#as well as just. More pressing things in the house that need doing or else it will fall into a worse state or not get done
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eiluned · 2 days ago
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Sweet Little Death (Lucanis/Rook; explicit)
by eiluned
Read it on AO3
Info: Explicit, Lucanis/Rook, no Veilguard spoilers, set after the romance soft lock scene. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED.
Summary: There was only one bed. Clearly Lucanis can’t share it with Rook without losing what’s left of his sanity.
Notes: Thank you to Amanda for coming up with the idea even though she hasn’t played Veilguard yet and has just been on the business end of my hyperfixation firehose. And enormous thanks to Amanda and Trina for beta reading!
Please enjoy the fruits of my 1 am writing binge. Feedback makes me happy. <3
-
There was only one unused guest room in the House of Valor, at least according to Isabela, but they were welcome to it.
Lucanis made sure his expression was set to stony-faced acceptance and followed Rook as she led him through the warren of hallways. Taash had decided to stay with their mother, and hopefully that wouldn’t end in her house going up in a blaze of dragon fire. But sharing a room with Rook was the more pressing concern in his mind.
“Here it is,” she said, unlocking a rather nondescript door and pushing it open.
The only guest room available in the House of Valor had only one bed.
They both stood in the doorway for an awkward moment, Rook blushing slightly and Lucanis trying to tamp down a vague sense of panic at the sleeping arrangements. “Well,” Rook finally said, stepping into the room, “This is cozy?”
The room was perfectly fine, cozy even, but the fact of the matter was still that it had one bed. Just one. And clearly they couldn’t share it without Lucanis losing what was left of his sanity.
“You take the bed,” he said, closing and bolting the door behind himself. “I’ll sleep on the…”
He looked around to see a small table, two very straight-backed wooden chairs and very little else in the way of furniture.
“The floor?” Rook said skeptically, dropping her pack beside the door. “The cold stone floor? Lucanis, don’t be ridiculous. You look dead on your feet; you need to sleep. We can share the bed.”
His stomach swooped at the thought, and he felt Spite’s interest stir. “No, the floor is fine,” he said a little too quickly, and Rook cocked an eyebrow at him, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Or the chair,” he added a bit lamely.
Rook looked from the bed to the chair to the floor and then back to him before shaking her head. “Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging and starting to remove her armor.
Someone dropped off food and ale, and they ate in a silence which was only slightly awkward. It was already late, and it had been a long day fighting Antaam on the beaches. Rook stretched, raising her arms and arching her back in a way that made her shirt stretch enticingly over her breasts.
“YES YES,” Spite rasped in the back of his mind, and Lucanis made an effort to stare at the table until her stretch was done.
“Fuck, I’m exhausted,” she said, hauling herself to her feet. “I’m going to turn in. When the chair or the floor or whatever gets too uncomfortable, just nudge me over and take your half of the bed.”
There was absolutely nothing sexual in what Rook had said, but Lucanis’s mind immediately went to skin against skin, his arms around her and her legs around him, the scent of her overwhelming his senses. He stared very hard at the table, gripping his fork so hard he thought he might bend it, as Spite started up a litany of all of the dirty things he wanted to do to Rook.
“You all right?”
He jumped at her question and found her giving him a look of concern. “I’m fine,” he replied, making an effort to relax his posture. “Spite is acting up.”
Rook gave him a little smile that made his stomach flip. “Tell him I said to behave,” she said, climbing into the bed. “Wake me if disaster strikes.”
She fell asleep quickly, leaving Lucanis to awkwardly move the chairs around so he could prop up his feet and attempt to sleep. It was a little ridiculous, how awkward he felt around Rook. He was never awkward; he strove to be cool and collected no matter the circumstances, but Rook… She was beautiful, yes, but also clever and funny and kind, to everyone but especially to him. He was used to being treated with deference or wariness or fear, but not kindness. 
And he wasn’t entirely sure what to say in response to her flirty little comments. He wanted to kiss her, to be completely honest with himself, but they hadn’t discussed their near-kiss in the pantry since it happened. He just assumed he had fucked that up and resolved to pretend it hadn’t happened. 
Of course, pretending didn’t keep him from wanting her so badly it made his body ache. 
Scowling at himself, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the chair back digging into his shoulder blades.
-
It took two hours of uncomfortable dozing for Lucanis to give up.
Rook was right; he was painfully tired after too many nights of hardly any sleep, and he would be useless in the morning if he didn’t get some decent rest. Sighing in frustration, he got to his feet and went to stand beside the bed.
It was wider than his cot in the pantry, but it certainly didn’t seem to have been built with two sleepers in mind. Rook was curled up on her side close to the far edge, and there seemed to be enough blanket for the two of them. Lucanis was a compact man, but he still wasn’t sure there was enough room in that bed for them to sleep without touching. And touching seemed… dangerous.
“TOUCH HER. WANT. TO FEEL,” Spite hissed in his head.
“Shut up,” he muttered back, lifting the blanket so he could slide under it.
The bed was made of a net of ropes tied to the frame with a mattress on top, and when he settled his weight in, everything rolled toward the middle. Rook murmured in her sleep as her body shifted, and Lucanis froze for a second, hoping she wouldn’t wake. When she didn’t, he grabbed the edge of the frame and hauled himself over, making sure no part of his body was touching hers.
“TOUCH HER. COWARD.”
He ignored the demon in his head and closed his eyes, sinking swiftly into sleep.
-
It was the best sleep he’d had in as long as he could remember. He was remarkably settled, with no nightmares that lingered.
He slowly came awake, breathing in a sweet scent, warm and comfortable, and he thought for a second about just falling back asleep and staying there as long as he could.
“SMELLS GOOD,”Spite purred in his ear. “SO WARM.”
Awareness shot through Lucanis like a lightning bolt. He and Rook had somehow rolled together during the night, and he was currently spooned up against her back. Her body was tucked against his from head to toe with his arm slung around her waist, and to his utter mortification, his groin was firmly pressed against her ass, his cock hard as a rock.
“STAY,” Spite hissed, looming over him. “TOUCH HER.”
Lucanis didn’t dare answer his demon for fear he’d wake Rook. And he did want to touch her, to keep touching her like this. It was intoxicating, the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her hair in his nose, the heat of their bodies mingling through the layers of their clothing.
But it was definitely not right to be this close to grinding his erection against her, not while she was sleeping, and despite Spite’s protests, he started to slowly disengage. But Rook sighed and caught his wrist in her hand, pulling his arm more tightly around her. He froze, and she sighed again, wiggling a little as if trying to get closer to him.
“I can tell you’re awake,” she murmured, and he could feel her chuckle when he jumped in surprise. “You don’t have to move. If you don’t want to, I mean.”
He sucked in a somewhat shaky breath, which was a mistake as it filled his nose even more fully with her scent. “Mierda,” he groaned, pressing his face into her hair. “This is a bad idea.”
Rook’s hand snaked back to his hip, her fingers digging in as she pushed herself more firmly against his body. “Doesn’t feel bad to me,” she said, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.
“You are going to kill me.”
“Mm, but won’t it be a sweet little death?”
Brushing her hair out of the way, he pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, tongue darting out to taste her. It was her turn to gasp, her grip on him tightening as she rolled her hips against his. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, propping himself up on his elbow so he could better pepper kisses across her skin to the tender spot just below her ear.
“NO. DON’T STOP,” Spite growled, but Lucanis pushed him to the back of his mind.
“Don’t stop,” Rook moaned, arching in to him, echoing Spite even though she couldn’t have heard him.
Lucanis was utterly lost. His objections, no matter how logical they may have been before he was in bed with Rook, vanished into nothingness. He wanted her so desperately, and she wanted him, something that still baffled him. But she was there, in his arms, pressed against him, wanting him, and the why didn’t matter anymore.
Twisting in his arms, Rook pressed her lips to his, her hand sinking into his hair, and oh, was he thoroughly lost.
He kissed her hungrily, and she met him with enthusiasm, tilting her head to let him kiss her more deeply, hooking her leg over his hip. She arched against him when he slid his hand under her shirt and over the soft skin of her stomach, up to cup her breast. 
“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, whimpering when he rubbed his thumb across her hard nipple. 
Her own hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt, and he stopped touching her just long enough to yank it off his arms and toss it to the floor while she whipped hers over her head, leaving her hair wild around her face. The oil lamp he’d forgotten to extinguish gave off enough light for him to see that her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, and he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. 
She pressed herself against him again, kissing him deeply, her hands roaming over his bare chest and down to the waistband of his trousers. Her pants and underwear slipped down over her hips easily, and she kicked them off, somehow managing to unfasten his trousers at the same time. 
His pants hit the floor, and then they were gloriously naked, skin pressed against hot skin. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, pulling him on top of her, and Maker, she really was going to be the death of him.
Lucanis trailed a series of sucking kisses across her jaw and down her neck, enjoying the way she shivered underneath him when he brushed his beard against her skin. She arched when he licked at one nipple, her legs tightening around his ribs, and oh, that was a nice reaction. Closing his lips around the stiff nub, he suckled at her, and that reaction was even better; she writhed against him, her breath coming in quick gasps.
Switching to the other breast, he gave it the same treatment and groaned as she sank her hands into his hair, her fingernails grazing his scalp deliciously. “L-Lucanis,” she whimpered, shuddering when he tugged at her nipple gently with his teeth. “Please…”
“TASTES GOOD,” Spite rasped inside his head. “SO GOOD. WANT TO. FUCK HER.”
The shared thought made his cock throb, but he didn’t want to rush into that just yet. “I want to taste you,” he purred, lifting up enough to kiss her mouth deeply again. “Can I taste you?”
“I will murder you if you don’t,” Rook replied with a breathless laugh, and he grinned at her as he slid down her body.
There wasn’t enough room on the bed, so he slipped off to kneel on the floor and pulled her toward him so that her hips were right at the edge. She opened her legs eagerly for him, and he let his eyes feast on the sight of her spread open for him, her folds glistening with wetness in the lamplight. Propping herself up on her elbows, she met his eyes, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and holding her gaze, he dipped his head and slowly licked up the line of her cunt.
He was admittedly not experienced with this sort of thing. His only real sexual experience had been a few fumbling attempts years before, and after that he had been just too busy or focused or…
“AFRAID,” Spite added helpfully, and Lucanis swore silently at the demon.
But inexperience be damned, Lucanis was observant, his attention to detail superb, his instincts finely honed. And he had read a ridiculous number of rather explicit romances, so he thought he had a good idea of what he needed to do.
Using his thumbs to gently part her folds, he licked her again, dipping his tongue inside of her, and Rook collapsed onto her back, crying out as he dragged his tongue up to lap at her swollen pearl.
His finely honed instincts told him to keep doing that.
In seconds, her body had tensed like a bowstring, her heels pushing against the bedframe, her hands coming down to fist in his hair in an effort to keep him where she clearly wanted him to be. With a hum of pleasure at the taste of her, he closed his lips around her pearl, sucking gently. She cried out again, her hips coming off of the mattress, and he grabbed her ass with both hands, holding her against his mouth so he could devour her.
“DELICIOUS. TART HONEY,” Spite rumbled, and for once, Lucanis was in complete agreement with his demon; Rook was the best thing he had ever tasted.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair, her body shaking as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. “Please don’t stop, Lucanis, please…”
Looking up her body, he met her eyes, and wildly, that seemed to be what pushed her over the edge. She shuddered hard, her thighs tightening almost painfully around his head, and he sucked at her as she came against his tongue.
It was so good that he nearly came, even without a touch.
Her thighs eventually slacked and she released his hair, squirming away from his mouth with a breathless laugh. “Stop, stop,” she gasped, pushing herself back up onto her elbows. “It’s too much, too good.”
Taking a few deep breaths to get himself under control, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her inner thigh, enjoying the way she sighed, her eyes slipping shut for a second. They opened again when he climbed onto the mattress, catching her under her arms to pull her back up to the head of the bed, and she smiled up at him lazily. She was soft and pliant under his touch, her thighs parting again so he could settle between them, and she pulled him down into a kiss that took his breath away.
His cock strained away from his body, and when she hooked her heels around the backs of his thighs, it pressed against the slick heat of her cunt. Oh, he wasn’t going to last long, and he hoped he didn’t embarrass himself too badly.
“Are you ready?” he asked breathlessly.
“If you’re not inside of me in the next five seconds—” she began.
He laughed and pushed steadily into the wet, gripping heat of her.
“—oh fuck,” she finished, the word drawn out on a moan.
When he was buried to the hilt, he had to stay perfectly still for a moment. He had never imagined it would feel so incredible to be inside of her, and he really was going to embarrass himself if he couldn’t get himself under control.
“TIGHT AND HOT. AND GOOD. SO GOOD,” Spite rasped, and Lucanis buried his face in Rook’s hair, gasping when she hitched her legs a little higher on his hips.
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him down onto her fully, and that contact nearly did him in. “Be still, mi tesoro,” he rumbled, his heart pounding in his ears.
Thankfully she mostly obeyed, just tightening her arms around him. Nuzzling his jaw, she pressed her face against the side of his neck, her own breath stuttering into her lungs as they adjusted to the feel of each other.
“Maker, you feel so good,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his earlobe.
It didn’t matter if he had himself under control or not; his hips rocked against hers, his cock slipping out and back into her. With a groan, he took her mouth in a kiss again, stroking his tongue against hers, sliding one arm under her shoulders to hold her against his chest. He cupped her cheek with the other hand, pressing his forehead against hers when they broke apart to gasp for breath.
She gazed up at him, right into his eyes, and he was drowning in her. Her hips lifted into his thrusts, her body taking him in so perfectly, and her fingers gripped his back, holding him tightly as he lost himself in her. He held onto his control by his fingernails, wanting this to last longer but hurtling inevitably toward the sweetest oblivion.
“It’s all right,” she murmured, kissing him deeply, holding him even tighter. “You can let go, Lucanis.”
He hadn’t realized he’d needed to hear that until the words fell from her lips. All of the tension in him, all of the anxiety and fear and desperation, suddenly snapped.
Throwing his head back, he shouted out her name. Spasms wracked him, his cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside her welcoming body. She pressed wet kisses against the corded line of his neck, murmuring encouragement and pleasure and sweet nothings, holding him as he slowly came back into himself. It was like dying and being reborn in a burst of fire, and he had never felt anything like it before.
They lay there for a long moment, kissing languidly, her hands caressing him so gently. He hadn’t dreamed it could be so good, nor that he needed this so badly. He needed the release of their bodies coming together so intimately. He needed the acceptance of her embrace, her kisses, her soft eyes meeting his, and her smiles and her affection. And he didn’t know if he would be able to live without it after this night.
When his softening cock slipped free from her body, Rook nudged him to roll to the side and got up from the bed, padding into the little adjoining privy. Lucanis suddenly felt awkward again; what the hell was he supposed to do? Did she leave because she needed to get away?
“STOP THINKING,” Spite grumbled. “JUST WAIT.”
A moment later, she came back into the room, still gloriously naked, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her hips swaying with each step. He gasped in shock when a wet cloth smacked into his chest, and she laughed in delight. “So that’s how to catch you by surprise,” she teased, climbing back onto the bed. “Just walk around naked, and you’re so distracted that you’d never see it coming.”
“I’d be happy to see you coming,” he teased back, sitting up.
“Oh, I see you’ve regained your faculties,” she said with a grin, unabashedly watching as he cleaned himself up with the cloth. “Should I be on my guard for more seductive banter?”
The cloth landed on the floor with a splat, and he pressed his lips against hers, loving the way she moaned and melted into his kiss.
Rook curled up against him, pulling the blanket over their entwined bodies, and she quickly fell asleep with her cheek resting on his chest. Her hair smelled so sweet, and her body was warm and soft against his, wrapped around him, relaxed and comfortable like she was at home in his arms. The demon in him purred in contentment, settled like he had never been before.
Lucanis was so lost.
But maybe he needed to be.
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yaminerua · 1 month ago
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I miss selling at those smaller local cons I used to go to as well. I always hoped I’d gather the courage to sell at a bigger one some day but then the pandemic hit and then my laptop died and I couldn’t get any art drawn until literally this year when I was given an iPad bc I still haven’t managed to sort out a replacement laptop lmao but even then I haven’t done much since the initial burst when I first got given it ;;;
I wanted to make loads of charms and other things back when I sold at cons but I couldn’t afford them and just did badges and stickers and prints and now all my old stuff is years old and I never added new stuff to it rip
And I can’t seem to get back into the productivity flow I used to have and I wish I could. So much has fallen off between then and now and I’m still trying to crawl back to getting even little doodles done again;; I really miss when I was always able to draw whenever I sat down to
now I mostly sit thinking about drawing or writing and when I try to actually do it my brain shuts down
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shrimpybbq · 2 months ago
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rafe in bed
synopsis: rafe loves his precious girlfriend so so much, but the one thing he loves slightly more is fucking her
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i feel like (controversially) when rafe is deeply in love with his partner and in a committed relationship, i don’t think the sex is that rough or kinky
sure, they get down and dirty but there’s always lots of hand holding, and rafe loves the feeling of his girlfriend’s body pressed up against his
rafe likes to feel connected and close to his girlfriend and sex is no different for him
i think he really likes any position where he can see her face, and the expressions that he draws out of her. he loves missionary for that reason, and he’s always nuzzling his face into her neck as he cums
rafe is absolutely obsessed with eye contact - he needs to see how good he makes her feel, and vice versa
if it's not missionary, he probably has his girl on her stomach, his hovering body pressed up against her so tightly she can barely breathe as he hits it from the back, his hips slamming against hers
rafe has stamina and he can easily go two or three rounds in one night, though they’re often interrupted by the sound of their son crying in the nursery, but otherwise that man would go allllll night if he could
when he and high school gf were actually in high school, i picture lots of sneaky sex: think car sex, sex in rafe’s room at tannyhill while everyone else is sleeping, sex in unoccupied classrooms at the academy. they were both so desperate for each other that it didn’t really matter when or where
while I don’t think he’s super kinky, I do think he still loves control, and he loves to exert his power in bed
she can be on top, but only if he’s controlling the movements
delayed gratification and not letting her cum until he tells her to!!
rafe loves affirmations in bed too, needing to be reassured how well he’s doing and how much gf loves him
“Tell me how good I’m making you feel, baby.”
“You wanna cum? Yeah? Beg for it.”
“Look at me - who’s making you feel this good, huh baby? Who? Hmm - me, yeah - I thought so.”
“C’mon baby, you can give me another one.”
rafe is mostly a grunter. he lets out low, strained groans when he feels her warm pussy clench around him, echoing fill the room with each thrust he makes. it’s only when he’s about to cum does he let out a few moans, his voice rising in volume as he tilts his head back
rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments
after high school gf falls pregnant with charlie, rafe is scared for a bit and uses condoms every time they have sex, but after his son is a little older, i think rafe goes in raw - it's his favourite state and he just feels so close to her. his gf began taking birth control so he feels more comfortable now, and it’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else
(part of him isn’t opposed to knocking his girl up again either, but he doesn’t say that just yet…)
i think rafe loves to have his girl trapped under him, unable to run away from the pleasure he’s giving her. he likes to cage her in, keeping her pressed against the bed as he thrusts harshly over and over again, her body writhing and wriggling against him. he likes to know he’s making her feel good
sloppy making out as he fucks - nuff said. there's so much tongue its almost embarrassing, but its so so hot (gimme gimme plssssss)
also bathtub sex!
rafe wants to feel wanted, especially in bed
rafe who loves to hold hands as much as possible. eating her out holding hands, entering her holding hands, and most definitely cumming inside of her holding hands. he wants to feel loved, and to him, sex with his person is intimate and important
basically moral of the story is that rafe fucks good, a little nasty sometimes, but so good
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tojisun · 11 months ago
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re: bimbo!reader (because i love her more than simon now)
thinkin about simon who, with all the scars and surgeries done to his hands and arms, has some sort of nerve damage that leaves him with trembling hands. and sometimes, when it's just a tad too cold or the rain is just too strong, his hands can't stop shaking so he hides them from you.
he is ashamed of how "damaged" he is; he is ashamed of being caught at his weakest, at his most vulnerable. so he stuffs his hands underneath your fluffy blankets or curls them inside the pockets of his jackets so that they are out of sight. he knows you're... slow sometimes and he had hoped, had prayed, that you wouldn't catch on this time too; that you're distracted enough with, well, everything else to see the way he can't even hold a glass without spilling his water.
but he forgets that when it comes to him, when it comes to "simmy," you become the smartest, aren't you, petal?
so the next thing simon knows, you're handing him a hook and a bundle of yarn before teaching him how to crochet. he remembers now how you've had that one phase when you were so obsessed with crocheting even though all you could do is make circles- a ring of single stitches that just keeps going until the edges began to rise until it ended up resembling a little pouch that could only house a pen. but it seems like it doesn't matter to you that you don't really know how to crochet, content with teaching simon the single stitch and chirping at him to keep the line going.
simon's hands continue to tremble, muted pain shooting from his wrists, but simon, for once, forgets. he forgets his blemishes and his scars; forgets that his hands could only ever be good for shooting and for killing and for hurting. he forgets that he is more than a weapon as you two crochet: him, quiet, and you, humming to yourself.
he forgets because you remind him that he is more than the man that he is. in your place, he is simmy. he isn't ghost with a mission. he is simmy with a princess who loves him more than he knows he's worth.
simon trembles, and this time it isn't because of his injured hands. this time, he trembles at the weight of his love for you.
his single crocheted line is wobbly and wrinkly and ugly, but simon watches on as you make a bracelet out of it, securing the ends with knots that simon knows won't hold. but that is alright, because simon will be there to retie your bracelet when you need him to. because simon won't leave you.
"i love you, sweets," simon murmurs, pressing his lips and his words on your forehead.
you giggle. "i love you too, simmy!"
see? with you around, he'll be alright.
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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago
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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤
strain — gojo satoru x f!reader
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a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)
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you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.
however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.
but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.
you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.
the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!
so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.
after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.
a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.
not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.
your husband has an abundance of energy.
but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.
his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.
he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.
but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.
he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.
he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.
he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”
you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”
while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”
you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.
then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”
he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.
you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.
but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.
he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.
instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”
you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”
he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”
perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.
you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.
reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.
he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.
you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.
satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.
you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.
he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”
“I know…”
“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”
you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“
“you could’ve died.”
you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.
your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”
your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”
a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”
“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.
“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”
his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.
a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”
“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.
“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.
you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”
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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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yizhrt · 5 months ago
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ᡣ 𐭩 nct dream and their kinks .ᐟ
❪ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ❫ 𝒩 𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 . it took me longer than expected cuz 1. it was bothering me that i couldn't find a good picture to put in here, but it's okay... i guess we're all used to it and 2. i was playing with my bestie... yeah, sue me... but now we are here!!
MARK .ᐟ
DRY HUMPING › baby gets so confident when you beg to hump him. poor you, so aroused that you only need to grind him to cum? he's definitely helping you out. lets you do whatever you need until you reach your pleasure. or else he's just flipping you and grinding you ass until the both of you cum.
THIGH RIDING › he knows how much you love his thighs and he knows how to use it against you! it's not an uncommon thing to see him strolling around the house wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. when he decides to play lower, he just hits you with a combo: fat thighs, hard cock and boxers. loves when you lose control and push him to the sofa, so you can ride his thighs.
PORN › let's say it has turned a couple activity after you caught him watching. you watch it only to discover new things to test in sex.
PRAISE › so proud of himself when he listens your breathy praises between moans and whimpers. mark is your good boy, always ready to show you how well he can finger you, eat you out or fuck you.
FACE SITTING › he loves eating you out, this might be his favourite activity. and it gets even better when you ask to sit on his face. you bring him to heaven. as soon as you whimper and spasm, releasing your juices straight to his mouth, he can feel himself cumming untouched.
RENJUN .ᐟ
SENSORY DEPRIVATION › absolutely loves when you tie him and use his body as you please. you can clearly see his teary eyes caused by overstimulation.
CUM PLAY › cums all over your body, he says it is to claim you as his. loves cumming on your boobs and spreads all over you chest. the sight gets even better when you collect his cum in your fingers and brings it to your mouth.
POWER PLAY › immediately aroused when you order him around. loves when you're in control and even begs you to go harder on him. will happily accept anything you give him, even if you leave him high and dry.
NIPPLE PLAY › well, you can say your boobs have a devotee. does anything to have the bare minimum physical contact with them. just loves to play with your nipples! rubbing the tip of his cock on them, pinching, biting or suckling on them. and absolutely loves when you let him sleep sucking on your nipples.
JENO .ᐟ
DADDY KINK › loves being your daddy. loves having you as his little girl. helplessly calling him your “daddy”, in a plea for him to stop the stimulation.
OVERSTIMULATION › the best sight jeno could've ever had is your whimpering form, spasming on the bed, drooling, completely fucked out by his fingers or toungue. the more you beg him to stop, the more he wants to push your limits.
SIZE KINK › it's something that clicks like a key in his head when he realises how small you are next to him. by seeing you wearing his clothes, comparing the size of your hands or when you're sat on his lap and hiding your face on his chest. something tells him he can split you in half... and he'd love that.
BELLY BULGE KINK › he's big and he knows it. loves how petite you are and how his dick can barely fit inside you. rather fuck you in missionary, because he can see the outline of his cock appearing in your belly. loses his shit when you press there and beg him to go easy on you.
CREAMPIE › he can do this all day. watch his cum leaking out of your holes. he always push it inside you again with his fingers, but when he does it with his cock, you know he's gonna fuck you again.
HAECHAN .ᐟ
BREAST PLAY › this man is a boob lover! actually pretty much like his fella. every chance he has, he takes it! and uses any excuse to have your boobs in his mouth. angry? sad? really really happy? your boobs will solve everything! oh and he'll definitely have his hands on your chest, kneading your boobs when you're just chilling on bed or the couch and he's the type of boyfriend who can only sleep well if sucking on your boobs.
ORAL FIXATION › whenever he's bored, he's going to you and will spread your legs so he can eat you out. and he'll do it no matter what you're doing, as long as you're at home. or else when he realises is more comfortable, for both of you, he'll just suck on your boobs.
DIRTY TALK › he's the best when it comes to talk dirty, it's his favourite foreplay. he likes to see how needy he can have you without even touch you.
ROLEPLAY › you're still new at it, mainly because you're all shy to roleplaying. the first time you tried it was intentional. well, at least for you. he was sick and you were acting like his personal nurse — or good girlfriend — but his pervert mind brought him to places... he got aroused just by seeing you all careful toward him and, obviously let you know that. since that day, you only try this fantasy, but he's more than willing to introduce some new ones.
MIRROR SEX › loves seeing you cockdrunk and wants you to see it too. wants you to see how pretty you are with your mouth open, drooling all over his fingers, red, puffy and teary eyes. it's your best sight for him.
POWER PLAY › he's your slut. accepts anything you offer him and loves when you degrade and humiliate him, even better if you do it in public, he can cream his pants. any form of degradation is more than welcomed. other kinks along with this one are spit kink, edging, degradation, impact play (specially on his face), humiliation and bondage.
JAEMIN .ᐟ
PRAISE › giving or receiving. jaemin is more verbal, loves talking, even in sex, and it includes praising you and your actions, just like he does everyday. also loves hearing you say how well he's doing you, between soft sighs. well, the moment he realise you can't even say a complete sentence, he knows he's doing well.
BREEDING KINK › jaemin has born to be a father! every time he cums inside, he stays a little more, just to make sure this time he can impregnate you. and when he pulls out and see his cum leaking, he pushes it again inside you with his fingers, to make sure none of his seed go to waste.
DOLLIFICATION › jaemin loves dolling you up. he makes you even prettier. styles your hair, do your makeup and buys you the prettiest and most delicate lingeries in every color. his fun is to see you all fucked up after sex.
THROAT FUCKING › after your ass, your mouth is jaemin's favourite hole to fuck and he loves to see you struggling to take him whole in your mouth. likes to see your tears. how you get even prettier when you're crying because of how hard he's fucking your throat. he may be into dacryphilia.
SPIT KINK › he has something for messy sex. likes to see you sweaty, with his cum spread all over your face, chest, tummy or thighs. loves to see you dumb because of how good he has fucked you, with your mouth open, drooling, he can't help but spit on your mouth, and you better swallow.
RECORDING › that's def his favourite part. he bought a camera just for this. loves to see you falling apart on his cock. loves to record how submissive you are to him. and he's absolutely jerking off watching it later.
MARKING › you are his and he can do whatever he wants to you. he's not the jealous type, but wants people to know you are his, just like he is completely yours. he has zero problem in go out in public wearing a tank top, showing all the maks you've gave him.
CHENLE .ᐟ
EXHIBITIONISM › unlike some people think, chenle is not that much of a jealous boyfriend. like, he can share you, the only condition is to not touch you. he couldn't care less about fucking you in public and fucks you even harder when caught by someone. he likes the idea of people watching you falling apart on his cock, watching how dumb you get because of how good he's making you feel.
FOREPLAY › he's a foreplay lover. likes to tease you before actually fucking you. his pleasure is to see his pretty girl all needy. and when you beg him to use you as his please... damn, you want him dead. the sight he loves the most is when you're tied up and he plays with ice on your body. loves to see you weak, begging for him, whimpering and even crying when he hasn't done nothing else than ice play and dirty talk.
MANHANDLING › he's stronger than you and you love it. he uses you like his sex doll and you couldn't like it other way. you look so helpless, so fragile. chenle can't wait to devour you.
SENSORY DEPRIVATION › he loves when you decide to tie him up and blindfold him. gets all submissive when is your turn to play with him.
JISUNG .ᐟ
SIZE KINK › didn't know he had this kink until he realised how petite you are and how fragile you look. you easily sleep on top of him. his hands engulf yours so easily. and when they are wrapped around his cock... or his fingers in your mouth. shit, you're so smaller than him, he can easily lift you with one arm and fuck you.
BELLY BULGE KINK › whenever he can see the outline of his cock in your belly... boy gets so energetic. it's like a button! he gets so proud of you. point it out to you and touches it, pressing his palm right where his cock appear and this act alone make your eyes roll.
VOYEURISM › look... it's not like he likes to watch other people. he likes to watch you. he can easily cum untouched just by seeing you get off. but he gets so impatient when you take too long to cum. he needs to taste you.
CLOTHED SEX › usually when you're in public. there's something else when you beg to hump him, it's just so good. he likes the way you get so weak just by feeling his erection on you, when he's slightly “thrusting” between your legs, feeling your panties grow wetter and wetter.
SEXTING › when you did it for the first time, he was with the boys and got all red and shy. but, as the time passes by, he learned how to do it properly, without any single trait of embarrassment. he learned it makes your sex even more intense, since you're building up the tension. and it's definitely a must, since both of you has enough energy to fuck for a whole week.
CHOKING › your pretty little hand around his thick neck? he loses it! or when you're on top of him, taking control, talking dirty to him and you slip your hand around his neck... damn, he cums on the spot.
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frmisnow · 2 months ago
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play pretend ! ₊⟡⋆ nsfw.
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the premise of fake dating your best friend, for just a weekend, is hilarous.. and scary. but what happens after is even scarier.. it's just play pretend right?
warnings / includes — sex, heavy fwb themes, bit of angst
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shame coated you when you woke up in one of the guest rooms, carefully placed onto the bed at about 3am by no other then jungkook while you were dead hungover. pure rotten shame rests in your cheeks, paints them red when you say bye to his family a few hours later as jungkook couldn't quite even look at you.
everything about him was different. the way he moved around you, the way he avoided looking directly at you. hell, even his voice sounded quieter, less confident, like he didn’t know what to do either.
something had changed him, for the worse.
and it was all your damn fault.
you had thought the car ride would give you both time to defrost, pretend that whatever happened the night earlier did in fact not happen, crack some jokes but to no avail — long, defening silence.
silence and shame don't go well together, the color they create on the canvas of yours, it soaked through you. stayed with you for the next five days, it's the color of the message you send him at 11 pm on saturday, asking him how he was doing.
it's the ugly color of the 'delivered' button that stays there for the following two days.
the dress you wear to the next party is bright, anything to drown out the guilt that was eating you alive.
the music is loud, and so are you. laughing a little too hard, moving a little too close to anyone who shows you attention. you take another sip of whatever is in your cup, the liquid burning its way down your throat but dulling the ache in your chest.
and then there’s him.
you don’t see Jungkook immediately, but you feel him before your eyes catch his across the room. you feel the way the air shifts, the way your stomach churns when you notice the familiar set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicker toward you.
you almost drop your drink.
because it feels like a candid flashback of that night—only now it’s all so different. why did things have to be so complicated?
you’re pressed against some guy you barely know, his lips grazing your neck in a way that should distract you. you’ve been letting it happen, letting him flirt, letting his hands wander because it’s easier than thinking about the mess you left unresolved.
but then there’s jungkook. he stands on the other side, the neon light painting his face; his look wasn't judging. maybe light disappointment but more observing then anything, really. and it reminded you of how you used to stare at him whenever he was going after various girls at these exact sorts of parties.
it makes you sick, makes the unfamilar hands on your body feel foul and uninviting, it's not the fire burning through you like it had that night, it's cold ice, slowly creeping through your veins, making it's way to your brain.
said ice whispers things you don't want to hear, reminds you of things you don't want to think about.
"fuck, i think i like you."
you run of upstairs to the nearest balcony, the house was familar one of your mutual friends', this place was where you used to play spin the damn bottle in high school. now it feels haunted, just as univiting as the guy's hands felt a few minutes ago, why did everything feel so distant now? first jungkook, now everything else. why was it so consuming?
you light up a cigarette, you didn't usually smoke but you wanted to feel that fire again, the warmth, the pure need from a week ago. you regreted not having fucked the guy because you were sure he could've made you forget for longer then this cig could.
“thought I might find you here,” he says behind you, kneeling next to you yet keeping a safe distance, his voice low and cautious.
"you shouldn't have," you respond coldly, because anger is a better emotion to feel then regret and you had plenty things to be frustrated about, "you've been avoiding me for a whole week, don't pretend like you give a fuck." you don't meet his eyes, just take another drag.
but you see him flinch in the corner of your eye. great, the guilt sits in you once again.
he shifts slightly, and you can feel the tension radiating off him , “i know I’ve been a jerk, but it’s not that simple—”
“then make it simple.” your voice is sharper than you intended, but the hurt has festered for too long. you finally turn to face him, “i need to know what you want. because this? whatever this is? it’s fucking misery.”
the words hang heavily in the air, and for a moment, silence stretches between you. jungkook looks like he’s grappling with his thoughts, the tension in his body palpable. then, slowly, he closes the distance between you, his eyes softening as he cups your face in his hands.
“can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice a whisper, as if the question itself is laced with vulnerability.
you nod, and the moment your lips touch, it’s like everything else fades away. the kiss starts soft, gentle, as if he’s savoring the moment, and you can feel your heart begin to race.
it's nothing like the previous fire you had wished to experience earlier, it's delicate warming sunlight, brushing over your skin, washing away the hideous color that had built over the last few days.
“friends with benefits,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and sweet. “we get to have this-” he kisses you again, slow and lingering, “—without the pressure of expectations.”
“expectations?” you echo, your mind racing as you try to process his words.
“yeah,” he replies, his lips brushing against yours, each touch sending shivers down your spine. “we can enjoy each other without worrying about where it’s going. just... pure fun.” his hands toy with the hem of your dress, before returning your gaze.
time slips quick, it all feels so raw, so different from that night yet all so much better.
his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, driving deep inside you with a primal urgency. you can feel the way he fills you, stretching you perfectly. you're so glad you aren't drunk, that you'll remember this in the morning and the day after.
you claw at his back, nails digging in, urging him on, needing more, wanting all of him. and he curses, runs his mouth like the talkative brat you knew he always was, degrades you one second, tentatively kisses your cheeks the next.
his hands rest on your tighs as he kisses along your clit once again, sweet, real. taunts you 'for the mess you made on your friend's coach' but he doesn't give you time to feel guilty, just starts nuzzling his face back into your pussy, licking along.
no, jungkook will never make you feel the same guilt again. you're sure of it, well — not that you could really properly think under these conditions anyway.
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eupheme · 4 months ago
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j i gotta know, do you have sfw and/or nsfw headcanons for logan?
hi anon! 💖 ooh, thank you so much for asking! i have a couple I’d love to share (and i also have an ask for sfw/nsfw alphabet hcs that i am planning to do, if you are interested in those as well!)
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logan howlett x f!reader
sfw/nsfw headcanons | 800 words
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SFW
— For years he’s been seen as a weapon. Something unstoppable. When he encounters your softness he doesn’t know how to take it. So sure he doesn’t deserve it - he’ll take a compliment about his looks with a smirk and a quip, but it takes him a long time before he truly believes that you think he’s a good man.
— When it comes to love languages, his giving is Acts of Service. Logan will go out of his way to bring you your favorite food for dinner. Will wake up early to fix That Thing in your house - his love shown in these physical gestures, and how he’ll do just about anything to keep you safe.
His receiving language is Quality Time. A lot of people are pushed away by his gruffness - he’s happy that you’ve stuck around. A soft fondness for early mornings and late nights together - it means a lot that you want to be with him. Another is Physical Touch. He probably won’t admit but he loves when you reach for him. How you feel safe in his presence, seeking him out - he loves to throw an arm around you and tug you close. (Words of Affirmation are another - he’ll brush them off, but secretly hoard and pick them apart when he’s alone.)
— Massive papa wolf vibes. If you’re out together, his eyes are on you. Will definitely step in before anything has a chance of happening. It tips towards overprotective - but he’s lost so many he’s loved that he can’t help it. Jealousy will weave its way in too, he will insert himself into a conversation if he thinks someone is trying to get your attention. Not above leaving a little mark on your neck, lingering from the night before.
— Logan takes a while to warm up to anyone. That scowl is almost permanently fixed in place. His irritability a defense mechanism - he can’t lose anyone else if they don’t get close. He absolutely softens for you before he ever shows it, and definitely before you ever know.
— Loves to hear your voice. At the end of a long day, he’s coming home to you. Logan probably won’t confide in what’s truly eating at him (though he is quick to give his opinions on lighter topics), but he will seek your touch and is content in listening to you talk about your day until the tension eases.
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NSFW
I fully subscribe to the classics - that he loves seeing you in his clothes, has a bit of a breeding kink, and can smell when you’re aroused around him. But I have a few more as well…
— Those words of affirmation weave their way into a bit of a praise kink in the bedroom. Might try to distract you with a messy kiss if you’re trying to sweetly compliment him - but if you’re telling him how good he’s making you feel, how much you need him - he’s going to make sure he gives you exactly what you want (as well as holding himself back from coming before he can)
— Pussy-eating king. Loves getting his head between your thighs, preferably for hours. Teasing you about how wet you are for him, making you squirm with his fingers while he edges you with his tongue. Might be a bit lazy on the cleanup so he can smell you on him all day.
— Logan is an ass man. Loves the way it jiggles when he fucks you from behind, or when you ride him reverse-cowgirl. Bending over in front of him absolutely works - a little wink his way and he’ll have his hands at your waist, pressing his hips right against the soft curve of your ass.
— If he’s given the option, he’s coming inside you. Mouth is nice, pussy is preferred. Doesn’t like pulling out, wants to feel how you get all tight and wet around him before he’s spilling inside you. Bonus points if he can keep you full for a little while, shooting you pointed look or a smirk from across the room while he drips out of you - your shared little secret.
— He recovers quickly, and his applies to his refractory period as well. Second (or third) rounds are to be expected when you both have time, though he’s always going to put you and your comfort first.
— Dirty mouth. Not super loud in bed but will pant, moan, grunt in your ear. Asks (sometimes condescending) questions when you’re fucked out, knowing he has you too close to the edge to fully answer. “You can be louder for me, can’t you? Come on, that’s my girl.” / “Just needed my cock, didn’t you sugar?”
— Isn’t above using his enhanced strength to his advantage, especially to make you squirm. Will catch hold of your hips and watch you try to fuck yourself back on him, or pin you down and make you take what he gives you.
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thank you again for asking! 💖
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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 9 months ago
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Girls Night Out
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: smut!!!
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For the past three years, your weekends have mostly been spent following your fiance's races all over the world, and on his free weekends, you usually rest in front of the TV cuddled up to each other enjoying every moment of his free time you get to spend together.
But this Saturday night was yours and it meant only one thing - girls night out. Your best friend was celebrating her birthday, so you decided to go out to dinner and a few drinks with a close circle of friends. Girls only.
And you were really excited about that. It's not that you didn't like spending time with Lando, quite the opposite actually, lately you haven't really been interested in anything other than being in his arms, but every now and then a little change comes in handy.
As for tonight's outfit, since you just got your period, you opted for black wide-leg suit pants and a black corset top that accentuated and hugged your breasts beautifully. You looked hot, not in a vulgar way, but you were going to turn heads for sure.
"Lan, I'm about to head out" You said fixing your hair and entering the living room where your fiance was lying on the couch in front of the TV.
His gaze moved from the screen to you measuring you from head to toe with raised eyebrows.
"What?" You asked.
"That's a nice neckline you got there" He commented clearly displeased with your choice of outfit for a night out where he wouldn't be there.
"Thank you" You smiled rolling your eyes at him. "I like it too"
"You couldn't choose something else to wear? Like a turtleneck or something?" He asked making you laugh.
"And what's wrong with this? Please, do tell me"
"That cleavage of yours is begging for attention, that's what's wrong with it" He says, his expression serious and his eyes stuck on yours.
"Oh wow. I don't know what you would do if tonight I wore a dress like the one I wore for your birthday dinner" You said remembering the short cherry red dress that Lando tore off of you the second you got home from his birthday dinner celebration.
"You most certainly wouldn't leave the house wearing something like that without me let me tell you that" He says confidently making you roll your eyes at his comment once again although you secretly kinda liked that he was ever so jealous. You liked playing with his head a little from time to time.
"Where is your ring?" He asks about the big oval diamond ring he knelt before you with, even though he knows damn well you never take it off your finger.
"On my finger, of course, every day for a year now, where else would it be?"
"Let me see" You sigh moving closer to stand in front of him and hold your left hand out in front of him. He takes the opportunity to pull you by the hand and make you fall on top of him making you squeal as your chest hit his.
"Lando! Are you crazy?"
"I think you know answer to that question" He smirks grabbing your cheek and pressing his lips against yours.
"Yeah, I think I do. You're gonna ruin my makeup" You whine trying to pull away, but he ignores you pulling you in for another more heated kiss forcing his tongue inside your mouth.
"Lando.." You warn him trying to break the kiss. "Are you nervous that I'm going out without you?"
"No, I just don't want others to look at what's mine. Fuck, I don't want them even thinking about looking"
"Well, like you just said, I'm yours and yours only and you've known that for a long time now" You say pressing assuring kiss to his lips.
"Well.." His hand escapes between your thighs gently squeezing one of them. "Maybe I do need a little bit of reminding" His mouth find your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses all over it.
"Even if I wanted to, we can't, because I got my period this morning."
"I know you did. But you could use your pretty little mouth. That would convince me pretty well." His thumb traces over your bottom lip tugging it down.
"Lando..I have to leave soon"
"Baby, you can't leave me like this." He whines determined to get what he wants and you knew you wouldn't leave the house until he got it. "Touch it.. I got so hard just by looking at you." He takes your hand into his placing it over the tent in his pants. "I need you to take care of it" He whispers making you shiver and rub your palm against him.
"You better be quick" You say quietly before you drop off the couch onto the floor between his legs.
"Oh trust me, it'll take seconds" He sighs removing his pants along with his boxers and tossing them to the side. Leaning down he gives you a brief kiss before leaning back against the couch with his hands holding your cheeks.
You start by leaving sloppy slow kisses around his erected length holding your hands on his thighs. Your tongue runs lightly over his balls making him moan in response. You cup them in your hand gently massaging them while your tongue follows the line of the vein on his cock.
"Baby, put it in your mouth, please"
"Impatient, aren't we?" You tease wrapping your hand around him giving him a few strokes up and down. Your thumb crosses over his red swollen tip before attaching your lips to it and sucking on it.
He hisses at the sensation collecting your hair into a ponytail and tilts his head to the side to get a better look at you.
"Fuck baby, yes, yes, just like that -ahh" Praising you, you moan around him sending vibrations through his rock hard cock.
"You don't know what I would do to you right now if you weren't on your period"
"What, baby? Tell me." You ask taking your mouth off him and stroking him in your hand spreading the precum all over his tip.
"I'd fuck you until you begged me to stop" He moans and you squeeze your thighs together trying to get any kind of friction to reduce the ache between your legs.
"You're doing it so good. Sucking me off so good, fuck" You pick up the pace of bobbing your head up and down his cock opening your eyes for a second to look at his chest heavily rising and falling, his head thrown back and lips parted.
You loved the sight of him in front of you - he was so helpless, completely at your mercy, the sounds that he was making, moans of your name escaping from his lips were enough for you to know that he was fully under your control.
You loved the way his hand rested on the back of your head guiding it, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.
"You love choking on me don't you? Yeah you do. Fuck I love watching the bulge in your throat when I fuck it." His hips bucked up as he started thrusting himself deep until his tip hit the back of your throat making you gag around him and reflexively pull back, teary-eyed, gasping for air.
"You're okay, baby, you're okay c'mon, take it" Gently caressing your cheek he tapped his tip against your lips before forcing himself back into your mouth. You continued working him up and down taking all of him in while your hand found his balls again making him a weak mess of a man.
"Fuck, baby I'm close." You felt him starting to tense under your touch as his hand replaced the work of your mouth. He took his cock in one hand and with the other he took your chin between his fingers.
"You gonna cum in my mouth, love?"
"Ahh, yes, fuck. You gonna swallow it?"
"Mhm, all of it" You nodded innocently sending him over the edge, his loud groaning broke through the room, the rhythm of his hand slowed down putting his cock back into your mouth as he reached his climax spilling his cum into your mouth.
He stayed like that in semi lying position trying to regain his strength back. You wiped your mouth with your fingers before he pulled you to him into a hug leaving a long kiss on your temple.
"Convinced?"
"I'd say so"
2K notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 1 year ago
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Mob Bucky likes his innocent date ft smut
Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.
His sisters best friend.
You’re not at all what he was expecting.
He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.
You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.
“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.
“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.
You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.
“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.
“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.
Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.
The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.
By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.
You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.
“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.
“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”
“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.
When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.
“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.
“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“
“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”
You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.
“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”
“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.
“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.
“Please?”
“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.
“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.
“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.
“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”
He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.
“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”
“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.
“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”
The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.
“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”
You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.
“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.
Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.
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perlelune · 7 months ago
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All Too Well | Rafe Cameron
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A tragedy in your family forces you to return to the one place you fled from years ago. Your hometown of Outer Banks.
Warnings: NON-CON, Mom Reader, Pogue! Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Blackmail, Threats, Child Abduction, Gun Use
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
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You sigh as you pass the familiar town sign. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise on earth.
Right, paradise on earth. Until it became hell for you.
You let your gaze wander across the coastline, soaking in the crashing waves and glittering sand. The fresh sea breeze whisks inside the car, its soft, familiar flutter over your face bringing bittersweet memories alongside it. As you take in your surroundings, you’re struck with the realization of how little has changed over the years. Same houses. Same trees. And perhaps, you ponder wistfully, even the same people…
A mix of confusing emotion flows through you at that prospect.
Most of your life was spent here, precious memories having taken place on that very beach you just passed. Lazy days hanging out with your friends, doing whatever it is you wished. Hanging out, goofing off, getting high and enjoying endless summers.
Before mesmerizing blue eyes found yours at a beach party. It’s when your downward spiral began. How sweetly things started. How sourly they turned.
You can still feel the ghost sensation of his fingers around your neck, pressing until you could hardly breathe. Yet another fit of anger. Brushed off like so many until you couldn’t bear it anymore.
Eventually you grew tired of the whirlwind of emotions, of how he always had an excuse, some sort of twisted justification for his horrible actions. How somehow nothing was ever his fault. But yours. Always yours.
And once you found out that you had more than your own well-being to worry about…the decision was made for you. Of course, you needed to run like hell and never look back. It wasn’t just about you anymore. You had someone else to protect, from his mood swings and temper, but most importantly…from becoming just like him.
A heavy breath drops from your mouth as you clutch the steering wheel. The unpleasant flashes are chased away with a sharp shake of your head. You steady your rising pulse. You promised yourself not to not sink into that hole again. That hopeless, desolate place where you’re trapped in the dark and no one can hear you screaming. You’re stronger now. He can’t hurt you anymore.
This was four years ago. All that stuff is in the past. Buried and forgotten. Thankfully.
Your son’s hitch-pitched voice tugs your focus from the backseat.
“Can we go to the beach, mom?” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Please, please, please.”
You swipe a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Here he is. Your entire life, on the cusp of throwing a tantrum in the backseat of your car. Your three year-old son, Parker.
Your focus shifts back to the road.
“We have to go visit some friends first, sweetie.”
“Okay…” he pouts dejectedly.
“Once we’re settled in, we can go.”
He beams at that. A smile creeps upon your lips. While raising Parker on your own has been a challenge, you wouldn't change a thing. Seeing his bright, gummy smile everyday makes it all worth it.
You make a few more turns before finally reaching your destination. You soak in the striking sight of the house as you climb out of your car. It’s a lot bigger and nicer than the ones surrounding it, an uncanny sight in the Cut. It still surprises you that JJ didn’t move to Figure Eight. With his flourishing boat renting business, he can basically do anything he wants now. And you know he’d likely get a kick out of pissing off the 
Kooks by moving to their side of the island. So you’re a bit shocked that he chose to keep roots there. 
You suppose, in the end, he will always be a Pogue at heart. 
You pick up your son from the back seat. A yawn escapes from his mouth before he wraps his arms around your neck and begins to doze off. You can’t blame him. This was his longest trip since he was born. He clings to you as you make your way to the front door. 
The door opens, a familiar blond welcoming you with a bright smile.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawls. 
“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay? We can go to a motel.”
JJ huffs his disapproval before ushering you inside. 
“Nonsense. Why stay in a motel when we have plenty of room here?”
Your eyes dart about the place. It’s clean and though the decor screams ‘bachelor’, homey vibes ooze from the space. Memorabilia from JJ’s travels are littered across the shelves as well as pictures of him and the Pogues beneath his surfing board. Melancholy hits you again. You’ve missed so much.
You shoot him a teasing grin.
“Plenty of room, huh? Sounds like someone’s gone full Kook.”
JJ rolls his eyes at your playful taunt. “Do you have any bags?” he asks.
“In the trunk,” you reply, handing him your keys. “I didn’t pack much since we won’t be staying long.”
He takes your keys, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Which I still don’t get. I could kick his ass for you, so you don’t have to leave again.”
“It’s fine, JJ. Parker and I have a great life in Florida. I just got promoted. I’m saving up so we can move to a bigger place in a few months. Things are good. Really good.”
“I still think you should be here with us.” You supply no answer as he strolls to your car to get your things. You know JJ would tussle with him if you let him, has tried to in the past. He’s your best friend and has always been overly protective of you. It’s exactly why you need to leave once everything is handled. You refuse to let him get tangled up in your mess. It was never his to fix. 
You pad further inside JJ’s home. Astonishment flutters through you as you find another familiar face by the kitchen counter. 
Her long blonde mane swings at her back as she rushes to you. 
“Is that my nephew?” she whispers in an attempt not to wake up your toddler.
“Sarah,” you greet cheerfully.
She bends to get a better look at him. Her expression lights up.
“He’s gotten so big since the last time.”
The sound of Sarah’s voice tears Parker from his slumber.
He rubs his eyes, a broad grin appearing on his little face when he recognizes her.
“Auntie Sarah…”
“Hey buddy,” she chimes.
He jumps into her arms and the two of them giggle as she hugs him.
“I wish I could visit more often,” she says.
You nod in agreement. Sarah used to visit the two of you in Florida on a semi-regular basis, but she had to stop once a certain somebody became a bit too curious about the impromptu trips she was taking several times a year.
“Me too, but we both know it’s not possible.”
The two of you share a knowing look.
JJ reappears with your two bags in his hands.
“Shall I show you and your offspring to your chambers, m’lady?” he says, mimicking a horrible British accent. 
You shake your head at his antics. Though you’d never admit it aloud, you kind of missed them. A lot.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 
He flashes you a broad grin.
“Hm, I think the word you’re looking for is wickedly handsome.”
“That is more than one word,” you deadpan.
He shrugs. “Just handsome then.”
You sigh as you follow him upstairs. Pleasant surprise courses through you at what you witness when he opens the door to the guest room. 
The interior is warm and welcoming. The blankets have rockets, moons and stars on them. There’s even a nightlight and a few toys lying in a corner. It’s a lot more than you expected and a swell of emotions mounts inside you at the sight. 
“You just had to go overboard, huh?”
His shoulders heave and fall in nonchalance.
“Only the best for my best girl.”
You plop down on the bed, drinking in the animal paintings on the walls. 
“Did you paint that yourself?”
He sits next to you, leaning back in a relaxed stance.
“I did. Mostly. Though Sarah, Kie and the others insisted on helping.”
“You know we’re not staying.”
He studies you, a small smile tugging his lips.
“A guy can hope.” JJ licks his lips, fingers dragging over the colorful blanket. “I just want you to know you have a home here if you ever decide to come back.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Blue eyes lock with yours, silence stretching between the two of you before he speaks again. 
“I really missed you.”
“Me too,” you say. “Are you and Kie still…?”
“We broke it off a few years ago.”
Your eyes round. They seemed so into each other at the time. Though you surmise, people can change over the years. You aren’t teenagers anymore after all.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. We’re better off as friends,” he states casually. He holds your gaze and smiles. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Alright Master Yoda, when did you get so wise?” you quip.
He joins his hands, his expression solemn.
“A stupid kid, I am not anymore.” You laugh and his smile widens. “Believe it or not.” He pauses, appearing lost in thought. He then offers, “You should come to the Bonfire celebration tonight.”
“I don’t know…”
Your brows knit. You returned out of necessity. Hanging out isn’t exactly at the top of your list of priorities. 
JJ gives your shoulder a light shove.
“Come on. It’s at the Boneyard, just like old times.” His expression turns serious. “Everyone’s really missed you. It’s not the same without you around.”
He gets to his feet. Your stomach knots when he retrieves an urn from under the night table and hands it to you.
Your chest tightens.
“Are those her…”
“Yeah. Her last wish was to be at sea. Maybe you could do it tonight?”
Your fingers press firmly around the curved edges of the urn, tears welling up in your eyes.
“I should have been there, JJ,” you mumble.
“It’s not your fault.”
“But if I-”
“No, you can’t blame yourself for every little thing. I won’t let you.” Noting your trembling fingers, he takes the urn from you, placing it over the night table. He cradles your face and wipes the tears spilling down your face. “She knows how much you loved her. That's all that matters.” He wraps his arms around you and you sink into his embrace, soaking his familiar sea-salt smell. It’s somehow barely changed since you last saw him. “It was an accident. No one could have done anything. Especially not you.”
You sniffle, swallowing a fresh surge of tears. You may not have been close to your sister, but you still resent that you couldn’t be together before she passed. She barely got to know her own nephew. 
She deserved a lot more from you. A lot more that you weren’t able to give, which you hate yourself for.
You just couldn’t risk it. Not when one look at him would suffice for most people to guess who Parker’s father is. Starting with those piercing blue eyes. The same as his father’s. 
Accidents are accidents. But you can’t help but wonder if being with her would have made a difference. No one even really knows what happened. Just that she was in her house - you parents’ house - and fell. Then she stopped breathing. By the time she was rushed to the hospital it was too late.
Your sister was gone. Ally is gone.
A harsh truth your mind is still wrangling with.
“I don’t know if I can come. Parker’s still so small-”
“I’ll watch him.”
Your head snaps up. You find Sarah in the doorway, your son in her arms. As soon as he enters the room, the little boy gets excited. He starts running around and grabs a toy from the pile to play with.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
“Are you kidding?” Sarah exclaims. Her gaze softens as she looks at your son. “I missed the little guy so much. We’ll have a ton of fun.”
You peer at Parker. He’s found a dinosaur and a soldier and decided to have the two apparently fight in space. You have to admit, JJ’s house is much more kid-friendly than you expected. Perhaps, you can probably release him into his aunt’s care for a few hours. You have no desire to turn into one of those helicopter moms who need their children under perpetual supervision. Parker too, may benefit from some time with Sarah. He never gets to see her after all.
“Well, I guess if you don’t mind,” you say. 
Sarah perks up at your response. 
“See? Everything’s sorted out,” JJ says brightly.
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The moment they see you, Kie, John B and Pope hurtle a ceaseless string of questions your way. Your life in Florida. Your job. Your dating life. The weather. How the beaches are there. No inquiry’s off-limits, too strange or personal. They constantly speak over each other, their excitement at seeing you again clear as day. You try to answer everything in between your laughs. JJ was right. It’s good that you came. 
You needed to see them. It doesn’t hit you until you listen to Kie’s bubbly, passionate rant about the foundation she created to clean up the ocean floors. You missed the Pogues. Deeply. You were so absorbed in being a mom that you never took the time to ponder that loss. 
“Guys, you have to give her time to actually answer,” Sarah jests. 
“It’s okay,” you say, waving your hand in nonchalance. Your handle on the urn between your arms tightens. “There’s something I need to do anyway.”
Quiet falls over the group, their lively chatter instantly dying. You see it in the Pogues’ eyes. All your friends are acutely aware how it guts you to do this. 
Kie takes a step forward. She hasn’t changed a bit. Brown curls cascade at her back. Her pretty face is scrunched in concern. 
“Do you want me to come with you?”
You shake your head. This isn’t something the Pogues can help you with. You glance at JJ who stands a few feet behind her. His expression mirrors hers. You’ve used him as a crutch enough times. Too many times. 
You give a tremulous smile.
“No I…I need to do it alone.”
She nods as you stroll towards the rolling waves. Your slow steps trail prints into the sand as you soak in the flaming sun spilling over the horizon. Diamonds sparkle above the mesmerizing water, lights dancing over the infinite stretch of blue. 
You open the urn. Water licks your toes as you move forward. 
As you watch her ashes swirl to the bottom of the ocean, a strange emptiness fills your chest. None of it feels right. She should be here laughing. Or doing something stupid with the Pogues. Doing stupid shit was her specialty. 
Her sunny smile flickers in your mind. 
You don’t notice the tears until their salty taste slips past your lips. You quickly wipe them as soon as you do. You can’t let Parker see you cry. He would ask why, in that sweet little voice of his. “Why are you crying, mommy?”
And you’d be stumped, incapable of producing a suitable answer for him. 
“Princess?”
You freeze. The deep voice feels snatched right out of your worst nightmares. You turn slowly, denial still keeping you mute. 
Your heart drops. 
It really is him, you realize, dumbfounded. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, dizzyingly tall and wickedly handsome in khaki shorts and a seersucker buttondown. A very Kook getup. Not that you’d expect anything less from Rafe Cameron. 
He chuckles at your reaction.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His smile widens. You feel sick. He points at his chest. “Shit, am I…the ghost?”
Ignoring the rising tide of panic overflowing your insides, you brush past him. 
He follows you, his long legs easily keeping up with your hasty strides. 
“I was gonna offer my condolences but…Really? You don’t even say ‘hi’ anymore?”
“Hi, Rafe.”
Your stomps are halted when he stands in your path.
He bends so the two of you are at eye level. Your breath catches beneath his stare. You somehow forgot. How blue his eyes are. And something else strikes you as you look at him. 
Those are your son’s eyes. 
“There. Did you lose your manners in…Where do you live now anyways?” He snorts but there isn’t a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s not like I’d know since you changed your number on me.”
Your stomach flips. “It’s good to see you, Rafe. But I was just leaving.”
When you try to get past him again, he grabs your arm to keep you from leaving. 
“Wait, wait, wait. Why the cold shoulder? After all these years…this is what I get from you, princess?”
A lump forms in your throat. 
“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say. 
You try to shake out of his grasp but his grip on you tightens. 
He gets in your face, his gaze narrowing. 
“I haven’t seen you in four years. And this is how you treat me? W-What did I do to deserve that?” You turn your head, tears gathering in your eyes. His fingers latch around your jaw, digging painfully into your cheeks. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Someone pulls you back from Rafe, sliding between the two of you. 
You gasp as you stumble back. 
“Leave her alone, Rafe,” JJ grits out, standing in front of you protectively. 
A derisive snicker bursts through Rafe’s lips. He glares up and down at your friend, disdain burning in his eyes.
“Still hanging out with those Pogues, I see.” He laughs as JJ crowds his space, his jaw clenching. “You tryin’ to get into something, Maybank?”
“Maybe I am,” JJ replies.
One could cut a knife through the thick layer of tension coating the air between the two men.
You wedge yourself between them. None of them looks away from the other, a nonverbal duel still occurring right before your eyes. 
You heave out a long sigh.
“Guys. We aren’t kids anymore. That’s enough,” you say. You unleash an annoyed sigh when they don’t move and grab JJ’s hand. “JJ, let’s go.”
“Still her little puppy dog, I see,” Rafe sneers. “Too bad she never gave you any treats like you wanted, huh Maybank?”
He blows JJ a mocking kiss, wiggling his fingers and openly taunting him. 
Sensing his urge to pounce on Rafe when he tenses near you, you tug JJ further away. 
“He’s not worth it,” you whisper.
“Good night, princess. I guess I’ll see you around,” Rafe yells from afar. 
“No, you won’t,” you respond, shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Goodbye, Rafe.”
The events of the evening leave you rattled. For the entire night, you toss and turn in bed, the sound of Rafe’s voice, even deeper after all these years, invading your every thought. You thought you were safe. Freed. But frankly, one look from him had you feeling weak. Defenseless. It yanked you right back to four years ago. Back when you still hung to his every word and thought he held the moon. When you thought that, perhaps, Rafe Cameron was just misunderstood. And you, the only one capable of solving the riddle he offered. You truly were a naive teenager then. 
Guys like Rafe never change. It took you entirely too long to accept that fact. You'll never make such a mistake ever again.
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In the morning, JJ leaves to run some errands, leaving you alone with Parker. You plant a kiss atop his head and stroke his blond curls. His tiny fists are curled against the pillow, his lids twitching while he lightly snores. It soothes you, the sight of him soundly sleeping. He’s innocent and happy. You would do anything to keep him that way for as long as possible.
You climb out of bed and make your way downstairs. You get started on breakfast for your son, mashing ripe bananas and oats as you follow along a tutorial online. It’s where you learnt everything when it came to caring for Parker. The internet has been a life-saver in more ways than one. 
You pause your whisking when the doorbell chimes. 
Your brows knit. You’re not expecting anyone. Neither is JJ. A delivery, perhaps? But he didn’t say there would be one today.
You flinch as the sound erupts again. 
Your heart starts to race. Something isn’t right. You can feel it. 
At first, you elect to ignore whoever’s on the other side. You’re alone with your son. You won’t let some stranger who can’t catch a hint inside the house.
But it doesn’t matter. 
The bell rings again. You’re paralyzed. You take tremulous steps to the entrance. Whoever it is, you plan on telling them to kick rocks. You suck in a wide lungful and nudge the door open by a tiny crack. Your eyes fly open in shock at who’s on the doorstep.
Immediately, you try to slam the door closed. He doesn’t let you, placing his foot against the doorjamb as his large hand curls around the wooden edge of the door to keep it open. Fear seizes your throat as he looms over you.
“Rafe? What are you doing here?” you say, trying your best to quell the tremor in your voice. 
He licks his lips and drinks you in.
“Well, we didn't get to finish our talk last night-”
Of course, this is the moment your son chooses to groggily drag his feet down the stairs. 
“Mommy, I’m hungry…” he complains while rubbing his face. 
Your heart drops to your feet. 
Rafe’s eyes grow wide. For a minute, he’s too stunned to utter a word, a million thoughts seeming to go through his mind. You use his surprise to nudge him outside. He doesn’t resist, shock still written on his handsome face. 
You close the door and slump against the wood. 
“Who’s that?” Rafe blurts out once he finds his ability to speak again. He’s pointing at the door as his breaths grow heavier. It doesn’t matter that your son is now out of view. Some doors can never be shut again once they’ve been opened. This is one of them.
Your shoulders heave and fall in feigned nonchalance.
“Nobody.”
His jaw clenches. “Don’t fuck with me, okay?”
You nod and show him the front yard.
“Let’s talk over there.”
He won’t let it go. Just like he never did with anything when you were together. You watch him pace across the yard as he grips his head. It almost seems like you’re not here, a spiral of emotions clearly sucking him in. You stand back warily. You remember those spirals, how destructive they could turn. 
“Fuck, Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath. He takes a deep breath and whirls to you. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”
You cross your arms, pulling the cardigan closer to your shivering frame.
“Rafe. I need you to calm down…”
He slaps your hand away when you try to touch his arm. 
“No you…Y-You don’t get to tell me to calm down, okay? Because it’s fucked. Fucked.” You jump as he gets louder, uncaring about anyone hearing him.  “How old is he? Three? Four? Is he my-”
“His father’s in Florida,” you blurt out. As soon as the words roll off your tongue, you curse inwards, your mistake dawning on you. Why did you say Florida instead of some other random state like Missouri or Massachusetts? You’re gonna have to move. Again.
Rafe’s jaw flexes before a chuckle of disbelief leaves him. 
“Really? You expect me to believe this load of crap? That kid in there looks just like me.”
“It was a one-night stand.”
He squints at you.
“I know you. You don’t do one-night stands. You’re not that kind of girl.”
“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I’ve changed.”
That mere suggestion seems to have his blood boiling. 
“I want a paternity test.”
Your stomach plummets.
“No.”
He gives a slow nod, a smirk blooming on his lips.
“Then I’ll court-order it, sue you for custody and make sure you never see our son again.” 
A chill creeps up your spine. Your voice quakes with fear.
“You wouldn’t.”
His face breaks out into a broad grin. 
“Try me, princess.”
You look at him. Really look at him. A determination is etched in his steely glare. One you haven’t seen in years. Not since he relentlessly pursued you until you yielded to his advances. It flattered you then. It terrifies you now.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces. “And don’t try to run away from me again, you understand? You won’t like what happens if you do.”
Your throat goes dry. When you don’t answer, Rafe’s hand shoots up and latches around your throat.
You whimper as he seethes, “Do you understand?”
“I-I understand, Rafe,” you stutter, your body shaking in his grasp.
He pats your cheek, seemingly satisfied. 
“Good. See you tomorrow, princess.”
Even as he releases you, your chest is tight with dread.
He starts walking to his Jeep. You remain glued to your spot, feeling as if a hole just opened in the ground and you were being swallowed in its depths. 
Rafe’s gaze rakes across your shuddering frame as he starts his car.
He bends over the window and smirks.
 “Oh by the way, you still look good…Didn’t get to say that last night,” he tosses flirtatiously before driving away. 
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When night comes, JJ scowls at you while you’re frantically packing. Since he came back, he has tried to convince you to stay. 
But your mind is made up. You refuse to wait for him to have the confirmation he needs to force his way into your life again. You know exactly what the test will say. There’s been no guy other than Rafe. No one before or after.
He left you so bruised, so riddled with wounds that never closed, that you never opened your heart to anyone else again. And definitely not your legs. 
“You should have called me when it happened,” JJ says.
“Call you for what? So the two of you can swing on each other?”
You glance at your son, napping across the large bed. He has no idea what’s going on. No idea his father was here just a few hours ago. A silver lining amidst the dusky clouds threatening to rain hell upon your life. A life you cherish. A life you worked so hard to build. 
A life you just lost. Coming back here was a mistake. You knew it from the beginning. Had that sinking feeling all along. But you were so chock full of guilt about your sister that you didn’t have it in you not to fulfill her last wish. She deserved that at least.
…And now, you’re fucked.
“This doesn’t change anything. We can’t stay.”
“But…”
You whip your head up and whisper to not wake Parker.
“It’s his kid. You know how much sway he has now. How much he could fuck up our lives. Not just mine. But everyone else’s…including you, JJ.”
Annoyance flares in his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t like to be reminded of that. 
“But you don’t have to do this alone. I can-”
You clutch his arm and shake your head.
“No, I already involved you enough. If we go now, he won’t be able to find us, ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”
His frown accentuates. Unsaid words crowd the air. You feel their weight in his silence. Still, none leave his mouth. He heaves out a deep resigned breath instead.
“Just text me when you’ve crossed state lines, okay?”
“Of course. Tell Sarah and the Pogues I’m sorry. I’ll call her once Parker and I are safe.”
He wraps his arms around you. You sink into the embrace, committing that comforting warmth to memory. 
“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” he says. 
You swallow the onset of tears tickling the back of your eyes. 
“Yeah…Me too.”
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When you’re slinking down the road in your hatchback as stars twinkle above you, you genuinely believe you are out of trouble. You didn’t even wake Parker, just lifted him from bed and gingerly placed him in the backseat. Heavy sleeper as he is, your son did not stir. You believe the two of you are safe, sound and on your way back to Florida. That for once, you bested him. All's well that ends well, as they say.
But perhaps you escaped the frying pan to jump right into a blazing inferno. 
It is what occurs to you as you’re hailed by a cop car on your way out of town. The moment you get a glimpse of the sirens, the blood drains from your head. You can never catch a break, it seems. At first, you ponder if you should ignore it, keep on driving. You almost do it. But as the vehicle cuts right across your path, you’re left with no other option. Your nerves flare at the sight of the blue and red lights glaring in the pitch blackness, illuminating the large trees flanking the road.
As Officer Shoupe steps outside the car, your gut wrenches. He chased you and your friends across the island so many times when you were a teenager. You weren’t the most fond of him back then. Now you’re downright on the verge of soiling your car seat as he takes long, threatening strides towards your car.
He knocks on your window. You sigh and lower the glass. You place a hand in front of your face as he blinds you with his flashlight.
“Ma’am. Get out of the car,” he orders.
“I don’t understand. I wasn’t speeding-”
His hand ghosts over the holster of his gun. Your pulse quickens. The clear threat hangs in the night air, stifling your breath.
“I won’t say it again. Get out.”
You take shaky steps outside of the car, raising your hands the entire time. Your son’s in the backseat. You find yourself praying, hoping that he doesn’t wake up and see you like this.
Unspilled tears collect in your eyes.
As he speaks into his walkie-talkie, your heart stops. 
“I’ve got her, sir. You were right. She was trying to leave.”
It doesn’t even surprise you when you see a familiar Jeep arrive on the scene some time later. Of course it was all him. Of course he anticipated you running away, again.
A surge of queasiness mounts within you as his towering frame leaps out of the drivers’ seat and he stomps in your direction. You feel the bear trap closing in on you, the claws sinking deep. Inescapable.
He opens the door where your son is having an oblivious nap and barks at you, “Get Parker and come with me.”
When you refuse to move, he seizes the back of your neck and slams your face against your car window. You squeak as the coolness of the glass seeps into your cheek.
“I said…Get him,” he hisses, pressing something cold against the base of your spine. You go still. You never had one pointed at you before but you’re fairly sure you know what object is kissing your back right now.
As the muffled metallic click of the weapon ripples through the night, a stray tear skips down your cheek.
A gun. Rafe has a fucking gun. Disbelief floods your chest.
Not even your worst nightmares could you have conjured something this sick and evil.
His lips drag along your earshell as you sob. “Get our son,” he articulates. “I won’t repeat myself, princess.” As soon as he allows you some space, you rush to pick up your son from the backseat. He’s thankfully still asleep. You adjust him in your arms as you gulp down a sob, reluctantly making your way to Rafe’s Jeep. He instructs you to put him in the backseat. He then nudges the gun against your hip, quietly heeding you to climb into the passenger seat of his car. 
Your heart shrivels inside your chest as he hops into the car too and slams the door shut.
“All these years and you still haven’t learnt to listen,” he scoffs, irritation bleeding through his tone. His wrath is palpable. Sizzling, red, hot fury you feel all the way to your bones.
He hates you. Who knows what he’ll do if you provoke him any further?
Terror makes your voice slip out hoarse, hardly more than a whisper.
“W-Where are you taking us Rafe?”
The gun - the goddamn gun - is still in his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose and slaps the steering wheel. 
“I should kill you for this, you know?” he hisses, turning the key in the ignition with his other hand. The engine revs as he turns the car around. He dives onto the road. Any fickle hope you harbored dwindles into the night. 
You lick your dry lips.
“Rafe,” you try again.
His eyes flare dangerously, the gun twitching in his hand.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” A mirthless chuckle bursts through his lips. “S-So what now? You take my son from me, for four fucking years…and I’m the bad guy? I-It’s somehow my fault?”
You swallow past the thick lump in your throat. Tears flow down your face as shaky words bounce off your tongue. “You scared me, Rafe…sometimes.” You glance at the gun and sniffle. “You’re scaring me now. Please just…p-put away the gun.”
He slams his hand into the steering wheel as you gasp.
“Don’t fucking try telling me what to do,” he warns. He draws a long inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, there’s a peculiar determination burning in his gaze. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna drop off our son.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “Then Mommy and Daddy are gonna go home and have a little grown-up talk.”
A chill shoots through you.
“Rafe, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. O-Okay, I admit it. I lied. But please, don’t-”
“Shut up!” he roars, causing you to fall quiet. “You’ve lied to me enough. I don’t want to hear another word coming out of your lying whore mouth until we get home.”
The commotion nudges your son awake.
“Mommy…”
Your nerves thrum in panic. You bend over the backseat and cradle his face, slotting a false smile onto your lips. “Go back to sleep, sweetie,” you urge. 
“Yes, Parker, go back to sleep,” Rafe repeats, his tone veering on sarcastic. 
“Who’s that, mommy?” your toddler inquires, tilting his head.
“Just go back to sleep,” you say, singing a tremulous lullaby to lull him back into slumber. Relief sits inside your chest when his eyes close.
He makes a first stop at his friends’ house. Your heart is ripped outside your chest as you watch Rafe’s friend - Topper or something you believe his name is - take your son away. They exchange words in the dark as you gawk in horror. You only have vague memories of Topper and now he has your son. A scream scalds the back of your throat, one you’re too terrified to let loose.
When Rafe returns inside the car, he is eerily quiet. You nearly find yourself wishing he’d talk, even if it’s to yell at you again. The silence is so unlike him, so profoundly unnerving.
But not another word escapes the confines of his tight lips as he drives.
Tannyhill comes into view and your heart sinks.
The persistent threat of the gun is the only reason you follow him inside. Whenever you drag your feet, he shoves the barrel into your back even more, reminding you what you’re risking if you don’t do as he says. You’re a sobbing, weeping mess by the time you’re in the Camerons’ lobby.
He places the gun on a nearby table and removes his belt.
“So, w-what was the plan exactly? Did you plan on never telling me?” You tense as he loops the belt around his knuckles, prowling forward. 
The golden ring on his finger glints in the low light of the lobby. 
“Did you plan on having that Pogue raise my son?”
“I…”
A sinister smile spreads over his face.
“You know what? I think we’ve been apart too long. I think I gotta remind you who the fuck I am, princess.” Your blood curdles at his words. You dart across the lobby but Rafe catches you, hauling you off the ground before slamming your body across the marble tiles without ceremony. Pain explodes through your limbs. He drags your limp frame to the railings. Your insides lurch as you feel leather bite into your flesh when he ties the belt around your wrists. He attaches the belt to the railings, restricting your arms’ range of motion.
Helplessness skyrockets inside you. A fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.
“Rafe, please…”
Rafe pulls his zipper down. Impatience grunts leave him as he wriggles out of his pants and boxers, freeing his already rock-hard cock. He yanks your shorts and panties down until the bottom of your body is completely bare to him. 
His pupils swell at the sight of your bare cunt, leaving only a thin ring of blue in his dark gaze. 
He lines himself with your entrance, pressing his wet tip against your dry lips. He breaches past the tight ring of muscles as you stiffen. An immediate burst of pain scatters through you. Tears dot your lashes as heavy breaths rush from your chest. 
It’s clear it’s taking tremendous effort for Rafe to force himself inside your unprepared core. Sweat collects on his brow as he pins you with his broad frame. 
When he pushes more of himself inside you, your eyes roll back. You don’t think the agony could worsen but somehow it does. 
Your bound hands clench into fists, your nails sinking into your palms. 
“Rafe, please, it hurts,” you whimper. His fingers cinch around your throat in response. Your core burns, your lips parting in a soundless scream as Rafe bottoms out inside you. Your vision blurs with tears. Pure hatred oozes off his husky tone as he starts moving inside you. “You don’t get to complain. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from your mouth, do you hear me?” He drags his cock out and slams it inside your aching walls again. “This is what you deserve so you’re gonna fucking take it. Take my cock until I’m done with you.”
You’re in hell as Rafe grunts like an animal in rut above you, uncaring of the strangled sobs leaving your throat. 
The expression on his face is downright terrifying, empty of anything but burning rage. In every single thrust, you feel the intensity of his loathing for you. How much he craves to punish you for everything. 
To your utter disgust, your cunt grows slick around him, easing his crude assault. 
As he notes your arousal coating his length, he lets out a bone-chilling laugh. “So wet already, huh?” Hand still wrapped around your throat, he bends to whisper into your ear. “I always knew you were a slut.” Your breath hitches as he buries himself even deeper, touching a sensitive spot that sends a fresh wave of pain through you. “That’s why I had to keep you in line.” He drops a soft kiss on your cheek as you tremble beneath him. “Sluts like you need a firm hand.”
You’re nothing but a ragdoll under Rafe as he uses you as a vessel for his pent-up anger and frustration. Every time you graze your peak, your body jolting uncontrollably, he pulls out of you out of the blue, pinching your swollen clit until you cry out and reminding you that you’re not allowed to come, that you don’t deserve even a sliver of release.
You’ve always known Rafe was capable of terrible things. But this…This is worse than anything he’s ever done to you. This is the point of no return.
Every time Rafe ruthlessly pounds into you, a bullet-like sensation rips through your flesh, tearing apart any semblance of normalcy, safety that you had. Hot tears skip down your cheeks. You will never feel safe or normal again. 
“Did you fuck that Pogue?” he snarls, his warmth breath flowing over your face. You’re so dazed and fucked out, on the cusp of passing out, you can barely keep your thoughts coherent, let alone speak. 
“Don’t tell me I already fucked you dumb, princess?” he sneers, annoyance and a sick dose of mirth mingling in his hoarse timbre.
When you fail to provide an answer, he bangs your head against the railings. Pins and needles drill into your skull. He wrenches your head back, pulling on a fistful of your hair until your scalp stings.
“When I ask you a fucking question, you answer,” he seethes. His voice lowers as his eyes dive into yours. “Did you fuck that Pogue?”
“N-No, Rafe,” you wheeze out, your voice weak and defeated.
The marbled floor chafes your back as he steadily ruts into you again, grabbing under your thighs to fuck you even deeper as you weep in silence beneath him. 
“Good. You’re mine and no one else’s. Do you understand? That fucking pussy was always mine…and still is.” He unleashes a drawn-out purr, lips parting as you clench around him. “Fuck you’re tight. How the hell are you so tight?” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He lets go of your neck to focus on your hips, corralling them firmly in his large hands so he can fuck you with abandon. “God, I missed this,” he moans. His gaze narrows. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause you’ve got a tight pussy.” 
His thrusts grow sloppier over time. Rafe chases his high while you pant helplessly beneath him. When his warmth spills inside you, a shuddered exhale leaves you. He remains nestled between your bruised walls, his heavy body covering yours as his spent leaks between your ass cheeks, pooling beneath you. He plants a slow, soft kiss on your lips, a disturbing contrast to what he just did to you. 
He cups your cheek and strokes the side of your head. 
“You took four years from me. And I intend to make up for lost time.” A devilish grin splits across his face. Dread fills you as he adds, “Maybe I’ll even put another one in you, make sure not to miss anything this time.”
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“Mommy, mommy! Look at me,” Parker shouts from astride the majestic pure breed pony his father appointed for his fourth birthday. 
He waves at you and you return the gesture with a hollow smile. 
“I’m watching you, sweetie,” you reply from your lounge chair by the pool. 
Above the Cameron mansion, the sun shines bright, the sky a dizzying shade of blue. There’s not a cloud in sight, almost as if Rafe paid them off to steer clear on his son’s special day.
Parker trots around the yard with a big, ecstatic smile on his face, his dad cheering him on nearby. The little boy requested a pony ride for his birthday so, of course, Rafe Cameron made it happen.
There aren’t many things Cameron money cannot buy. A fact he loves taunting you with every chance he gets. 
Just like the ridiculous, over the top birthday party he put together, Rafe never misses an occasion to spoil his son rotten since they reunited. Almost as if to show you what you’ve been depriving him of all these years, rub his money in your face and make you feel like a terrible mom. 
You can’t deny that it works. Every time Rafe gives Parker something you never could have provided on your own, guilt chews at you. And it’s clear that he knows it, that smug grin always dancing on his face when he catches you looking dejected. 
One of the moms in the lounge chair near yours lets out a dreamy sigh as she devours Rafe with her eyes. 
“You’re a lucky bitch, you know that? Cute son. Hot husband. What I wouldn’t give to have your life.”
Your teeth clench as you bite down every hateful word searing your tongue. From across the yard, Rafe’s icy blue eyes find yours. He beams at you. A chill travels up your spine. You look away.
“Hm…yeah. I guess I am,” you answer, casting a sour glance at the diamond ring on your finger. The gigantic rock’s shimmer is blinding as it catches the sunlight. To everyone else on Figure Eight, the fancy silver ring is a display of Rafe Cameron’s boundless love and devotion for you. It makes women green with envy. It bruises men’s egos. But you see the exorbitant blood diamond for what it is…An expensive shackle binding you to your gilded cage. A reminder that you’re trapped and there is no safe haven away from him anymore.
Rafe hasn’t failed to find little ways to make you pay since that day. Treating you like an object to satisfy his needs behind closed doors while forcing you to maintain the act of the perfect family in public. Every day you awake dreading he found another way to torment you, some fresh hell to rain upon you.
He never runs out of ways to twist the knife he buried deep within you. Again and again.
When the evening reaches its end, all the guests having vacated the house, Rafe slips behind you as you’re cleaning dishes. 
His large hands sweep over your hips and you recoil.
“Rafe…I’m…Can’t we give it a rest, just for today? I’m still sore from the other night,” you plead, desperation making your voice quake.
Before he can answer, Parker interrupts, trailing down the stairs as he yawns. 
“Daddy?” he utters drowsily. 
The little boy is sporting a brand new pajama his father got him, as he didn’t allow you to keep any of the clothes you got him over the years, calling them low quality and cheap.
He approaches your son at the bottom of the stairs and holds his shoulders, giving him a bright grin. His expression turns fond and prideful as he considers his son. The way Rafe is with his son is a sharp contrast to the way he is with everyone else. The toddler’s become the center of his universe. It nearly makes you feel guilty for hiding him. Nearly. The bruises tattooed all over your skin are a wicked reminder of who Rafe truly is.
“Daddy’s coming soon to tuck you in, okay, P?” He kisses the top of his head. “So go back to your room.”
Parker nods as he lets out another yawn. “Okay.”
“That’s my boy,” he chimes, ruffling his honey blonde curls. 
Parker hops up the stairs. When Rafe turns to you, the smile on his face vanishes.
He rushes to you, his hand shooting up to latch around your throat. His deathly grip on your neck crushes your windpipe. You look at him with wide, terrified eyes, your mouth wobbling. An expression edging on murderous decorates his handsome face. 
He snickers. “You’re sore? You think I give a fuck? I’m putting Parker to bed, then I want you waiting for me upstairs in that red lingerie set I just bought you.” He leans over you, mumbling in a low, threatening tone. “I meant what I said. You owe me four years, princess.” He licks the errant tear sliding down your cheek. “And I plan on getting every single second back.”
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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 11 months ago
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Danny walked down his street with both a sense of wonder and dread. Nothing looked like it was supposed to. People were walking around with wierd looking phones in their hands that were all screen and no flip. Where was the number pad? How were they supposed to make calls? Cars looked completely different than what they did just yesterday, and there were many homes and businesses that were new or drastically changed. His own home had looked abandoned, like nobody had lived there for years. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface, and Danny had to put in the security code just to get into the house. Hell, even the lab was locked up. The lab was NEVER locked up. His parents would come and go from it too often to justify locking it. This could only mean one thing.
Somwthing had happened to put the house into Lock Down.
Lock Down mode was a feature the house had never used before, but it was something his parents had repeatedly told them about, especially as the ghost attacks grew more frequent. He input the pass codes and pressed his hand to all the bio-scanners he needed to to get the place running again. The protocol also makes the house attack anyone or anything that tries to enter with extreme violence unless they're a Fenton, so everyone in town knew not to approach the place when it was like this.
He ignored the weird sound of the scanners cleaning his handprints off the machines and the little mechanical arms retreating back into their hatches as he sat down at the family computer and powered it up for what looked like the first time in a century.
Wait.
As it turns out, he was kinda right.
He doesn't remember how it happened, but Danny Fenton has woken up over 200 years in the future.
Numbly, he began looking up the people he knew, Jazz, Tucker and Sam had all lived long, fulfilling lives, doing thier best to keep the search for Danny Fenton alive for decades before finally giving up. Seeing their obituaries was too much for him, and he had to step away for a while. Heck, even Vlad had grown old and passed away.
Which leads to the big question. What had happened? It couldn't have been time travel or else his friends would have been able to go through the Infinite Realms to time travel as well. Between int Infi-map and that stupid booomarang they should have found him by now.
So...what happened?
The good news is that there was now an entire league of superheros who might be able to help him. They even have an emergency and non emergency call number!
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miserycanary · 8 months ago
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MY HELL FOR YOUR LOVE ᡣ𐭩
♡⃛ ‘A Fixed Heart in Your Hand' alternative ending
pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader
synopsis: alternative ending because I feel bad for hurting y'all
tags: hurt/COMFORT, fluff
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"Sir? Sir!”
Ghost flinches as he realizes he’s been spacing out, the florist now looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you going to buy something or not?” she snaps, motioning at the display of bouquets. “Uh, yeah. Give me something with hyacinth and baby breaths,” he mutters, handing her a 100 bill. “Hyacinth? Never thought I’d see a day where a man knows a different flower aside from roses, tulips, and sunflowers,” the vendor chuckles, arranging the flowers neatly and covering them with a brown printed paper tied with a twine. “Ah,… if I know something, it’s about her.” The florist smiles, handing Ghost the bouquet and his change while saying, “Well, I can see that you love her dearly.” With a soft smirk, he replies, “That I do.”
You’ve always had a love for flowers. Going as far as to even beg him to make you a flower bed. Ghost didn’t like doing physical labor with him already getting beat from training at the base, yet when you flashed him that smile (and gave a toe-curling blowjob), how could he refuse? Since then, flowers as gifts have been rare between you two. Instances where he’d give you one are when you’re on a terrible period day or during milestones (the flowers coming from the patch he secretly planted months before).
It’s been two days since you’ve left the apartment, staying at your friend’s house, but Ghost insists on having you keep some of your stuff in the unit because, “well, you technically have ownership of the place since we shared the payment for this month.” It was a poor excuse, really, but it worked. Ghost knows you well enough to know that you haven’t broken up with him despite what you said. Leaving and staying somewhere else is something you do when you’re hurt and need space, and he knows that deep inside, you’re waiting for him. 
Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t think you’re “easy to get” and he did really regret everything. The last 2 nights without you knocked some sense into him. The night felt colder, somber, and… lonely. Something he thought he would never complain about. I mean, this man has been through worse situations and he prefers solitude, but not if it’s solitude without you. You’re the one thing he can’t live without.
He has sent you multiple voicemails, messages, and even money as an apology. He’d always drop off by your friend’s place with some poorly attempted home-cooked meal of your favorite dishes. Sometimes he’d be able to steal a glance at you when he saw you coming up to the unit right before he arrived, sending flutters to his heart and butterflies in his stomach like a high school boy with a crush.
Now he stands by the door, hoping he’d leave the place with you in his arms, and him in your heart again. Three knocks (you always say less or more than that are for psychopaths) and a call of your name. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard your familiar cry, probably from rushing and stumbling. The wooden door cracked open, and the adrenaline that rushed through his nerves just from seeing you again could knock the man dead. He couldn’t even say anything except literally melt and give you the warmest smile. “Hi,” he softly greets, pulling the bouquet out of the paperbag and handing it to you with another gift. It was a charm... a tree bark with your initials engraved. You chuckle, pulling out the letter sticking out. 
One thing you learned about your Simon was that he’s not entirely good at conveying his feelings. I mean, that’s literally the reason for this fight. Yet he got out of his comfort zone, wrote you a fucking letter.
You look at him, tears in your eyes before jumping into his arms.
“I fucking missed you, pretty girl,” he mutters, holding you up by your ass and pressing a deep kiss on your lips. God, you taste like heaven; you taste like salvation. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you closer, afraid you’ll slip from his fingers again. 
From that day on, Simon learned one thing. That he would rather go through the depths of hell (talk about his feelings) than go through a day without your love. 
| The letter: 
‘To my darling flower, I’m sorry for even hurting you. I’m sorry I was a shit-ass about how I processed my emotions and got you involved. You’ve always told me that you’re there for me but I didn’t want to burden you. I always want you to be happy but my actions just did the opposite. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything that day. That I didn’t even ask you to stay. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry that I let you go. 
With this letter, I ask for your forgiveness and for you to have me back. I will be better because I cannot afford to lose you for you have my heart and soul. You are my whole life. You are the thing that makes surviving each day worth it.’
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꒰ა ☆ ໒: Now you guys know why Ghost calls Y/N ‘flower’. This the comfort alternative ending because it was also requested. 📩
dividers by @cafekitsune
Please reblog!! Ask is open!
⟢ taglist: @softestqueeen
check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!
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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago
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When Eddie gets excited, he gets a bit overwhelmed. At least, that’s what Steve has noticed, with the way Eddie has to take a quick running lap, bounce up and down, etc. whenever he gets too happy.
Steve secretly thinks it’s adorable and tries his best to induce these little happy zoomies.
It doesn’t take much. Sometimes it’s just a small compliment such as, “That shirt looks nice on you,” that has Eddie bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his rings with a smile on his face. Sometimes, Steve tries to notice something new like when Eddie trims his bangs or paints his nails, that makes Eddie flush red and mumble, “Yeah, I did,” before taking a quick walk around Family Video before making his way back to him.
This time, Steve isn’t really trying to get a reaction out of Eddie who is angrily storming around the break room of Family Video after Steve had seen his face upon entering the store and ushered him to the back.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie mutters out, running a hand over his face. Steve sits back quietly, letting Eddie go on a little rant. “He said, we were allowed to have the basement for our campaign. All of it. Then, Ted Wheeler in all his glory suddenly says that we’re too loud, and we can’t do the campaign at their house anymore. I mean… it’s one more session! He could’ve sat in that damn recliner and shut him mouth for one more session! Fuck.”
Eddie groans dramatically and sits on the ground, head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. It’s summer so we don’t have access to the school. And I can’t risk breaking in and having them take away my well earned diploma. Plus, my trailer is too small, and no one else has the privacy of Mike’s basement. We’re done for!”
Steve shrugs, seeing a clear answer to the problem. “You can do it at my house. My parents are never home, and I can stay in my room for as long as you need.”
Eddie’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, not really sure why he’s so shocked.
Eddie stands up quickly. “You’re positive you can deal with all the Hellfire members in your house?”
Steve nods. “I’ll even buy you guys pizza if you want.”
“Buy us pizza…” Eddie mumbles under his breath in disbelief. “Steve Harrington, are you granting me permission to use your house for Hellfire Club meaning hours of us yelling maybe even late into the night while we play our nerdy game?”
Steve nods and shrugs again. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal?” Eddie repeats, once again in disbelief. He slightly smiles. “We’re going to be able to complete the campaign.” He bounces on his heels excitedly. “We’re going to complete the campaign!” He runs up to Steve and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down, successfully jostling a laughing Steve in his arms. “We have a place to complete the campaign!!”
Eddie puts him down and pulls back with a big smiles. “Thank you! Seriously thank you. This means so much I could just-”
Before Steve can react, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing his mouth against his in an enthusiastic kiss.
Eddie pulls back quickly and puts his hands over his mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh. I’m so- fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I just got uh…”
Steve waves him off as Eddie backs as far away from him as possible. “You just got excited. It’s okay.”
It’s okay as it can be considering that Steve really wants to kiss Eddie again although he’s not sure what that really means. But suddenly the urge to make Eddie happy makes a whole lot of sense.
Shit. Okay. He can work with this.
He glances up at Eddie who looks petrified in fear. “I just got excited…” he whispers out.
Steve slowly makes his way to him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really. I uh, enjoyed it.”
“You enjoyed it?” Eddie echoes uncertainly.
“Yes. But if it was just an excitement thing, I understand.”
Eddie breathes out, “And what if it was more than an excitement thing?”
Steve takes a step further into Eddie’s space and tilts his head. “Then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”
Eddie swallows harshly and leans forward. “It was definitely more than an excitement thing.”
Steve smiles softly and asks, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Eddie says, slipping his hands into Steve’s hair as he moves forward again.
This time, Steve knows to respond, moving his lips against Eddie’s gently before tracing his tongue against the seam of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth when Eddie lets him in.
When Steve reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to check on Eddie, he gets a quick nip to the lip.
Eddie flushes red. “So, I sometimes bite when I’m happy.”
Steve leans in again and whispers against his lips, “Thank god I’m into that.”
And he’s going to make sure to learn all the ways to elicit these responses from Eddie, but first, he’s going to learn all the ways Eddie likes to be kissed.
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lotties-ashwagandha · 1 month ago
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THE NECESSITY OF BROOMSTICKS
rio vidal x reader, 938 words
you compromise on halloween decorations with your witch girlfriend. silly stupid halloween fluff w no depth just witches because WHERE are the fluff fics for agatha all along.
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Rio looks at the sign with distaste. “What the fuck is witches’ brew?”
You look at the sign you’re hanging in the kitchen, Fresh Witches’ Brew, and smile. It’s decorative, you bought it while you were out today, one of the many Halloween decorations you found to put around the house. “It’s… you know. Potions. Spells. Cauldrons.”
She tilts her head. “No one uses cauldrons anymore.”
You roll your eyes, stepping back from the sign. It matches well with your home, it adds a playful touch you suspect you need in sharing a home with Death. Rio is obviously displeased, though, standing with her arms crossed as she glares up at your decor. She’s always hated the way witches are portrayed in the media this time of year — pointy hats and bubbling cauldrons and, as you love to point out, riding on brooms.
‘I rode on a broom once,’ she reminded you furiously the other day when you had brought home a new throw pillow with a stereotypical green witch with her pointy hat riding on a broom. ‘It was necessity.’
“I bought something else,” you tell her and reach for your bag of decor. She puts on an uninterested expression, but cranes her neck to look over into your bag. This time, you pull out new coffee mugs. Hocus Pocus, they read, in giant orange lettering. You hand Rio one of the mugs.
“Oh,” she looks down at the mug and then up at you — it’s on the tip of her tongue, a remark about how witches aren’t like Hocus Pocus movie witches, but instead she places it on the kitchen counter and with an obligatory smile she thanks you. She gravitates close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching intently as you sort through the rest of your decor.
“I think I’ll go out today and get some decorations, too,” Rio announces and presses a quick kiss to your cheek — you expect to see a black lipstick stain when you next glance in the mirror. She stands up a little straighter, watching you with unwavering resolve. It sounds unnatural and dry when she says, “You’ve put me in the Halloween spirit.”
You nod, though you’re a bit hesitant. She hardly celebrates Halloween like you do — she’s more ancient than your commercialized celebrations, she views them as silly and meaningless compared to those of past centuries. It’s a night that was once viewed with much more reverence, a night that was respected with the severity it demands. Nonetheless, you’re curious as to what she will come up with to use for decorations — it’s hard to envision her trekking through the store for a scarecrow fit for the front porch.
•••
As you are putting up the last of your decorations, Rio comes in through the front door. She hauls something behind her, dragging it in through the door and propping it up on the couch: a life-sized plastic skeleton. Her gaze flits between you and it as she interprets your reaction, and you see the sense of achievement she holds.
“He was on sale,” Rio says, “so I got him some friends. They’re out on the patio sitting around that big cauldron you bought. I covered them in fake blood and drove one of my knives through one of their rib cages.”
Though inanimate, the look the skeleton on your couch wears on its bony face reflects Rio’s excitement. It’s charming, and you can only imagine the way the others she bought look sitting around your witches’ cauldron out on the patio. The vision has a smile pulling at you, and Rio’s pride in her purchases only seems to grow.
“I love him,” you nod to the skeleton on the couch. “Are you going to put him with the others?”
“No,” she digs around in a bag she brought in and pulls out a horror clown mask. “He gets to be a dead clown. You get your witch hats, I get my dead things.”
It’s a compromise you are willing to settle on for her. You know your days of traveling through the house at night for a glass of water have been ripped away until the skeleton is stored for next Halloween, but it’s a fair exchange if it means Rio will be more content in the face of your stereotyped witch decorations.
Rio slips the clown mask onto the skeleton and steps back to examine her work. She pulls out a dagger she keeps on her — you’ve told her that it is unnecessary to carry around knives constantly, but she never listens — and hands it to you. She nods to the skeleton. “Do the honors?”
“What, incriminate myself with clown murder?”
Rio nods enthusiastically. You approach the skeleton, and in a swift motion you drive the dagger into his chest.
“Beautiful,” Rio takes your hand when you come back to stand at her side. She pulls you close, and she leans in to kiss you before she stops and pulls away.
“What are you doing?” You ask, but Rio doesn’t respond, just disappears into the kitchen. “Rio?”
When she comes back, she holds your Witches’ Brew sign. She places it beside the skeleton and together you view the new addition to your seasonal decor.
“There,” Rio says. “Now it’s how it should be.”
A dead murderous clown selling witches’ brew on your couch — an addition to your household that you never would have suspected necessary, but one that makes your fall celebrations feel complete. Now Rio kisses you, peppering your face in more black lipstick stains, love outstanding the transience of autumn.
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gremlingottoosilly · 10 months ago
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Konig X Reader who works at an underground bar as a waitress wearing one of those iconic playboy bunny suits
(I got with a bit of mafia!konig because I am a mad woman) You hate your job. It's only natural that you do. No one would ever like working in a place like this - barely legal, filled with suspicious customers, only one grade above actual sex work. The payment isn't even that good, but you needed someone who would hire without a lot of questions and tips sometimes are better than your whole normal day job makes in two weeks. Meeting with the Vienna crime scene isn't something you wished for when you moved but, then again, at least it's Vienna's crime scene. Nothing too bad. Could be worse. Much worse. You hate this stupid dress, but at least your regular is here. Yes, this place is the worst one to have a regular in, but you're managing to find the best things out of a bad situation. You just...you need a bit of something nice in the pure shit of your current life. Konig provides just that. Yes, he is pulling you on his lap every time you come to him with a drink. Yes, he is fidgeting with the side of your fishnets and rips them away with the speed of light. Anxiously grips your hips and forces you to grind on his dick as you readjust and fire his cigarette. The corner of your dumb-standing bunny ears are poking at his mask, and you both giggle. You know that he has a gun and that the giant thing poking at your clothed pussy isn't it. You don't really care because the guy would respectfully grab your tits a few times, call you beautiful in three languages at once and then leave you a tip that would be enough to cover half of your month expenses. You know that this bar is a shitty place, an illegal place. It's no wonder it grows its own little crime cell - the place ought to be shot up at some point. You just hoped that the dumb suit would provide you with more opportunities to escape...alas, this is kinda impossible. You don't even think about getting out of here alive before you feel someone yanking you by your neck. Pressing you into a big, muscular chest with a familiar smell of expensive cologne, gun oil, and blood. In all of your days serving Konig as your regular customer, you never thought that he would be down bad enough to actually buy your hand in...well, not exactly marriage, but getting you out of the bar. And you didn't know that he liked the fucking suit so much that he bought you three copies and made you wear them around the house. His house. You are not allowed to leave, or else his good will make you into a rabbit stew. Well. At least Konig is still calling you his kleine Haschen.
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