#but he's been through this so many times and then he ends up getting into the shit anyways

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Valentine’s Day

happy valentine‘s day y‘all 👽

Silas Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru pls go to her and tell she‘s the queen of yandere

since so many peeps asked for more Silas smut, here‘s him „cleaning“ you. Don‘t know how lore accurate this is so pls forgive me if i missed something! i also didn‘t really proof-read so oops 😶‍🌫️

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, general nsfw

—————

His long tongue lapped up your sweet and sour juices. You squirmed, both from the explosive pleasuring scale and his firm grip on your wrists.

You had been telling him about the concept of Valentine‘s Day (some true and untrue things because you could), as he thought it was only humans named Valentine that could celebrate their love on this manufactured holiday. Understanding that it meant showing love to anyone you feel deeply towards - even mothers - Silas hurried to remedy his misunderstanding.

You had never seen the elf change that quickly before. He had adorned some kind of elven festive garb and placed several beautiful flowers in his own and your hair (you watched him from the window scurry around the garden to find them), weaving the stems neatly (and fast) into your strands.

He then asked what humans traditionally did on Valentine‘s Day. You mentioned flowers, chocolates and date nights - trying to skirt around the topic of sex - by using the word „cuddling“. It was something you didn‘t really mind with him, he was extremely cozy to lean into, his soft muscles giving ample cushioning, even if he didn‘t let go of you unless you needed to pee.

Your eyes had followed Silas running into the kitchen and frantically throwing ingredients together to make pralines and chocolates. The house smelled amazing. He hectically returned to the living room where you were reading, chocolate smeared all over his dopy face, to ask if you preferred strawberry or raspberry. You had only gotten to „rasp-„ before he quickly turned to finish his craft.

You had thought this wasn‘t half bad. It was really entertaining watching him cook, bake and decorate with the speed of a doom‘s day dad preparing for the end of the world.

A few hours had passed. Silas had picked you up from the couch and carried you quickly to the dinner table, where he had lit so many candle that you had to blink rapidly through the blinding light. The chocolates were all individually wrapped and adorned with sweet messages. The food he cooked looked amazing, but it was frankly hard to see all of the details through the flickering little fires. Silas placed you on his lap and fed you everything, beyond your stomach‘s ability and despite you saying that you were full.

Feeling woozy from the excess food, you lay catatonic in his arms as every squeeze within the cuddle session made you even more nauseous.

„My darling! I love you I love you I love you I love you!“

He peppered kisses on you as you tried to focus on not throwing up. His kisses helped, whatever was in his weird saliva simultaneously healed you while you knew he was trying to prepare you for what he wanted next.

He hadn‘t cleaned you yet. You had tried to distract him with various other Valentine‘s Day traditions (some of which you made up, like how the greatest act of love is having to do an interpretive dance outside with twigs in your mouth which you watched with absolute glee), but he never missed this part of the day regardless of how hard you tried to get him off schedule. He was relentless that way.

You were still too full to move. He knew this.

Laying you out on the bed, you watched him remove your trousers and underwear. The ravenous glare in his eye always threw you off, every time. It was so menacing and filled with what felt like eons of pent up desire that it shut you up instantly.

His green eyes shimmered as he saw you leaking already, ready for him because of his aphrodisiac sputum and whatever else he added to your meal and chocolates.

He never really told you what he gave you.

What would it matter? You couldn‘t stop him anyway.

Silas‘s head lowered and you instinctively raised your arms to try to push his head away. He grabbed them so fast and held them down onto the soft mattress, that your arms sank deeper into the cushioning.

„There, there…let mama clean you up…“

His grip didn‘t hurt, but it was like cement blocks lying on top of your hands. There was no way you could get them out.

He kissed you. Your body squirmed slowly in response, because it just felt so marvelous. The tongue wreathed out of his smiling lips and traced you, mapping out its course. Your back arched expectingly, but he took his time, breathing his temperate air onto you - warning of the incoming impact.

Silas’ long tongue punched into you and you let out a deep rooted moan you had never heard yourself make before. It snaked through your walls like the invader it was and you felt his hands shake with his own pleasure.

He lapped everything up, your water flooding out of you uncontrollably without a stop in sight.

His mouth wrapped around you and sucked gently, every pop from the release making your spine curl even further. The stinging tingling clenching fiercely and surrounding your entire lower body, every lick, kiss and suction pushing your further.

You climaxed many times, from the penetration and from his feverish licking, every new flick causing your hips to convulse furiously.

He was saying something, but you couldn‘t hear with dark moans escaping your throat. He quickly returned to his task, letting you grow weaker with every orgasm.

You knew hours passed, because the light from the window was dimming. He had feasted on you for so long that the mattress was soaked.

Finally letting up, happy with his cleaning job, he pulled you up into a seated position while his growth pointed like a dagger at your face, his tall stature looming over you.

He huffed, as his giant hand caressed your cheek. Your exhausted eyes stared up at him.

„M-milking time darling…“

[simpjaes]

PERVERT. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation Support me on patreon if you'd like!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Being called a creep or a pervert would have felt much more uncomfortable in any other situation, but it’s different right now because Jay is being a creep. A pervert, chubbing up in his pants solely because you’re trying to fuck with him again. He loves that playful tone of your voice when you call him that too, all while bending over in front of him without your panties on, fucking presenting yourself to him, then mocking him for looking. 

It’s very different. You’re very different compared to the previous times you’ve been here. 

He groans to himself as he remembers it. Lying alone in his bed now like he couldn’t have bent you flat over his coffee table not two hours ago. He could have done it, genuinely, you’d not have fought him on it while parading yourself around like that. 

And it’s true that he always loved it when his daughter would bring her friends home from campus for a Holiday. Not for the reasons he loves it now, but still. It was always a different excuse for all the faces he’s met. Family is too busy, home life isn’t great, their family is too strict. Whatever. You come alongside his daughter often under the sad truth that you simply have no one to go home to. You’re alone and in need of some care. So, you come here, to Jay’s home, clearly acting like you’re more interested in his daughter than you are him.

Three times now you’ve come for the holidays and summer, trotting through that front door as if you always belonged here from the start. The first time was the only visit where Jay was casual towards you, somewhat of a father figure even. 

He still remembers what you did at the end of that visit too. You had already been living in his house with his daughter for a month and a half by that point, only a week or two left before going back to your shitty little dorm rooms on campus for the Fall semester. His daughter was at her usual summer job that night, and you were fucking yourself openly on his living room couch. 

You had feigned embarrassment, despite knowing when Jay comes home from work. He saw that shine in your eye though, the way you tried to hold back a smile at the way he looked directly at what your hand was doing, unable to tear his eyes away until you jumped up and apologized, smelling like the alcohol in his cabinet. The week following that should have been awkward too. But it wasn’t. 

Solely because you found reasons to flaunt yourself from that point forward. Something clicked in Jay’s head. Lust, need, curiosity. And he thinks it clicked in your head too, because goddamn did you have nothing to hide at that point. 

And still, even now, he remembers the exact spot on the couch where you had dripped all over it. So many lonely nights after that he found himself on his knees in front of it, nose planted right in that spot and trying to inhale some remnant of how wet you were that day. 

The second time you appeared at his house, he had very nearly forgotten you. He can only get off so many times against his couch, after all, other things were more exciting after so many weeks had passed. He was outside on his porch hanging up christmas lights when he saw you getting out of his daughter’s car. Instantly his cock throbbed, nearly throwing him off the short ladder and onto the ground into a horny mess of man. 

His daughter was there though, and he had to keep that under wraps. Quickly, he had tucked his cock and allowed the loving hug, promising a dinner of shitty food and horrible B movies to both of you before continuing his duty of, well, being a fucking dad to his daughter before being a creep to you.

That visit went well, you were actually quite distracted with his daughter and he was thankful for that, however, the day you left to start spring break was the day you reminded him that you’re…interested. Maybe.

Your daughter had already packed her belongings and gifts up in her car, and you hung around behind, feeling the electricity in the air as always when it’s just you and Jay in the room. Always wondering if he’ll say something or look for too long. You lingered, glancing at him shyly as if he knew, as if he could feel it too. But he still said nothing.

You huffed, hearing the horn outside blare as if to tell you to hurry it up. Staying too long here wouldn’t necessarily alert your best friend of anything weird going on, but there would be questions. So, you hurried it up, reaching into your bag and practically throwing a wrapped box at Jay. 

He quirked a brow, looking at you under half-hooded eyes.

“Christmas was five days ago.” He said to you, almost like a question. “I know.” You had very quickly responded before practically sprinting out the door out of fear of what he’d think. Truly, you couldn’t face him opening it in front of you. 

And Jay stared at that item for about two minutes before fucking it. All night. All day. Practically locked in his room, solidifying that you, his daughter’s best friend, provided a pussy for him. 

All of that circles back to now, still lying in his bed alone after you had let him steal a glance of your pussy openly for the first time. Your third time in his home, this time for much longer than your last winter break.  He’s gotta do something about this. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・  The good news: your best friend left for work an hour ago.

The great news: Jay hasn’t stopped looking at you.

At first, this was scary for you. You recall the night you snuck into the liquor and had a few too many sips, wondering what would happen if Mr. Park saw you doing something scandalous. You’d thought he was hot upon meeting him, all dressed up in his business attire the day you first came here. That crush deepened the second you saw him fresh out of a shower not thirty minutes later, whipping around the kitchen to cook a meal for you and your best friend as if he hadn’t worked for nine hours already.

Something about him was just so unbearably sexy, and when he looked between your legs that day…you knew. 

And you wanted to be sexy for him too. Thankfully, you definitely are. 

The two of you are alone now, but in separate rooms. You can hear him moving around in the kitchen, washing the dishes he had used to throw together a quick breakfast, and you’re sinking into the couch wondering if he’ll ever bring up the pocket pussy you so graciously, and bravely, bought for him last christmas. 

But it stays silent between the two of you, regardless of how loud the eye contact is when you pass each other, or he finds himself in the same room as you.

One hour, two hours, three hours. 

Time is passing too quickly when you’re aware of someone in the room that you want. When you need them to fucking say something at this point because you’ve done your part. 

Who cares if you want to fuck your best friend’s dad before she gets home from work anyway? She’ll never find out. And even if she did, you’re an adult. 

“Mr. Park–” You mumble as he walks through the living room again, seemingly busy with yet another task. 

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck that toy I got for you?” You didn’t have to work up the courage to ask him, the way he acts around you is enough to know. 

Yet, still, he freezes in place as if he’s got a spotlight on him and newspapers being printed this very second at the mere truth of it all. 

“What–” He pauses, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he prepares to lie. “What are you talking about?” 

You lift from the couch, peeking over the back of it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You threw it away?” 

Still, he’s frozen.

“Of course I did.” He lies again, but he sees that disappointed look in your face to not know of how often he fucks it. Thinking of you, no less. “Funny gag gift, but there was no need.”

There was no need? What? Like, he gets around? He fucks around? Other people? 

“Oh–” You start, but quickly cut yourself off to lie. “Yeah, it was a gag gift anyway. Thought you’d laugh.” 

And it’s the way both of you pretend you didn’t just ask him so blatantly if he’s fucked it. A gag gift? Bullshit. You’re so fucking bad at lying it almost makes Jay want to punish you for trying to dumbly. Fucking yourself on his couch, presenting your cunt to him, gifting him something to shove his cock up into. A gag gift.

Right. 

Yet still, he pretends to be normal. Acts like he’s not interested just to see if you keep trying. The funniest part is you both fucking know what you’re doing. Doesn’t change the fact that your best friend comes home and Jay continues to act like nothing has ever happened. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Disappointed sits in your gut as you cuddle under the blankets, feeling the cold fabric grow warm against your skin. This guest room has its charms but you can imagine the only action it’s ever seen has been you under these very same blankets, time and time again, plunging your fingers in and out of yourself with silent moans bitten into a pillow. 

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give Jay another ounce of your lust for embarrassing you like that today. Surely he’s used the toy, right? He’s a man, whether he actually wants you or not, he wouldn’t throw away a toy that only offers pleasure, right?

Maybe that’s all it is, too. Jay being a man. Anyone would look for too long if they’ve seen you fuck yourself. Anyone would stare at your pussy if you put it in front of their face. 

You’re being too confident. In fact, you’re probably just making him uncomfortable at this point. And here you are probably reading an awkward atmosphere for one suffocated by lust and pining. How…fucking embarrassing.

And, so, you count your sheep. 1, 2, 3, 100, 200, 300, 1023, 1024, 1025– and finally, sleep overtakes you.

A heavy sleep, one deep enough to not hear the click of your door or the quiet, socked feet making their way to your temporary bed. In fact, you do feel the bed dip beside you, and in your sleepy haze all you can do is mumble out to your best friend, Jay’s daughter, “Fuck off to your own room.”

There’s a pause, allowing you to fall right back into your deep sleep.

Honestly, if it weren’t for those words, Jay would have already had his hands on you. But he holds himself back, one knee on your bed and head hanging as he looks down at you. Peaceful when you sleep, no mocking or cheeky look in your eyes solely because they’re closed. 

He holds his breath, thinking about all that’s happened. This is okay, right? For him to sneak past his daughter’s room just to get to you at nearly four in the morning? This isn’t weird. 

It’s not. He already knows you want it, and using that toy tonight just…wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He wants the real thing. 

Jay hypes himself, over and over again as he stares down at you, lifting a hand slowly to tug at the blankets. Gently, so softly pulling it down past your waist. He holds his breath at your skewed tank top, allowing a view of your plump tits squished together from the weight of your arm. 

A side sleeper, forcing the curves of your body to be blatant even under the blankets. He stares more, more, more, not yet touching but now continuing to pull the blanket off of you entirely. 

Ah, shorts. Those fucking shorts. The ones that show the curve of your ass when you walk around the house. The ones he’s thought twice about, three times, four times about. Wondering what they’d feel like crumpled in his hands, tearing them off of you. 

And god, his cock is aching. Leaking in his sweatpants, dampening the front of them as he finally leans down, face just inches from your chest as he allows his hand to land on your hip. 

Slowly, he caresses down your body with one hand, and holds himself up with the other. He can smell your lotion on your skin here, so close to your tits. He leans closer, now tucking his hands between your legs, rubbing even more gently at your thighs. And then, he leans back.

All the way up, unsure of what to do, what to touch first, if he should wake you, or if he should just fuck off and pretend yet again that this happened. His hand goes from your inner thighs to your stomach, toying with the hem of your tank top before he reaches the neck line. Right there, he pulls more gently than he did the blankets. 

Hoping, praying he can see.

And see, he does. He effectively pulls your tank top enough to allow one of your nipples to pop out, slowly erecting at the sudden coolness against it, and instantly he’s playing with it. Soft pads of his fingers very lightly touching the tip of your nipple, rubbing little circles before glancing down your body when you shift.

There’s a little sound out of your mouth at this point, something that is similar enough to a moan that lets him utilize his other hand now for more than just holding himself up. He runs it right back to your thighs, both touches barely ghosting against your skin until his hips start to fuck forward on instinct. 

You. Gifted. Him. A. Pussy. 

It’s hard for him though, to stop what he’s doing just to grab at your hand and bump it closer to him, all so he can rest his cock in it. So, he doesn’t, not yet at least. He continues his play like this for now, moving the hand on your thighs up slightly, until you shift again in your sleep and roll onto you back.

There, he readjusts, watching the way your sleepy legs spread open and the way your tit remains exposed for him to keep massaging. His hand intentionally moves to your clothed pussy now though, hoping you’ve gotten wet in your slip.

And you have, apparently, because he can fucking feel it on the tips of his fingers. That’s all he wanted. All he needed.

And so, he doesn’t care if you wake up now. Feeling that right against his skin was enough to send him over the edge. No more enjoying it, no more simmering in the delight of touching you. No. 

He pulls back, practically tearing is cock out of his pants and forcing himself between your legs with no care or even consideration. You had half woken up to the commotion, but your eyes shoot open at the ripping feeling of his cock being shoved into you. All the way to his balls. 

He falls over you, both hands cradling your head as he twitches inside of you, pistoning his hips so fast, so aggressively that you can’t even catch your first waking breath. Instantly, your hands shoot around him, clawing at his back as you come back to reality from the realm of dreams. 

Or, is this a dream? A sweet, wet, desperate dream?

“Shh,” Jay hums against your ear, holding your head so tightly against him as his hips move freely, without his full intent, almost animalistic. “Gonna show you–”

He cuts himself off in a moan, feeling your nails dig into his back before your legs, surprisingly, don’t run. No, you wrap them around his waist. Yet, still, you can’t speak. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hope to fucking god you can adjust to him. He’s…so much thicker than you expected.

You can feel every vein when it pulses, the bulbous head pushing past your walls regardless of how much more wet you’ve gotten. Goddamn, what a way to fucking wake up. 

Expectations will never live up to reality, you suppose. Because honestly, you thought you’d be the one on top of him, taking him for all he’s worth, but somehow the way he moves seems better. The blatant taboo nature of this, and how desperate he sounds against your ear. 

Fuck. 

“Show me?” You manage to cry out quietly, feeling the pain slowly fade to nothing but pleasure. 

“How hard I fuck that toy.” He smiles when you finally speak, relishing in the way you grip him all over. From your fingernails to your legs. Even your cunt squeezes him pathetically tight, so fucking tight. 

You moan now, satisfied that he’s a fucking liar. Confident that everything you thought originally was and still is true. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

✧ please support me on patreon !

[monstersholygrail]

How Your Monster Bf Asks You To Be His Valentine

Dragon bf spends all night clearing out part of the woods in front of your shared home cave, carefully swiping down trees with his giant claws. Then when it’s all perfect he uses his fire breath to form a giant heart in the grass. The words ‘Be My Valentine?’ Etched within the heart. He then sets out a whole breakfast picnic feast for you to enjoy together at sunrise.

When the time comes he wakes you up softly and guides you to the edge of your cave, claws hovering over your eyes. His surprise takes your breath away and you waste no time in accepting, jumping straight into his arms and kissing the daylights out of him.

You two honestly can’t even take your hands off of each other as you try and eat your picnic breakfast. Before you know it, Dragon bf is squirting whip cream over your nipples and lapping it up with his long dragon tongue. Kissing and nipping his way down your body, licking up all the sugary goodness along your curves before his tongue dives down between your thighs. He spends so many hours down there you have to hold onto his horns to steady yourself. Bringing you over the edge again and again, making you weak and breathless. Claiming he has to lick up all the food from your plush form, and what greater meal is there than the taste of your release?

Werewolf bf waits eagerly for you to wake up, desperate to show you what he has planned. When you finally do wake up he hands you a note with a clue on it. Each clue leading you to a memorable place you and werewolf bf had sex. And of course, your bf insists you recreate it for this special occasion, leaving you two to rush around town fucking each other silly.

Each orgasm leading you to grow weaker as the closer you get to the end, the harder he ruts into you. The more this goes on the more you start to feel like a dog playing catch. But seeing your boyfriend’s excitement you don’t have the heart to stop.

Eventually you two reach the club where you two had sex for the very first time. You can hear your boyfriend’s tail wagging behind you, the hard thwack echoing out as it bumps into everything in his path. When you walk in the club is empty but there’s a table in the middle of the dance floor and a banner that says ‘Will You Be My Valentine?’

Your heart nearly bursts with happiness as you tell him that of course you will! He lets out a needy whimper and practically attacks you, pouncing on you and pinning you down against the table. He’s sliding his still hard cock back inside you like it’s been seven years since he’s last taken you and not seven minutes. He fucks you so hard, just too damn happy you said yes, that when you hear the table make a suspicious snapping sound, he doesn’t even stop. He simply picks you up and keeps going until you cum all over his knot.

Naga bf suggests a nice romantic game night for the two of you. It’s not something you two always do, so the change in plans was a welcome surprise. Of course, the romance game night quickly turned into a dirty game night. Filled with strip poker that led to passionate lovemaking and they barely got through a third round of twister before your bf was coiling his body around yours and stuff his cocks back into your overstuffed holes.

But he knew he needed to focus once you guys got to charades. It would be hard given the lust burning in your eyes but this was important to him. He holds up three fingers and you guess three words. He then starts using his tail to spell it out. You ask if that’s cheating but he couldn’t care less. Spelling out each letter of ‘Be My Valentine?’ And growing harder as you voice each one.

You immediately ask him in return, leading you to both agree at the same time like cheesiest couple that’s graced planet earth. And you should’ve expected the instantly coiling of his tail around your body but you still yelp in surprise and he swallows it with a fierce kiss. He keeps you tightly wrapped up against him as he fucks you through the rest of the night, your game night now long forgotten.

[amynchan]

"Another one."

The file is slapped on my desk, courtesy of Jack's hand. I do my best not to sigh, but some endeavors are honestly just doomed to fail.

"New recruit or job transfer?" I know I'll see the answer in the file, but if Jack's gonna be like that, then I can be like this. I don't even open the file.

"New recruit, asshole." Wow. Someone's in a bad mood. Wonder what crawled up his ass. Okay, fine, I open up the file this time.

Oh.

Oh...

You know, years and years ago, this might have been considered a conflict of interest. When there were enough people around, working jobs, that the work could be moved from an involved or easily affected party to an uninvolved one.

Maybe there was a reason for that.

"Hey, if you need to take a lunch break—"

"Don't. Just— just don't."

Well... what else can I do? I swallow up my words, nod, and look at the beaming face of Jack's niece again. Seventeen. Sweet girl. Her grades, like everyone else's, meet standards that might have been actually necessary so many years ago. Technology's moved forward. Life has moved forward. Humanity, as a whole, has evolved out of needing so many jobs that most of today's problems are manufactured. Enough to make people think about them but not enough to cause lasting damage to... well, anything if they aren't taken care of. And the people who skim the jobs we've given them? Nothing really happens. We make the fake problems go away one way or another, and nobody and nothing gets hurt in the process. No real loss.

It's busywork is all I'm saying. People like Sarah get to do busywork. The really exceptional people get hired here. Doing this. Keeping the world running on one side and keeping the population controlled on the other.

"All she wants to do is make a difference in the world." Jack doesn't have anyone else who can do this job for him. I don't think he'd want to, either. Once you know about how the world works, there's not really a way to unknow.

Well...

No need to tempt fate with thoughts like those. I go through Sarah's file.

"There's gotta be something else she likes." And there's lots in here. She's got friends. A robust social life. There are a few ambitions, but we can make some scenarios to fit and satisfy those.

But that's not the problem, and Jack knows it. I know it.

"How am I supposed to face her?" he asks. "She's going to come to family dinners, all smiles, talking about how much better the world is because of her and her coworkers and her friends. How much good she's doing for the world. How she's going to make it better for the rest of us, just wait and see. She's going to barrel headfirst into making humanity a utopia again!"

I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Jack and I both know what utopia can do to people.

When Jack yells, I'm not surprised. His brother was never like Sarah. His sister in law was never like Sarah. As far as I know, nobody in his family has been like Sarah. Sweet. Determined. Good-hearted.

All determination and heart. None of the skill sets or natural talents we need in order to make her fantasy come true.

It would make a lot of sense to make Sarah a politician. Protected. Safe. Somewhere her ambitions can at least feel fed and her dreams feel real, at least.

Enough to make her feel proud. Worthy. Dignified. In this world where corruption is nipped in the bud and no one ever gets shot or goes hungry, a politician's job is easy, and the problems they deal with are minor.

But I know it would also be also enough to drive Jack insane. Meeting with his niece throughout the years, watching her be so proud of achievements that are real to her and hollow to everyone who knows. Hollow to him. It's a special kind of hell we live in.

One hell of a utopia.

In the end, Sarah will become a small business owner. We'll lay down the trail for her to run something that runs along the lines of 20th century ethical practices. She'll have her pick of products, and she'll run the operation in the best way she knows how. We can lay down breadcrumbs of opportunities and support the infrastructure and the product line from where we sit. She'll live a perfectly respectable life in her ethical and lovely shop for as long as she wants until she wants a transfer.

Maybe she'll be a politician then. Who the hell knows.

Not me, and not Jack, by the look of it. I look at him, and he glares back.

Yeah. Okay.

Jack slaps another file on my desk. This time, I just take it. There are some days where turnabout just isn't fair play.

In the near future, 85% of all jobs have been automated, and everyone's basic needs are met for free. You work for a secret organization that creates fake busywork jobs for the majority who aren't qualified for the few real jobs left, but need perceived meaningful labor to stay sane.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

FAVOURITE CRIME

rafe cameron x fem!routledge!reader

(reader has NO specific appearance and can be john b’s adopted sister, nothing is specified !!)

SUMMARY: trapped in a deadly chase through the desert, y/n kills to save rafe—forcing them to confront love, heartbreak, and the ghosts of their past.

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for anon, and i hope you enjoy it :) i kinda’ made it very angsty and emotional because that’s always been my strong suit when writing <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: murder (reader stabs a mercenary), detailed descriptions of blood, death, guns, mild dissociation/panic attack, cursing, angst (LOTS) w/ a soft ending, season 4 finale spoilers (but a slight twist from the actual plot of the episode), exes to lovers, mentions of peterkin’s murder, slight suicidal ideation from rafe (?). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The desert wind howled, whipping up sand in violent gusts as the group pressed forward. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the past few days—weeks, even—settling on their shoulders like an unbearable burden. The heat was suffocating, the air dry enough to sting their throats with every breath.

Y/N’s pulse hammered in her ears, her feet stumbling over uneven terrain as she clutched the scarf tighter to her face. Every muscle in her body ached, exhaustion clawing at her limbs, but there was no time to stop. Not with the Corsairs chasing them. Not with the Blue Crown so close.

She stole a glance over her shoulder. John B was leading the way, his jaw clenched with determination. Sarah was beside him, gripping a makeshift weapon she’d picked up along the way. JJ, Kie, Pope and Cleo were just behind, moving as fast as they could despite the relentless sandstorm threatening to swallow them whole.

And then there was Rafe.

Even in the chaos, she couldn’t stop her eyes from finding him. His buzzed head was covered with sweat and dust, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but his expression was the same as always—intense, unreadable. They had spent the last year avoiding each other, exchanging nothing but bitter glares and harsh words when absolutely necessary. The memories of their past still clung to her, threatening to pull her under if she let them.

They had loved each other once. Maybe, deep down, they still did. But too much had happened. Too many betrayals, too many scars.

And now, none of it mattered. They had bigger problems.

A sudden, sharp noise split through the wind—a gunshot.

“Shit,” JJ swore, ducking instinctively as the bullet kicked up sand nearby.

“They’re gaining on us!” Kie shouted over the storm.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. They couldn’t outrun them forever. The Corsairs had numbers on their side, and they were relentless.

“We need to move faster!” John B barked, urging them on.

But before they could take another step, Rafe suddenly stopped, turning to face the chaos behind them.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N demanded, her voice raw from the sand and exhaustion.

“I’ll buy you time,” Rafe said, already moving toward the oncoming threat.

Her stomach dropped. “No. No, Rafe, we all have to get out of here—”

“You need to go,” he cut her off, his voice firm. “I’ll catch up.”

She hated him. She hated how easily he could make these decisions, how recklessly he threw himself into danger. She hated how, despite everything, her heart still clenched at the thought of something happening to him.

“Rafe—”

“Go, Y/N!”

The look in his eyes was final.

Her heart pounded as she watched him disappear into the storm, his silhouette fading into the swirling sand. The others hesitated only a second longer before John B grabbed her arm.

“Come on!”

Her feet moved on instinct, forcing herself to turn away, to follow the others. But her mind was screaming at her, every part of her telling her to stop.

She was furious at him. She was furious at herself.

But she couldn’t leave him.

Not like this.

Y/N broke away from the group before she could second-guess it, ignoring her brothers shouts as she turned back.

The wind howled around her, sand biting at her skin as she stumbled forward. She could barely see more than a few feet ahead, but she pushed on, heart hammering against her ribs.

Then she saw him.

Rafe was fighting one of the Corsairs, his movements fast but desperate. The mercenary was bigger, stronger, and he was winning.

Y/N watched in horror as the man tackled Rafe to the ground, pinning him down. Rafe struggled, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he fought to break free, but the Corsair had him. The knife in the man’s hand glinted in the dim, dusty light, aimed straight for Rafe’s throat.

And before she even realised what she was doing, she moved.

Time slowed as she grabbed the discarded weapon from the sand—her fingers curling around the cold steel. She had never done this before. Never even considered it. But Rafe’s choked gasp, the raw panic in his eyes, made her body act before her mind could stop her.

She lunged.

The blade sank in.

The mercenary stiffened, his grip on Rafe loosening as a strangled gargle escaped his lips, followed by the maroon liquid. Y/N barely registered the warm, sticky blood that coated her hands, her breath catching in her throat.

The man collapsed.

For a moment, all she could do was stare.

Her hands were shaking, her pulse roaring in her ears. The reality of what she had done hit her like a tidal wave.

She had killed him.

She had never—

A broken gasp tore from her lips.

“Y/N—”

She barely heard Rafe’s voice over the storm.

Her chest heaved, her vision swimming. The blood. The weight of the knife still in her grip.

What had she done?

A rough hand grabbed her wrist, jolting her back to reality. She blinked, eyes snapping to Rafe. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something she couldn’t decipher.

“We have to go,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Her breath was still ragged, her body locked in place.

“Y/N.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, all the anger, all the bitterness between them faded into something else. Something raw. Something terrifying.

He was still alive because of her.

She had done this for him.

She swallowed hard, nodding as she forced herself to move.

They ran.

The desert stretched out before them, the storm still raging, but it didn’t matter. They had to keep going.

The others were waiting. The crown was waiting.

—

The cold was a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat they had just endured. It was almost as if the universe had decided that after the chaos of the storm, they were all entitled to some semblance of relief. But for Y/N, the coolness that surrounded her now did nothing to ease the fire that raged inside her chest. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion; it was the emotional weight of what she had done. What she had to have done.

The group had found shelter in an old, abandoned structure, a weathered building that seemed as though it had been untouched for decades. The walls were cracked, and the remnants of long-forgotten furniture lay in disarray, but it was a temporary haven. There were no Corsairs chasing them, no more sandstorms to blind them. For the first time in what felt like forever, they could breathe, even if it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on Y/N’s lungs.

The howling sandstorm raged outside, but at least in here, they were safe—physically, at least.

Mentally? Emotionally? She was anything but.

The others were scattered around the shelter, catching their breath, murmuring in hushed voices. She vaguely registered JJ cursing under his breath as he checked his wounds, Sarah whispering something to John B, Kie pacing near the entrance. But none of it fully reached her. The weight of what had just happened was pressing down on her, suffocating her.

She could still feel the knife in her hands. Could still see the moment the blade had sunk into the mercenaries neck, the way the man had stiffened, the way his eyes had gone vacant.

Her stomach twisted violently.

She wasn’t a killer.

But she had killed.

For him.

A few feet away, Rafe sat against the opposite wall, arms braced on his knees, his face turned away. He hadn’t said anything since they had run. Since she had saved him.

She should have been relieved that he was still breathing. That the mercenary hadn’t been the one to walk away. But all she felt was hollow.

Her hands trembled as she looked down at them, still stained with dried blood. Her breath hitched, her throat tightening. She needed to get it off. She needed it gone.

Before she could move, though, Rafe’s voice cut through the heavy silence between them.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

It was quiet. Barely more than a whisper. But it sent a jolt through her, snapping her head up.

Her eyes met his.

He was looking at her now, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable. He looked… haunted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she breathed.

Rafe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dust-covered hair. “I told you to go, Y/N.”

“And what? Just leave you there to die?” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t have had to—”

“I had to.”

Her voice cracked, the weight of it all suddenly crushing down on her.

“You think I wanted to do that?” Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving. “You think I wanted—wanted to—”

She couldn’t say it.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his fingers digging into his knees. “You’re not like me, Y/N. You don’t—you don’t do shit like this.”

“Yeah?” She let out a hollow laugh, her eyes burning. “Well, I did.”

His gaze darkened.

“You made me like this,” she whispered.

Rafe flinched.

“You made me like this,” she repeated, stronger this time. “Because of you, I did something I can’t take back. Something I—” She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers curling into fists. “You ruined me, Rafe.”

His face twisted, something breaking in his expression.

“You think I wanted this?” he shot back, his voice suddenly raw. “You think I wanted you to—”

“Then why do you always do this?” she cut him off. “Why do you throw yourself into danger like you don’t give a damn? Like your life doesn’t matter?”

Rafe’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

“Do you even care if you die?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it!”

Rafe stood suddenly, crossing the space between them in two long strides.

“Of course I fucking care!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Then act like it!”

Their faces were inches apart now, both of them breathing heavily. The tension was thick, suffocating.

“You don’t get to be mad at me for saving your life,” she hissed, her hands shaking at her sides. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for it.”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, you don’t get it, do you?”

“Then make me get it, Rafe!” she shouted. “Because I swear to God, I—”

“Because I can’t fucking lose you!”

Silence crashed over them like a tidal wave.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Rafe stared at her, his chest heaving, his blue eyes wide and desperate. “I can’t—I can’t do this if something happens to you. If you—if you die because of me—” His voice cracked, and he shook his head, his expression crumbling. “I can’t, Y/N.”

Her heart clenched painfully.

“You were never supposed to be a part of this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I never wanted you mixed up in my shit, never wanted you to—” He exhaled shakily, his hands clenching at his sides. “And then I lost you, and I thought—”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“You didn’t lose me,” she murmured.

His eyes snapped to hers.

“You left me,” she whispered. “You did that to yourself.”

Rafe’s face twisted in pain.

“I should hate you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to hate you. After everything you did to my family, after everything you put me through—”

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

“But I don’t.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“I still love you, Rafe.”

It felt like the world stopped.

Rafe inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid.

“I hate that I do,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I hate that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I tell myself I should let you go—I can’t.”

A broken sound escaped Rafe’s lips.

His hand lifted—hesitant at first—but then he cupped her face, his thumb brushing over the tear-streaked skin.

“Y/N/N,” he breathed, his voice wrecked.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was desperate.

It was everything they had been holding back for months, for over a year.

Y/N gasped against his lips, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she clung to him, as if she could drown in him and never come up for air. Rafe’s hands were everywhere—on her waist, in her hair, gripping her like he was terrified she might disappear.

Like he needed her just as much as she needed him.

The kiss was messy, frantic, a collision of emotions too overwhelming to put into words. It tasted like salt, like blood, like heartbreak.

Like love.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in the heavy silence.

Rafe swallowed hard, his fingers still gripping her tightly. “I never stopped,” he admitted. “Not for a second.”

Her heart shattered.

There was so much between them. Too much.

But right now, none of it mattered.

Right now, all she could feel was him.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a sweet one to write :’) i’m a SUCKER for exes to lovers so if anybody has any drew or rafe requests with that trope then pls drop them !!

i really hope it’s what you asked for anon <3

[heavyhitterheaux]

40-22

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: You and your husband watch the Super Bowl along with your best friends in NOLA

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Seeing as Joe was doing a press run the week leading up to the Super Bowl in New Orleans, you decided that the two of you should have a party for it at your new house that Joe had surprised you with as a Christmas gift. A party that would literally only be your best friends, but still a party nonetheless. He had noticed that you were missing being in Louisiana more than usual and it had actually been in the works for him to buy it since the beginning of last year.

In order to get your input without actually telling you about it, he would show you different pictures that the designer was sending Joe and as soon as you had given him the approval, everything was a go.

This was your first time actually seeing the house in person and you immediately fell in love. There was a hallway leading to what would be considered the man cave of the house and the walls were decorated with pictures of both you and Joe at your time at LSU. Seeing this definitely made a few tears slip out that you of course blamed on your hormones being all over the place.

Ja'Marr and Justin of course wanted to see the house and essentially invited themselves over, even though they were going to be invited anyway. You had sent a quick text to Erin and Alisha to see if they were free and they of course said yes to be able to spend time with you.

Joe told you that he could order food so that the two of you didn't have to cook and he didn't want you to be on your feet for a long period of time.

Of course he was met with resistance from you since cooking was one of your many love languages the last thing he wanted was an argument to come out of it. He knew once you made up your mind about something that it was the end of the conversation. But if it was something that he was dead set on not letting go, he had no problem letting you know how he felt. But for now, he would just help you with what you decided to make and make sure you got breaks in between.

As you were making your famous chili cheese dip that you knew was going to go in less than ten minutes, Joe had just finished seasoning the wings and was about to put them in the oven.

He had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

“You okay? And are my other two babies okay?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“Yes, babe. I told you that I'm fine. And they're fine too.” You replied and gave him a small smile before he gently moved you to the side to open the oven.

“As soon as we're done, you need to sit down and put your feet up so they don't swell.”

“Yes, Doctor Burrow.”

“Princess, I'm serious.”

“I know, I know and I promise I will. Just have one more thing to make and then I'll sit.” You replied as you reached up to kiss him.

“What else do you need help with so I can make this go faster?”

“They’re just cheesesteak sliders, but if you can start cutting up everything that would be helpful.”

“On it.”

When all of the food was done, Justin was already in the kitchen so you told him to come and get his plate so that way you could sit down yourself.

“Justin, it’s hot on the bottom, take the sides of it.” You told him as he was reaching for it.

“Uh huh.” He replied as he was still looking at the television and not at you.

“Don't touch the bottom. It's hot, move your hand away from it.”

Justin once again nodded and you decided since he wasn’t going to listen to just let him learn the hard way.

“Ow! DAMN, THAT’S HOT.”

“I know and I told your stupid ass two times not to touch the bottom, but you were so interested in looking at the TV instead. And you better not break my damn plate either.”

“Joe! Your wife was nicer before you got her pregnant!” Justin yelled towards him and Joe looked at him confused.

“Says who!?” Ja’Marr asked as he immediately chimed in and you gave them both a death glare.

“No, Justin, you just like to do stupid shit.” Joe shot back and Ja'Marr stifled a laugh.

“Next time I'm not cooking shit for yall. I can't even see my damn feet and they're probably swollen and I'm stressed because I'll have to probably call 911 messing with both of you. Justin, take this plate and get out my face. IMMEDIATELY.”

“But we didn't ask you to cook since I…”

“Ja’Marr keep talking and I'm going to make sure the next time I cook for you will be at your funeral.”

Ja’Marr immediately threw his hands up in defense as you went to sit down while everyone fixed their plate.

“Damn that food is about to be good as shit. Baby, can I request meatballs?” Joe asked you and you stifled a laugh.

“SERIOUSLY?” Ja’Marr asked Joe as he shrugged.

“No, Joe you got it backwards. It's funeral chicken and baby shower meatballs.” Erin told him while laughing and Ja’Marr made a face at her.

“Not you encouraging his nonsense….”

“Well Erin come through with the meatballs for our baby shower.” Joe told her and she quickly agreed.

“All you had to do was say the word. Consider it done.”

“So, no one is going to mention how my twin is planning my funeral?” Ja’Marr asked the entire room and everyone gave him a blank stare.

“No.” Everyone replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“She’s older and she's pregnant? Yeah, not getting into that one.”

“Some friends yall are.”

The game was just starting and Joe told you to sit down while he fixed your plate for you. He made sure you were comfortable with your multiple pregnancy pillows and put your feet up for you.

“The Eagles have one damn job and if they don't come through, I will RIOT.” Alisha said as she sat to the left of you while Erin was on your right.

“You and me both.” You told her as you turned up the volume.

It was during the second quarter when you suddenly got bored. The Chiefs were playing like they had never seen a football before in their lives and you honestly couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Are they really serious right now?” Justin said out loud and in disbelief.

“Apparently they are.”

“I told yall that they aren't as good as everyone thinks they are. Because they are playing like straight ass.” Alisha added and everyone couldn't help but to laugh.

“Jalen is cute.” Erin said and you gave her a small smirk.

“AHT! Princess, wipe that smirk off your face!” Joe said and you held your hands up in defense.

“But I…”

“Nope, don't even try it. I saw it.”

“I only have eyes for you and you know that! Last time I checked I am pregnant with YOUR children."

"Mm hmm. Sure."

"Such a big ass baby." You quietly said, but he still heard you.

"Want to repeat that Mrs. Burrow?"

"Nope, I'm good." You replied while taking a sip of your lemonade while both Erin and Alisha laughed.

“As I was saying before, Joe rudely interrupted. Have you seen the entire team!? It's a TRAIN. And I wouldn't get off until I had a taste of the entire roster.” Alisha exclaimed, and you couldn't help but to laugh.

"Alisha, I heard that." Joe said, and she held her hands up and acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

“You know that there's 52 people on the roster, right?” You asked her and she immediately nodded her head.

“Like I said before, it's a train.”

Joe was on his second plate of food and focused on the game when you decided to send him a text.

Wifey- Baby, I'm bored.

Joey- You don't want to watch the game?

Wifey- Yes, but at this point I want it to be halftime. But in the meantime could you do something for me?

Joey- Of course baby. What do you need?

Wifey- For you to put your dick inside me

As soon as Joe read the text, his eyes went wide and he glanced at you with a smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

Joey- We have seven minutes until halftime

Wifey- I'm not missing Kendrick so we have to do it now

Joey- Go upstairs and I need to teach you a lesson for having a smirk on your face about that quarterback who ISN’T me

Wifey- So dramatic as usual. Just like a Sagittarius. Smh.

Joey- Just you wait until I get you alone

Once you got up, Joe was following your lead and Ja’Marr suddenly made a face at both of you.

“Where yall going?”

"Just going to the bathroom." You told him, but looked at you confused.

"And taking your husband with you?"

"Look Ja’Marr! My whole body is swollen and I can't see past my boobs!" You exclaimed as you crossed your arms and continued walking towards the stars as Joe stifled a laugh.

“Those things are going to be Z cups by the time the twins get here.” Alisha said without hesitation.

"So, you don't know where your vagina is located anymore?"

“Ja'Marr, if your twin wants to get her cheeks clapped by her husband who has clearly done it multiple times before since she's pregnant, that's her business. That's obviously where they're going.” Erin told him and he made a gagging noise.

"Bam Bam, keep talking and I will choke you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

"Unless you're volunteering to wipe my ass, baby brother. By all means, come on.”

“NO! I'm good!”

“That's what I thought and that's why you need to mind your damn business.”

“You're my twin so you are my business.”

By this time, you had reached the top step and rolled your eyes before you responded to him.

“Leave me alone, Ja'Marr!”

“Never going to happen!”

As you entered your bedroom, you were attempting to walk towards the bed before Joe tugged your arm in another direction.

“If I take you on the bed, you know for a fact we'll be up here for the rest of the game and you are entirely too loud. No offense, princess.”

“Hmm, good point. Bathroom it is. And if Ja’Marr would have minded his business we would have been up here sooner! We have like 4 minutes now.”

“Then stop talking and let me take care of my wife.” Joe told you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

As you were coming down the steps, Erin was grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at you and you instantly laughed at her.

“Nasty ass fuckers. Couldn't have even waited until we left.”

“I seriously went to the bathroom, dumbass!” You replied as you took your rightful seat in between your best friends just in time to see Kendrick come on the screen when Alisha leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I know that white boy be turning you every way but loose.”

You tried so hard to keep a straight face but failed miserably as Ja'Marr shot you a look.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You'll never learn, will you?” You asked and he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the TV.

“Probably not. You know I'm nosey.”

“And no lie was told.”

It was now the third quarter when the Chiefs finally decided to score, which clearly still left everyone unimpressed.

“See that's what they asses get for making sure we didn't make it in the playoffs.” Ja’Marr muttered to your husband who quickly agreed with him.

“Look, I'm just happy that I don't have to look at Taylor Swift for four quarters.” Erin confessed with Alisha letting out a laugh.

“And her boyfriend has done absolutely nothing this entire game.” You added before getting up and sitting on Joe's lap.

You sat to the side so that you could put your head on his shoulder and your feet in Ja’Marr's lap who quickly protested.

“Why are these things on me?”

“So they don't swell. Help a pregnant lady out. And besides I fed you and you're in my house. And I just got a pedicure so leave me alone!”

“She has a point.” Joe said and he crossed his arms in response.

“My going rate for babysitting those two when they get here is 50 dollars. EACH.”

“BULLSHIT. We watch baby uno for FREE.” Joe exclaimed in response.

“Because he's a low maintenance baby! Yall kids are about to be spoiled as hell with big ass heads that look like Joe. That last sonogram picture was wild. Count on having a c-section.”

“HEY! MY HEAD IS NOT THAT BIG!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Shiesty.” Justin muttered and it took everything in you not to laugh. You turned away from Joe, but he could feel the vibration of your laugh since you were leaning against him.

“My own wife laughing about jokes about me, I see.”

“Um, pookie… have you seen your baby pictures? It's always been big.” You asked him and he turned up his nose.

“I…forget about that Birkin you wanted for Valentine’s Day.”

“Hold on! Wait! I take it back!”

“Nope. Damage is done. I'm sleeping in the guest room.”

“Okay Mr. Dramatic.”

“AYE! ANOTHER TOUCHDOWN!” Justin exclaimed as he raised his arms in excitement.

“Andy needs to whoop everybody's ass on that field.”

“I think the Eagles got him covered in that department.”

“No 3 peat is happening at this point.”

It was now the final seconds of the fourth quarter and it was now set in stone that the Eagles had won. They were interviewing Jalen when a thought popped up in your head.

"I can not believe they got their ass beat this bad. I feel like a curse has been lifted." Justin said, and you stifled a laugh.

“I expect everyone in this room that has an NFL contract to be in the super bowl next year. Do with that information what you will.” You said and all three of them looked at you.

“If the front office actually gets its shit together so we can keep everyone we need.” Joe said before rolling his eyes.

“Are we going to make bets? I think we should.”

“Sure when the regular season starts, but my husband needs to take me to Disney World after he wins. And Ja’Marr is on babysitting duty.”

“Fine, 250 dollars an hour. EACH.”

"You must be out of your damn mind." Joe told him in response as he looked at him in disbelief while you were laughing.

[wcnderlnds]

scared of loving you | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: spending valentines day with your best friend/roommate is the norm but this year ends a little differently ・❥・word count: 1.2k ・❥・warnings: alcohol mention but that's about it ・❥・ authors note: happy valentine's day!! here's some tooth rotting fluff to celebrate <3

Valentine’s Day always seemed to come around so fast. People always seemed so excited for it, always on the search to find someone to spend it with. It was nice in a way that it spurred people to put in the effort but it had never been a day you looked forward to. It wasn’t that you didn’t like – you did but after one bad Valentine’s as a teenager, you never really cared. It was just like any other normal day. One that you would spend at home sat in front of the TV eating as many snacks as you could get your hands on. 

Love was great, amazing even but you had never experienced it properly. It was like you had closed yourself off from it which was ridiculous because you loved love. Or what you knew of it anyway. People told you it could be one of the best and worst things you could ever experience. Having someone that cared for you no matter what? Amazing but putting all your trust in them only to have them break your heart? Not so great. Maybe it was best you hadn’t experienced it because then that way you didn’t have to get hurt. 

The sound of the TV echoed through the walls of the apartment, your feet tucked underneath you as you rested on the couch, some cheesy Hallmark movie playing. If anyone asked, you’d say you liked to laugh at them but the reality was you always seemed to get invested in them. The stories they told (albeit some of the corniest to exist) were cute. Never in a million years would they happen to anyone but it was nice to dream. 

Popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth, a loud yawn was heard from the doorway which could only mean one thing. Seunghyun – your roommate and best friend of the last ten years – had finally woke up. Yesterday had been a busy press day for him so he’d spent most of the day sleeping. You knew better than to wake up a sleeping Seunghyun so you left him to it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him padding into the room, throwing himself down on the couch next to you. 

“Not got a hot date today?” He asked, reaching over to steal some popcorn from the bowl you were cradling. You slapped his hand away much to his dismay. 

“You ask me that every year and my answer is always no. You know I never do anything today,” you shrugged, watching as he made a move again to grab some popcorn. Giving in, you placed the bowl on the small coffee table in front of you. 

“Yeah, and? One day you are going to have a hot date and I’ll be all alone.” 

“You go find a hot date.” 

“Why do I need to when I’ve got a pyjama princess right here?” He teased, raising his brows at you as he finally popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth.  

It was hard to stop the blush creeping on to your face. Seunghyun always did this. Through the whole time you’d known him, he always flirted with resulting in you blushing each and every time. He was the only person who could ever manage that feat, something he knew and used to his advantage. Your eyes looked down at the pyjama’s you were wearing, shrugging your shoulders. He was the only person you would ever feel comfortable wearing them around. With Seunghyun, you had no worries. There was no fear of him judging you, it was nice to feel like you could be completely yourself. He allowed you the safe space you had always wanted. It was one of the many reasons he was your favourite person to be around. It was also a massive bonus that he was extremely handsome. Maybe even the most handsome person you’d laid eyes on. You had told him so one night when you were drunk and he’d never let you live it down. 

“Wanna order pizza and watch these stupid movies with me?” You asked, smiling over at him. You might not have had a date but you had your best friend. That was all you needed. 

“Guess I can suffer through these stupid movies for you.” 

It was a few hours later, half eaten pizza on the coffee table, an empty bottle of wine on the floor as the two of you sat laughing watching yet another cheesy movie. The wine in the glass you were holding almost spilled out over the edge onto the carpet but you didn’t care. You were having too much of a good time. Seunghyun was sat right beside you, your head on his shoulder as you lazily grinned at the TV screen. His arm was around your shoulder, his fingers twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. It was the first time in a long time you felt content, curled up beside your best friend. 

But, he was more than just a best friend, wasn’t he? 

There had always been a hint of something more, something deeper between you and Seunghyun. There was a reason that for the last ten years the two of you had spent Valentine’s Day together, why you’d much rather be lazing around with him than going out and actually finding someone. There was a reason he made you laugh harder than anyone else, why your stomach would always do flips when he smiled at you. 

It was a terrifying realisation. Was this actually what being in love felt like? If it was, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted it to stop. The feeling of contentment, of feeling so... cared for and appreciated – it was everything. 

Seunghyun’s cheek rested on the top of your head, the domesticity of the moment making your heart pound. As if sensing you were lost in your thoughts, he decided to speak up, his voice softer than normal. “What’s going on in that head of yours, princess?” 

The silly little nickname he often gave you made you feel dizzy, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a silly little smile. Your free hand rested on his thigh, the contact sending Seunghyun into a frenzy much to your obliviousness. “Thinkin’ about how I think I might be in love for the first time.” 

“Oh yeah?” He lifted his head up to look at you, taking your glass and placing it on the table. “Who’s the lucky person?” 

You could hear the hope in his voice, the way his fingers gently brushed against your cheek now. You met his dark eyes, the gentleness of your voice almost taking him back. “I think you already know.” 

There was no hesitation as his hand rested on the back of your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a kiss. All the hidden feelings finally getting their release. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his hand tangled in your hair. It had started off slow, gentle but soon turned passionate. Your head cloudy as the feeling of his lips moved against yours in perfect harmony. It was very reluctantly that he pulled away, his breath heavy as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he breathed, barely giving you a chance to reply before his lips were back on yours. 

Maybe Valentines Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @come-as-you-are-111 @maskedcrawford

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, (some) plot, Angst (bearable), Smut - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your love life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those wines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

-------------

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Pose For Me Baby｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

☆Tim Drake-Wayne x reader

☆Cw: yan vibes, consensual and nonconsensual picture taking, no pronouns used, implied stalking, implied black reader, fem reader

"Tim?"

You groan quietly, reaching for the space on the bed your boyfriend normally takes up. It's cold, and missing his lithe body. It makes you frown.

"I'm right here, go back to bed."

"No."

You figure he must be up doing some more late night working, so you don't even bother to open your eyes. You're much too tired to wait until your eyes adjust, or take in his large, glamorous bedroom. Instead you just pull over his pillow, burying your face in the lingering smell of his shampoo.

There's a click, and a gentle flash.

Finally, you peek open your eyes, if only to grumble at Tim for having his laptop brightness up so high.

You don't notice the way your nose scrunches in discontent, the way your fingers involuntarily curl in the sheets, the way strands of your hair have slipped out of your bonnet and in front of your face, but Tim does.

Another click, another flash.

You whine and shy away, slamming your eyes closed at the intruding light.

"Tim."

"Sorry babe."

Once more, your eyelashes flutter as you push yourself into wakefulness, the dark room beginning to clear up in your vision.

The same ornate wallpaper and old money furniture stare at you just as hard as you stare at it. Your brain is still sluggishly taking in your surroundings. All the things you see every time you spend the night in Tim's room look brand new for a few moments, like you're unable to recognize them, until cognizance finally reaches you again.

There stands your boyfriend, huddled over his tripod, pressing buttons on his camera. He's clad in fluffy pajama pants and warm socks, forgoing a shirt. His black hair is messy from bed head, cow licks flying here and there, defying gravity and framing his face like horns atop his head.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing." Tim waves you off, continuing to look through his camera roll. "I'm taking some pictures is all. Just go back to sleep."

You only sigh, putting your face back into his pillow, and pulling the giant duvet up to your neck. Without Tim in bed holding you, the room's chill is unkindly brushing your shoulders. You shiver, and curl your legs into your stomach.

Click. Flash.

You groan again, not even bothering to open your eyes.

You don't see the way Tim's hand clenches around his camera, nor the way he almost drools over your sleep prone body. He's practically shaking behind the tripod, consumed with love, and lust, and need, and so many other emotions that he's never bothered to put a name to.

You lay none the wiser, bemoaning the cold bed. It makes Tim quite jealous, if he's honest. To him, you are an angel. Nothing short of heaven itself. He wishes he could contain himself the way you do.

You are satisfied with words and touches. You are not shy of saying how much you love him, or giving him hugs, innocent kisses, or sloppy make outs. But he feels like Icarus being burned by the sun if he even reaches out to hold your hand.

It's so much easier to pull out his camera and snap a few pictures. He doesn't have to touch you, or look directly at you, and at the end of it he gets to put you in his pocket and carry you wherever he goes, can take you out and look at you whenever he pleases. He can freeze whatever moment in time he wants, and come back to visit at his leisure.

Taking pictures of you, half asleep with a thin tank top on, almost makes Tim nostalgic. Under the nostalgia, he feels disgusted with himself.

After all, he's been snapping pictures of you since you first met, back when you had no clue about his vigilante life. Back then, he would take pictures from the rooftop beside your building, and then spend an hour talking himself into actually coming to your window to talk to you.

You of course, have no clue about the first part. He's planning on keeping it that way. Tim is self aware enough to know taking pictures of girls he likes via their bedroom windows is more than creepy as fuck, it's literally part of his job to beat up other creeps who do that. But when it's you? When it's him? He doesn't care about that at all. It's different, when it's you two.

He adjusts his tripod, and takes another picture.

Click... Flash.

"Tim, baby, please come back to bed."

It feels good to take pictures of you with your knowledge. It feels good to not have to hide anymore.

"Just a couple more, I promise."

Tim is unhinged !! Tim has no sense of boundaries !! Tim is a stalker !! The masses screamed. So I answered their call !!

Oh Tim who is a weird freak of a man, they could never make me hate you♡

Happy Valentine's day 🩷🩷 probs not the most romantic thing I couldn't posted but IDC... It's very romantic to me okay ???

｡⁠☆Requests open

[solxamber]

For the Valentine’s Day event

Cater, Romantic, APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars.

Specifically the lyrics

“Kissy face, kissy face sent to your phone, but I'm trying to kiss your lips for real”

Always excited for your content!

And don’t overwork yourself! :D

"Don't you want me like I want you" || Cater Diamond

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual pining, Friends to Lovers

It starts, like most things with Cater, as a joke.

A playful nudge here, a winking emoji there — an endless game of Are we? Or aren’t we? that neither of you have ever bothered to define.

You’re both out of NRC now, graduated and trying to figure out what adulthood means — which, for you, seems to be juggling work, friendships, and whatever this is with Cater.

It’s never been serious, not really.

Because Cater doesn’t do serious. He’s all smiles and filters and perfectly crafted captions. He’s the kind of person who knows exactly how to flirt without ever letting it get too real, like love is something that only happens on the other side of a camera lens.

But then there’s you.

And, well… you like to push buttons.

It’s a game between you.

A push and pull, a dance along the line of something real—so close to crossing, but never quite.

The stolen moments stretch between you: a lingering touch when you pass him something, a glance that holds too long before one of you looks away. The way your voice gets softer when you say his name, like it’s something precious, something that belongs only to you.

And Cater… Cater tells himself it’s fine.

It’s fine if you never say anything, because he’s good at this. At pretending. At keeping things light and easy, at making sure no one ever sees the part of him that wants.

But sometimes, it gets hard.

Like when you call him late at night, your voice warm and sleepy, saying, “Hey, you’re still up, right?”—and he always is, even when he wasn’t before.

Or when you lean into his space without thinking, close enough that he could just tilt his head and—

But no.

You don’t cross the line.

So he won’t either.

Until one afternoon, when the line between flirting and something more starts to blur.

It’s one of those lazy Sundays — the kind where the sky’s too blue and the breeze too warm to do anything productive. You’re at Cater’s place, sprawled out on his couch, scrolling through your phone while he fiddles with the playlist.

“Hey,” he calls from the other side of the room. “What do you think of this one?”

A sultry beat hums from the speakers — something slow and sweet, a little too romantic for a playlist that's supposedly just background noise.

You raise an eyebrow. “Feeling a bit sappy today, Diamond?”

Cater winks. “What can I say? I’m a man of many layers.”

You roll your eyes but your heart skips a beat — because that’s what he does to you. Makes you laugh, makes you want, makes you wonder if this little game you’re playing is ever going to end.

He flops down next to you, close enough that his thigh brushes against yours. He’s still grinning, but there’s something else in his eyes — a flicker of something that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, voice light but careful, “for all the kissy face emojis you send me… kinda rude you’ve never actually kissed me.”

Your brain short-circuits.

It’s not like Cater hasn’t said things like this before — he’s always toeing the line, always dangling his words just far enough out of reach that you can’t grab onto them.

But this time feels different.

This time, his voice is a little too soft. His smile is a little too real.

And maybe it’s the playlist or the lazy afternoon sun or the weeks of almost piling up in your chest — but before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

And kiss him.

Not a quick peck. Not a flirty brush of lips.

A kiss. Slow, lingering — the kind that tastes like every unsaid word between you.

For a second, Cater doesn’t move. His brain seems to short-circuit just like yours did, frozen with wide eyes and parted lips.

But then — oh.

Then his hand slides to your waist, his other hand tilting your chin up as he kisses you back, just as slow, just as deep.

And it’s not a joke this time.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Cater just stares at you.

“Uh,” he says, voice hoarse, “was that… to prove a point or…?”

You burst out laughing, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He’s laughing too, but there’s a softness to it now — a sweetness underneath the usual teasing. His fingers are still resting on your waist, like he’s afraid to let go.

“So…” he starts again, and for once, his voice wavers. “Are we… still just flirting, or…?”

You tilt your head, biting your lip — the same playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t know, Diamond. Wanna kiss me again and find out?”

Cater laughs, breathless. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I think so.”

You grin, and it’s the same smile he’s always loved—the one that makes him feel like the world isn’t so scary after all.

And this time, when he leans in, he doesn’t hesitate.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[playboysturns]

I don't know if this is a request or if it's just me wanting to share this extremely specific idea, but imagine Chris and the reader dating in secret for a LONG time and the news comes out on the internet, the reader starts getting hate and in every video there is someone commenting something like "Why did he choose to be with her?" and she simply responds to the comment with a video of her and Chris to the sound of "Pepsi" by Lana Del Rey (I don't know, this sounds really funny in my head)

drabble #1 'my 🐱 tastes like pepsi cola'

summary : Chris and reader finally make their relationship public to their fans on valentines day.

You met the triplets when you both moved to LA at the same time. It was easy to talk cause you were all youtubers and the four of you quickly became close since you didn’t know many other people in the city.

Chris and you hooked up when he was hanging out at your house, later confessing his feelings to you which you mutually shared. The both of you decided to take it slow as neither of you had been in a relationship before.

All your friends knew, it wasn’t a secret and there had been times where they had almost slipped up saying that you were both together.

You were seen hanging out with the three of them many times but fans had chalked it up to you being good friends with them, though none of you ever directly posted each other on your tiktok or youtube.

Chris wanted to keep your relationship private from the fans and you agreed since you both had seen first hand how they reacted when the triplets were friends with women. At this point though you been dating for a little over 2 years now, and finally decided it was the right time to share it with your fans.

“Wait why am I nervous” you giggle looking once over at the tiktok Chris was about to post. it was a video using the low life audio, it started with Chris laying on the couch singing the ‘sniper sniper sniper’ bit then the camera flipped to you show you straddling him lip syncing the ‘wifey wifey wifey’ part.

“Why? you look good,” Chris grips your hips, you were still in the same position as the tiktok.

“I don’t know what to caption it,” you hand Chris his phone watching him type a caption then showing it to you.

‘my valentines for the past 2 years ❤️🪄’

“Okay good, should I post it now,” You smile, both nervous and excited.

“Babe just press post,” Chris mutters from beneath you and you do just that putting his phone on silence and placing it on the coffee table.

“Right, no going on our phones for at least an hour,” you say Chris nodding in agreement. He picks up the remote to put on a movie whilst you lay down on top of him to cuddle.

“What the fuck!”

You move your head from the tv as Nick runs up the stairs from the front door his phone in hand, quickly followed by Matt.

“What?” Chris asks, Nick rolls his eyes before showing you his screen which was the tiktok you had posted.

“Kid we were literally at the In-n-Out drive through, then Nick screamed so loud I almost shat my pants,”

“It was not that loud so chill,” Nick puts his hand up.

“Not that loud, Nick I nearly rear-ended the car in front,” Matt replies, sternly.

“What else was I meant to do?” Nick rebuttals, stalking over to where you and Chris were laying.

“Not fucking scream? Acting like we didn’t know that they were dating the whole time” Matt sits on the couch.

“I mean it’s lowkey a monumental,” you feel Chris’ voice vibrating beneath your head.

“Exactly! we could’ve had a little heads up about it? Like my mentions are going fucking insane,” Nick huffs, turning his attention back to his phone. “The comments are like, kinda crazy right now so I wouldn’t check them.”

Now you were curious, sitting up you grab your phone that was besides Chris’ on the table quickly go to the tiktok on his account.

COMMENTS

y/n and chris sturniolo dating ⌕

@ sturnluvr : ain’t no way 💀

@ babysturns: are we skipping over the fact he put 2 years?

@ chrissgf : no hate but why would he choose her out of everyone…

↳ @ y/nclips : coming from an acc w no posts!

@ chrissturngirlfriend : i’m literally sobbing wtf

@ freshchris : do they do it 🥺

@ quenlinblackwell ✓ : MY PARENTS YESSS

@ stuniolosuperfan : fuck it atp matts wife and kid jokes may be real

↳ @ mattybswife : they are 😊 revealing myself as his wife ❤️

↳ @ mattsturnsbm : @ mattybswife tell him that the kids miss him 💔

@ princessy/n : what the fuck is wrong with the comments

@ strombolitriplets : i’m crying wtf do they even talk about 😭

@ madisonbeer ✓ : i love you both 🤍

@ sturnioloclips : TWO YEARS?

@ y/nswife : THIS IS AI UNTIL Y/N POSTS ON HER ACC!!

↳ @ princessy/n : yk damn well.. 😭

@ sturniolofan1 : someone tell me this is an early april fools.

@ user18274730 : wait cause they’re actually so cute wtf

You comb through them laughing, honestly you thought the reaction would be worse. Chris on the other hand was reading the comments over your shoulder.

“Fuck. I’m sorry about them,” Chris apologises, kissing your shoulder.

“Baby it’s fine. I thought they’d be way harsher” you turn to look at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“But your fans are so supportive.,” Chris sighs sadly.

“They’re just going to have to grow up and get over it,” Nick says turning his phone off to watch the movie on the screen.

You were both getting ready to go to sleep.

It had been a few hours since you had posted the video, and though you were fine with the response it was clear Chris was still a little upset.

“I want to turn the comments off,” Chris says scrolling through them, you sigh taking the phone from his hand. “Or at least respond to them.”

“There’s no need to turn the comments off or respond to anything,” you take a look at them yourself, the tiktok had blown up already having a million likes.

“But there is, you’re literally the most important person in my life and they can’t even respect it,” Chris throws himself onto his bed. “They’re asking why I would choose you when you’re the one that’s out of my league.”

“Okay we’ll do this then,” you click to video reply ‘@ chrissgf : no hate but why would he choose her out of everyone…’ selecting an audio before sitting next to Chris on the bed.

“What are you doing?” he watches in confusion as you put both of you on the camera.

You smile as you start the tiktok ‘my pussy taste like pepsi cola’ blares from his phone. You lipsync the song causing Chris to smile before the audio ends.

“There now they know,” you grin, Chris taking his phone to caption it before posting.

‘She tastes better than pepsi 😛’

notes from me : ik this wasn't super specific if it was a request but it got me thinking! this is my first time writing anything in a very long time so please bare with me, im sorry if the spacing is wrong this was just a quick write for the request. thank you @oceanabyssal

Happy Valentines Day! 💋 - playboysturns

[fangdokja]

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

❤︎ Synopsis. He was the omnipotent author, the cruel god behind the screen—until he decided to step into the story himself, turning ink and paper into flesh and bone, pain and pleasure. Now, trapped within his twisted narrative, you are both his muse and his masterpiece, rewritten and defiled with every stroke of his pen.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 6,077

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, cannibalism + vore, gore, torture, death, angst + tragedy, bombing, penetration using objects, forced penetration, implied + slight masochism

♡ Yandere! Author, who never gets jealous. Not in the way normal people do. He doesn’t feel that tight coil of possessiveness, that human bitterness. No, his jealousy is something far worse—something that twists, mutates, and takes shape in the form of a game.

"You’re distracted," he says, voice lilting, amused. "Your attention is... scattered. Like a kitten chasing too many strings."

He taps his fingers against his chin, head tilting in mock thought. "And here I thought you’d learned by now. That the only string worth chasing is mine."

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with others, not with anger, but with a quiet, lingering curiosity.

"You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?" he hums, stepping closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So kind. Picking up strays, offering soft words, being the ever-so-gentle protagonist. How utterly dull."

He chuckles, a sharp, manic edge cutting through the sound.

"But I suppose it’s my fault," he sighs. "I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you walk around, letting you play with all these little characters. Letting you breathe."

His eyes darken, his grin stretching too wide.

"I should remind you of what happens when you take my attention for granted."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crafts stories of tragedy and despair, who delights in pain and suffering like a composer weaving a symphony.

"But this time," he says, fingers tracing idly along your arm, "I won’t just watch."

His grip tightens, just enough to make you feel it.

"You like playing hero, don’t you? Always trying to defy the script, to make things better for others?" He exhales a mockingly wistful sigh. "How sweet. How naive."

A shiver of amusement runs through him as he leans in, whispering against your skin.

"So let’s play a little game, shall we?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who spins scenarios of horror and despair, who orchestrates nightmares with the precision of a masterful puppeteer.

"Tell me," he muses, voice dripping with saccharine malice. "How do you think your precious little cast would react if they saw you... like this?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Torn apart. Begging. Ruined."

His fingers brush against your throat, slow, deliberate.

"Would they still look at you the same way? Would they still adore you?" His voice drops lower, threading with something almost gentle, almost loving. "Would you?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who always remained an observer, a sadistic god behind the screen, watching his creations squirm.

But now?

Now, he’s stepped into the story.

And this time, he’s the one writing the scene.

────────────

You woke up to the cold, sticky embrace of blood-soaked earth beneath you, the metallic scent of death thick in the air.

♡ Yandere! Author towered above you, his silhouette framed by the flickering candles scattered around the room, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the lifeless bodies that surrounded you.

His eyes gleamed with a dark excitement as they raked over you, and he licked his lips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Look what you've done, my dear," he mused, gesturing to the carnage.

"You've made me clean up your mess again."

You stared at the decapitated heads, the sight of their vacant eyes hauntingly familiar, as he stepped closer, his foot squelching in the pool of crimson beneath your trembling form.

"I hope you're ready for your punishment," he said, his voice a dark, seductive purr that made your stomach twist with fear and disgust.

"You've been a very naughty girl, making me jealous like that." His hand reached for the hem of your top, and you knew that this night was going to be one of the worst you'd ever endure.

As ♡ Yandere! Author tore the fabric from your body, leaving you exposed to the chilling air, you felt his anger like a living force, a palpable entity that wrapped around you, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. "You think you can play games with me?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"You think you can ignore me and flirt with my characters?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a possessive fury that made you feel like you were drowning.

"You belong to me," he spat, the words echoing in your ears like a curse.

"And I will show you exactly what that means." His touch grew rougher, more punishing, as he yanked your legs apart, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot in the tense silence.

With a sadistic smile, ♡ Yandere! Author positioned himself between your thighs, his erection a blunt, unyielding presence against your trembling flesh.

"Look around you," he ordered, gesturing to the grisly scene.

"These are the consequences of your disobedience. Your carelessness." He leaned in, his breath hot and rancid. "Do you like your audience?"

♡ Yandere! Author didn't wait for a response, thrusting into you with a brutal force that made you scream.

The dead eyes of the characters you once knew bore into you, a silent, damning judgment as he claimed you again and again, each stroke a declaration of his dominance. The pain was intense, a stark reminder that you were his plaything, his to manipulate and control.

♡ Yandere! Author grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, while the other trailed down your body, leaving a path of shivers in its wake.

His grip tightened, his teeth sinking into your neck as he slammed into you, your cries muffled by his mouth. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from the nearby corpses, a morbid reminder of his power as he fucked you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and arousing.

The smell of death and decay filled the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat.

♡ Yandere! Author didn't bother to clean you up; he liked the mess, the reminder of what he'd done.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"So vulnerable, so fucking perfect." His other hand found your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He emphasized his words with a particularly vicious thrust, making you gag.

His eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and malice as he watched you struggle under him, surrounded by the grisly remnants of his narrative wrath.

♡ Yandere! Author had always enjoyed the thrill of watching his characters suffer, but there was something uniquely satisfying about seeing you, the protagonist he had grown to both despise and adore, at his mercy.

His grip on your throat tightened as he pumped into you, the warm, sticky mess of blood and gore from the slain characters around you coating both of you, a macabre reminder of his power.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at me when I fuck you."

You refused, turning your head away and doing your best to muffle your voice.

With a snarl of frustration, he reaches for his signature fountain pen, the gleaming silver instrument that had so often been the harbinger of fate in his grimdark narratives.

♡ Yandere! Author presses the tip of the pen against your left eyelid, watching with a perverse fascination as your pupil contracts in terror.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Or would you rather I show you how serious I am?"

Before you can react, he drives the pen straight into your eye, the sharp tip piercing the tender flesh with ease. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching in agony as the warm, wet sensation fills your socket.

The world goes blurry, your vision obscured by a curtain of pain, but you can still feel him thrusting into you, his movements growing more erratic and frenzied as he watches you suffer.

The pen digs deeper, the ink mixing with your tears and blood, painting a crimson streak down your cheek.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out the pen, leaving your eye a ruin, and throws it aside with a satisfied smirk.

"Scream all you want," he says, his voice dripping with malice.

"They can't hear you." He gestures to the lifeless bodies that surround you, their vacant eyes seemingly watching the gruesome display with silent judgment.

♡ Yandere! Author leans in closer, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "But I can. And I fucking love it." His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply until your vision starts to darken at the edges.

With a twisted smile, he reaches for the second pen, the gleaming metal reflecting the sickly light from the candles scattered around the room.

You can feel the anticipation coiling in his muscles, the thrill of his sadistic desires about to be satiated once again. He presses the tip against your other eye, watching you with a mix of hunger and disgust as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and filled with malice. "Look at what you've made me do."

You try to turn your head away, but his grip is unyielding.

The cold steel of the pen pierces the soft flesh of your right eyelid, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickle down your cheek.

The pain is blinding, stealing the last semblance of dignity you had. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. You bite your lip until you taste blood, your eyes struggling to squeeze shut tightly, trying to block out the horror of what's happening.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a dark symphony of desire and anger. "Look at the monster you've created."

With a sadistic flourish, ♡ Yandere! Author plunges the second pen into your right eye, the sharpened tip digging into the delicate tissue.

You feel a burst of searing agony as your eyeball ruptures under the intrusion, the gelatinous fluid mingling with the sticky blood already coating your face.

The pen slices through the ocular nerve, sending a shockwave of pain that echoes through your entire body.

You can't help but scream now, the sound a raw, primal wail that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the ears of the lifeless figures around you.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with perverse pleasure as he watches you writhe and squirm beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author swirls the pen around in the bloody mess that was once your eye, the metal grinding against the bone socket. "Scream for me, my little protagonist. Show everyone how much you enjoy this."

With a grunt of pleasure, he starts to thrust into you harder, the squelching sound of your mutilated flesh a symphony to his ears. His grip on your throat tightens even more, cutting off your air supply and turning your screams into desperate gasps.

Each movement of his hips sends fresh waves of agony through your body, the pain from your ruined eyes mixing with the brutal violation of your most intimate space.

You feel his hot breath on your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispers sweet nothings about how much you're his, how he's going to make sure you never forget this moment.

His lust spikes at the sound of your gargled screams, the sight of your ruined eyes, and the feel of your squirming body beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls the pen out of your right eye with a wet pop, a grin of sick satisfaction on his face as you try to clutch at the empty socket, only to encounter the sticky mess of your own blood and viscous fluid.

He throws the pen aside, his focus now fully on your suffering and the ragged sounds of your breathing. He grabs your chin, forcing your face towards his, his other hand digging into your hip. His eyes, now wild with desire, bore into yours—what's left of them—as he starts to fuck you with a fervor that borders on violence.

His eyes gleam with a twisted hunger as he brings your ruined right eye closer to his mouth. You can feel his breath hot and heavy on your face, his tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your blood.

With a sickening slurp, ♡ Yandere! Author begins to lick around the wound, his tongue swirling in the bloody mess that was once your eye. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a mix of revulsion and pain that makes you want to scream, but his hand around your throat won't allow it.

His teeth clamp down on the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk of it away from the socket.

He chews, savoring the taste of your suffering, your essence, the very core of your being. You feel him swallow, the motion sending a bolt of horror through your body that's almost as intense as the agony of his teeth in your face.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the room of dead characters, their lifeless forms a silent audience to your degradation.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs harder as he consumes more of your eyeball, his teeth tearing into the delicate flesh and crunching through the gelatinous interior.

The sound is obscene, a symphony of his depravity playing out in the quiet room of the dead. Each bite sends a jolt of horror through your body, but the pain is a distant second to the realization of what he's doing.

Your mind reels, trying to process the grotesque intimacy of the act, the ultimate violation of your bodily autonomy.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls away, the last piece of your eyeball still caught between his teeth, his grin wider and more sadistic than ever. He leans in and whispers, "Mmm, so sweet," his breath hot against your ear, before swallowing the final piece.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across your cheek. "You're so much more entertaining when you fight back," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His other hand slides down your body, finding its way between your legs. He groans in pleasure as he feels the wetness there. "It's a shame you're not enjoying this more. I've written some of my best work when my characters are in pain." His fingers delve deeper, the pressure increasing until you're writhing beneath him.

As you try to struggle away from his vile touch, the his grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around your windpipe.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the room like a chilling symphony of madness. "Oh, so you want to play hard to get?" His free hand reaches for the pen still stuck in your left eye socket, the metal now cold and slick with your blood.

"Let's see if this loosens you up a bit, shall we?" He says, a twisted glint in his eye as he pushes the pen deeper, the pain making your vision swim.

You feel the sickening crunch of your socket collapsing under the pressure, and the warm, wet sensation of your eye popping out, leaving nothing but a gaping hole filled with his digit.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out his hand, bringing with it a fountain of crimson.

The room spins around you, and the world turns red with your agony. He holds up the ruined mess that was once your eye, examining it with a disturbing fascination. "This is what you get for making me jealous, you little whore."

He tosses it aside, the wet slap of it hitting the floor making you want to vomit. His hand moves back to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off your air.

♡ Yandere! Author yanks you back down onto the makeshift bed of lifeless bodies, the cold, sticky blood of your former companions seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

His other hand is on your chin, forcing your face up to look at him. "You're going to scream for me now, aren't you?" His smile is wide, his teeth glinting in the flickering candlelight.

"You're going to scream like you've never screamed before, because this is your grand finale, isn't it?"

With a final, brutal thrust, he pulls out of your ravaged pussy, his cock slick with your blood and the juices of your pain.

♡ Yandere! Author grabs you by the hair and forces your head back, aiming his thick, pulsing shaft at your face. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it spurts out, painting your cheeks and filling your eye sockets with his seed.

The salty, bitter taste coats your tongue as he pushes into your mouth, his grip on your throat tightening.

He fucks your face with the same fervor he did your eyes, his hips bucking as he empties himself into you. Your throat is raw from his earlier assault, but you swallow his cum without protest, the taste of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. "Such a good little slut, taking it all for your master."

♡ Yandere! Author releases your chin and wipes the last droplets of cum onto your cheek with his thumb, smearing it into your skin. "You never did know how to pick your battles, did you?"

His grin widens as he positions himself above you, the bloody corpse of your recent companion lying between your legs, your vision nothing but a blur of pain.

His cock, still slick with your tears and blood, slides back into your ruined eye sockets. You can feel the warmth of his semen coating the inside, the sensation sickeningly intimate.

♡ Yandere! Author starts to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he uses the leverage to push even deeper. You want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all you can do is whimper, your throat raw from his previous assault.

The pain is unbearable, a symphony of agony that resonates through your entire being.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "The warmth of your storyline being rewritten, the essence of your existence being claimed by me?"

His thrusts become more vigorous, the sounds of squelching and slapping echoing through the room. The dead characters seem to watch in morbid fascination, a silent audience to your suffering. "You’re mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. "Every part of you, every drop of your despair—it’s all mine to savor."

You try to scream, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a wet gurgle. The pain is unbearable, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, making you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

Yet, you find yourself unable to move, to fight back, your body a puppet to his twisted narrative. The warmth of his cum in your eye sockets feels like molten lead, a constant reminder of the horror of your new reality.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out of you with a smirk, watching as his semen leaks from your eye sockets, mixing with the blood and gore of the room.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the carnage around you. "You see this?" he says, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.

"This is what happens when you don't belong to me. This is what happens when you dare to think you can have a story without me."

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the raw flesh of your cheek. "But don't worry, I'll always be here to save you. To use you. To make you feel alive." He laughs, the sound echoing through the room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. "You're going to love the next chapter, my sweet, obedient little bitch."

Your don't give in.

But your silent, weak struggle only serves to fuel the his desire.

♡ Yandere! Author watches your defiance with a mix of amusement and annoyance, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of the challenge. He grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening as he hoists you up, your feet dangling in the air. With a cruel smirk, he slams you down onto the floor, the impact jolting through your broken body.

His eyes flash with a dark excitement at your silent defiance.

He's always loved a challenge, and your refusal to break is just another delicious twist in the story he's crafting. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a third fountain pen, its nib gleaming in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation, he aligns it with your already abused vagina, the cold metal sending a shiver of fear through your body.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," he whispers, his voice a chilling promise of more pain to come.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the pen into you, the nib slicing through your flesh with an ease that speaks of his practiced cruelty.

You bite back a scream, but a gasp of agony slips through your teeth.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in your skull like a death knell, as he starts to move the pen in and out of you.

As his third pen plunges into you, the sharp nib tears through your tender flesh with a sickening sound that makes your stomach churn. Blood and fluids mingle, creating a macabre painting around his twisted tools of domination.

You feel the metal slide in and out of your violated body, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of agony that crashes over you like a crimson tide. The sensation of being impaled by something so cold and unyielding is almost too much to bear, but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive—still the star of his twisted story.

With a sadistic smirk, ♡ Yandere! Author watches your body convulse around the third pen lodged deep within your cervix.

The agony is palpable, painting your face with the colors of despair as you try to scream through your bruised and bloodied throat.

The warmth of your insides clench around the cold metal, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists the pen slightly, eliciting a guttural sound from you, one that is a mix of pain and unwilling arousal. The gore that surrounds you, the lifeless bodies of the characters he's discarded, only serves to amplify the depravity of his act.

♡ Yandere! Author stands back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and fascination.

He leaves the pen inside you, allowing the pain to linger, to become a part of you.

You can feel the cold, unyielding metal pressing against your inner walls, a constant reminder of his dominance and the horrors he's inflicted upon you. Your body shakes, a silent scream echoing through the room as the pain turns to a dull throb that you know won't be leaving you anytime soon.

His hands are slick with your blood as he effortlessly picks you up from the floor. You're too weak to fight, your body a mess of pain and violation.

♡ Yandere! Author wraps his strong arm around your neck, his grip tight enough to cut off air, yet not tight enough to end your misery.

You gasp, your eyes watering from the pressure as he drags you across the floor, the coldness of the tiles sending shockwaves through your bruised and abused body.

He reaches up, looping a thick rope around a sturdy beam in the ceiling, and your heart sinks as you realize his next twisted act.

With a sadistic chuckle, he ties the noose around your neck, pulling it tight enough to leave an angry red ring around your throat. He makes sure your wrists, ankles, and everything essential is tied securely to prevent any chances of escape.

♡ Yandere! Author places the chair beneath you, the wood digging into your legs as he lifts you up, your toes barely grazing the floor.

"You're going to hang there," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "until I say otherwise. Think about what you've done, my little muse. Think about how you've made me feel."

His grip on you tightens as you hang from the noose, the pain in your neck a constant reminder of his dominance. Your legs kick out, desperately searching for purchase on the floor below, but find none.

The chair wobbles precariously beneath you, the only thing keeping you from the agony of strangulation.

You can feel his hot, heavy breath against your pussy, his chuckles reverberating through his chest and into yours. His free hand snakes down, reaching between your legs to grasp the bloody pen still lodged inside you, twisting it cruelly. You whimper, the sound muffled by the noose, and your body involuntarily tightens around the object, a sickening mix of pain and arousal.

His grin widens as he pulls out a handful of dynamite sticks from his toolbox, each one glinting in the dim light.

♡ Yandere! Author waves them in front of your face, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air. His eyes are alight with sadistic glee as he explains his next twisted plot twist.

“You see, my dear, I’ve been saving these for a very special occasion. And what better way to celebrate our little bond than with a little… fireworks display?” He chuckles darkly, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the silence.

You gasp for air, the noose biting into your neck as he plays with the explosives. His cruel fingers trace over the dynamite, leaving smudges of your blood on their surfaces.

♡ Yandere! Author seems to revel in the horror etched into your features, the way your body convulses and writhes under his touch.

“But don’t worry, my pet,” he coos, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You won’t be alone in your little performance. After all, what’s a show without an audience?” He gestures to the lifeless bodies scattered around the room, their sightless eyes seemingly watching the grisly scene unfold.

His hands are a blur of movement, the dynamites' sticks pressing against your flesh as he ruthlessly inserts each one into your violated body. You whimper and squirm, the pain unbearable, but he only laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a twisted symphony. His eyes are alight with a perverse glee as he watches you suffer.

"You see," he says, his voice a purr of sadistic pleasure, "the story needs a climax. And what better way than a grand explosion?"

He presses the last stick of dynamite into you, pushing it deep until it's nestled alongside the pen that still remains lodged in your cervix. Your body shudders with revulsion, and you feel a warm trickle of blood run down your thighs.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out a sleek, silver lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

He holds the flame up to one of the dynamite sticks protruding from your body, watching you with a twisted smile as the flicker of fire dances in his eyes.

The room fills with the acrid scent of burning fuse as ♡ Yandere! Author lights each dynamite stick with a sickening relish, the flames licking up your body, burning against the tender flesh of your inner thighs and the cold steel of the pens and the chair.

You scream in agony as the fire spreads, the heat searing your skin and the explosive pressure threatening to tear you apart from the inside out. Your eyes are already gone, but the pain is so intense it feels like you’re seeing stars, your vision a swirl of fiery red and black.

The pens in your body are forgotten for a moment as the dynamite becomes the center of your world, a twisted phallus of destruction that promises to end your story in a blaze of glorious carnage.

♡ Yandere! Author steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is your grand finale, my love," he says, his voice thick with perverse pleasure.

"The ultimate climax of your tragic tale. How fitting that it ends with you, my muse, writhing in the throes of a passionate, explosive death." He licks his lips, his gaze raking over your suspended, burning form with a hunger that’s as palpable as the heat from the dynamite.

You’re his masterpiece, and he’s about to watch it burn.

With a wicked chuckle, he steps away from you, slamming the heavy, bolted door shut with a resounding clang that echoes through the room. The sound is like a death knell, cutting off your cries for mercy.

♡ Yandere! Author watches you through the small, reinforced window, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement as your body writhes in pain. The dynamite hisses and crackles, the flames licking closer and closer to the explosive core, painting your tortured cries in a symphony of agony.

Your desperate attempts to free yourself are futile.

The ropes are tight, digging into your wrists and ankles, leaving you suspended and helpless. The dynamite sticks burn and hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sickeningly sweet scent of your own burning flesh. You can feel the heat radiating from within, the explosives stretching you to your limits as your body fights against the intrusion.

Each twitch and squirm sends shockwaves of pain through you, the pens in your eye sockets and vagina a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your vision is a haze of red and black, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of agony.

The dynamite reaches its crescendo, the hissing and crackling suddenly giving way to a deafening roar. The explosion rips through the room with the force of a thousand suns, the blast wave tearing into your body as it erupts from within.

The pens that were once lodged in your flesh are now shrapnel, shredding your insides as the explosion rips through your core. Your screams of agony are swallowed by the inferno, your body contorting in a dance of pure, unbridled pain.

The explosion is a symphony of destruction, your body the instrument he plays to compose a macabre masterpiece of carnage. The pens, once cold and lifeless, are now molten metal searing through your flesh, painting the walls and floor with your blood. The blast sends shards of wood and glass flying, piercing your skin and embedding themselves in the bodies of the slain characters that lay around you, turning their silent vigil into a grisly tableau of pain.

♡ Yandere! Author steps into the room, the acrid smoke still lingering from the explosion. His eyes are alight with a manic glee as he looks upon the carnage—your remains a grotesque tapestry of gore and shredded flesh.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the silence, a standing ovation for the horror show you've unwillingly become.

♡ Yandere! Author approaches your ruined form with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, my dear protagonist," he coos, "such a beautiful spectacle of suffering. But the story isn’t over yet."

He reaches down, his hand disappearing into the mess of your remains, and pulls out the still-glowing pen embedded in your shattered pelvis.

"Look how you've been marked by my narrative," he says, holding it up to inspect the crimson coating. The heat from the explosion has made it hot, almost searing his hand, but he seems unfazed by the pain.

♡ Yandere! Author then picks up your torn heart, bringing it closer to his twisted smile, his teeth sinking into the remains of the flesh, as if it's a ripe apple. He chews slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your blood mingling with the charred meat. "Mmm," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, "still beating. How utterly fascinating."

The room is a macabre tableau of destruction, and he is the artist, standing over your shattered body with a grin that splits his face like a chasm.

♡ Yandere! Author chews thoughtfully, your heart’s rhythmic thumps echoing in his mouth as he speaks around it. "You're still alive," he says, his voice sticky with your blood. "I never said I’d let you die so easily."

His words are a taunt, a promise of more to come, and as much as you want to scream, to rail against the pain and the horror, you can’t. Your vocal cords are gone, torn away by the explosion.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.

He drops your heart into the palm of his hand, watching it pulse weakly as he speaks. "You see, my dear, death is for those who dare to bore me. And as much as I'd love to end this little… narrative, you're not quite ready to leave the stage."

He strokes the heart with his thumb, a twisted affection in his eyes. "Not until I've had my fill of your suffering."

♡ Previous Part. He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

♡ A/N. Sex without true danger is boring as shiz. And yanderes without the fear factor aren't peak yanderes. They're just on the possessive or vanilla shiz. Pathetic. Yanderes have to actually scare the shiz out of you. Because that's how true horror is. It doesn't even have to be gore, of course! These are my rules for myself when writing my "true yanderes". But, I suppose most authors don't want to severely hurt, much less kill the darling, especially if they're actual readers. Aw, but don't worry, I'm different. None of you are truly safe in my stories ahaha. Anyways, this is the second part I was talking about for Yandere! Author. I was trying to find yandere horror content for actual sadistic yanderes that can and will kill the darling, but can't find anything! Ugh, people always want soft, sub, comedic, or braindead sex yanderes, and no true danger of actual MC suffering and death.... WHERE IS THE HORROR. It's always just either pure horror or baseline (or worse braindead smut) yanderes. No proper mixing and cooking of the elements! dsjkfalds I'm starving for content.... Fine, I'll do it myself. Yanderes that will hurt, and may kill you. Happy Valentines, you're welcome. uhahaha.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Director's Commentary:

First of all, THIS HIT 200 NOTES IN LESS THAN 2 DAYS????? 🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝 Thank you SO MUCH EVERYBODY, I have never had any of my self ship art get this many notes this quickly!! I've also screenshotted every tag I've gotten and will continue to do so! Thank you so much everyone 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖

Second, I hope that everyone knows I did this 100% original! I have actually had more than one person call this an edit, which makes me very proud of how convincing this apparently is as an imitation of the PPG style! 🥺 But no, I did all of this by hand myself! The screenshots were just referenced :D

Y'all should also know that I don't have any type of tablet or way to do digital art with a pen, I use Adobe Illustrator and only use my mouse. For the first image I did a sketch of the pose on paper and traced over digitally, but I'm proud to say for the other two I did it entirely originally using just reference images and my own imagination! That's something I'm usually not really able to do so I'm very happy that the final result came out so good

The context of the original scene is that Ms. Keane and Professor Utonium just went on a failed date that was set up by the girls, but ended up sharing a little moment after Ms. Keane accidentally tripped and the Professor ended up catching her. I'd like to think the context here is essentially the same, but I'd consider it an AU scenario because there wouldn't be a time in my ship canon where this setup would happen before Cherry and Mojo are dating.

I came up with Cherry's outfit kind of on the spot, it's basically just a fancy version of their normal outfit, with a low cut white shirt, yellow and orange cardigan, and some nice tan boots. They borrowed the choker with the pendant from their cousin, Ms. Bellum :3

I find it funny to think that Mojo wouldn't really wear an actual outfit out on a date, because in his mind, what fit could possibly be better than the villain outfit he designed for himself? He just put on a bowtie to be slightly more fancy 💖 That's actually a reference to the panel below from a DC PPG comic where he's trying to find a date for Valentine's Day and failing... I would have been there for him 🥺

Also I liked the idea of the moon being bright enough to shine through the back of Mojo's big ears, which is why the shading on them if a bit oddly shaped. No one has mentioned anything about that yet so I'm not sure how obvious that came across 😅

Ngl I struggled a bit on the background of Mojo's panel just because it's a unique perspective that I hadn't tried before, so I went and laid down on the floor in the corner of my room to see how the perspective of that looked 😂

In fact now that I think about it... This is the first time I've ever done a full color background at all, digitally OR traditionally. I'd say for my first time it came out pretty good!

In general I'm very happy with the end results, although there are a few mistakes here and there, like there's a secrion of Cherry's shadow that's not filled in all the way, and I think some of the background colors could be better adjusted so they don't blend together as much (especially the bench, what was I thinking making it so similar to the wall color aaaaaah)

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to comment on. Once again thank you to everyone who has liked or reblogged and an even bigger thank you if you read this far! 🥺💝💝💝💝💝

There are benefits to being clumsy... sometimes you get to fall into the arms of a handsome chimpanzee 💜🩷💜🩷💜

Screenshot redraw of a cute scene from what's basically PPG's Valentine Day special! This was so fun to do, I feel like I learn more abt using Illustrator every time I go back to it :3 🩷 Reblogs are all seen and appreciated, click for higher quality!! Tag list + Screenshots referenced will be under the cut 💜

Tag List!! Click here to be added or removed.

@absentmoon, @avas-wonderland, @bee-ships, @beetleboyfriend, @berryshipbasket, @bugthecalmchild, @canongf, @cloudyvoid, @derelictdumbass, @dissonantyote, @edencantstopfallininlove, @final-catboy, @chickenout , @flowering-darkness, @gibles-lovely-selfships, @hoppinkiss, @hyperionshipping, @impulse-exe, @iwishihadfangs, @iyamifucker, @kissingarthurclaus, @lex-n-weegie, @lficanthaveloveiwantpower, @little-miss-selfships, @little-shiny-sharpies, @loogi-selfships, @mandrakebrew, @midoridayz, @mintpecks, @mothfinite, @mrs-kelly, @nameless-self-ships, @nerdstreak, @odysseyyaoi, @oleanderspride, @orbitingaroundyourlove, @paper-carnation, @reds-self-ships, @rotten--cotton , @spacestationstorybook, @squips-ship, @theheroand, @toogayforthistoday, @winterworlds, @yuzuibanagi

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so when the night falls, my lonely heart calls

type: arcane characters x reader

featuring: viktor, mel, jayce, vi, caitlyn, ekko, jinx

summary: how they spend valentine's day with you 💘 straight up fluff really.

a/n: a bit late because i was hanging out with my friends out of town and didn't get home to post this at a reasonable time. hope you guys enjoy!

divider used by @/saradika-graphics !!!

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VIKTOR

a date at the botanical gardens! :3

taking walks with you around piltover has always been one of his favorite ways to unwind, so spending the day in a calm, sunny, pretty spot just seems right

you guys are holding hands and exploring the vast expanse of greenery

there's an insect exhibit, and rumor has it they have cricket delicacies on a stick...

he'll teasingly ask you if you're brave enough to take a bite

if you go along with it, he'll do it too

takes the prettiest candid pics of you ever

the curse of a 'bf who takes the most awful photos of you' does not exist with viktor

he's a perfectionist, and you can never look less than, in his opinion

he shows you the photos later, all shy and nervous and you're losing your mind at how he managed to capture everything so beautifully

"it's easy. you're always beautiful to me. capturing a second of it is no trouble. i just wish i could live every frame of you again over and over."

back in your shared apartment, he's organizing the layout for the next chapter in his photo album of you

you've started your own filled with photos of him

you guys go through them at the end of every year to reminisce on memories

the night unwinds with a glass of sweet wine and reading together by the fire, eventually falling asleep all cozied up on the couch <3

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ MEL

spa day

facial, manis, pedis, the whole package

a day of pampering her beloved!

she wants you to look and feel your best

the best type of love can be self-love, after all

after the spa, she takes you to an orchestral concert featuring renown musicians from the city and beyond

she's booked you both your own private balcony where you can watch the performance from the comfort of privacy and plenty of courses catered to your tastes

there's a gift exchange at home to top off the perfect day

you'd been agonizing on what to get her

councilor medarda? the brains, beauty, and vision of success? what could you give her that she can't simply buy when she feels like it?

you ended up making her gift. a jar decorated with fairy lights and resin'd petals on the outside, and filled with handwritten notes from you

the messages range from cheesy pickup lines to affirmations of how much you love her, and reminders for her to take a break

you also put together a small folder of tickets

each ticket reads something like "movie night", "dinner of your choice, on me", "painting date", etc. etc.

whenever she feels down, she can just pick one and you'll drop whatever you're doing and spend the rest of the day dedicated to that, and to her

she loves you and you love her so much

it's sickening. tooth rotting, even. definitely acts of service and quality time here

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JAYCE

cooking together is a love language. sharing food that you've made together? hooray! how romantic is that?

especially if it's a cultural exchange of food

he's teaching you to make his mamá's birria tacos and rambling about parts of his childhood in the kitchen, helping her out

you're listening with a silly smile on your face

an expression of pure lovesickness

he's moving around the place with such ease, and the smell of comfort is heavenly

then it's your turn to walk him through something from your culture, and talk about your own stories associated with the dish/dessert/drink (whatever it is you wanna make)

me personally, i'll be making some bánh xèo (it's like a vietnamese crepe! very savory, very yummy)

half your plate is your food, and the other is jayce's birria tacos

cleanup can be dealt with later

right now, there's good food and better company to be have

it's a shared learning opportunity and serves to strengthen your bond :-)

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VI

she's picking you up from your house first thing

ready with a "good morning!", kiss on the cheek, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers

wrapped in paper, of course <3

if you have chocolates for her, she'll melt right then and there in your arms

or maybe even chocolate covered strawberries you put together yourself!

you two are heading right to the arcade

paintball gets competitive. and messy

go clothes shopping for each other after

it's a chance for her to indulge in something she usually doesn't, and you get the chance to spoil your favorite girl in the whole world

she appreciates that you love her style and who she is and doesn't try changing who she is. because of that, she trusts you to help style her

once you're both newly out in some new clothes and kicks, you guys hit the highway

windows down, blasting your favorite songs and singing along at the top of your lungs

i love vi, i wish women were real :(

she's my favorite alongside viktor. AUGH.

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ CAITLYN

what's the point of having money and an influential family if not to rent out places, like a whole bookstore? or a planetarium? a movie theater, even

all of the above, and more

maybe not in that order though

the bookstore is first. you both buy each other a book you think the other will like and promise to keep each other updated on your progress

the movie theater next

speaking of movies, i saw heart eyes with my friends yesterday! it was a great movie, i enjoyed it a LOT more than i initially thought

so glad to have been proven wrong

you guys watch some good ol' romance movies (10 things i hate about you, la la land, the princess bride, etc.)

planetarium! sick as fuck

you're spending the entire day wrapped up in each other and your shared interests

some warm tea and sweet kisses for the winding down as you're watching the sunset

sigh. oh to be in love...

she isn't a kiramman today. not captain, officer, on-duty caitlyn kiramman

she's just your beloved cait, caitlyn

the headstrong, passionate, and protective woman who has your entire heart

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ EKKO

in an opposite direction of caitlyn's, but no less loving

money can buy certain happiness but it's not always necessary

art date where you guys stay home and paint each other with the variety of art supplies he's gathered over the years

ekko's an artist through and through

his mural of vi in the alternate universe? oh i'm in love.

the paintings are getting hung up wherever there's space on your guys' wall because the space is FILLED with posters, artwork, memorabilia, magazine and news pages, etc.

it's a very creative living space

there’s also plenty of plants that litter the windowsills and ledges where sunlight can reach

you guys spent each day of february decorating each plant with something for valentine’s day

the cranes on your ceiling has been joined by spiral hearts

interior decoration could be so romantic. i’d want to do that with someone i love someday

a little walk through the city at night too, but on the rooftops

less people to bother you guys and the aerial view makes it more thrilling

don't fall

he'll catch you regardless

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JINX

you guys spend the day in her air balloon base

she's made you a gift basket!

it's filled with sketches and doodles of you

all colorful and wild and completely her style

she's stitched together a teddy bear plush too, having gone to ask vi and (reluctantly) caitlyn for help with it

you can see all the uneven bits and parts where the stuffing is too much or too little

but it's perfect

she even added a heart with her signature perfume sprayed on it too

like build-a-bear or something

funny, you also got her a gift basket

various gadgets and knick-knacks, and a new tool kit

some sweets you picked up a bakery

soft, fluffy macarons. tiramisu. a matcha strawberry cake that you share

it's a rare treat for a special occasion

cait also gave you some skincare when you went to visit her, so you and jinx had an impromptu skincare session, gossiping and talking about her latest project and relaxing together under the open night sky

[steddie-island]

Scheduling Conflict

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth mini event Prompts: Boyfriend, chocolate Rating: E | WC: 1,278 | No CW | Tags: Minor rockstar Eddie Munson, anniversary fic, Eddie is a mess, make up sex (sort of), Porn without plot ao3 | Divider credit

It was obvious as soon as Steve opened the door that someone had been in his house. His house was never messy, but it was even more clean than usual.

He frowned, lifted his bag up beside his head in preparation for using it as a weapon. The mystery person had cleaned, but that did nothing to convince Steve that he wasn't getting ready to be robbed.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen at the same time the intruder headed for the living room.

"Stevie—" There was a yelp as Steve's bag came into contact with someone's hand.

"Eddie?" Steve dropped his bag where he stood and reached out for his boyfriend's hand immediately.

"Who else did you think it would be?" Eddie shook out the muscles in his hand and gave Steve an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to scare you, sunshine."

"I thought you couldn't make it home." Steve brought Eddie's hand to his lips to press a kiss to his palm.

"I was trying to surprise you." Eddie gathered Steve close. "I'm so sorry, Stevie. I tried to get here in time, but there were so many fucking delays. I'm so sorry you had to spend our anniversary by yourself."

Steve blinked at him, but before he could say anything else Eddie was kissing him, slow and sweet enough to make him shiver.

"I'm gonna make it up to you." Eddie tipped his head to the side and began kissing down his throat. "I said this tour wouldn't be able to keep us apart for important shit and I fucking meant it."

Steve's mind went hazy as Eddie's teeth dragged against the sharp edge of his jaw. "Ed…"

"I'll make it up to you," Eddie said again. He took one of Steve's hands in his and pulled him towards their bedroom.

It took Steve's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dancing of the candle light. There were rose petals strewn over every available surface and in a trail leading from the doorway to the end of the bed. On the bed was a small pile of petals that held a heart shaped box of chocolate.

"Eddie, sweetheart—"

"Shush." Eddie pecked Steve's lips, killing his arguments before they could even begin to take root. "Let me do this for you. Please."

Steve felt a little guilty, but the guilt started dissipating as soon as Eddie's fingers slipped beneath his sweater. "…If you insist."

Eddie gave a triumphant little whoop, then pulled Steve in to kiss him again.

Kissing Eddie never failed to make his head spin and his knees weak. Kissing Eddie after weeks of not seeing him was something even more heady. He couldn't help but moan as calloused fingers trailed through the hair on his chest before brushing over one of his nipples.

"Fuck, I've missed you." Eddie repeated the movement and relished in the way Steve's entire body responded to the contact. He pulled his hand away to start tugging Steve's soft red sweater off over his head. "We have reservations later, I'm gonna take you out on the town, show you off, but I needed to have you first, to show you how sorry I really am."

"Eddie…" Steve felt all thoughts flee his mind as Eddie's lips left a trail of fire from his shoulder to his throat. He was sure he would have bruises that he would need to hide tomorrow, if Eddie's teeth against his skin had anything to say about it, but he didn't have it in him to care. He loved having secret marks beneath his clothes, where only he and Eddie knew about them. He liked feeling owned, feeling like he belonged to and with someone else. "Fuck…"

"We're going to." Eddie tossed Steve's sweater towards the hamper. His mouth was on Steve's chest, ghosting over the guitar pick that Steve wore all the time. "I'm gonna make it up to you."

"Eddie—" Once again Steve's thoughts fled his mind as Eddie's teeth dug into his chest, his tongue flicking lightly over Steve's nipple and sending electric shocks through his body.

He reached back to move the box of chocolate before falling onto the bed. Eddie was on him. As their mouths met in another deep kiss, nimble fingers worked Steve's pants open and slipped in to tease him through his underwear.

"So fucking wet, always so wet for me."

"Eddie—" Steve gasped as Eddie squeezed his cock.

Steve had no time to adjust to Eddie's hands on his body. Eddie sat up and curled his fingers around Steve's waistband before pulling both pants and underwear down together, until Steve was naked and spread out before him.

"Goddamn, I'm a lucky man." Eddie lowered his head. His teeth sank into the meat of Steve's thigh, making him cry out as his tender skin was worked over.

Eddie sucked and bit his way higher, reveling in every gasp and whimper and plea for more. By the time he had Steve's thighs over his shoulders and his mouth around his boyfriend's cock Steve was a shaking mess.

The shaking didn't stop as Eddie's lips and tongue worked his cock over, or as Eddie worked two fingers into his body. It didn't stop as he spilled down Eddie's throat, or when Eddie was finally over him again, pressing inside of him and stretching him even more.

"Fuck— Eddie—" Steve panted. He hitched his legs higher around Eddie's waist and held on tight.

Eddie buried his face in Steve's throat again as their hips came flush together. "I love you. I fucking love you."

Steve nodded, gripped Eddie's hair tight as Eddie started moving inside of him.

Eddie's thrusts were long and deep, deep enough to drive the air out of Steve's lungs. Just when Steve thought he couldn't take any more, when he thought he was going to topple over the edge, Eddie pulled out and flipped him over.

The change in position had Eddie driving deeper, had Steve begging even louder as he buried his hand in his boyfriend's hair again.

More bruises were worked against the back of Steve's neck, against his shoulders as Eddie fucked into him hard and fast.

When Steve came it was without warning, with a cry of Eddie's name and his entire body shuddering.

Eddie kept going, trying to stretch it out long enough for his own orgasm to crash over him and for him to spill deep into Steve's body.

"I know that doesn't fix anything," Eddie said when they had pulled apart and sat up against the headboard. The box of chocolates rested, open, between them on the bed. "I just want you to know I did try to get here on time."

It came rushing back to Steve why Eddie had been so adamant about getting into bed, about why he'd set all of this up— beyond it being a special occassion, even.

Steve pushed the chocolates away before moving to straddle Eddie's lap. Eddie's skin glowed with the flickering light coming off of the candles, making his eyes even darker than they usually were. "Eddie… sweetheart… I appreciate everything you did today." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth. "I love how hard you tried to get here, and how much work you put into this. It's— beautiful. But…" Steve brought his hands up to cup Eddie's cheeks before pulling him in for a warm kiss.

"But?" Eddie murmured, sounding almost nervous.

Steve smiled and reached for his phone. He pushed a button, making the date light up, before turning it towards Eddie. "But.... our anniversary isn't until tomorrow."

[cupcakeinat0r]

Another Valentine's w/ Dadbod!Miguel

It’s that time of year again; A day you so dreaded turned into one of your favorite days of the year: Valentine’s. 

And even though you insist on telling each other you ‘won’t be getting each other anything’ because ‘all you need is each other’, both parties buy gifts anyway (and let’s face it; his were always pricier. The man’s a scientist.) 

Like the year prior, you cooked him breakfast in bed wearing something that was very much short-lived and ended up on the floor, ripped, before he even got to the toast. 

Having taken off from work, especially for the holiday, the both of you then rest in bed, the midday sun cascading across the bedroom floor. Just like last year, he’ll big spoon you, the plush of his stomach against your back and rumbling along with his rich chuckles. Just like last year, you two will snicker in bed, because he’s just murmured in your ear how he’ll need to renew that gym membership if you keep cooking for him like this; how his New Year’s resolutions are impossible with you around. But then he’ll immediately thank you, not for just loving him through food, but for being his rock; he would’ve never eaten this good before you. He would intertwine his fingers with yours under the sheets, the size difference in them endearing. Just like last year. 

After an accidental nap, Miguel groggily mutters in your ear how he’s gotten reservations somewhere nice and that he’s been wanting to take you. Here’s the kicker: it was in 30 minutes. 

“What?!” you jump out of bed and instantly retreat to your closet. Easy for him to stay calm, all he had to do was comb back those black curls of his, dress those muscles, and be ready to go. 

Miguel waits for you in the bedroom, announcing the time you have left through the bathroom door. When he hears your haste voice through the wall, he smiles to himself. 

His eyes wander, and maybe too far, because he finds a notebook. Curious and mindlessly looking for something to do while you finish getting ready, he goes to it and reads through it. It’s fine since there’s no secrets between you; you go into each other's things all the time. 

It doesn’t take too much reading to realize it’s a journal; your journal.  He remembers you mentioning wanting to start for this new year. A little part of him knows he shouldn’t… but the curiosity was killing him. He looks back at the door for a moment, ensuring you’re still occupied.

He turns to the book and resumes reading, but it’s not as wholesome as the first few entries.

His face falls, a certain, familiar wave of heat passing through him as he reads your handwriting. 

This entry was all about him. 

You two had just made love, and you raved about how romantic and tender it was, going into details of how sweetly he treated you. And you also praised the rougher side of Miguel; how he took control in bed, how his strength kept you in a trance, and that body…

You went on to list the many things you wanted Miguel to do to you. Bashfully written secrets of love kept away, in hopes that maybe, through manifestation, they’ll come true, rather than being upfront and telling him what you want. How you wanted to experiment with taking the control for a night, maybe making the entire performance be about his pleasures for a change. To kiss up his thighs and the little pudge of his stomach, until he was rock solid, placing kisses there as well until he was too worked up to resist begging. How you want to experiment with food and maybe use his entire torso as a plate for your enjoyment. 

‘Whipped cream off his chest and tummy… GAWD. I need a moment. Goodnight.’ was how the entry was sealed.

There was also mentions of wanted to be choked by him, tied, and other various things that Miguel would otherwise be shocked coming from you.

Miguel stares down at the notebook baffled. He knew you loved his body the way it was… but he guess he just didn’t realize how much. 

“Okay, baby, I’m ready. You got the-” a perplexed Miguel turns around to you, your notebook in his hand, and you immediately want to crawl in a hole.

“Miguel,” your voice shakes with shame, bracing yourself for an unbearably embarrassing response, ”How much of that did you read?”

Miguel’s lips curl into a wicked smile. 

“Whipped cream?” his brow quirks.

“Oh… so that much, huh?” he sheepishly nod. You’re stuck where you stand.

Miguel walks with purpose and ease until he’s right in front of you, his frame demanding the lift of your head and guilty gaze.

“Mamita, there’s no need to be hiding this stuff from me.” the tone of his voice is nothing but nurturing and reassuring.

You smile softly up at him, grateful that he at least isn’t disgusted by your twisted mind. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the time, “We can talk later, but aren’t gonna be late?” You ask in hopes he’ll take the bait.

“Late to where?”

Miguel’s hands find the flesh of your hips, giving them a light squeeze, pulling you closer to the plush of his muscles. The small yet dominant gesture making your heart flutter,

“We’re staying right in this room.” 

And he made alllllll your dreams come true in one night. 

Happy Valentine's Day <3 xoxo