#and take care of him and protect him like this

[muntitled]

Protecting His Investment

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one gets to hurt you except him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Murder, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Voyeurism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

This can be read as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

“Shouldn't I be blindfolded?"

If it weren't for the silence simmering between you both, in this monotonous taxi drive, he might’ve not heard you at all and perhaps you should have been more careful with your choice of wording but you were feeling a tiny bit reckless this Wednesday afternoon. He hadn't ever offered to personally fetch you from campus, and you felt incredibly juvenile when you spotted him standing there like a dad, in his grown-up suit while his briefcase hung in his hands in front of him. You'd almost convinced yourself that you were imagining things. That somehow your obsession with the man who kidnaps you every Wednesday to fulfill all his messed up fantasies was truly taking a toll on your mental health.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was real. And he had come to pick you up and you were feeling awfully giddy as he ushered you both into a taxi while a few of your peers stood and stared.

By now he would've blindfolded you. Keeping you completely clueless to the location he brings you to every Wednesday. See, your Salesman had myriad deep rooted issues. Mania. Sociopathy. Sadism. But the issue that irked you the very most was his inability to trust. Before you know it, you're pouting up a storm as you ask him. "Why aren't we using the blindfold today?"

He slowly removes his gaze from the window, where he had been pondering like the old man he is. He quirks up an eyebrow, letting the intensity of his attention wash completely over you.

"Would you like to be blindfolded?" He asks playfully. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and his lips are quirked up like it usually is when he's being sardonic. Still, you remain cautious as you lean forward. You send one quick glance to the taxi driver, wondering if you were being led in some kind of hearse on the road to your death.

"A-Are you going to kill me?" For the first time, cold, white fear ices the warm blood rushing through your veins. Come to think of it, he did seem far chirpier than usual. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. The flags were blood red but you were wearing rose-tinted glasses.

He only snickers before placing a heavy hand on your head, patting it down.

He doesn't answer you for the duration of the taxi drive, causing you to slip more and more into your thoughts of morbidity and despair. Why else wouldn't he blindfold you if not to end your life once you got there? It seemed dreadfully logical and so on-brand for him. He'd get bored of you sooner or later and then he'd dispose of you. There'd be no need to blindfold you any longer while he took you to his place because you'd soon become a corpse and-

"Doll." The voice cuts through the chatter filling your brain. All at once, the car has stopped, and warm air rushes into the interior as he holds the door open for you. "Get out of the nice man's car." He jests politely, quickly prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the taxi.

The second you're out he walks ahead of you. The building that comes into focus before you have your brows crinkling.

You quickly catch up to him, gazing up at his monotonous face. "Why are we here? You never come to my house."

He doesn't respond as you both walk into the foyer. He walks briskly and powerfully, like a man on the move while you send a small wave to the security manning the front desk. You both enter an empty elevator and he presses a button without you ever having to tell him which floor.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

He lowers his gaze to you, one eyebrow quirked up.

"You only die when you disappoint me and as of late," he stares directly ahead, "You haven't disappointed me."

The elevator dings and he steps out. You follow him like a puppy without a leash. "In fact I'd say your work ethic as of late has been-" he blows out a long sigh as he makes it your apartment door- recalling all the weeks you two have spent together in vivid kaleidoscopic images. All the pain you let him inflict on you and pleasure he'd offer as a reward.

"-nothing short of stellar. I'm proud of you." He punches in the code to your apartment and you both enter. The curtains are drawn shut because your roommate hates sunlight. You preferred it but there was no communicating with something like her.

He kicks off his shoes at the door.

"What are we doing here?" You ask nervously, "My roommate will be back soon and she isn't very nice."

"We won't be playing at my place today." He says finally meeting your wild and nervous eyes. He seems so lax and so in control. "We'll be playing here."

"B-But my roommate."

"Is that why you were crying?" His gaze keeps you rooted to the floors, unable to move even if you wanted to, "Because of your roommate?"

"Crying? I wasn't crying-"

"Back at the university," he says, casually removing a microscopic piece of lint from his grey blazer, "Your head was beant and you looked up at me with bloodshot eyes." His eyes shine with amusement as he says, "Usually with our sessions, the crying only comes later on." Then he quirks his head and asks, "What happened?" There's a bang somewhere in the apartment and your head snaps forward. Your eyes scan over the adjoining living room and kitchen but he seems unfazed.

"It's stupid-" you shake your head, "Like who even still gets bullied in uni?"

You laugh pitifully, leaning against the nearest wall. He stands tall before you. A brick wall.

"Your roommate's threatening to kick you out of this apartment to move her boyfriend in?" He asks before adding, "Again."

Your head snaps up to him, "H-How-"

In that moment, he turns rather robotically, making his way deeper into your home. It's clean. Thank God.

"You don't realize how chatty you get when you're about to orgasm." He says before stopping right outside your closed bedroom door.

"My roommate- she... decided last night that- well- she would really like her boyfriend to live here instead-"

"Without consulting you first?" He clarifies, staring blankly ahead at the door, listening very attentively.

"Y-Yes without consulting me." You bring your hand to the doorknob, on your way to open it but he stops you with an iron grip around your wrist. You wince.

“Continue talking.” He says and you do.

"This morning they both kinda sprung on me that they'd like to be living here now. She went behind my back and already placed the deposit down our landlord, well," you clear your throat. "I might be homeless soon." You laugh but then swallow very thickly as the gravity of the situation falls onto your shoulders.

"And still you decided to have our sessions today?"

"If you'll have me," you nod.

"Remarkable." He replies. "Well I've never been very fond of my things or my toys getting dirty." He begins mysteriously as he places his hand directly over yours on the doorknob.

"Pardon?"

"I can't have my favorite toy living out on the street. Who knows what kind of animals would try to rape you or drug you or fucking stick their slimey dicks inside you-" he turns the doorknob, clicking your room open.

You're not even sure when this started happening. These 'private sessions' with your Salesman that quickly bled into something much more concerning. Before you knew it, he was seeping into your brain, polluting you with obsession. There had never ever been anyone else involved.

"What the hell did you do?" You ask, slowly entering your room to find two chairs placed directly in front of your bed. As soon as you enter, you hear the blood curdling, muffled screams being ripped from the throat of the two people strapped to those chairs.

"I'm protecting my investment," Says your Salesman as he pushes the door closed behind you.

Your feet feel like lead as you watch them and their panic-stricken eyes. There in front of you, they sit opposite one another, both with a haggard countenance and tears streaming down their cheeks.

At the sight of you, your roommate screams something horrid but it's muffled by the gag placed in her mouth, a gag the shape of a dog bone.

He's there too. The boyfriend. He's not as loud or as frantic as she is but he's significantly startled. His eyes are wild and vacant. The same gag.

"Oh my god-" you begin but he cuts in front of you, making his way to the couple seated across from each other.

"We're all gonna play a game- a quick one," He says, "Can't play for too long because I've been dying to get inside you since I saw those pretty little bloodshot eyes."

"Sir- I"

If you knew his name you might've screamed it in this moment. 'Sir' is your only point of reference to address the manic man in front of you.

This isn't right.

Right?

You're so confused, you barely register than you've thought out loud. It hits you as he slowly shrugs his blazer off.

"What isn't right is them thinking they can rape this apartment from underneath you." He says, folding it and placing it meticulously over your desk.

"I- have neighbors!?" You begin but he has a plan for that too.

"I had your room soundproofed since our first session." You're pushed into even more confusion.

"WHAT!? When did you even-"

"While you were at school-" he says before uncovering a handgun from his briefcase. A handgun and a silencer.

"Point is, Doll, I'm going to need you to play a game for me, ok?"

"DOLL!?" Comes your roommates' mortified and muffled cries.

"I need you to make one tiny decision for me." He says, screwing on the silencer onto the barrel of the revolver. It strikes you then that even when the mask is off, and the worst workings of his personality are on display for all to gaze upon, you still find him breathtakingly attractive.

"If-" tears burn the back of your throat, "If this room is soundproof why-why do you need a silencer?"

"I'm nothing if not a cautious man, you know this." Then his expression turns very grave and very dark as he says. "Don't you?"

“Yes, Sir,” you reply almost automatically. Like your need to respond to him- to please him, greatly overpowered your moral compass. “You're extremely cautious.”

Your roommate releases a shrill noise from the very back of her throat, her eyes pleading with the humanity she desperately tries to find in yours.

“Out of these two, he's my least favourite,” Your Salesman says, standing beside you. Eyes wild as he points his gun to the boyfriend's head.

“But this isn't about me,” he turns to face you, slowly dragging you gaze away from the victims that had once been your tormentors. You look up at him with a broken sob slipping through your lips. “I need you to choose.”

There it is.

His words seem to detonate what little fate you had in his humanity. There is nothing in his eyes except hedonism and violence.

"I'm going to have you to choose very quickly, baby-”

You're already shaking your head as frazzled braids tickle your shoulders. Your eyes find theirs and you immediately say, “I'm not going to do it.”

When you look at him again, you're almost horrified to find the smile that had once been on his face, completely wiped away. His face is a shadow and it strikes you way more than anything ever has. Something in you scolds you. It gnaws at you to make things right.

“Don't do that.” He says darkly. “Don't disappoint me.”

His hands -one still holding a gun- moves to cup both your cheeks. He cranes your neck further back, gazing deeply. “I can't have you living on the street.”

“You don't have to kill anyone-”

His jaw ticks, “Pick.”

“Sir…”

“You're disappointing me.”

All it takes is those three words to have your world crashing to the floor. Tears blur your vision as you raise a trembling finger.

“Him. I pick him.”

It's the first time you realized that you were brimming with codependency

Or stupidity.

Or maybe both

“That's a good girl.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The father you never had.

He lets his eyes meet that of the boyfriend who is shaking and writhing in seat.

“What a good fucking girl I have, wouldn't you agree?” He asks the boyfriend yet he only cries and cries and cries. Meanwhile, you're bathing in the warm, milky words of praise.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to agree to much in a second-"

He raises the gun.

Wait-" but the trigger is already pulled, and the bullet slices through the air and the deed is done.

It's remarkable how fast it travels. The speed of the bullet. Like it's competing with light itself. One moment his head is there and his brain is inside it, functioning like usual and the next moment, it's splattered all across my bedroom wall, coating your stuffed animals and drenching your pink bedding.

“You killed someone…”

“We killed someone, and you did such a good job. Now we're real rich people-”

You shake your head.

“Oh my fucking god we killed someone-”

It's stupid, but the first thought that comes to mind is-

“How- How am I gonna get the stain out!?”

“I'll get you new sheets, Doll, I promise…”

Meanwhile the roommate is crying and screaming her throat hoarse. You watch gravely as vomit soaks her gag.

“That's fucking disgusting.” He says before turning back to you. A spray of blood scatters across the side of his handsome face. He'd just committed murder and yet you still describe him as handsome.

“You're not disgusting at all.” He says, “You're so clean and beautiful.” His large hands rub over your face. “And now this apartment's yours. Ours. Maybe.”

Ours.

That word somehow affects you more than the murder you'd just lay witness to. It has you staring up at him with grateful, love-filled eyes. You're still scared but, you were his. And that was a powerful feeling. You'd never belonged to anyone before. Certainly not any man as handsome or smart as this. This isn't rose-tinted glasses anymore, it's rose-tinted vision.

“We killed someone.” You say. Solidifying the fact that you were a couple.

Your heart rages in its cage when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck yes we did,” he moans before smashing his lips down onto yours. Confusion and discomfort wage a terrific and bloody war inside you as he kisses you absolutely dizzy. Your insides are swirling and your stomach is turning at the sight of the blood drenching your walls.

he tips your head up, forcing his tongue in and he moans when you let him. Your tongues touch and coax and he pulls you in close.

“You know how good you looked when I picked you up earlier, Doll? I loved seeing those bloodshot eyes of yours.” He mumbles, “I just hated not being the one to make you cry.”

You sob something awful. The sound escapes you while your lips are still plastered to his.

“But this is all me,” he says proudly, gazing down at your watery eyes as he pins you up against the wall. “This is all me.”

Your roommate sits in a daze. Over his wide shoulder, her eyes stare blankly into yours and you almost find yourself mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'.

Almost. But you never do.

Your brain is too clouded by feelings of fear, regret, pleasure and… satisfaction. In your defense her boyfriend really fucking sucked.

"Take this off." He groans, lowering his large build to the floor to shove your shorts and underwear down. Undressing you almost formally as he lifts your one leg out followed by the other.

Your eyes are still on her.

Every vile word she's said to you. Every occasion she'd bring her equally cruel friends over and they'd gossip about you loud enough for their words to carry through the walls.

You realize very gravely that your care is waning.

That humanity that was still left inside you is thinning.

And he's pressing wet kisses against your legs, worshipping the soft cellulite at your thighs.

A man in a suit at his knees for you and she's forced to watch.

It makes you feel so-

"Fucking beautiful, fuck." He groans.

The more riled up he is, the less care he gives to how crass his language becomes. As if trapped in a daze, with your eyes still on your tormentor -your bully- you hook your fingers into his hair. Parting your legs you lead his mouth to your exposed cunt and he slurps you up for all your worth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he eats you out with vigor. He flattens his tongue and suctions his mouth against your clit, causing a deep and guttural moan to spill from your lips.

He pulls back, breathing raggedly, "Fuck my face," he commands, before placing both hands on your ass, enough to have your cunt riding his open mouth. It feels so fucking good your eyes are stinging with tears. You let them fall because you'd know he'd appreciate it. He appreciates every tear in your confidence. Every waver in your air-tight judgement. It undoes him completely to see you so fucking pathetic.

He looks up at you while you're riding him. Those morally black eyes are urging you to hump his face and you do.

At the sight of your tears falling his nails dig into your ass and you moan more. All the sounds you're able to make are in intelligible sounds of pleasure. But you force yourself to come to your senses. Just long enough to whisper

"Th-Thank you, Sir,"

He stills. Completely stunned.

You come. It crashes down on you all while your roommate tries to squeeze her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to delude herself into believing none of this is real.

"You are fucking fire, you know that?" He croaks, slowly rising. You're breathing oh so quickly and it only speeds up at the sight of your arousal casting his jaw.

“I wanna fucking hurt you so bad. I wanna eat you. I wanna fuck you. I wanna do so many unspeakable things to you- you're so perfect.”

He throws one more gaze over his shoulder. His almond eyes scan over the body, then the girl and he groans, furiously undoing his belt.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he says, almost to himself.

"Answer me." He presses his body firmly against yours, until your spine is straight against the wall. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."

He growls before bringing a hand up to your chin. It's painful the way he grabs you, but you're so used to pain. It lives here now. Between you both.

"I-I- don't know-" you really don't know and he melts at that.

"I'll tell you how, Princess. " he wraps your leg around his waist, "People like me- people we call crazy and evil-” His eyes are so wide, his smile too. -we get nice things. And people like that-" he quirks his head backwards, “The weak? Those people on the streets, they die.” He says, grinding his cock agaisnt your cunt, “And we don't die, yeah?"

"Oh fuck." You're seeing stars when his cock sinks into your cunt. It's hard and raging and he's already doing multiple shallow thrusts to force it deeper. "S-So big-" you can't talk, you hardly ever can when he's like this. Fucking you into an absolute frenzy.

"You gonna squirt for me, Doll?” he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he ravages you against the wall. "F-Fuck." Some

“She's a really good squirter-” he turns his head to watch your roommate over his shoulder. Her head is slumped forward, she's fainted perhaps.

After weeks of trying to impress him, to show him that you were not the weak little thing he had first kidnapped- you realize it's paid off. He caveman grunts as he fucks you deeper and harder and a cry rips itself from your throat.

“Y-You want me?” You ask with trembling lips.

“Baby,” he breathes directly into your mouth. “I need you.”

"F-Fuck-" your orgasm sneaks up on you and he watches with immense gratification as you come undone on his cock.

“You're making a mess on my cock-” clear liquid streams out of hou, threatinging tk lush his cock out but he fucks you through it.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. You're gonna take it, aren't you? My good girl's gonna fucking take it,” he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed and soon he's fucking spurts of warm cum into you.

It fills you completely until the mess is coating your thighs. Through your wave of endless euphoria you see stars, the planets and him in the very centre of it all, guiding you and coaxing you through the bountiful high.

Even when he's done, his cock is still nestled deep inside you, pushing you over the brink of stimulation.

"You're very promising.” He admits, “Always have been.”

[ameliathornromance]

The Orc who you had fallen for, was the King’s personal guard! Although stern and menacing, he had always been kind to you.

You, the daughter of a Lord who worked on keeping the Queen company, answering her letters and mostly stayed out of sight of the King and his guard!

Since your families fortune was dwindling, your brothers securing marriages to rich young ladies, that made you the only one who wasn’t looked to much. Being a young woman in a family on the brink of ruin, meant that there wasn’t much for you to do other than try and get into the Regents good graces, and hope that you’d find a rich man who could take care of you.

But you’d never had such interest in men. It was always the King’s personal guard who caught your eye. Something about his stoic demeanour always made you feel safe, protected.

At first, you tried to keep your feelings a secret, there was no way that your family would approve of you harbouring such feelings towards the Orc, let alone even think about letting you marry him.

On a fateful night, where the King and Queen held a party, you were delighted when he approached you. You’d never taken him for being the one to make the first move. Not that you weren’t grateful.

That night, the pair of you had danced in the gardens were no one would see you, shared stolen kisses and giggled and laughed like you had never done before.

The pair of you promised to keep this a secret – nothing good would come of people knowing you two were together.

Not even the other Ladies in waiting knew about your relationship.

It was like something out of a novel. A forbidden romance, only a fantasy that could become a reality for a few glorious hours each time the pair of you got together.

It felt good to finally have someone notice you, tell you that you were beautiful, worthy of love and attention. He would leave you gifts in your chambers, with sweet little notes. They were mostly pieces of jewellery, necklaces, bracelets and broaches.

There was a part of you that hoped that one day, you would walk into your bedroom and find a small velvet box, containing a precious ring with that signature singular diamond that signified an engagement.

In one of your secret meetings, you did ask, “why don’t we just run away? Get married and leave all this behind?”

He had let out a snort, “darling, you wouldn’t last a day out there without all this granduer.”

You protested, “I could! I’d do it if it meant we could be together forever!”

At that, your lover had shot a glower at you. It surprised you, you’d never seen him look at you with so much contempt. “Well that’s never going to happen.” He said, harshly. “So get that silly idea out of your head.”

Your heart had chipped upon hearing that. Would it really be so bad to be married to one another? In domestic bliss?

After that conversation, he was cold to you. Colder than normal. He dodged you at every opportunity, even if it was just seeing each other in the halls, he would turn and stalk off in the opposite direction.

While you hadn’t meant to offend him, his reaction to the idea of you two being promised to one another was certainly an unwarranted one. He didn’t need to be so mean about it… but you loved him, and thought that maybe a big gesture of showing him how much you adored him would bring him back around.

So, one evening, you decided to bring a gift to him and deliver it personally. He was always giving you nice things, why couldn’t you do the same?

It was hard, choosing what to get him. What do you gift an Orc who has nearly everything handed to him just for being the King’s personal guard?

After a while, you finally decided. Your family was known for housing a baking empire, and thus, cooking was one of your families forte’s. And so you made him a cake.

With swirls of pink icing and cursive lettering on the top of the cake, you boxed it up after a days hard work and waited until night fall.

Your Orc lived just on the edges of the Palace grounds, and you would be undoubtably spotted if you went during the day. Donning a cloak and pulling up it’s hood, you left your quarters and headed for the Palace grounds.

The guards changed their shifts, and using the unmanned Palace doors, you darted through and raced to the edge of the grounds.

Now that you were on your way there, you realised that you’d never even been to his house before. Your Orc had never invited you, nor had you been close to it while accompanying walks with your Mistress, the Queen.

A tiny little cottage sat just at the edge of the Palaces’ garden walls, warm, inviting orange light flickering in it’s windows, puffs of smoke wafting out of the chimney.

You sped up your already hurried walk. Great, he was home. As you got closer, you saw shadows moving about inside the cottage and the silhouette of a woman.

The smile that had been spread across your face faded, your walk slowing down as you approached the cottage door.

A female Orc appeared in the window, a huge grin spread across her face as she laughed to someone unseen. You recognised her from the kitchens, she was always happy to talk to you about baking if you were ever bored and went down to see what the cooks were doing.

It had been a little while since you’d seen her.

You kept your distance, not wanting to be spotted in the dim lighting. As you watched, you realised that this she was pregnant. She must be on maternity leave then, it would explain her sudden absence in the kitchens.

But… why is she here? In your lovers house?

She was still smiling, nodding to the other person in the cottage with her, before she laughed again and beckoned her company closer.

The box in your hands slipped and split open, all your hard work splatting across the grass as you watched the love of your life, the King’s Guard pull the pregnant Orc into a hug.

Your Orc, your lover gave her a tight squeeze and then kissed her on the lips.

You couldn’t help yourself, you stared in horror as they walked away from the window and vanished further into the cottage.

Vision blurring, you gripped your skirts and bent down to pick up the ruined cake in front of you. Scooping the remains of the sweet treat into what remained of the box, tears fell.

You couldn’t believe it. You, were the other woman? To a pregnant lady who clearly had your lover wrapped tightly around her finger?

All the words you had exchanged, all the compliments and reassurances of your Orc… were lies? How could he do that to you?

The tears became too heavy and you couldn’t even see the cake in front of you anymore. Fingers covered in icing, you put your head in your hands, stood and ran off further into the Palace grounds.

You didn’t care if they found the cake out there, it’s not like people in the Palace wouldn’t find it strange that you came back covered in sugary sweetness.

It’s not like you could tell anyone of your affair either, everyone would look down on you, gossip and then you would never have a good life after that.

And your family’s reputation would be in the gutter. Their daughter, an adulteress and homewrecker? It didn’t matter that you never knew, your standing would still be tarnished.

A quiet trickle of running water hit your ears, causing you to stop your run and fall to your knees, no longer able to contain your shrieks of heartbreak.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course there was no way that an Orc like him and a Lady like yourself could have gotten married… or that someone as amazing as him would have fallen for a woman like you.

[verstappenverse]

Knight of My Heart

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After one too many drinks, a protective Max arrives right when you need him most.

1.7k words / Masterlist

It was nearly 2am when Max’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, dragging him from the edges of sleep. The faint light from his screen illuminated the dark room, and he reached for it with a groggy hand, squinting at the text that appeared.

“She’s drunk. Like realllly drunk. Can you come get her?”

Max sat up, his heart already sinking. The message was from one of your friends, someone whose name he only half-remembered from the countless times they’d insisted they’d “watch out for you.” Max knew better by now. He sighed, ranking a hand through his messy hair, before throwing the blanket off and quickly pulling on a hoodie and jeans.

The drive to the club was quiet, but Max’s mind wasn’t. He hated these nights. It wasn’t just the thought of you being drunk and vulnerable; it was the idea that you were so carefree and beautiful, and people always noticed. Too many times Max had seen guys try to get too close, their smiles too slick and intentions too obvious.

When he finally pulled up outside the club he saw you almost immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

You were leaning against a lamp post near the curb swaying slightly in your heels, a dazed smile on your face as a man hovered beside you. Max’s chest tightened at the sight. The guy was too close, his body angled toward yours as he spoke animatedly, gesturing with his hands. You laughed softly at whatever he said, your voice carrying over the low thrum of the music spilling from the club’s entrance.

Max killed the engine and climbed out, his jaw set. His strides were purposeful, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“Maxie!” you squealed the moment you spotted him, your arms flinging open in delight.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his torso and nearly toppling yourself over in the process.

The guy looked over at Max, not at all intimidated, but Max didn’t care. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching by his sides as he stepped closer.

“You good?” Max asks you, his voice a little rougher than usual.

The man gave Max a once-over, clearly sizing him up. “She seems fine to me,” he said, his tone too casual for Max’s liking.

Max’s eyes narrow, the jealousy coursing through him now unmistakable. He took a step closer to you, brushing his hand lightly against your shoulder. “Oh because you know her so well, right?” he asked the guy, voice clipped.

With a taunting smirk, the guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “She was just telling me about her night. She looked like she needed some company.”

Max wasn’t having it, he stands tall, his body blocking your view of the man now. “Right, I don’t think you understand,” Max replied dryly, placing a firm hand on your waist. “I’m her boyfriend, she's mine. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll take it from here.”

The man’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to argue, but something in Max’s gaze seemed to convince him otherwise. With a tight nod, he muttered a quick, “Whatever man,” and walked off into the crowd.

As the guy disappeared, Max’s frustration didn’t completely fade, but he focused right back on you. Guiding you towards his car, hand never leaving your side. You leaned into him, your cheek resting against his shoulder the alcohol making your limbs feel heavy.

You looked up at him, your face slightly flushed, your eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” you asked quietly.

Max’s lips press together tightly, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy still lingering. “I’m fine,” he said, even though he’s anything but. "Just... I want you to be safe, alright?"

You nod, though your head wobbles slightly. "I know... just wanted to have fun."

Max exhaled slowly, his tension only easing slightly as he turned to you. You were beaming up at him, clearly oblivious to the small confrontation that had just unfolded.

“I get it,” he said softly, his hand steadying you at your waist. “But where are your friends?”

“They’re inside,” you mumbled, waving a hand vaguely toward the club entrance. “Or somewhere. I don’t know. I came out to get some air.”

Max sighed, scanning the area for any sign of your group. Just then a few of your friends emerged from the club giggling.

“Max!” One of them called her tone far too cheery. “She’s all yours.”

Max’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling over. “Why did you let her get this drunk?” he snapped. “Anything could’ve happened to her out here!”

Your friend blinked, her smile faltering. “She’s a big girl Max. Besides, we knew you’d come.”

“That’s not the point,” Max said, his voice sharp. "You should’ve made sure she was safe.”

Your friends exchanged glances mumbling something, he exhaled heavily running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m glad you've all had fun, but next time just… watch out for her yeah? She’s very important to me.” He gazed down at you.

Your friends exchanged glances, some looking sheepish, others visibly annoyed at his tone.

“We had it under control, Max,” one of your friends said, her tone defensive. “We weren’t going to babysit her all night.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Being there for your friend isn’t babysitting, it’s just what you do.”

Another friend, the quieter one of the group spoke up “Okay Max. We’ll keep a better eye on her next time, promise.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, looking back down at you. Your eyes were half-closed, a lazy smile on your lips as you mumbled something unintelligible against his chest.

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his face. “Alright,” he said to the group, his tone a little lighter now. “I’m taking her home. Get back safely.”

“We will,” the quieter friend said, giving him a small, apologetic smile.

Max turned to you with a sigh of relief. “Let’s get you home.”

Max guided you to the car, his hand never leaving your waist. You leaned into him heavily, giggling at every little thing—the way his hand steadied you, the low muttering under his breath, even the way he opened the car door for you like you were royalty.

“You’re so nice to me, Maxie,” you said, settling into the passenger seat with a content sigh.

“I’m always nice to you,” he replied, pulling the seatbelt across your body and clicking it into place.

“You are,” you agreed, your voice soft and dreamy. “You’re my favourite person, you know that?”

Max froze for a moment, sure his heart skipped a beat, before he shook his head and closed your door.

The drive home was quiet, save for your occasional hums and mumbled comments about the pretty city lights. Max glanced at you every so often, his hand gripping your thigh, your eyes fluttering shut for brief moments.

When he finally pulled into his apartment’s parking garag you stirred, blinking sleepily. Inside you clung to him like a lifeline, your arms looped around his neck as he guided you to the bathroom.

“You’re so tall,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest. “Like a tree. A strong, handsome tree.”

Max chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he set you down on the bathroom counter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway,” you said, your grin lazy and smug.

He didn’t respond, instead reaching for a makeup remover wipe from the cabinet. You watched him curiously as he carefully cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Taking your makeup off,” he said simply.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, as he carefully wiped at your face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and he avoided your eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"You take such good care of me." You whispered, reaching up to touch his hand. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know,” he said with a slight frown, his eyes finally meeting yours. “But I want to. You deserve it.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Max carried you to the bedroom, letting you climb him like a koala as you giggled into his shoulder. He set you down gently, pulling the covers over you before crouching beside the bed. You blinked at him sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re like a knight,” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness. “My very own knight in shining armour.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “A very tired knight,” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning if I let you go to sleep without water and something for your hangover.”

“I don’t hate you,” you slurred, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. “I could never hate you.”

His chest tightened at the sincerity in your tone, “Stay awake for just a few more minutes okay? I’ll be right back.”

You made a soft noise of protest as he stood, but you didn’t try to stop him. Max moved quietly through the apartment, grabbing a glass from the kitchen and filling it with cold water. From the bathroom he grabbed a pack of paracetamol, the domesticity of the routine bringing a faint smile to his lips.

When he returned you were still half-propped against the pillows, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of his footsteps.

“Here,” Max said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He handed you the glass and pressed two pills into your palm. “Take these and drink some water. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You squinted at the pills like they’d personally offended you. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Max replied firmly, his lips quirking upward. “No arguments.”

“Bossy,” you muttered, but you popped the pills into your mouth and swallowed them with some water. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

You handed the glass back to him, and he set it on the nightstand before leaning forward to pull the blankets higher around you.

“I’m so lucky you’re my Maxie,” you sighed.

“Sleep,” he said softly, stroking your cheek.

“Stay,” you murmured, your eyes already half-closed.

Max hesitated, his heart twisting with adoration, before nodding. “I’ll be right here.”

[rafesweetie]

need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

[cyripticchronicler]

Sooooo i need you to write more azriel becauseeeeee you are amazing at it and I adored healing

His Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A disastrous date leads to an unexpected revelation: Azriel’s shadows aren’t just protective—they know the truth about the bond between you and him. Can you embrace the love you’ve always craved, or will fear hold you back?

TW: Kissing, one swear word

A/N: You ask and you shall receive! Ngl I love this fic so much!! Azriel longing has such a special place in my heart fr <3

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel was sure he looked pathetic. He looked like a dog; wide, pouty eyes gazing at you longingly as he followed you around with desperate steps.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your smile was the sun to his shadows, your laugh music to his silence. He loved how you talked to him - gentle and kind, like he weren’t a man carved from death and pain. 

Tonight was like no other. Stealing glances at you from across the dinner table, his heart was warm with adoration. You were absorbed in a conversation with Feyre, bright smile lighting up the room. Cassian was sitting next to him, chatting his ear away. He wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured by you and your colossal beauty. 

He wasn’t all that surprised when he felt the tug in his chest; a tug that led to you. Despite the suspicion that you were his mate - he’d never felt this comfortable around someone, so warm and fuzzy - he still felt the breath leave his lungs. His nervousness was unmistakable, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, and his shadows…his shadows were everywhere. 

They were swirling around his shoulders, darting towards you and wrapping around your hair as an invisible force attracted them. It was only when a shadow brushed against your cheek, so slow and caring, that he yanked his shadows back with a brutal force. 

“Az?” Cauldron, your voice was enough to bring him to his knees. Your head was tilted in concern and he knew if he looked around the table everyone would be wearing the same concerned look. 

“I-” His voice cracked, a rare slip in his usually perfect facade. “Sorry. I’m fine.” He wasn’t. And his shadows betrayed that as they reached out once again towards you as if wanting to confirm the bond was actually there. That it exists. 

He had to force them away from you once again, taking everything in him to stay in his seat when all he wanted to do was go down on his knees and beg for your love and acceptance of the bond.

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel’s nervousness had amplified. It was embarrassing how his heart would stutter when you got too close. Or how his breathing would stop when you touched him in any way, even if it was a mere shoulder tap. 

His shadows, a lifelong companion, have betrayed him in ways unthinkable. They don’t listen. He can no longer trust them around you. Like now, you’re walking next to him, shoulders brushing against his own as you talk about your latest mission for the Night Court. 

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted as someone’s arm bumps harshly into yours. Azriel’s eyes narrow in a glare, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“I'm okay, don’t worry.” He looks down at the hand that’s found its way to his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “Good. She didn’t even apologise.” Azriel would like to blame the mating bond for his protectiveness, but, truthfully, he’d been this protective before the bond even snapped. 

You started walking, smiling once again. Azriel could still feel the anger boiling in his gut, his attentive eyes noting the shadows that swirled around your ankles, watching with a grimace as they continued to rise and slowly envelope you in darkness. 

Return to me. 

They rise quicker, your legs hidden. You’ve stopped in your tracks, eyes flitting up to look at Azriel curiously. 

Return to me. Now.

They wrap around your waist and you move away from the busy sidewalk. “Azriel? What’s going on?” He grits his teeth, your voice an echo in his head as he tries to regain his composure. 

Listen. Return.

They begin to wrap around your arms, almost your whole body shrouded in darkness. Your eyes, thankfully not panicked, scour the streets, looking for the danger that could explain why Azriel’s shadows were acting up. 

Enough. Go. 

His shadows hesitated around your frame, the icy chill of Azriel’s voice reminding them who their commander was. One by one, Azriel watched them slip away and into the darkness, banished into a space where they couldn’t interact with him or anyone else for the time being. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was raw, cheeks flushing and eyes moving everywhere but your own. Your smile is filled with adoration and understanding. Azriel was too blinded by his nervousness to see it. “It’s okay. Let’s go get lunch.”

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel was going crazy. Sitting in the corner of the room, his hands clench and unclench as he watches you. The dim lighting in the living room does enough to hide Azriels shadows from everyone else. 

The moment you entered the room, his heart rate picked up and his shadows sharted flitting around the room erratically. Since then, he’s attempted to momentarily ignore you in a desperate hope to slow the beating of his heart and leash his shadows. 

“How…is your garden going? Did you plant those Dasies you got?” Azriel mutters distractedly, eyes still on you even as he talks to Elain. Her candy-like voice reaches his ears and he forces himself to look at her. 

“My garden’s going well! The daises really suit the rest of the garden. The white is a nice contrast with the buttercups-”

“Azriel, what the fuck?” Cassian’s confused voice cuts Elain off from her passionate rambling, his head snapping to look at him from where he sits next to you, hand raised above your shoulder like he was about to touch you. 

But he can’t. Azriel’s eyes move from Cassian's confused, worried ones and down his arm to watch the shadows swirl around his arm and hand. The shadows are physically preventing Cassian from placing his hand on your shoulder. They wrap around tighter and tighter until Cassian’s face twitches in pain. 

“You’re gonna have to explain this, Az,” Cassian teases, shaking out his arm. His voice was light, but his eyes flickered with genuine concern.

“Enough,” He muttered through clenched teeth, voice low in command. The trembling shadows obeyed, shooting away from Cassian's figure and back to Azriel, swirling around his ear as they whispered apologies in hopes of subduing the anger of their master. 

They don’t stay by him for long, Azriel’s nervousness growing as the eyes of his family lock onto him. His shadows reflect his anxiety, darting from corners of the room and swirling around bodies. As a shadow twirls around Rhysand’s neck once again, Azriel stands up abruptly. 

“I need to go,” Is all he mutters before leaving for the House of Wind with a brutal tug on his shadows, ensuring they follow his orders. 

What in the cauldron was wrong with him?

  ๋࣭ ⭑

“What’s wrong with you?” The question quite literally stuns Azriel in silence. He’d been locked up in his room for days now, trying meditating tactics to calm his shadows - even going to Madja to see if she could help in any way. She couldn’t. He hadn’t seen you in days, and, despite the desperate longing in his chest, he’d rather it be that he doesn’t see you instead of embarrassing himself. Again. 

You’d grown worried in his absence, constantly asking your family if they’d heard from him. Cassian had grown sick of your constant questions and offered to fly you up to the House of Wind himself. 

You had happily taken him up on the offer, leading to you now standing in Azriels room, hands on your hips as you inspect his tense stance and flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong?” You repeat again, eyes narrowed as his shadows leave his side, seemingly darker than usual.

You’re still not used to how vulnerable he looks when his shadows aren’t around him. He looks so lost, hands fidgeting in front of him while his wide, brown eyes watch as his shadows leave him. 

“Nothing’s wrong…My shadows are just acting up.” His eyes flit to the ground, folding his arms against his chest to stop his nervous fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I just needed to figure out what’s wrong with them.”

You smile apologetically, pulling him into a hug so you can feel his warm body against yours. Warmth coats your skin and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’ 

A shadow slinking up the wall catches your eye. “Um…” You mutter, still hugging him tightly. “I didn’t know your shadows could create shapes and stuff.” You feel him pull away, albeit hesitantly. He turns to look at where you’re pointing, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

There, against the wall, rests a lone shadow, the darkness taking the form of a clawed hand, desperately reaching out to your own shadow, formed by the dim fae lights. It’s almost sad how it fights to get closer, yanking at invisible chains, stretching its long fingers in an attempt to touch you. 

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, placing a strict yet gentle hand on your back and slowly pushing you out of his room, all the while rambling. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Push. “You need to leave.” Push. “-what?-”  “I’ll talk to you later.” Push.  “-wait-” With one more push, you’re standing outside his room. 

You nod in defeat, your protests ignored.  “I’ll come and see you after my date tomorrow night.” He quite literally freezes in the doorway. “Date?” Before you can say anything, his shadows swarm around behind him, slinking behind gaps to reach you. The swarm around his wings, the darkest they’ve ever been. They seem to lash out, yanking at his hair. 

He slams the door before the shadows can reach you. A quiet curse and thump is heard from the other side. You can faintly see a shadow slithering between the gap in the door before it’s yanked back. 

Oh. Your heart is still racing at what just happened. He’s left you standing there in a pool of nervousness, anxious fingers attacking your nails as you debate whether or not you should knock on the door and ask if he’s okay. 

You decide against it. 

  ๋࣭ ⭑

The evening was interesting enough. The good-looking male was nothing short of kind. He had opened doors for you, pulled out your chair and bought you flowers. The warm glow of the candles at each table along with the gentle jazz music helped put your mind at ease, despite being on a date with a man you knew you could never truly love. 

You smile politely at the male's joke, sipping your wine, knowing deep in your heart that something is missing. Azriel had stolen your heart years ago, practically yanked it out of your chest and refused to return it. No matter how many males you talk to or sleep with, no one could replace him. 

“So you work for the High Lord and High Lady?” He asks curiously. You nod, playing with your food. “Yeah, I have a range of roles but I’m mostly a diplomat.” His smile was kind and attentive, nodding along as a sign for you to keep talking. “I-It’s a fun job. They’re like my family and I’d do anything for them.” 

“I have a feeling you’d do anything for a lot of people, wouldn’t you? You seem sweet.” His hand reaches out, fingers gently grazing yours before completely holding your hand, fingers lacing between yours. 

His hand feels weird. Too soft. You crave the rough scars that should be grazing against your palm. The tight way Azriel holds your hand (when he dares to; usually with the excuse that you’re in danger). 

“Thank you-”

The air shift is subtle but you notice it almost immediately. The temperature dropped, a chill slinking up your spine despite the warmth of the restaurant. You glance around, suddenly aware of how shadows deepen in the corners of the room. 

“Do you want my jacket?” Your date asks, brows furrowing as he notes the goosebumps trailing up your arm. “No. Thank you.” You smile, trying to return your attention back to the conversation at hand but it's captured by the flickering light in front of you. The flame of the candle danced erratically, as though it was caught in an invisible wind. 

Then you felt it. 

A wisp of darkness slipped between you and your date's hand. You gasp, yanking your hand back to your side with a speeding heart. The shadow didn’t stay away from you for long, slithering around your wrist tightly and anchoring itself to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning closer and inspecting your face. You nod, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, everything’s fine-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the shadows surge. 

First, they twist around your ankle, raising up and up until your legs feel trapped, so tightly surrounded by shadows it feels restricting. Then they move to your arms, twisting until you can barely move them, pressed to your side and unwilling to move. 

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.” Panic ceases as you struggle to stand, your heart beating faster while the shadows grip tighter. You ignore the protests of your date, sending an apologetic smile while you walk out, the shadows loosening up enough for you to move your legs. 

Though they loosen around your legs, their grip on your arms grows tighter by the minute. It’s constricting, suffocating even. As you scavenge to find the leader of these shadows, your panic worsens. You. Can’t. Move. Your. Arms. 

You search the bustling streets for any sign of Azriel, figuring he’d be close since his shadows were. But, after ten minutes of looking, and fresh rain dripping down your clothes, you try to find another way. 

You lift your arm to your mouth, whispering desperately, “Get Azriel.” The shadow shoots away in seconds, rushing off into the distance while you find a bench to sit on, uncaring of the rain that pours freely. 

After a few minutes of waiting in the cool rain, the loud flap of wings is the first of Azriel to greet you. Next, it's the shout of your name as he rushes towards you. He abruptly stops in front of you, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight of his shadows slithering over your body like a snake. 

“What-”

“Get them off. I can barely feel my arms.” Your glare is lethal, the numb feeling in your arms getting stronger. His eyebrows furrow in worry, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to focus. “Stop.” 

Everything halts at once. The shadows stop moving, returning to their owner hesitantly. “I am-” He shakes his head, any ounce of frustration leaving his body as soon as his eyes meet yours. “I am so sorry. They’ve been so out of control recently. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice they were gone.”

“They interrupted-”

“Calduron, did they hurt you? I’m so sorry-"

“-Stop Azriel.” He halts, eyes looking down in shame. “This whole thing has been getting out of hand. I was on a date, Azriel. What’s going on? This has never happened before.” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you. They’ve been acting up ever since the mating bond snapped and I don't know how to control it- They get so protective over you because I feel so protective. I’m trying to control it, I just think, because the bond just recently snapped they’re unsure of how to act around you-”

“The what now?” Your breathing stutters, your voice cracking in nervousness as you try to absorb everything he just said. Mating bond? He’s your mate? The one you’ve loved for so long is your mate?

“The-” He steps away, flinching when he processes what he’s said. Turning his back to you, he looks the part of a fallen angel, wings drooped, shoulders hunched while rain drips down his wings. “The mating bond,” he whispers in defeat. 

You take a slow, timid step towards him. “The mating bond?” Your heart skips a beat, breathing ragged as a strange feeling warms your chest. A phantom string tugs at your heart, connecting you to your one true love. “The mating bond.” You say more confidently, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Azriel’s shoulder.  

His back relaxes at your touch, head moving to look at you over his muscled shoulder. “I need you. So badly. I need you like the air I breathe. Please, if you’re going to turn me down do it quickly.”

You shake your head, shaking hand moving to his chin, turning him so he’s facing you. “Who says I don’t need you the way you need me? I’ve loved you for so long. I’m ecstatic to be your mate?” 

Rain drips from his hair and down his nose. You quickly wipe it away. His scarred hands move to your cheeks and he does the same for you, brushing the rain away from your face like he were protecting a precious painting. 

“You love me?” His eyes, so filled with love and hope have your heart melting. 

“Of course I do, honey.” 

“I love you too.” 

You smile, heart so full you feel like it could burst. “Then kiss me.” 

He does just that, warm, soft lips grazing against yours cautiously. He pulls away, eyes looking into yours. When he sees nothing but glee, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time more ferociously. All the longing and desperation he had been withholding leaked out in one kiss, the cold rain barely noticed in the warmth of the kiss. 

He pulls away, gasping for breath as his forehead falls against yours. Shadows return once again, trailing up your back, through your hair and wrapping around your arms causing you to gasp. “You're mine,” He mutters. 

“I’m yours.”

The shadows dance in joy. 

[euthymiya]

GOJO SATORU : ADVANTAGE

female reader ; mentions of alcohol and hooking up ; friends to lovers ; getting together (sort of) ; your typical clingy, annoying, and slightly shameless satoru

There is a boy in your bed.

That’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. The second thing is that his arms are curled around your waist. The third is that you’re both rather bare…which is the most mortifying part of it all. You have no recollection of what happened the night before to land you in such a scandalizing predicament—just that one drink turned into one too many.

So, with pretty limited options, you lay painfully still, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you leave? (No, this is your own home, after all). Should you wake him up? (That might make things a bit awkward, though). Should you pretend to sleep until he finally wakes up and leaves himself? (But that might take too long and your anxiety might kill you first). You weigh your options, still careful enough to stay still—at least, you try.

He suddenly pulls you closer, and you flinch against your will.

“Oh, you’re up!” He chirps instantly.

Everything stops as soon as you hear the voice. The world stops spinning. It might have even shifted from its tilted axis. Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops beating. You think maybe even for a moment, your soul may have left your body.

Satoru.

“Satoru?” You turn around quickly—and then, just as quickly, you give a small, panicked gasp and pull the blanket to cover your chest.

He eyes you in amusement as he causally says, “I already saw everything, so you don’t really need to bother with all that.”

How shameless. Which, of course, is pretty on brand for him. But still, how shameless.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss, glaring at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You invited me here,” he grins. It’s too wide for your liking. You’d mistake it for smugness if you didn’t know him a tad bit better—no, it’s purely gleeful.

“I did not,” you sputter.

“Oh, but you did,” he all but purrs. And then, much to your horror, he takes on a mockingly high-pitched voice and replicates what you assume is your drunk, alcohol-induced invitation from the night before. “Where are you going, silly? Come inside. Oh Satoru ~ you feel so good. More, Satoru—please! Satoru, you—”

“I do not sound like that,” you screech, glaring at him as one hand still protectively holding the blanket over your chest while the other moves to give him a harsh shove.

He chuckles, flopping back against your mattress as he holds his arm out for you. “No point in bickering over the specifics now. Come here.”

“For what?”

“Weaponized incompetence only gets you so far,” he clicks his teeth, “come, come. We’re going to cuddle before—”

You cut him off firmly. “We are not cuddling. You are going to get dressed while I close my eyes and then you’re going to walk yourself out the door and go home.”

He pouts, giving you a dramatically pathetic look as he murmur, “after I showed you such a good time? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

You don’t even remember the time that he supposedly showed you—although, it’s pretty evident that it happened. Very evident, in fact. The clothes on the floor. The slight soreness of your body. The faint bite marks on his collarbone (did you really do that?) and the beginnings of scratches starting at his shoulders.

It’s all….so obvious. So painfully clear that somehow, after a series of events, you’ve fallen prey to the charms of a boy you happen to know pretty well. Unfortunately for you, you also happened to get to know him a little better than you would have liked—and you don’t even have any memory of it.

You glare at him for a moment before muttering, “you should not take advantage of a drunk girl.”

His mouth opens for a second—and it just stays like that. Speechless. It might be the first time you’ve seen him that way, too. (It’s a shame you don’t get to appreciate it more given the circumstances—not a lot of people can say they’ve witnessed Satoru of all people have nothing to say).

“Maybe you took advantage of a drunk guy,” he retorts, huffing, “you know how I get after a drink or two. How do you know you didn’t prey on me?”

“You’re in my bed!”

“Only because you insisted your place was closer!”

You sigh exasperatedly, lying back against your pillow as you rub your temple. He shuffles closer, inching little by little in a comically unsubtle manner until he’s pressed against your side. He’s warm. His skin is soft and something about it feels good enough that you don’t immediately flinch away.

“This is weird,” you whisper. Still, you don’t move. You can’t. It’s hard to pretend like it’s not sort of nice getting to feel Satoru like this—so close and near and yours.

(Is he yours? Maybe not. But getting to pretend for just a moment doesn’t feel all that wrong).

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs, quietly into the room as he looks around, a foreignly soft look in his eyes.

Just to be annoying, you feign being confused and ask, “what, my interior design?”

“Us,” he purses his lips, glancing at you, unimpressed. “It’s not so bad when it’s just us.”

“I think the alcohol made your brain permanently damaged,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing lightly as you try not to smile. Gently, in a way that’s careful and delicate that Satoru usually is not, he snakes an arm around you and pulls you close. And just as carefully, before you can scold him with an undignified scowl, he pulls the blanket up to make sure you stay covered.

You stare at him cautiously, and he leans closer.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sober right now. And hungover, so I don’t appreciate you adding to my headache.”

“Rude,” you gasp, shoving at his chest again. He grins, one arm still wrapped tightly around you as he keeps you nice and flush against him.

“What say you to a nice brunch without any alcohol—just you, me, and maybe some coffee.”

Your heart skips a beat. You force yourself to pretend like you hardly care as you shrug and say, “I’d say you’re just trying to ease your guilt for taking advantage of me.”

“Actually,” he says pointedly, “you have to say yes to ease your guilt of taking advantage of me.”

“I say it’s all about perspective,” you crack a grin.

“Well, to put it into perspective for you, we’re getting brunch,” he says firmly, burying his nose into your shoulder.

You ask cheekily, “it’s on you, right?”

“Oh, sure. I guess you’re already perfectly fine with taking advantage of me a second time, huh?”

One night stand with ur friend satoru but the sexual tension has always been so thick it’s easy to cut with a plastic knife

[navybrat817]

What does Mr. Barnes think when he looks at Mrs. Barnes?

So many things, nonnie.

On His Mind

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: What goes through Bucky's mind when he looks at you.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, mentions of Bucky's past, Bucky Barnes being in love (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

Bucky can’t believe some days that you’re his wife. He can’t believe he has a wife. Locked in his own mind while a prisoner of HYDRA, he didn’t allow himself to believe he’d ever have that - someone to come home to, someone to fight by his side. Believing in that would’ve given him too much hope, and that hope being ripped apart would’ve destroyed him all over again. HYDRA destroyed enough of his mind and tainted parts of his soul, he couldn’t let them have his heart, too.

Bucky appreciates your patience and understanding, how you earned his trust completely, which isn’t something he gives easily. Treating him like a human instead of a broken toy or a weapon helped with that. You still display that patience and understanding, not taking offense if he has to sleep on the floor some nights and taking care of him and giving him a safe space to talk (or not) when PTSD creeps up unexpectedly. He knows many would’ve thrown in the towel early on, but not you. You’ve never given up on him.

Bucky admires your strength inside and out, how you worked hard to get to where you are and how you’ll stand up for what you believe in. You defend him so fiercely with your entire being, and you aren’t afraid to put anyone in their place when it comes to him. He tries to do the same for you in return because you deserve to have someone who will fight for you.

Bucky is in awe of your beauty. Doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a gown for a gala or walking around in a t-shirt, you’re the most enchanting creature he has ever seen in his life, and he’s completely under your spell. Your smile disarms him like nothing else ever could, and he wishes some days you could see yourself through his eyes. Especially on the days you feel down about your looks, he’ll tell you with his words and body how beautiful you are until you believe it again.

Bucky wonders some days how you can want him. Short or long hair, clean shaven or beard, scars and all, you think he’s handsome. Even if he gains a little weight, he still turns you on. You still jump right into his arms if you’re apart for too long. Maybe if he saw himself through your eyes, he’d see the beauty, too.

Bucky worries that his past will come back to haunt him. Maybe not HYDRA itself, but a relative or friend of someone they forced him to take out. He can take the punishment. He’ll gladly take their wrath. But you? He can’t let them touch you. It’s that fear that sometimes keeps him awake at night, and he will protect you should that day ever come.

Bucky feels lucky which isn’t something he feels often. Finding his other half made his life brighter, happier. It gave him courage he didn’t realize he was missing. It made him want to be the best version of himself. Hell, it even confused him because he didn’t realize he could care so much about someone else.

Bucky thinks most of all how much he loves you. Beyond the fears and his past, he wants to look toward a bright future that you believe he deserves. He wants to create more memories with you. Build a family with you. That hope he dared not to have years ago wasn’t just a flicker. It was a blazing fire that would never die.

And the ring around his finger is a promise that he will be forever faithful, forever devoted, and forever yours.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[chronicallyill-nephilim]

Peter Parker lost everyone, he's gotten hurt and more importantly those he loves have gotten hurt because of him over and over again and he's not about to let it happen again. So he isolates himself, walls himself into his routine. Work, patrol, eat, sleep, repeat, sub sleeping or eating for more of either of the latter and that's how Peter spends his days. Over the years it works for him and over the years his walls get higher.

In comes Deadpool. Wade can see the walls Spider-Man has so obviously built up to ward off company he just doesn't care.

He didn't try to break them down or pull Spidey out. He scaled them like the builds he climbed for their roof top meet ups. Toppling over the edge and face planted at Peter's feet inside the lock box he'd meticulously created for himself. He doesn't ask about them or mention they're there, instead he offered up the best smelling food Peter's had in years from an unlabeled brown paper bag and hung out with whatever version of himself Spider-Man decided to give him.

Some how, just like that Peter finds himself with a best friend. He doesn't even notice it at first, he simply get's used to this new presence in his space. The figure on his tail and than conversation at his side. Company, he suddenly had company. It doesn't hit him till Wade takes a long job and is out of the country for a while, and Peter goes back to patrolling alone.

It's to quiet. There's no one sitting on the ledge next to him, no one to banter with while webbing up petty robbers. He's been alone before and he's been lonely before. It's a familiar feeling and a familiar ache, he had no idea it'd gone till it suddenly came clawing back into his chest.

He watched the head and shoulders of Deadpool's black and red suit and felt that clawing sensation ebb away as Wade awkwardly climbed the scaffolding with one hand occupied by one of those magical paper bags.

Wade sat next to him and Peter's normal shifted back into focus. He may have told himself before he's not aloud to have this, but he likes this. He's done all the years of loneliness and he's protected himself but he can't live like that forever. Wade did all the hard work, made this something he doesn't just have to want but already has, right in front of him. Maybe he could have more.

The secret to a long lasting relationship is finding someone who hates leaving their comfort zone and then wiggle your way in there. You wiggle your way right inside their comfort zone and then you're there. By the time they notice you're there, they'll just sigh like "oh great, now there's a creature in here", but they don't want to move out of their comfort zone, and tossing you out of there would now alter the air pressure and constitution of the comfort zone too abruptly and it would pop like a bubble.

That's how you keep a relationship. You weasel your way inside someone's comfort zone and make yourself an essential component of it, so now they, too, will have to make sure that your dumb ass stays in there. Their comfort zone now has a fucking creature in it, and it's not going to be the same comfort zone if the creature isn't there.

[aurumalatus]

inspired by this post, kinich x fem!reader, pixelprincess!au masterlist

the first time someone refers to kinich as your guard dog, he doesn't even flinch.

social events like these mean interacting with plenty of stuck up, haughty people that you wouldn't be caught dead with, and that includes the man that stands before you. he's a prince from a small foreign nation, with a name you don't care to remember. he's sent you plenty of romantic letters, despite your polite reminders of disinterest.

at this point, they're edging into impolite reminders.

kinich remembers the man well. he'd been forceful in asking you for a dance in the past, and he'd had to stop himself from stepping in—he's fully aware that you can take care of yourself. still, his eyes narrow as the man approaches, jaw setting firmly.

the prince calls your name in an airy, sing-songy tone that suggests familiarity, a notion that does not please you in the slightest. you sigh, already feeling the sagging exhaustion of the impending interaction.

kinich steps forward before you can speak.

"the princess is retiring for the night," he says, eerily calm, "so she is not entertaining anymore social engagements for the night."

the hall is dark, faint music floating from the ballroom further away. you'd begged kinich to leave early tonight, and he'd been so kind as to indulge you, but the prince stands as a roadblock between you and the exit.

he smiles, lips pulled wide and teeth sharp. "you can leave her with me, little knight. i assure you i'm far more capable of protecting her."

his words make you frown in irritation. kinich's hand shifts to rest over the hilt of his sword, the corner of his lip tilting up mockingly.

"well, if i asked you to prove that, i'd think you might regret it."

the prince's lip curls in disgust, a snarl that makes you raise a brow in challenge, in warning.

"call off your little guard dog," he says to you, voice dripping with condescension. "so that he might leave us be."

kinich doesn't say anything in reply. you don't expect him to. he's been called far worse—during his time as an orphan, as a runaway, as a thief. something like this doesn't faze him in the slightest. instead, he merely tilts his head an inch, stepping forward until his body is covering you further, protective.

he glances back to meet your eyes, and you shake your head with a smile. as much as you'd love for kinich to cut the self-centered prince down, you have a feeling your parents might not feel the same joy.

"dear, stupid prince," you sigh, quickly stepping past the flabbergasted man. kinich follows you closely, half-unsheathing his sword so that the blade flashes in the dark—the prince flinches at the motion, fumbling for words.

"princess, i—"

"don't bother writing me another letter," you interrupt, glancing over your shoulder. "or my guard dog might just do something about it. and i think you'd prefer to live to see another day, wouldn't you?"

briskly, you pace toward the exit, your knight following.

and, while the infuriated prince calls down the hall after you, kinich smirks.

[oceantornadoo]

ch6 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: idiots in love acting like idiots, reader is insecure i fear

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Your cat likes John better than you and you can’t seem to care.

He coaxes her into the carrier with ease and you watch it like you’re not there, instead floating above your body. John’s hands rummage through your dressers, packing underwear and shirts and pants into the same suitcase you used when you visited base. There’s a joke in there somewhere but you can’t seem to find it, words turning to ash in your mouth. Johnny is missing, so there’s no reason to laugh. All you can do is stand in the corner, holding your cat’s carrier, watching a captain commandeer your apartment like it’s a mission. In five minutes, John has fit your necessities into two bags and has you out the door with a hand on your back. 

“You didn’t tell me her name yet.” You blink and there’s a black car in front of you, John’s hand pushing you into the passenger seat while he puts your stuff in the back and gets into the driver's side. The cat is on your lap, somehow not throwing a fit at her new home.

“Bubbles.” He hums, gunning the engine and turning the car into the familiar path to the airport. “Bubbles?” You glance out of the window, noting the day is as dreary as you feel. “She has a mohawk. Like Jo- my brother. He’s Soap, so I thought Bubbles…” Your throat tightens. Johnny’s missing and you’re sitting here with your cat, making stupid puns he would love.

John squeezes your thigh and returns his hand to the wheel. The loss of it is a shot to the heart. Now, you’re a victim to him. Sadness is not sexy. It’s painful but you try not to think of it too much. Everything is falling apart anyway.

“We’ll find him, sweetheart. Can tell ya more on the plane.” Everything is in slow motion. Bubbles licks your fingers through the mesh of her carrier and you focus on it like your life depends on it. 

“I’m supposed to work tomorrow.” 

“Already called ‘em. Y’r on sabbatical.”

“My plants…”

“Left a note f’ y’r neighbors.”

“How can I pay rent if I’m not working?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. ‘ve got ya.” 

You nod and close your eyes, wishing everything away like a bad dream. When you wake, you’re on a small military plane. Bubbles is next to you, buckled in. You reach for your phone to take a picture for Johnny, to show him your military cat, but your hand drops when you remember. The heat of John’s stare burns the side of your face, and it takes a few seconds, but you finally gather enough courage to face him. The look in his eyes is haunting. You can’t tell, but John’s been replaying the moment he lost two of his men over and over since it happened. When he closes his eyes, it’s all he sees. Opening his eyes is worse, seeing you in pain and knowing he can’t do anything to immediately fix it.

“Was s’pposed t’ be an easy mission. They got the drop on us. Would’ve been so easy to take all four but they only took Soap an’ Ghost. Ghost’s only family is Soap so we think they’re goin’ to target you next. They’ve got a vendetta against y’r brother. Old wounds an’ all that. You’ll be on base where y’r protected.” He pauses for a second. It’s now dawning on him that you’ll be a few meters away, the fantasy he’s been wanting, but under the worst circumstances. “Questions, sweetheart?” Only one.

“Will you find him?”

“I will. Don’t care what I’ve got to do to do it.”

When you get to base, Kyle is there. He’s looking worse for the wear, a new scar decorating his eyebrow. “You look very chic, Kyle.” He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. “‘m sorry, angel. We’re gonna find him.” It’s the first time it’s really hit you. Maybe it’s the fact that this is only the second time you’ve met Kyle and he’s already treating you like family on account of your brother. Tears form in your eyes and he tugs you closer, rubbing your back as you cry. You remember you’re still out in the open, standing in front of countless guards, and start taking deep breaths to calm the tears. “It’s ok, let it out.” You nod against him, then pull back to wipe the tears away. Bubbles meows, desparate for attention, and Kyle’s ears perk up at the sound. “‘m goin’ to walk you to your quarters an’ you’re goin’ to tell me when you got a cat.” John’s already ahead of him, your bags in his hands, so you turn to Kyle and hand him the cat carrier. “So it all started with a dumpster…”

There aren’t spare quarters in the task force’s section of base, so you’re staying in Johnny’s. As if that wasn’t already terrible, you’re across the hall from John’s quarters. John’s disappeared, the bags he packed for you neatly set near Johnny’s bed. Kyle brings you to the room, already having bonded with Bubbles, and promises that someone will be by with dinner. Every second is precious to find your brother, so you can’t blame them both for having to leave.

Your idiot twin didn’t even make his bed before he left. You tidy his room, ignoring your shaking hands, then venture out with a bag of his laundry just to give you something to do. A kind lieutenant in the hallway directs you, and you can feel pitying eyes follow you to the laundry room. A civilian staying multiple nights on base is unheard of, but the rest of the soldiers there are used to the task force operating by their own rules. It seems some groups have left, the building feeling emptier and less lively since you last visited. Or maybe they’re just giving you space in this time of half-mourning, this purgatory of doubt. While you wait for Johnny’s clothes, you try to remember the path to John’s office. It takes you a few backtracks, but you finally make it back to where this all started. You raise your hand to knock, but a bit of eavesdropping reveals there’s at least five people in the room. Not wanting intrude, you go back to Johnny’s room and wait. Waiting seems to be the only thing you can do.

Hours later, after a tasteless dinner of mess hall food, you still can’t fall asleep. It’s past midnight and base is quiet. In your state of delirium, you drag yourself out of bed and outside your room, feet tracing an easy path to John’s room. It feels selfish, seeking him out when your twin is probably in some sort of hell, but you can’t prevent your hand from reaching his door. You knock twice, then curse yourself as the logical half of your brain wakes up and asks what the hell you’re doing. It’s too late to turn back. “Come in.”

John’s sitting at a small desk shuffling through papers. He’s got on blue light glasses you’ve never seen before, and the utter attractiveness of them stops your mouth from opening. He still hasn’t looked up yet, making small notes on the papers in front of him. “What is it?” Finally, John’s head tilts up, then straightens when he realizes it’s you. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-” “Don’t. ‘M sorry sweetheart, didn’t realize it was you.” You twist your hands together, feeling awkwardly uninvited. His space is hardly lived in, no personal effects to be found except a blue blanket on his bed.

“Somethin’ botherin’ you?” You nod, taking a step closer to his desk. “Couldn’t sleep.” He nods back, eyes shining with understanding. Rolling out his chair from under his desk, he spreads his legs in invitation. You answer it silently, shuffling towards him until you’re standing in between them. His actions are so at odds with how avoidant he was in the morning, but you’re too tired to care. Rough hands caress the outside of your upper thighs, then move up to your hips and waist. He rubs small circles, similar to how he did during your bathroom confrontation months earlier, and the motion already starts to calm you. John scoots closer to the edge of his chair until his face is flush to your clothed stomach. Instantly, you reach out to pull him in, hands sinking into the strands of his hair until you feel his glasses poke your stomach. His hands settle above your ass, never stopping their circular caresses. The angle is slightly awkward, a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, namely being this close to the man that haunts your dreams. The two of you stand in almost-silence, breaths syncing until you can’t tell where his start and yours end.

“Sleepwithme.” You pull back until your hands cradle his face, smoothing over the creases your shirt left on his skin. “What?” He releases his hold on you to take off his glasses, setting them down on his desk. “Sleep with me.” Your heart drops, hands leaving his face. The implication that you two only seek each other out for sex is clear, and you can’t even blame him since that’s how it started. He frowns at you. “I’m not really in the mood for sex, I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow or…” John shakes his head, standing from his desk chair. “I meant jus’ sleep, sweetheart. Can’t blame you f’ jumpin’ to conclusions, I know I’m irresistible.” You roll your eyes, shoving him away. John catches your arm and pulls you into him, tucking your head under his chin like you were made to fit together. You let him hold you, nuzzling into him like you did the first night you meant. “I take this as a yes?” You nod against him. John turns off the light and ushers you into his bed. It’s a bit small for two until he tugs you on top of him, chest to chest. Your legs tangle, your arms flaying about for a better position until he tucks them around his broad shoulders. You can feel his muscles contract with every breath, how his heart beats strong as you shuffle your head up and into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

When you wake in the morning, your core is throbbing, and not in a good way. Your period’s early, a symptom of how deranged your mental state has become, and it would be fine until you remember the man under you. The man who’s seen you naked but not like this, not vulnerable in a way you can’t control. Early morning sun peaks through his curtains, reminding you that you’ve only slept for a couple of hours. The light reveals a small stain of blood on your pajama shorts and John’s boxers, a bit on his chest since he slept shirtless. It’s your worst nightmare.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper-yell. John’s up and moving before you have the chance to take stock of the situation. Always a man with a plan, he peels you off of him, pushing you towards his ensuite bathroom. He murmurs sweet nothings you’re sure are empty platitudes, just him being nice. 

“‘S okay, jus’ some blood, pet.”

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“Take a shower, be there in a second.”

In the shower, you want to bang your head against the tiled wall. The shock of your period almost erases the memory of Johnny being missing until it comes back in full force, along with worser cramps. Tears stream down your face, washed away quickly by the shower. Everything is unfair, and your hormones join the party to make it worse. That’s where John finds you, wiping away the puffiness under your eyes as the water turns cold.

“None of that, pet.” There’s still blood on his chest and he notices the same time as you do, shucking off his boxers and joining you under the shower spray. It’s not sexy, the first time you shower with John. You feel stripped raw, maneuvering yourself into the corner so he can have the water. John’s having none of it, tugging you into his arms. 

“John…” You murmur. Satisfied that you’re clean, he reaches around you to turn off the water. He’s so nonchalant that you’re both bare, that your body is bloated and sore in all the wrong ways. 

“What?” He finally replies. Getting out first, he hands you a towel, then grabs another to wrap around his waist. There’s a pair of your underwear on the counter, clean, and you question how he got it without leaving his bedroom. It’s a mystery not worth your time. He hands you a container of pads and tampons. 

“Where’d you get this?”

“My cabinet.”

“...Why do you have these?”

“Jus’ like to be considerate is all.”

His thoughtfulness collides with the fact that he has period products for any menstruating woman in his bedroom. Does this happen often? Do women’s bodies sense how safe and nuturing he is and just let loose?

“Jesus, why aren’t you someone’s boyfriend yet?” You mutter it, mainly to yourself, as you’re sticking a pad on your underwear. John’s head snaps up at you, eyes questioning. “What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ignore him in favor of putting on your underwear, stumbling with wet legs until John catches your shoulder. “That. This. All of this. The fucking period products. You’re like a walking template for husbands. How are you single?” Finally, you’re eye to eye with him, gripping your respective towels. His brow is furrowed, stubble slightly outgrown in a way you’re itching to feel. His eyes, normally blue like the ocean, are stormy. “Didn’t think I was single.” Um.

He walks out of the bathroom and you follow him to his closet where he’s digging for new boxers. “You have a girlfriend? How could you not…oh my god. I’m such an idiot. What, is she waiting for you at home somewhere?” Clothed in new boxers, he finally hits you with the force of his full glare. You almost step back under the cloud of his anger. “There is no girlfriend waiting at home. I thought you were waiting for me. Guess I miscalculated.” The weight of his words drags down your shoulders. You sit in his desk chair, mute as he gathers a clean set of fatigues. It’s only when he’s putting on his belt you finally find your voice.

“You thought we were dating?” He scoffs at your question. “Clearly, we’re not. Guess that one’s on me.” You fumble for something to say. “John, I told you, we can’t.” He shakes his head, and you note how he has to try twice to get his belt through his pant loops. “We can call and fuck and sleep, but we can’t date. Thanks for clearin’ that up, sweetheart.” He’s already lacing his boots and you’re still in his fucking towel, dripping water onto the floor. John approaches you and for a heartstopping second you think he’ll kiss you, but he just reaches around you to grab the paperwork on his desk. “Well, hope you feel better. I’ll be out workin’.” You nod silently, tracking his footsteps to the door. “John.” He stops with a hand on the doorknob. It’s the most vulnerable thing he’s ever done. Your tongue fumbles to find the right words, the right order to say them in, but all you can settle on is a “Thank you.” He shakes his head, not turning back when he replies. “I’ll see you later.” You busy yourself with gathering your bloody clothes, finding a T-shirt of his to wear so you don’t step into the hall naked. Tears threaten to fall but you choke them back, refusing to cry over him.

When that nice lieutenant finds you again, she tells you John’s been deployed, and he won’t come back until he finds your brother.

-

is anyone noticing how he uses different petnames based on the circumstances? no, just me? also i swear this has a happy ending we just have some idiots in love.

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[deonsx]

Hellooo! I was wondering if u could make a fic or headcanon (its up to u tho!) about seishirou fake dating? I think the reason would be bcs the girls in his school would stop chasin after him or smthing like that? And ofc eventually they like each other. I hope ur doing well! take ur time and have a great day!

Heyaa!! The request box is pretty full these days, I'm moving as fast as I can, have a nice read!!

Fake Dating With Nagi Seishiro

Seishiro is fed up with the constant attention he gets from the girls at school. No matter how politely he turns them down they just won’t stop chasing after him. It is tiring and it is starting to interfere with his focus. Finally he comes up with a plan. He needs a fake girlfriend. Someone who can convincingly pull it off and won’t actually fall for him

That is where you come in. Maybe you are a friend or maybe you are just someone who seems reliable and disinterested in him romantically. One day after class Seishiro corners you with his usual calm and collected demeanor intact “I need your help” he says crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while. It will get them off my back”

You blink at him surprised “Why me??” you ask skeptical “Because you are the only one who won’t make this weird” he replies with a faint smirk “And you are also the only one who doesn’t seem interested in all the attention I get” After some hesitation you agree “How hard could it be” you think. A little hand holding here a few staged moments there and it will all be over soon enough

But as the plan unfolds things don’t go quite as planned. Seishiro who is always calm and cool starts to act differently. At first you think it is just part of the act. Like the way he suddenly gets protective when someone teases you or how his smiles feel more genuine when it is just the two of you. But then you realize it is not just an act anymore

And maybe you are not just pretending either

At first, Seishiro would approach the fake relationship like a task. He remains composed and distant, treating the whole situation as a formal arrangement. Holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder would feel mechanical, done only when necessary to convince others

However, he takes the role seriously. If someone questions the authenticity of the relationship, Seishiro defends it without hesitation. He might casually say “She’s my girlfriend. Isn’t it obvious?” His confidence leaves no room for doubt, making the act even more convincing

As time passes, Seishiro’s demeanor starts to shift. Initially, every small gesture like walking you to class or standing closer than usual feels calculated. But soon it starts to feel natural. The way he looks at you, lingers a bit too long. The way he laughs at your jokes feels a little too genuine for an act

You on the other hand, are nervous in the beginning. Agreeing to the fake dating arrangement seems simple at first, but being the center of attention feels strange. When someone asks “When did you two start dating?” you might panic stumbling over an answer

Over time though you start questioning your feelings. Is this really just fake? Or have you started to care about Seishiro more than you’re willing to admit?

Together, your interactions change. What began as staged hand-holding turns into moments that feel genuine. A hug in public doesn’t stop as soon as people stop looking. A playful argument about what to eat ends with him smiling in a way that feels far too intimate for a fake boyfriend

Then there’s the jealousy. Even though the relationship is fake, you both start to notice how uncomfortable it feels when someone flirts with the other. It’s subtle at first Seishiro’s narrowed eyes when someone gets too close to you, or the way you feel your chest tighten when another girl compliments him

Eventually, these small moments lead to something bigger. Maybe one night, after a particularly convincing moment in public, you find yourselves alone. Seishiro looks at you, a rare vulnerability in his gaze, and asks “If this is supposed to be fake, why does it feel so real?”

Enjoy!

[awkwardandeccentric]

Okay wait I wanna add more.

I will acknowledge that the more outward signs of parentification are in the comics (which are of dubious canon) and that Wirt is an unreliable narrator. If you choose to say that the comics are canon (which I do with the exception of Sisters of Charity because fuck that), then there is the scene where Wirt is in tears because taking care of Greg is such a stressful task (because of course it is, he’s a child being treated like an adult) he’s holding back tears talking about it.

If you want to go show only, then it’s mostly up for interpretation. But the only time we see any adult in their hometown is their neighbor for just a couple seconds. And the big one: when Wirt wakes up, he does not ask for his parents.

That’s actually very concerning! It never occurs to him to ask for his parents when he nearly dies. And no one tells him anything about them. For all he knows, they were never notified that their two sons almost died.

We also see in the show that Greg loves Wirt, adores him to pieces, but doesn’t actually ever do what Wirt asks. He wanders off constantly, he gets them into trouble constantly by speaking up when Wirt’s trying to smooth things over, he throws their pennies out, he gives Sara the tape when Wirt didn’t want him to, etc. And of course he’s not doing what Wirt wants! Wirt is not a real authority figure to him. Because Wirt just an older child.

And if you want to talk about the psychological effects of parentification? Why Wirt is as lonely and depressed as he is?

Parentified Child Symptoms (according to Newport Academy)

A parentified teenager may exhibit the following symptoms:

Anxiety, particularly regarding caring for others (check, he’s an anxious mess and avoids taking care of Greg as much as he can)

Depression (check, he clearly has an untreated mood disorder)

Suicidal thoughts (not until the very end when The Unknown finally broke him, but he has been acting as Greg’s de facto parent that whole time, so check)

Compulsively overworking in order to fulfill responsibilities at school and at home (no proof of this, so not check)

Feelings of guilt and shame (you could interpret this in many ways, so not check)

Unrelenting worry (ha! Check!)

Social isolation (he has no friends at home, so check)

Physical symptoms of anxiety and depression, such as stomachaches, headaches, etc. (no check).

Wirt is being parentified and that’s a large part of the reason why it takes him so long to take care of Greg. He didn’t want that responsibility, he didn’t ask for it, and unless you’re in an extreme situation like ‘We’re wandering through purgatory on our own’ it shouldn’t be up to the eldest child to be a parent to the youngest. It will fuck with them for life.

Watching a coming-of-age story is just a different experience when you’re an adult. When you’re a kid, it’s teaching you important life lessons. But when you’re an adult, you just wonder why no one protected them.

And why no one protected you.

i dont think enough otgw fans talk about the exploration of complex family dynamics that the show manages to weave through pretty much every episode. like the relationship between wirt and greg seems so innocuous in the beginning, just normal aloofness due to the age gap, but as the episodes go on it becomes clear that wirt full on resents greg and actively dismisses him as “his stepdad’s kid,” while greg openly admires/loves wirt and doesnt understand why he wont spend time with him. theres so many little moments that make the lack of reciprocity in their relationship obvious, and it literally takes almost DYING for wirt to understand that he needs to treat his brother better. like holy fuck man ill be shocked if the person who wrote their backstory doesnt have a step/half-sibling cause WOW they got it right

[koiiiji]

new year's eve cuddles

summary ; batboys edition!! this is the first part of new year headcanons, gonna add more with lookism boys soon🕯️💌

author's note ; i haven't read/watch DC comics for a while so it maybe a little too ooc😔🥀

JASON TODD

Jason acts like he doesn’t care about new year’s eve but secretly goes out of his way to make the night special. he would never tell you about his plans because he wanted to make it a surprise, but because of his 'work' he of course forgot, and so all the preparations are made at the last minute. generally domestic life with Red Hood is chaotic, but preparation for new year is another level.

literally nothing is prepared. the apartment is in complete chaos - shell casings and guns are lying on the kitchen table, Jason's endless junk is scattered on the shelves, your things are stacked on a chair instead of a closet, unwashed dishes from previous times are in the sink, and a pile of other junk is scattered around the apartment of an ordinary young couple.

but Jason's sudden will to set new year mood is helping, he calls you on the way home and asks you to start cleaning the apartment while he buys the last little things (liar, he didn't have anything ready and it was a big shopping for about EVERYTHING) btw did he help cleaning? no, he got stuck at the moment when he needed to remove the cartridges and guns... but don't worry, he was your moral support!!

at least he might have a movie marathon ready, a bottles of beer (or cider, depending on your preference), and a cozy blanket fort in the living room.

Jason is the type who would want to spend at least one peaceful night at home, with you, to let you lay on his chest while he wraps an arm protectively around you. he’ll make sarcastic comments about the movies you’re watching but also unconsciously stroke your hair or rub your back.

as the countdown begins, Jason pulls you closer, his voice softening as he teases you about how cliche the moment feels. but when the clock strikes twelve, he kisses you deeply and mumbles something gruff about how much he loves you, his ears tinged red.

after midnight, Jason keeps holding you close, either discussing plans for the upcoming year or sharing quiet moments of contentment. he’ll eventually fall asleep with his head resting on top of yours, and his grip on you unrelenting even in his dreams.

DICK GRAYSON

Richard loves the energy of new year’s eve, so he might take you to Wayne manor to celebrate holiday with his family and have a great view of the city’s fireworks after midnight. but if you’d rather stay at your shared apartments, he’s all about cooking dinner together and dancing around the kitchen with you!

Dick really loves holidays so everything was set up, bought and prepared months ago!! he is super excited about gifts, about your reaction and what you prepared for him!

when dinner is prepared, gifts are opened and it’s time to settle down, Dick is the ultimate cuddler. he’ll have you tucked into his side, one arm around your shoulders, your legs tangled together as you both lounge on the couch or bed. he’s always running his fingers over your skin absentmindedly, either tracing patterns or giving little squeezes.

Dick is so into the little rituals!! he will ask you to sit under the table to eat that 12 grapes and make a wish as the clock strikes midnight. spoiler : you have no excuse to say no to this! giggling like a kid, almost choking on last grape, he makes sure you’re looking at him when the clock strike twelve and gives you the most tender, heartfelt kiss. he’ll then whisper something about how this year is going to be amazing as long as he has you.

Dick’s the kind of guy who suggests staying up late to watch the sunrise or talk about your hopes for the new year (or gossiping about batfamily). he’ll hold you close under a blanket, sharing quiet giggles and soft kisses until you both drift off to sleep.

DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian approaches new year’s eve with almost awful sense of formality. he insists on sticking to traditions, whether it’s preparing a specific meal or writing down resolutions.

it's his habit to wake up early, but on 31 of december its insanely early. Damian acts like old man, mumbling about mess, starting spring cleaning, food preparation and adding final decoration(i mean you wanted it, not him, and if Damian start to do something it needs to be perfect!!) however, he secretly loves when you convince him to relax and enjoy the night in a more carefree way (ofc all animals included!!)

Damian’s cuddles start a little stiff — he’s not the most physically affectionate at first — but once you’re settled, he melts. he’ll keep his arms securely around you, one hand resting on your back or waist while his head leans against yours.

as the countdown starts, Damian pretends not to be fazed, but he keeps stealing glances at you, his expression softening. when the clock hits twelve, he kisses you gently, almost shyly, and murmurs a quiet “happy new year” before tightening his hold on you.

after midnight, Damian might surprise you by asking about your goals or sharing his own hopes for the year ahead. he values the quiet intimacy of the moment and makes it clear that, whatever happens, you’re an essential part of his future.

[yuu-kantokusei]

How would each twisted wonderland characters treat yuu?

Romantically <3, except for Ortho

Twst characters x gn!yuu

Reader is yuu

TW: none, just pure fluff✨️

❤️Heartslabyul🖤

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would initially struggle with his feelings, as his strict adherence to rules and propriety might make him hesitant to openly express affection. However, once he acknowledges his feelings, he would be a chivalrous and protective partner, offering small, thoughtful gestures like walking them to class or helping them with studies.

Ace Trappola

Ace would be playful and teasing, often flirting casually but meaning every word deep down. He’d try to act nonchalant about his feelings, but his actions—like always finding excuses to spend time with them or standing up for them—would betray his true emotions.

Deuce Spade

Deuce would be adorably awkward, often blushing and stumbling over his words when trying to compliment them. He’d strive to be dependable and strong to impress them, even if it means overexerting himself in front of them.

Cater Diamond

Cater would shower Yuu with compliments and flirty remarks, always trying to make them smile. While he might come off as insincere at times, he’d genuinely care about their happiness and would subtly open up about his own insecurities once he trusts them.

Trey Clover

Trey would be the calm and dependable type, showing his affection through acts of service, like baking their favorite treats or lending a helping hand whenever needed. He’d be subtle but steady in his romantic gestures, making them feel safe and valued.

_______________________________________________

💛Savanaclaw🖤

Leona Kingscholar

Leona would act aloof and indifferent at first, but his actions would speak louder than words—like protecting them from danger or lending them his cloak when it’s cold. Over time, he’d show his softer side, enjoying quiet moments with them and indulging in playful banter.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie would be cheeky and lighthearted, often teasing them but also going out of his way to do sweet, unexpected things, like bringing them flowers or sharing his food (a big deal for him). He’d appreciate their kindness and would want to make them laugh.

Jack Howl

Jack would be shy and reserved, struggling to express his feelings outright. Instead, he’d show his affection through protective actions, like walking them home or training with them to ensure they’re safe. His straightforward honesty would make his rare compliments all the more meaningful.

_______________________________________________

💜Octavinelle🩶

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be calculating at first, possibly trying to win their affection through carefully crafted gestures. However, as he falls deeper, he’d become more genuine, offering heartfelt compliments and finding ways to make their life easier. He’d see them as his equal and want to share his success with them.

Jade Leech

Jade’s romantic gestures would be subtle and sophisticated, often surprising them with meaningful gifts or taking them on unique outings, like exploring nature or stargazing. His enigmatic personality might make his feelings hard to read, but his devotion would be unwavering.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be unpredictable and intense, expressing his affection in bursts of energy, like playful hugs or enthusiastic declarations of love. While he might overwhelm them at times, his loyalty and genuine care would shine through, especially in moments of vulnerability.

_______________________________________________

❤️Scarabia💛

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim would be warm, open, and enthusiastic, showering them with affection and grand romantic gestures like surprise parties or extravagant gifts. His sincerity and joyful nature would make them feel cherished and adored every moment they’re together.

Jamil Viper

Jamil would be more reserved, hesitant to express his feelings outright. However, he’d show his love through thoughtful, understated actions, like remembering their favorite things or subtly looking out for their well-being. When he does open up, his passion would be intense and heartfelt.

_______________________________________________

💜Pomefiore❤️

Vil Schoenheit

Vil would have high standards for himself and his partner, encouraging them to be their best self. His romantic gestures would be refined and elegant, like inviting them to exclusive events or giving them personalized beauty tips. He’d be deeply supportive and proud of their growth.

Epel Felmier

Epel would try to impress them by showing his strength and determination, often trying to act more masculine or heroic. Despite his occasional insecurities, he’d be sweet and genuine, cherishing quiet, heartfelt moments together.

Rook Hunt

Rook would be poetic and extravagant in his affection, constantly praising their beauty and uniqueness with flowery language. His attentiveness and romantic flair might feel overwhelming, but his sincerity would make them feel truly special.

_______________________________________________

💙Ignihyde🖤

Idia Shroud

Idia would be extremely shy and avoidant at first, struggling to even make eye contact. However, his feelings would manifest in small, thoughtful ways, like customizing a video game avatar for them or sharing his favorite media. Over time, he’d become more confident in expressing his love.

Ortho Shroud (non-romantic)

Ortho would be Yuu’s biggest cheerleader, often playfully teasing his brother about his crush. He’d act as a supportive friend, helping Idia open up to them.

_______________________________________________

💚Diasomnia🖤

Malleus Draconia

Malleus would be regal and romantic, treating them like royalty with old-fashioned manners and grand gestures, such as conjuring magical displays just for them. His deep respect and adoration would make them feel like the most important person in his life.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia would be playful and mischievous, expressing his affection through teasing and fun surprises. However, his wise and caring side would emerge in moments of seriousness, offering them guidance and unwavering support.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek would struggle to reconcile his loyalty to Malleus with his growing feelings for them. He’d be loud and overly formal at first, but his protective and earnest nature would eventually shine through, revealing his softer side.

Silver

Silver would be gentle and dreamy, often lost in thought about them. He’d show his affection through quiet, tender moments, like sharing peaceful naps under a tree or offering heartfelt words of encouragement.

[bunny-jpeg]

max verstappen, blueberry bars, belgian waffles, tim bits with margarita and root beer. like, reader is max's naive and innocent best friend and he does this without her knowledge, asleep or drugs. she ends up preg and max convinces her that it sometimes happens and promises to take care of her.

bakery menu

want to submit an order? the bakery is open! submit your orders and i'll try to get through them as fast as possible. been a bit of a slow period because of the holdays/end of the year, but i'm making a comeback with 'em since they are very popular with ya'll! i was immediately drawn to this one, i love a good dark fic and i knew i had to write it! so thank you, thank you! enjoy <3

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night." + tim bits: "stupid little thing." + margarita: unprotected sex + root beer: filming/recording served by max verstappen!

tags: smut/pwp, dark fic/dark themes, filming/recording, unprotected sex, breeding& pregnancy, best friend!reader, non-con somophilia, innocent!reader, mad!max, drugging

the sight of you was beautiful, there was something about your sleeping form that drove him mad. max knew that he could have any woman he desired, but why would he desire them when he could have you. you pulled him in, but even after years of friendship. you never seemed to notice max's advances, and he was getting desperate.

earlier in the evening you complained about not being able to sleep. you were visiting your best friend who was happy to house you in his apartment in monaco, so when max handed you a dainty little pill and told you to have a good night, you happily took it. and when your soft snores could be heard from the doorway of the bedroom, max felt himself getting arousing.

you looked like an innocent princess, and max believed himself to be the prince who will protect you. even if that meant having his hands under your shirt while you were asleep. a prince deserved a reward didn't he?

you laid under the sheet, which max pulled off slowly. you were in a thin tank top and underwear. he felt his heartbeat leap at the sight of you. he took out his phone to take photos.

he chuckled to himself lowly, "i cum in that every night." a cheeky joke as he had spent the last week slipping you a little pill and having his wicked way with you once you were asleep. you were quite nice when you were asleep, so much softer. it only made max yearn for you more. he wanted you, you were just too beautiful. he groaned as he felt tension in his sweatpants, "stupid little thing."

there was hunger inside of him, he needed you. wanted you in carnal ways that he couldn't put into words. the sight of you, he took more photos as he got his cock out of his sweatpants and rubbed it against your now bare stomach. he shuddered, "beautiful little thing. so stupid. need someone to protect you. you need to be saved don't you? well that's what i'm here for." he then got your panties down around your ankle and exposed your entire form to him.

it was only right for him to admire every inch of you, you were going to be his wife. the mother of his child. he said softly, “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” and you shifted a little, it excited him as he got between your legs. he felt the rush through him as he sank his cock into you.

he had been doing this every night for a week now. every evening like ritual, he made sure you were tucked in, only for him to peel back the sheets and fuck you with a feverish want while you sleep. max had enough of beating around the bush with your love, he was a man of action.

and all he needed was for two little cells to meet before that action became a plan. some would call it baby trapping, but he'd call it a promise of commitment. you weren't going to do it alone, you'd have max every step of the way. he'd even retired to make sure that you and his baby were taken care of.

he could feel the pleasure through his body as he moved against you. he held your legs wrapped around him as he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he snatched his phone up from the bed and snapped photos and took a small video of his cock being rocked in and out of you. he let out a small groan as the pleasure seeped into his blood. you felt amazing, he eyed your sleeping form as he picked up the pace a little bit more. he filmed a little more and let himself just enjoy the feeling of your slick cunt.

it was like a warm vice that pulled him in further. he took it as a sign that your body wanted it. you wanted this too, to carry his child. of course you did, you were so innocent and sweet. bordering on naive that max knew that you'd want a baby. a chubby little verstappen baby at your hip, you'd make a good mother.

and max knew that, even if you didn't at that moment.

he groaned lightly as he held onto your hips. he felt the climbing warmth in his body as he fucked you. feeling your body against his. your sleeping form was like the future in his eyes. he could imagine your wedding, having your family. you being the perfect wife for him. it was only destiny for the two of you, you had been friends for ages.

he knew everything about you, no other man would be able to compare. to think they could would be stupid to think, you were meant to be with max. for him to dote, love and protect. you didn't need to do anything else besides be his wife and the mother of his children. he had already made enough money to sustain a full house for three lifetimes. you deserved a man who could provide, max knew you 'dated', but they never lasted long. they didn't deserve to be with a woman like you. an angel from the heavens brought to earth.

"i love you." he said, "even when you don't see it. i know you do, i know you love me. you want me badly, but you don't think you're good enough. hopefully when i get you pregnant you can realize that i love you. i need you." his breathing was heavy as he thrusted against you.

there was no protection between you two and honestly he didn't need it. 'protection' wouldn't get you pregnant, wouldn't keep you as his. plus, it felt so much better bare-back. to feel the closeness to you. fill you with his seed and let it take root inside of you. then maybe you'd come to your senses.

maybe he could've done it a different way, but why would we do that? you looked so peaceful, he knew you weren't getting sleep. and max, the dutiful husband, would always make sure that you were alright. he just happened to want your sweet cunt wrapped around his hard cock at the same time. who could blame him, your pussy was the kind to salivate over like a hungry dog.

to love you, in his own twisted way, was a sign of utter devotion. even in your sleep, he would protect you. he knew what was right, and had convinced himself that breeding you while asleep was the best course of action. it'll prove that max is the man you need in your life, the protector. you were so innocent at times, anyone could hurt you!

but not max, at least in his logic.

you cunt felt amazing around his cock. his heart hammered in his chest a she rocked against you. he panted heavily as he moved against you. he held onto your thighs firmly and the dirty talk spilled from his lips. it was hard to make it stop at the feeling of your cunt like a vice around his cock. he rutted up into your further, as deep as he could go, as he said, "you're a fucking good girl. always did everything right, you were so trusting. that's why i have to keep you with me. close to me, where you belong. you're my wife, i knew that from the moment i met you. but the older we get, the further you're getting. time to bring you home. you, me and baby." his voice was hushed, but his words were protective and loving. or his version of loving.

if anyone saw or heard what he was doing. they'd be in shock, but they didn't understand. they didn't get how much you meant to him. he spent so much time trying to find you in other women, but why bother with them when he had you. all of you.

and soon there would be a product of your love. your union together. that only made him work his hips faster against you. you remained limp under him as he drilled his cock into you. your let out a small moan in your deep sleep and it made max near drool as he finished inside of you.

he thrusted quickly against you and felt all semblance of control start to slip. he was left hungry, near feverish from the intensity of the pleasure. he loved it, just as he loved you. of course the love of his life would have a cunt that drove him to near insanity.

he soon finished inside of you after the pleasure took hold. he clutched onto you tightly and felt the intense heights of pleasure. he let out a loud moan before he slowed to a stop. he wiped his sweaty brow and eyed your still sleepy form. it made his cock twitch inside of you for a moment.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips before he pulled away to get you re-clothed and tucked back in. before he left the room, he kissed you on the face once more and said,

"everything i do. i do for you."

-

you were in tears weeks later, you showed max the pregnancy test when fear in your eyes. and while you looked distraught, max looked excited. the test clattered on the floor as max took you in his strong arms and kissed your face.

"how..how did this happen?" you asked meekly.

max replied with a wide smile, "don't worry about it! it's our little miracle! you and the baby won't go without. we'll have to get a bigger place, and move your stuff back home. or i can buy you new things since you'll be going through so much change... and then of course, i have to marry you. it's only right!" he was already talking like you two had planned this pregnancy.

but it was hard to do much thinking when max held you so protectively. you held onto the front of his shirt and rubbed your face against his chest. you exhaled deeply, still feeling shaken to your core. you held on tightly like a lifeline, knowing that max's child was growing in your womb. a part of you wondered if the things you were feeling late into the night weren't dreams after all. <3

[rafecameronssl4t]

Game of Control || NFL Player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: Your ex who plays on the opposing team taunts you, prompting Rafe to confront him, dominating him on the field; proving his protectiveness and love.

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,301

A/n: happy new year to those who celebrate ❤️

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

The roar of the stadium crowd reverberated through the tunnel, the excitement and tension of game day buzzing in the air. Your boots clicked against the concrete floor as you made your way toward the field where the Cowboys were set to take on one of their biggest rivals, the sequined blue and white uniform catching the fluorescent lighting.

It was your element—the energy of the crowd, the spotlight, the exhilaration of performing as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Rafe was already on the field warming up. You'd caught his eye earlier during pregame routines, and he'd sent you a quick wink, a hint of the smirk you knew all too well. He thrived on the attention, your attention specifically.

But so did you in your own way—a dynamic that sometimes made your relationship fiery but always magnetic. Just as you were about to turn a corner into the light of the field, a hand reached out and grasped your arm. You froze, spinning on your heel to face the figure. “Y/n,” a voice said, too familiar and too unwanted. You froze for a moment before turning.

There he was—Ethan. Your ex. Tall, smug, and unfortunately wearing the rival team’s uniform. The bold colours of his jersey were a sharp contrast to the dim tunnel, and his smirk made your stomach churn. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms across your chest. Ethan leaned against the wall, blocking your path with ease. “Relax. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” you deadpanned, attempting to step around him. He moved to block you again, his grin widening. “I see you’re still loving the spotlight,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his eyes roamed over your uniform. “All dolled up, shaking those pom-poms, stealing the show. Bet you like this, don’t you? Being the centre of attention.” You felt your jaw tighten, heat rising to your face, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was anger.

“Move, Ethan. I’m not interested in whatever this is.” “Come on, Y/n,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a faux whisper. “You always liked people watching you, didn’t you? I mean, why else would you stay with Cameron? Must be nice, being his little trophy.” You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to stay calm. Ethan’s words were a calculated jab, meant to get under your skin.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship, so keep your opinions to yourself,” you said firmly. “Oh, I know plenty,” Ethan retorted, his smirk growing. “Like how guys like him only care about what’s on the outside. Cameron must be loving the arm candy, huh? But hey, if you’re happy playing the part, who am I to judge?” Anger flared hot in your chest, but before you could respond, a voice interrupted, deep and dripping with fury.

“What the hell is going on here?” Both you and Ethan turned to see Rafe striding toward you, his jaw set and his eyes dark with barely contained rage. Clad in his Dallas Cowboys gear, he looked every inch the intimidating force you knew him to be on the field. Ethan straightened, his smirk faltering slightly but still intact. “Relax, Cameron,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just catching up with an old friend.” Rafe didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes locked on you, scanning your face as if to check for any sign of discomfort or distress. “You okay?” You nodded quickly, the tightness in your chest easing slightly at his presence. “I’m fine. He was just leaving.” Rafe’s gaze shifted to Ethan, his lips curling into a cold smile. “You heard her. Leave.”

Ethan held his ground, clearly trying to appear unfazed. “Relax, man. We were just catching up.” Rafe took another step forward, his height making the space between them feel smaller, more suffocating. “You don’t touch her, and you don’t talk to her. Ever again.” There was a long pause, the tension thick enough to cut. Ethan glanced between the two of you, then finally took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

He brushed past Rafe, but not before throwing a final comment over his shoulder. “See you out there.” Rafe stood motionless, his fists clenched at his sides, until Ethan disappeared into the tunnel. When Rafe finally turned back to you, his expression softened, though the tension in his body remained. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice quieter this time.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t let him get to you.” His jaw ticked, and you could see the battle waging in his mind. Finally, he nodded, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “Go do your thing,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I’ll take care of him.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already walking away, his broad shoulders tense as he headed toward the field.

~

From the sidelines, you could feel the shift in Rafe the moment the game began. He was locked in, his focus razor-sharp—but it wasn’t just about football. Every time Ethan touched the ball, Rafe was there, delivering brutal, bone-crushing tackles that sent the crowd into a frenzy. It wasn’t long before the tension between the two boiled over.

In the second quarter, after a particularly vicious hit that left Ethan sprawled on the turf, he shoved Rafe as he got up, muttering something under his breath. Rafe didn’t back down. Instead, he said something that was lost in the chaos of the game. But the expression on Rafe’s face said it all—this was personal.

The referees stepped in before it could escalate further, but the warning had been delivered. From that moment on, it was clear that Rafe wasn’t just playing to win—he was playing to make a point. Ethan looked rattled, and Rafe looked like he was just getting started.

~

After the game, you waited for Rafe near the locker room, your heart still racing from the intensity of the match. When he finally appeared, his jersey was streaked with dirt and sweat, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to go that hard,” you said softly, though your tone lacked conviction. Rafe stopped in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yes, I did,” he said simply.

You let out a shaky breath, your emotions finally catching up to you. “Rafe, he’s not worth it.” “He disrespected you,” Rafe said, his voice hard. “I’m not gonna let that slide.” Your heart ached at the protectiveness in his tone, but there was something deeper beneath it—a frustration, a vulnerability he rarely let show. “I can handle myself,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I know you can,” he replied, his voice softening. “But you don’t have to. Not when I’m here.” The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, without warning, Rafe pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “You’re mine,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and raw.

“Nobody talks to you like that. Nobody.” You buried your face in his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm inside you. “I love you,” you whispered, the words carrying every ounce of gratitude and affection you felt for him. Rafe pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand coming up to cup your face. “I love you too,” he said, his voice steady.

“And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. Always.” In that moment, the chaos of the game, the tension of the day—it all faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, standing together in the aftermath, stronger than ever.