We heard someone clear their throat as we both backed away from each other, looking to the other 3 men. “We’re right here ya know?” Ghost spoke.

Soap and I laughed as the others bursted out in chuckles and smiles.

“Ya we know.” You said, earning some more chuckles out of the men and an ass grab from Soap.


Tags
1 year ago

a real bed

arthur morgan x female reader

summary: You’re tired. Arthur’s been gone. When he leaves you to spend another night alone, he works to make it up to you and show you exactly what you deserve. wc: 3.4k warnings: TB-doesn’t-exist au, some light/non-graphic smut note: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @margowritesthings​​! I loved the princess treatment prompt, I hope this is full of the fluff (and smut) you were looking for! thank you to @rdrevents​​​​​ for hosting the valentine gift exchange!

image

“Carrots are done,” you slide the last of the vegetables into the pot and wipe your hands on your apron.

Pearson grunts, and you accept it as the most you’ll get for a thank you. “Stew is going to be light on the meat again. Where is that man of yours?”

“He’s not…my man.” You don’t look at him when you say it, heat flaring in your face at the words. You know who he refers to, but you and Arthur still felt new. It was no secret, you admit, and after years of pining it was nice to have your affections returned. But as you fill a pail of water for the girls’ washing up, craning your neck to look over the short bridge to Shady Belle, you can see Arthur’s horse is still missing. “I don’t know where he is.”

Keep reading


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1 year ago

Pretty Flower | N.L.

Pretty Flower | N.L.

in which neville wants to ruin the reader.

warnings: smut, nsfw, corruption kink, soft dom!nev, sub!reader, fingering, overstimulation, fluff!!! (lmk if i missed any!)

fine..... if no one will write nev with a corruption kink then i suppose ill just have to do it myself.

(edit: this....... may have come out WAY longer than i wanted it to.... but.... i literally couldn’t stop writing....)

it hit him out of nowhere. he never saw it coming, nor never even anticipated the concept on its own. yet, when him and his friends walked on the bridge that day to get back to hogwarts after holding the first secret DA meeting in 5th year, everything seemed to flip.

it was a snowy day that day, the the snow painting white on the ground for miles. there wasn’t one single spot that hadn’t been left in ice. you decided to indulge in the weather that day, as winter had always been your favorite season. especially when it came to being at hogwarts, because winter just seemed so... different there.

you skipped along the bridge, humming an innocent lullaby to yourself as your feet had a mind of its own. you didn’t know where you were going, but you honestly didn’t seem to care either.

maybe it was fate that brought you two together that day, as you two had honestly crossed paths before, but never in a way like this.

you heard small chatter erupting from straight ahead of you, and you saw the group of intimating gryffindors you had always tried your best to stay away from. they weren’t bullies or anything of the sort, there bravery just really scared the bones out of you. you had always been more shy, timid, and honestly weaker. so, seeing the group practically made your skin crawl.

as you neared them, you expected just to simply walk past them, and them pay no mind to you. but before it happened, you heard hermione granger make a small joke about a girl named cho chang to the harry potter. it earned a few grins from the people in the group, and a frown from a girl in your year, ginny weasley. ginny was probably the only gryffindor you had the strength to speak to, as you two had been partnered up many times for different projects and assignments in your classes. little did you know, the whole group knew about you.

you mentally pleaded as you reached them, just planning on stepping out of the way without a word. but then:

“oh! hi, y/n!”

fuck.

you halted, grasping onto the strap of your bag a bit tighter,

“oh... hi?”

ginny had sent you the small greeting, and the whole group stopped.

“oh! y/n! how are you?” hermione chimed in, sending you a small smile, already noticing the slight trembling coming from you.

you glanced at the gryffindors, and gulped before responding,

“fine...” you breathed out, hands how shaky, “you?”

neville had always believed that he was shy, anxious for no reason, but when he saw you? his whole mindset changed. you were a whole different type of shy... innocent. your fragile voice imprinted itself into his mind, and he even furrowed his eyebrows at the thought.

“just fine! say... you wouldn’t happen to know any place we could hold—discreet meetings, would you?” hermione smirked, sending harry a wink.

you pondered for a moment, not knowing exactly what she was talking about, but definitely deciding that you did not want to get yourself involved.

“um—no... sorry...”

you glanced at the disappointment on their faces, and harry sighed.

“it’s fine... we’ll find a place ourselves, i suppose...” ron added, looking over at his two twin brothers who were seemingly plotting something.

“well... bye...” you muttered, looking down as you began to walk away.

hermione furrowed her eyebrows, “hey! wait a second!” she called out, and you turned around, still just wanting to get away from them. “you want to be apart of something cool?”

hermione and harry lightly explained it to you, and red flags went off in your head reminding you that this was breaking the rules, and that you would definitely get in loads of trouble if umbridge ever found out.

“well... i don’t know...” you uttered, looking down at your shoes,

ginny had ended up chiming in, trying her best to convince you. she knew how shy you were, and how things like this terrified you. but truthfully, they needed all the help they could get.

“o-o-okay... i-i-i guess?” you finally answered, and hermione squealed as she pulled out a list of names, and handed you a pen. “just sign your name!”

and you did so shakily, not even noticing how neville’s stare was practically shooting daggers into your figure.

and there it was, that was it. from that day forward, you had not only sealed the deal with the DA, but also with neville. from that day forward, the boy couldn’t get you out of his head. you were a consistent thought always, sensual and non-sensual.

you were what neville got off to in the night, thinking of your small whimpers and pleads just for him to keep going. and yes, he did feel guilty every time he saw you, as you were completely oblivious to his obsession with you. he would watch you as you left the room of requirement with ginny, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you. he imagined your lips on his cock, that innocent look on your face when you would cum on all over him for the first time.

god, you were so fucking ethereal and you didn’t even realize it.

he had made small conversations with you over time, but you still managed to hide under that shy shell of yours. you were quite jittery, always looking over your shoulder.

and oh god, he loved to tease you.

he would never forget the first time he was trying to get past you on the way to class, and he simply placed his hand on your back for a moment, making you go cherry red in the face. or even when you had sat with ginny at breakfast one morning, and he purposely sat beside you just to every so often “accidentally” run his finger up your thigh. he loved when you squirmed from it, and oh god, he only imagined how much you would be squirming if you were under him.

as the year went by, you only caught on to him a little bit, but never to the point in confronting him about it. but even if you did, you would never have the guts to do so anyways. plus, you sorta enjoyed the small glances he shot you in the great hall, how he licked his lips at the sight of you.

you had absolutely no idea what you were doing to him.

year 6 for neville.

he was so excited to see you again, watch your innocence bloom. all he thought about was you over the holiday, and he seemed to actually miss you. he had somehow managed to lose his virginity over the summer, and practice on how to properly pleasure a girl.

oh yeah. he was prepared to ruin you this year.

and that time would finally come when a party in the gryffindor common room was announced, and ginny had pleaded with you to come. you agreed reluctantly, as socializing in big gatherings like that was never your thing. but, now you could say that ginny was one of your closest friends. the dynamic between you was intriguing to others, as she was brave and rebellious, and you were just shy and... innocent.

that night, you wore a simply white tanktop, with a skirt with small pink flowers on it, and a thin sweater just in case you got cold.

but, as you arrived at the common room, you realized the sweater was probably not going to be needed. as the common room was packed with students, most drunk and others just wait too close for comfort. you gulped at the sight, and automatically began to look for ginny.

you found her snogging her new boyfriend dean, who you actually quite liked. but then, you saw seamus and neville standing right beside them, sipping on drinks. you walked over, and your presence became very apparent to neville.

you looked so fucking cute in that outfit. so fucking innocent.

“y/n!” ginny squealed, pushing dean away and pulling you in for a drunken hug, “you look so cute! where in the bloody hell did you get that skirt from?!”

you sent her a shy smiled and thanked her, “i—uh... don’t actually remember...”

“that’s fine! oh, here! drink up!”

she handed you a random cup, and you took a small whiff from it, your lips pursing with disgust. ginny let out a chuckle,

“you don’t have to! but... it’s your first big party so i figured that you might want to at least try!”

you thought for a moment, glancing over at neville who was leaned up against the wall, biting down on his lips as his eyes skimmed up and down your body.

“m-m-my mum said that she would murder me if she ever found out that i drank alcohol...”

seamus laughed at this, earning a slap on the arm from neville. ginny smiled politely at you,

“well... i don’t see your mum anywhere... do you?” she sent you a small wink, noticing that you wanted to drink, but that simple comment from your mother having an affect on you. “like i said... your choice! no pressure!”

you thought for a moment, and reluctantly took the cup from ginny’s hand. the group watched you intently as you shakily took a small slip, and your face cringed when the taste hit your tongue.

“that’s—that’s disgusting!”

the small group laughed,

“well... i don’t suppose it’s supposed to taste like pumpkin juice, y/l/n!” dean chuckled, grabbing the cup from your hand. him and ginny could tell that you definitely weren’t keen on drinking more tonight, which was more than fine.

you looked over at neville, who was still staring at you. he sent you a small wink, making your eyes go wide and your cheeks turn red.

yeah... he loved to make you blush.

the party seemed never ending as time passed, and you had found yourself sitting alone on the sofa, distancing yourself from ginny who was all over dean. you sat staring at the fireplace, watching it simmer away with every minute that passed.

“not having fun?”

you felt the spot next to you dip, and you looked over to see neville. you gulped as he adjusted his legs so they weren’t invading your personal space, but they were still definitely touching your own.

“k-k-kinda... i just don’t do well at parties...” you stuttered out, his presence always having an affect on you, “well... i’ve never been to a party so—i don’t really know why i... said that—oh, never mind...”

it was so cute how you hid your face after stumbling over your own words, and neville couldn’t help but to send you a small smirk. his imagination (like always) was already taking flight just from the mere sight of you.

“would you like for me to take you back to your dorm?” he asked, generosity laced in his tone. as much as he wanted to take you right there, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable at a party. he still had respect for you, and maybe even felt a bit protective.

“oh... it’s fine. i’m okay...” you replied truthfully, sending him a small, reassuring smile.

you two began to make small talk, and with every new topic, he scooted a bit closer to you. the topics of conversation were miscellaneous at first, but then you two began to delve into more personal facts, like first kisses and things like that.

“i—uh—never had my first kiss. or... you know...”

he smirked at you, leaning a bit closer, “know what, love?”

he didn’t know why, but he just wanted you to say it. and, he could tell by the way your thighs were clenching together, and the way your cheeks blushed from the nickname that you were thinking the exact same thing that he was.

“you know... the thing.”

“what thing, darling?”

you huffed, because you knew that he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“sex...”

there it was.

“oh... hm...” he tsked, setting his cup down on the table, “well... that’s understandable. but, i assume that you’ve gotten yourself off before, right?”

you froze at the question, as you had tried masturbating before, but felt too ashamed to continue. maybe you were just too innocent.

your silence was loud to neville, and this sparked an even bigger interest in his chest.

“oh... you’ve never—“

you quickly shook your head, your whole face now a shade of red. you were so embarrassed... and you knew you probably sounded super lame.

“it’s—it’s weird, i know... i just—“

“it’s not weird, doll. just—“ he stopped for a moment to glance at your lips, “interesting...” he then stopped again, now closing the small gap that ran between you two, “ever wonder what it feels like, y/n?” he whispered into your ear, and your chest tightened. “i know you think about it... i can tell by those pretty little thighs of yours clenching together...”

he was so close to you, and your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. your stomach felt fluttery, but it was... good.

“look at me...” he whispered once more, grabbing your chin. you did so slowly, only now noticing how close your faces were. “can i kiss you?”

before you could even think about it, you nodded. neville had always had an impact on you, and this moment definitely wasn’t changing anything. in fact, you had a strong wanting for him. a wanting that you had never felt before.

he slowly attached his lips to yours, and he couldn’t help but to let out a content sigh at the feeling. your lips felt just like how he thought they would... absolutely perfect. and even better, he could taste strawberry as well, giving him a sign that you had put on chapstick.

you had never kissed anyone before, but, you hoped all of the next times felt like this one did did. you were absolutely breathless by the time he pulled away, and for some reason, you didn’t want him to stop touching you. you needed more of whatever he was putting out.

he glanced around the party for a moment, and then swiftly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“would you like to go up to my dorm, petal?”

your eyes widened for a second, as you had never dared to enter a boy’s dormitory. he noticed this, and placed a small peck to your nose,

“we don’t have to. only if—“

“yeah... i wanna go...”

he grinned at you, and stood up taking your hand, and you followed him through the crowded common room. he would look back at you every so often, noticing how your eyes were getting lost at all the activities going on around the both of you. you were so innocent....

he couldn’t wait to change that.

when you two got to his dorm, you looked around for a few moments, taking small notes on how things were organized—or... unorganized.

he lead you to his bed, sitting you down carefully.

“don’t know how you’re still wearing that sweater... i’m boiling in mine!” he joked, taking it off swiftly, and you could see the faint muscles stomach as he did so. he made you feel even more fluttery, as his exposed skin just seemed so perfect to the wondrous eye.

you awkwardly chuckled at the joke, and soon enough, you took your small, pink sweater off with ease, and neville grabbed it from you, and set it on his bedside table. he turned around, noticing how shy and nervous you looked,

“what’s wrong, love?” he asked kindly, looking down at you. your face and his crotch were at perfect level with each other, and you looked up at him,

“mm’ nothing...”

and it was the truth. you weren’t uncomfortable, nor felt paranoid or scared, you just were simply that shy.

he smiled at you, and let his hand find its way to your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb.

“so pretty...” he cooed, “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to touch you...”

you were taken back by this, but all at the same time, the dots finally connected.

how could you have been so oblivious?

“h-h-how long?”

he bent down a bit just to where your noses were barely touching, “a long time.” he replied, licking his lips.

“oh... well—i’m sorry...” you apologized, seeing his eyes turning dark.

he chuckled deeply, “no need to apologize, petal. you just needed to take your time...” he settled his hands on your thighs, slightly letting them wander up your skirt, “can i touch you some more?”

your body trembled, but seemingly in the best way possible. your stomach was practically on fire from his small, teasing touches. and, of course you wanted more. so, you nodded your head.

“use your words, or i can’t do anything...”

you found yourself getting lost in his eyes,

“yes...”

“yes, what?”

you paused for a moment, not even knowing how to say it.

“touch me...”

that was all neville needed before he snapped, and his lips once again collided with yours. you gasped into the kiss, noticing how much harder than it was than the first. but nonetheless, you were enjoying the hell out of it. especially when he slipped his tongue past your lips, and began to explore every part of your mouth.

he crawled on top of you, laying you down on the bed as he did so. he rubbed small, comforting circles into your hips, just to let you know that it was okay to feel the things you were feeling right now.

he broke the kiss for a swift moment, “if you want me to stop... tell me and i’ll do it, okay? i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

you nodded your head quickly, not even really regarding his words, only just craving more.

“words, y/n...” he reminded you,

“okay. i will.”

“promise?”

you sent him a small smile before replying,

“promise...”

he was about to dive in for another kiss, but stopped when he saw you lifting up your pinkie. he let out a breathy chuckle at this... how could a pretty girl like you be so innocent? you were a teenage girl, and you still made pinkie promises?

he hooked your pinkies together, and suddenly adjusted your fingers to where you were holding his hand. you chest became warm, and suddenly you realized that all along, you may have been slowly developing a crush on the boy.

you expected him to kiss your lips again, but instead, he started to press light kisses to your neck. you had never felt a sensation like this, and you let out a small whimper at the feeling. he knew that you would sound so pretty, and when the noises actually started to leave your lips, he definitely was not disappointed.

“you like that, petal?” he cooed teasingly in your ear, nibbling a bit on it, causing a shiver to go down your spine. that was all he needed before he continued to work on your neck, leaving small love marks on the smooth flesh.

“more...” you pleaded, still not really knowing what you needed more of, but just knowing that you needed it. he chuckled in your ear, and placed one last kiss on your jaw before sitting you up gently, and laying your head on his pillow.

“what do you want more of, love?” he asked, hovering over you.

that’s when you panicked a bit, “i-i-i don’t know... just—more...”

it was so funny, because even though you were begging, you truly didn’t even know what you wanted. it made neville’s thoughts go wild, and he could feel his cock harden at the look on your face as he got closer to you.

“you want me to touch you more?” he asked, already trailing his hand down to your outer thigh, “want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

your heart almost exploded from his words, and you felt your panties suddenly dampen with something you weren’t familiar with. but, you had heard other girls talking about it. you may have been innocent, but you weren’t completely clueless.

“yes, please...” you shuddered, grabbing at his shoulders. he smirked, and placed a small, but reassuring kiss on your lips.

his fingers gently trailed over your thighs, going up your skirt, and it made you whimper. he pinched at the delicate skin, and you sighed out of content as his fingers inched closer and closer to where you knew you needed him the most.

you could feel yourself going red in the face, and sweat forming your forehead,

“aw... are you nervous, petal? does it not feel good?” he teased again, because he knew it did feel good. he just loved to see the look on your face when he let those types of words leave his lips,

“it—it feels good...” you reassured him, unknowingly.

“don’t worry, baby... gonna make you feel amazing,” he kissed your neck once more, and his fingers finally found your clothes bundle of nerves, and he pressed down gently.

you gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively bucking up as you tried for more friction. he began with small circles on your panties, and you were already a soundly mess by the time he was attempting to push them aside, and run a finger up your slit.

“i’ve barely even touched you and you’re soaked... what’s got my pretty flower so worked up?”

the question made you hide your face in his chest from embarrassment, and he chuckled lightly.

“no need to be embarrassed, petal. i think it’s adorable...”

he kissed your lips again, his tongue finding its way back into your mouth as your chest heaved from the overwhelming pleasure.

without warning, he slipped one finger in. it made you gasp into the kiss, partly from pain, the other from pleasure. you sounded exactly like how he dreamed, and god, he couldn’t get enough of it.

“my bunny is so tight, isn’t she? untouched just for me?”

soon enough, he was fucking you relentlessly with his just one finger, and you rocked your hips back and forth, just chasing a build up that you had never even experienced before.

“look at you, petal... being so good, fucking my fingers like this. thought you never done this before?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you even could, a small whimper escaped your lips once again, “h-h-haven’t...”

he kept going and going, even at one point, slipping another finger in to stretch you out a bit. you practically screamed at this, the overwhelming sensation almost becoming too much for you to handle.

“do you touch yourself like this, baby?” he asked gently, in such a contrast to how his fingers were moving.

your eyes were screwed shut as you answered him, “c-c-can’t do it like—like this...”

like this, huh? that’s exactly what neville wanted to hear.

“c-c-can’t make myself c-cu—“

you were interrupted by neville swiftly pulling your tank top down, and beginning to suck on your nipple lightly. luckily, you hadn’t worn a bra with this tank top for the sole purpose of a bra not looking right with it. he chuckled at the sudden halt in speech, and kissed your breasts soothingly as he felt your pussy clench around his fingers.

“i can feel you clenching around me, bunny... are you gonna cum for me?” he asked, coming closer to your face. you nodded your head rapidly, not really understanding what he meant, but the coil in your stomach progressively becoming looser.

“my—my tummy f-f-feels funny...” you warned him, and he simply hummed at your obliviousness. “neville—“ you gasped, a wave of pure pleasure washing over you, sending electricity through your veins as he fingers went even faster.

“there you go, petal... there you go.”

your thighs trembled violently as you came, and you had to force your face into neville’s shoulder to muffle the scream that elicited from your lips.

as you saw white, neville kept going, this time focusing on your clit more than anything. those same noises leaving your mouth hadn’t stopped, and before you knew it, that same feeling over came you again. you rocked against his hand as you came, dragging the sheets from the corners of the mattress with you.

your whole body shook as neville took his hand away, and he licked the rest of your release off of his fingers. he hummed as he did so, as you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him slightly, but you only understood then when he held his fingers up to your lips. they were glossy and covered in all sorts of liquids, but you nodded your head. he watched you intently as you sucked on his fingers, his cock now painfully hard and practically pleading to be inside of you. he watched the drool that spilled from your lips, and the absolute desperation on your face.

you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

but suddenly, when he pulled away, you became quite ashamed for some reason. you had never had an experience like this before, and you couldn’t believe that you had just lied there and actually enjoyed it.

“what’s wrong, bunny?” he asked sweetly, moving some hair from your sweaty face.

you looked down at your thighs, and they were soaked with cum, as well as the sheets below you.

“i—i made a mess... i’m sorry... i-i-i didn’t know—“

“hey... it’s okay... that’s supposed to happen. it was quite hot, actually.” he reassured you with a teasing grin on his face, “aw... are you embarrassed?”

you hid your face in your hands as he asked the question, because yes... you were painfully embarrassed.

“no, no... there’s no need to be embarrassed, petal. you did so good for me, you know that? the most pretty thing i’ve ever seen...” he removed your hands from your face, and rubbed his hand up and down your hips, attempting to soothe you. “do you want more? or... are you done for the night?”

as much as you wanted to say no due to your shyness, it simply wouldn’t be an honest answer. of course you wanted more, you wanted so much more. you wanted everything you just had, and even more than that if even possible.

“um—more...”

he raised an eyebrow at you, “are you sure?”

you nodded your head as his finger grazed your exposed skin, “yes... please.”

and with that, he lifted you up for just one moment to fully take your tank top up, kissing your shoulders every now and then, as he could tell that you were nervous about him seeing you in such a vulnerable moment. he slipped your shoes off, and slid your skirt and panties down with ease, throwing them off to the side of the bed.

you laid back down, watching as he began to take his own clothes off. when he was finished, he hovered over you again, skimming your naked skin, drawing small circles into it. you instinctively covered your chest, also attempting to cover your whole lower region.

“no need for that, petal. you’re so beautiful... no need to cover yourself up.” you still kept your body covered up, and neville giving you a look of permission, slowly took your hands away. “i’ll prove it to you... is that alright?”

you thought for a moment, and gulped. but, you trusted neville, even if you weren’t that close with him, he seemed like a genuine person. so, you agreed.

he smiled at you, and pecked your lips. he began to kiss all over you, sucking and nibbling at certain parts, leaving you to whimper and tremble some more. his hands traveled everywhere, especially when it came to your breasts. he played with them between his fingers, showing extra attention to your nipples. you sighed from pleasure when he kissed them, and began to play with them with his tongue.

suddenly, he leaned up, and took you in for another heated kiss, “i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

maybe if any other scenario, you would’ve panicked and ran foe the hills. but, this time, the words simply made you clench your thighs together. he felt it, and looked over. he let out a low chuckle, and shook his head.

“is that what you want? want me to fuck you?”

you were nervous for this part, but you couldn’t even be bothered to think on the fact that you were still a virgin. neville simply wouldn’t let you freak out, or feel shy or embarrassed.

you nodded your head fiercely, and he teasingly rubbed his cock on your swollen clit. you decided to kiss him this time, even forcing your own tongue in his mouth, which baffled him as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

“look at you... already making demands...” he moved some hair from your collarbone, “fuck... you’re so beautiful, bunny...”

there was a beat of silence, only the sounds of the long forgotten party somehow still going on downstairs.

“nev?”

he hummed in response, not being able to tear his eyes away from you,

“will—will you—um...”

you were too shy to say it, as such vile words had never even been thought about leaving your lips.

“will i what, flower? say it.”

you glanced over for a moment, your face turning red again, but he grabbed your chin, and forced your head back in his direction. “say it.”

you huffed, growing more needier and needier by the second,

“will—will you please—please... fuck me?”

there it was.

“thought you’d never ask, flower...”

that’s when he kissed you again, but this time, it felt... different. it didn’t feel as if he was just trying to fuck you, get you wet, no. it felt... loving. like, he simply just wanted to kiss you because he just wanted to kiss you. that was it.

he aligned himself with you, and looked up at you with reassurance in his eyes. “are you sure?”

you nodded, “yes, of course...” you shot him a innocent smile, despite the very thing that was about to happen. but, your smile suddenly faltered when a small memory popped into your head. it was ginny’s voice saying:

“yeah... and it hurt like—really bad at first when he put it in.”

he noticed the shift in your face, and stopped automatically.

“what’s wrong, flower?”

you looked up at him for a moment,

“do—w-w-will it hurt?”

he couldn’t help but to smile at you, as your voice was just so fragile and curious. but, he kissed your temple,

“just for a few moments, bunny. but, if it’s too much... you can let me know and i’ll stop, alright? i want you to enjoy yourself.”

you couldn’t help but to smile back at him, as his voice was so soothing and hypnotic. “okay...”

and with that, he aligned himself one more time, and held your hip down as he slowly slid his tip inside of you. that burning sensation started, the one that ginny had described. and for a moment, you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it. a small hiss came from your lips at the intrusion, and neville caressed your cheek,

“s-s-slow at first... please?”

he chuckled, “that was my plan, petal.”

he began to dig his hips deeper, his cock making its way slowly more into you. you whimpered with every movement, but neville was there to whisper soft praises and reassurances in your ear.

“taking me so well, baby...” “you feel so good...” “god, you’re absolutely stunning, bunny...”

as time went by, his patience never faltered, and finally, that burning pain turned into searing pleasure. he hugged your body as he thrusted into you, every time an obscene noise leaving your once shy lips.

“tell me how good it feels, princess...”

“s’ good, nev... please...”

and at one point, a string of curses even left your mouth, leaving neville a groaning mess, as your innocence was slowly dying out underneath him.

“never knew such a innocent bunny like you could say such nasty things...” he whispered, kissing your throat, sucking on it a bit.

finally, that now familiar burning your tummy took over, and you were squirming underneath him as you unraveled in his arms. a loud scream left your lips, and neville planted an open mouthed kiss to muffle your noises.

“you look so gorgeous when you cum...”

with just a few more thrust, neville pulled out, cumming all over your stomach. he should’ve asked you before hand, but you yourself knew how sex worked, and how not to get pregnant, so you were more than fine with it.

he rested on top of you for a few moments, not even caring about your sweaty bodies sticking to the other’s. he placed a few kisses around your face, and slowly got up. he picked your panties off of the floor, and leaned you up to put them back on you.

“you need to go use the bathroom, darling...” he suggested, eyeing you through hooded eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows,

“why?”

he chuckled at your innocence—well... obliviousness.

“because... you can get a UTI if you don’t. and those suck for girls to have.”

your mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, and you obliged by getting up. but, you underestimated everything for a moment, as your legs aches, as well as your whole entire lower body. neville saw you struggling as he threw his boxers back on,

“need help?”

you looked over at him with puppy dog eyes,

“h-hurts...”

he quickly took you into his arms, and carried you into the dorm bathroom. you did the rest on your own of course, and noticed how you were bleeding. you freaked out inside of your head for a moment, but then remembered ginny saying that the same thing had happened to her. so, that eased your clouded mind for the time being.

when you arrived back into the main part of the dorm, neville was sitting on his bed, already reading a book as he waited for you. you tip toed over to your small pile of clothes, picking them up and slipping everything back on.

“um—i’m gonna—go, i suppose...” you stated awkwardly, shoes in hand and sweater in the other. neville suddenly laid his book down, and furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“why?”

well, you didn’t really know why. you just maybe assumed that you were being invasive now.

“well—we... you know—did that. so... you have no need for me anymore...”

neville couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he had wanted you, not just sex. you had obviously been very misinformed.

“y/n...” he laughed softly, sitting up all the way,

“do you actually think that’s all i wanted from you?”


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9 months ago

Hello dear friends!

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1 year ago

arrangement / jacob custos

image

word count: 2967

tags: size kink, love bites, hurt/comfort, angst, morning wood (more accurately nap wood), referenced masturbation, pining, insecurity, creampies, slight breeding kink, transfer of affection (sorta), savior complex

a/n: personally, i found this guy pretty endearing, especially if you look at his insecurities which are more apparent in some routes than they are in others. i know that isn’t exactly a popular opinion (it’s certainly a bit frustrating that the writers set him up by making him largely “responsible” for the events to follow), but hopefully there are enough like-minded people to give this some attention.

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