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attapullman · 1 year ago

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Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago.

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups.

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place.

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street.

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves.

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect.

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye.

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious.

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks.

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug.

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.”

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him.

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?”

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen.

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen.

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace.

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.”

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both.

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door.

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 3 months ago

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30th - Carlos Sainz

Carlos woke up, slightly groggy with his body still feeling heavy with sleep. As he usually did, his arms instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed, his hands feeling around for you. But, he was met with an empty space and cold sheets.

"Darling?" he softly said, hoping you had just disappeared into the bathroom. However the cold sheets said otherwise. You hadn't been there for a while, and you normally always told him when you were leaving or if he should be expecting your absence.

He slung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up a bit. His now open eyes landed on your vanity table, a brown box now sat in the place of your makeup bag. His curiosity was piqued, so he walked up and looked at the box.

Lo and behold, his name was perfectly scrawled on the lid. He looked around the room, trying to see if you were hidden anywhere. Sighing and opening the box, he spotted a printed photo. It was an old one from his 17th birthday, coincidentally the first one you had spent together.

He had been at a race, and you had gone to the track to surprise your first ever boyfriend. Carlos had been surprised to see you there, since he didn't think you'd be interested in going to his races - especially back then.

Yet your interest made his silly high school crush turn into something a lot more, something that he didn't quite know what it was back when he was young. He was an emotionally confused, hormonal teenage boy who had the girl he had only seen in his dreams right in front of him.

Picking up the photo, he remembered the exact moment it was taken. He had brought his trophy to you, to show you an accolade of his success. His mum was watching on, smiling at the happiness on her son's face. You had your arm around his shoulder, he had his arm around your waist as you both flashed a big cheesy grin at the camera.

There was another photo underneath, and this one caused a light flush to coat his cheeks. His mum nearly missed it, and that made it even better. As she was walking away, Carlos remembered how he couldn't resist and had tugged you in for a short but sweet kiss.

It was your first kiss, his first kiss, and your first of many together. There was a small label over the top of the trophy, which was still clutched in his hand. 'Find me', it said. Now he saw where this was going.

A little birthday scavenger hunt that was combined with a walk down memory lane. He took himself through the house and all the way to the living room, where his trophy was proudly sitting on the mantelpiece.

Yes, he had won many more since that one, but that one had special significance to him and it always would. Just as expected, there was another brown box that was identical to the last one. He lifted the cardboard lid, another photo waiting for him inside.

This was from two years later, a year before he had joined F1. He was a superstar as ever, and it was dawning on him that he would have to be away from you a lot more. You'd be going to university, and he'd be travelling the globe.

Both you and Carlos knew that this was what he had to do, but it didn't make it any easier. The photo in question was from his last race in the junior formulas. Another win for Carlos Sainz, and one of the last he'd celebrate with you for the time being.

You were holding his trophy, the same dazzling smile on your face as he kissed you on the cheek with people celebrating around you. He ran his fingers over the small version of your face.

To him, you hadn't aged a day. You were still as stunning now as you were back then, which was nearing on 15 years ago at this point. The pair of you were young, slightly dumb, and very much in love. The delusion, which was brought down to innocent naivety, that you'd be able to do such long distance was conceived as something easy by the both of you.

You'd soon find out that that wasn't the case, but it wasn't something he was wanting to dwell on too much. This time, on the base of the box, there was another short note written on it. '15.3.15' was the message.

That was the date of his first ever F1 race, but he couldn't think of anything associated with it. All he really cared about was that he got his first ever points, but you couldn't be there to see it. You were at university, and he remembered your relentless effort to make your schedule align for the first race.

Alas, you couldn't make your way to Australia, and he had to settle for a very happy phone call that you had gotten up extra early to make. You had watched the race, and he knew how excited you were for him to get those 2 points.

Yes, 4 people had DNFed and 2 people had DNSed, meaning he finished three places from the back of the pack, but it didn't matter. Carlos had gotten his first ever F1 points, and you couldn't have been prouder of him.

Little did the both of you know, that was the last time of pure happiness that he had seen before he had ruined it all, but he hoped you had glossed over that and moved straight onto the next part of the joyful times with your scavenger hunt.

He was wracking his brains for anything that he could find associated with the date in the house, but he was drawing blanks. He didn't have any physical momentos of the day, well none that came to mind.

There weren't any pictures in the house of him on that day either. While he was still thinking, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Carlos smirked to himself as he saw your name pop up on his screen, and he opened the text from you. 'Stumped already?'

He chuckled, wondering how you had figured out that he was already stuck on your little treasure hunt. 'Maybe just a little' he replied, watching as you began to type back to him. The three dots bobbled up and down on his screen, before a message appeared on the screen.

'What was in the news that day?' and that was when it hit him. In Madrid, the local news was all about their hometown hero, Carlos Sainz, getting his first points in Formula 1. He remembered you sending him a picture of the paper you had picked up, and you had kept it over all of those years.

He knew it was in a drawer somewhere, he just needed to figure out where. Walking to the office, he rummaged through your desk drawers, hoping he wouldn't stumble upon another clue. Then, he felt another buzz. 'Carlos you are ruining my treasure trail, get out of my desk.'

There was his confirmation. Again, he was wondering how you were omniscient and how you had known where he was in the house. But, he closed the desk drawers as instructed and he internally thanked whoever was out there that he hadn't found whatever was in there. It was simply a little help for later.

'Check the cabinet in the living room,' another text buzzed through. If he kept on acting clueless, then you would do all the work for him at this rate. But, he persevered and headed to the living room cabinet. Just as expected, it was at the top of one of the drawers.

Carefully pulling the thin piece of newspaper out of the drawer, his eyes were drawn to the next note of his trail. 'I was going to do 55 clues, but I thought that would be such an awful idea and would take way too long, so you get 5 instead. For clue number three, I want you to remember the first time we saw each other after our little... sabbatical'.

As he figured, you had glossed over your little 2 year break that had been the loneliest 2 years of his life. He knew exactly what you were referring to this time, and he took himself upstairs to the prized framed photo of the two of you that sat proudly on his bedside table.

He didn't see the note on the offset, but he found it taped to the back of the frame. You probably realised that he would spot it if you put it on the front, so you had to be a little sneaky. He allowed himself some time to look at the photo, even though he saw it multiple times a day.

Carlos could practically feel the humid Singapore air clinging to his skin as he looked at the photo, yet another that his mum had taken. He had gotten his best ever result in F1, a 4th place. Yet, he didn't know you were there. His parents had brought you along, since you had some time off.

He was overjoyed, and he could've sworn his heart had stopped when he got back to the garage after interviews and saw you there, with his family. He stopped in his tracks, before his dad saw him and so did you.

At that point, Carlos' instincts took over, and you both knew what was going on. He started taking steps towards you, and you did the same. There was no hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you with every ounce of love he had in his body.

It didn't matter that you'd had practically zero contact over the past 2 years, you still knew each other like the back of your hand. You were still the girl who teenage him had fallen madly in love with, and he was still the charming racer that you had become so enamoured with. After that day, you knew you were together for the long haul, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

As they had preempted the moment, another picture was taken of the perfect sight of the two of you reuniting. When his mum had sent it to him, he had instantly gotten it printed and framed. He took it wherever he went without you, and he always would.

The note taped to the back said 'Grease is the word'. Now, he knew what you were talking about, but he didn't know if the tickets to said show were in your desk drawer or not. 'Is this the desk drawer?' he texted you.

'Sure is,' you replied, and he went back to the office and back to your desk. He looked in the drawer that he hadn't checked in earlier, and there they were. The Grease Tickets He remembered the day you had said you had a 'surprise' for him, only to take him to a theatre to see Grease live on stage.

If it wasn't for the puppy eyes you had given him, then he would've walked straight out of the theatre without a second glance. He had gone in just because you asked, and he unfortunately couldn't say he had hated it. Well, he had pretty much been watching you the whole time as you mouthed the lyrics and smiled at your favourite scenes. He couldn't help but find it utterly adorable.

He could see you in the poofy dresses, the sun shining on you as you sang to your heart's desire. He definitely wouldn't want to be one of the T-Birds, but he would be if you really wanted him to. Plus, he definitely wouldn't be opposed to seeing you in those tight leather pants.

When you asked what he had thought, he just said he had enjoyed it. Oh, what a mistake he had just made. Then you made him watch the movie version at home, and he got to see you mouth the lyrics and smile along again. He enjoyed the movie version more.

One thing he loved about you was how you kept little mementos like these tickets. You liked to preserve memories in the form of little tokens and trinkets. Whether it be tickets from a movie, a pebble from the beach or a receipt from a restaurant, you always kept the little things from special outings and events.

On the back of the tickets, the final note was written on a sticky note. 'You've made it! I'm surprised you haven't gotten bored and nagged me to just tell you where I am, or you have, I'm not sure. Anyway, for your final clue, I am going to send you out to a place that you have at home, and on track.'

Well that was too easy. Carlos closed the drawer and walked out to the garage, but he saw nothing. He felt confused, unsure of if his confidence in his clue-guessing skills was warranted in this situation.

He stood there for a few more seconds, until he heard the door to the garage close behind him. Turning around, he was greeted with nothing. Just the closed door. However, it wasn't just the door. On the door, there was another note taped to it.

"Where have you always wanted to go?' and he instantly knew what you were talking about. But, surely you hadn't, right? At the bottom of the piece of paper, he saw a small 'P.S' scribbled on. 'I need you to say it out loud so I can hear it'.

"Hawaii," he said, pretty loud. He also hoped that he had gotten it right, since there were many places he wanted to go that his racing schedule hadn't taken him to. Besides, he couldn't do many tourist-y things when he was traveling most of the time.

"Ding ding ding!" you laughed, jumping out from behind one of the cars in the garage. Carlos just stood there in complete shock, unsure of what to do with himself. You had a Hawaiian shirt on, complete with a hula skirt and flower garlands around your wrists and neck.

All he could do was laugh, "What the hell are you wearing?" he managed to choke out between the fits of laughter he was letting out. He felt bad, since the look on your face told him that you thought he should've been taking this a little more seriously. "Hey, darling, I'm sorry, you look adorable," he doubled back, closing the gap between you and putting his hands on your waist.

"But I do want to know what this is all about," he pressed.

"Well, the treasure hunt was just a little bit of fun that I wanted to do for some good memories on a special day. This stunning outfit it for... something else." you smiled, moving away from him and back to the spot you were hiding behind the car.

You reemerged with a white envelope in your hand, holding it out to him. "Happy birthday, Carlos." you softly said, and he took the envelope out of your hands. He eyed you sceptically, before ripping the top of the envelope open.

Carlos took the papers out of the envelope, his eyes scanning the words on the page. "Wait, really?" he asked, looking over it again and again. But low and behold, there were the plane tickets all the way to Ellison Onizuka Kona International Airport.

"It's kind of hard to get you gifts, so I thought this might be worth a little more, you know?" you said, really hoping he'd like it. Thankfully, you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he really did like it.

"Oh baby thank you, seriously," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. "You know you really didn't have to go through all this effort, right?" he told you.

"Carlos, you're 30 now. You've not got long before you're in a nursing home and can't even wipe your own ass without help," you quipped, and his eyes widened in mock outrage.

"I will have you know that I am nowhere near being sent to a nursing home! You're stuck with me, and now I think you've designated yourself to wipe my ass when I'm old and frail," he retorted with a feigned tone of hurt.

"Oh shush. Anyway, go sit in the living room, there's a little more to do," you told him, pushing him in the direction of the door. Carlos just shook his head and laughed, walking out of the garage.

"Getting bossed around on my own birthday, you sure are cruel to me," he tutted, going to sit on the couch as instructed. He watches as you disappeared into the kitchen, still finding the Hawaii outfit funny as ever.

"Happy birthday to you," you started to sing, walking into the room with a cake covered in candles balanced in your hands. "I have just realised how awkward it is when I am the only one singing, but anyway," you laughed, and Carlos could only giggle at your awkwardness.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Carlos, happy birthday to you," you quickly finished the song, just to get it over with. "Blow out the candles," you told him, and he did exactly that.

"Thank you, darling." he smiled, leaning over the cake to give you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips. Looking at the cake, he saw that it was absolutely plastered with various memes that had been made of him over the years of racing.

"I would have done the chili pepper, but Ferrari beat me to it last year. So, I had to get creative," you explained.

"You know, a normal cake would have been perfectly fine, you didn't have to go through so much effort," he sighed. He had told you this every year for the total 11 birthdays that you had spent together, yet he knew you would never listen to him.

And he never wanted you to listen, not deep down. He loved the effort you went through to try and think of fun things to do for special events like birthdays, and he had enjoyed his trip down memory lane. Plus, he was getting a lovely trip to Hawaii with the love of his life and a cake that was funny as ever.

"But thank you, really. I have had a wonderful day so far, and I'm barely an hour in, so I am doing pretty well for myself," Carlos said.

"Don't expect this next year, I have officially exhausted my bank of idea for dumb things to force you through on your birthday,"

"Hey, it's not dumb. I loved every second of it," he reassured, you, putting the cake on the coffee table and leading you over to sit next to him on the couch. "Thank you, genuinely. I would've been happy with just having you here, so this is beyond anything I can ask of you."

"You deserve it," you smiled, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You could smell the faint scent of burnt candles in the air and you sat in peace. "Feliz cumpleaños, Carlos."

God how he loved it when you tried to speak Spanish. Was the accent off? Yes. But, was it one of the cutest things ever, in his mind. "Gracias, mi amor," he replied, planting a soft kiss on the side of your head, praising his lucky stars that he had you. He had lost you once, and he sure as hell never would again.

A/N - What a day! Carlos' birthday, Charles won Monza... next week is the 5 year anniversary of he won in Spa, he wins in Monza (there is something coming out for that, don't you fret) and I am having a wonderful day. I felt shit to begin with, but now? I do not care.

Happy birthday Carlos! Even when you're driving a Williams, I will still be watching out for the smoothest of operations 🌶🌶

|masterlist|

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.5K

Series Masterlist

"Happy birthday, Stinky."

Lando opened his eyes and let out a groan. It was far too early. He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the pillow.

A hand was in his hair, brushing through his curls. "Oh, you're so cute," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Lacing her fingers through his own, she tried to pull him up. "C'mon, birthday boy. I made breakfast."

The promise of food was what coaxed him out of bed. As he stood, she threw a pair of pants at him, covering up his nakedness.

The moment she opened the bedroom door, the smell hit him. It was so damn sweet. Pancakes, waffles, French toast. It was a kids dream. "Holy fuck," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Baby, what time did you get up?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter," she said as she turned back to the stove, where more was cooking. Holy shit, he was gonna be double his body weight by the time his birthday was over.

Lando strode over to her. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't have to do all of this, baby," he whispered against her skin.

There was a moment of hesitation before she answered him. "I... this isn't like your normal birthdays, I'm sure. I still wanted to make it special."

He kissed her shoulder again. "You already have."

There was no hiding the smile she wore as she placed the newest batch of pancakes (American style this time) on the table. "Eat up," she said as she placed the pan in the sink. "I'll bring takeout home tonight, yeah?"

French toast halfway to his mouth, Lando paused. "Huh?" He asked, mouth still open, ready to take a bite. But then he put the toast back down. "What? It's my birthday," he said. "You can't leave on my birthday. That's the birthday boy's rules."

"Well, birthday boy," she began as she walked past him. "I've got work. Unless you wanna live in a cardboard box in the back alley."

For a second, Lando looked like he was contemplating it. She rolled her eyes as she headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.

The way Lando missed her when she was working was unhealthy, he knew. But over the weeks, months (he wasn't sure how long it had been, all of the days seemed to blend together), he'd found ways to entertain himself.

She'd given him complete access to her laptop. Lando had felt so guilty when he'd hijacked it, downloading programmes and logging into software to get into contact with his employees. But the fortification of his house was coming along nicely, all because she had given him her laptop.

Any day now the house would be ready, he knew. Lando wanted nothing more than to see her roaming the halls. He'd show her around, show her the office (once he'd made it his own), show her the library, the garden. He'd take her up to meet his mum, and his dad now, too.

The thought of her in his house, in his space, helping make it his own, it stirred something in him. Something that had him grabbing her waist before she could walk through the door and head out to work. "Lan!" She said in surprise as he nipped at her neck. "Calm down, birthday boy. I'll be back in a few hours."

He watched her go. But the moment the door shut, he sat on the sofa and opened the laptop.

Nobody had wished him a happy birthday, but Lando wasn't surprised. That wasn't how it worked in a family. It was business as usual, maybe a private celebration with the head of the family's partner.

This was already the best birthday Lando had ever had. He logged into the laptop, typed several different and intricate passwords into the software he had to get into.

Will and Max had left him messages, detailing what they had done to the house. You'll need to come by today and get yourself onto the system, Will had messaged.

A groan left Lando's lips. He threw his head back for just a moment, eyes shutting. Her rarely used car was parked just across the street, and Lando knew where she kept the keys. If he left how he could be back before returned from work.

Getting changed into his suit (the one she'd cleaned up for him), Lando grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. He pocketed them and made his way out to her car.

Lando hadn't been back to the house in months. It didn't look any different from the day he'd left it.

By the gate waited Max Fewtrell. He looked at Lando with a frown before using the keypad to open the gate. As the gate opened, Max climbed into the car. "This isn't yours," he said.

"Nope," Lando replied and began driving up towards the house.

Still, Max looked at him,clearly waiting for something more. Something that Lando wouldn't give unprompted. "You haven't run off and become a car thief, have you?" Max challenged. "Because that would be really bad for business."

Lando couldn't help but laugh as he pulled up to the house. "Nope, this beauty belongs to the love of my life."

Beauty. Max snorted at that. The car was anything but beautiful. "If we get everything set up today, you gonna move her in?"

Truthfully, Lando didn't know. If he'd been any other rich guy living in this huge ass house, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he wasn't just any other rich guy. His world was dangerous and he wanted her away from it. If he could have kept himself away, he would have.

Max led him to the security office. He sat Lando down in front of a bunch of monitors and began setting up the security system, coding it to his passwords and prints.

It was a long process, one I will not bore you with. Lando was nearly falling asleep by the time he was finally finished. He checked the watch on his wrist and couldn't wait to get back to her apartment, back to her. His baby.

But he wasn't quite ready yet. With Max trailing behind him, Lando walked to his bedroom.

How many mindless hookups had he had in this bed? "Get new sheets," he said and Max wrote it down. "And clear out half of my wardrobe."

Because Lando really couldn't stay away from her, could he? After spending the last few months living together, living in bliss, he couldn't imagine not waking up beside her every day.

So, Lando had his staff readying the house for her to move in. It was incredible to watch happen, all for his baby. And, as soon as that was done, he headed home, headed back to hers.

***

Things had felt normal, leaving the office. He stopped into the shops, got the birthday boy some birthday chocolates, and got some takeout for the both of them.

It was her usual route home and not too far at all. Although she lived in a sketchy area, she'd never felt unsafe on her walk home.

Until tonight.

Maybe it was paranoia. Ever since Lando had told her, she'd been a lot more wary. But she'd never felt this before, never this terrified.

She sped up her steps and quickly glanced back.

The person behind her with his hands shoved into their pockets sped up their steps, too. They crossed the street when she crossed the street and followed her around corners.

When she got to her street, she was running. She kept the takeout and the shopping held tight to her body as she legged it as fast as she could to her door.

The person behind her started running, too.

As soon as she got through the door of the apartment building, she pushed her way through and kicked it shut behind her, buying her just a few more seconds.

She managed to get her own door open before the person grabbed her. Throwing her body against the door she shut it, locked it and put the chain across.

Her chest was heaving as she dropped her bags and wandered into the kitchen. As she poured herself some water, Lando came running out of the bedroom. "Baby, what is it?" He called as he strode over.

She was shaking when Lando pulled her into his chest. "You're okay," he whispered and ran his hands through his hair. He ignored the smashed bottle of wine by the front door. "I've got you, baby."

She didn't tell him what happened that moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. Lando held her until she could and, when she did, he spent his night by the door, watching through the peephole with his gun pressed to the wood.

Tomorrow he'd get her out of here, get her somewhere safe.

a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated this one in over two weeks, my focus has been elsewhere lmao

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wqnwoos · 7 months ago

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it’s well past two in the morning when all your guests have left, and it’s just you and jeonghan and some cardboard boxes.

the two of you are taping the last of his boxes shut, a movie you’ve seen a million times playing on the television, both of you talking and laughing over it. the party has just died down — yours and jeonghan’s farewell party.

he’d said it sounded too dramatic, when you first brought it up. because neither of you were going far. you to your new studio apartment and jeonghan moving in with seungkwan, now that the lease was up and the owner wasn’t planning to renew it. jeonghan had dubbed it the “house-cooling” party instead, the opposite of housewarming — the kind of stupid joke he only makes to you.

still, though, as you sit among the boxes and leftover pizza, you feel kind of — wistful. when you say as much, jeonghan laughs, reaching over to tap under your chin fondly.

“wistful?” he repeats, smiling.

you huff at him. “i’m going to miss you, that’s what i’m saying, you ass.”

“i’m not going far,” he reminds you. “we’re literally within twenty minutes of each other. fifteen on a good day.”

“still!”

“i’ll visit you all the time. i’ll get tired of seungkwan doing karaoke. and then we’ll basically be roommates again, because he doesn’t stop doing karaoke.”

jeonghan’s tone is light and easy, but you can’t help wondering why the two of you aren’t going to be roommates again. why you hadn’t looked for an apartment together. neither of you had brought it up, things just fell this way, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about how jeonghan always moves your washing to the dryer for you and how much you’re going to miss him.

because you really are — not just because of laundry. you guys were roommates before you became actually close, brought together by mutual friends; you’ve never known a jeonghan that wasn’t jeonghan, my roommate, and suddenly it feels a little like losing him. because suddenly you love him, and not in a jeonghan, my roommate way. not in a jeonghan, my friend way either — in a way that puts aches in your chest, has your ribs living up to their name, acting a cage for your heart. you’re not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough.

you’d been clinging to the hope that it would pass; everyone knows you don’t date your roommate. but now — now he’s not your roommate, and it hasn’t passed, and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

on one hand: you could tell him. bare it all out, in the open, raw and bloody and unfettered. on the other hand: there are so many things you would rather do than experience rejection. you’d be able to take just being his roommate if you needed to. could’ve held out until it passed.

“maybe we should’ve moved in together again,” you voice, forcing your voice light and airy and casual, playing it like a random off-hand suggestion.

jeonghan’s vehement shake of the head is surprising, and it stings. more than you expected. “no.”

you can quite literally feel your face fall, staring at him without pretence. “what?”

he looks up from the box he’s packing, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his brown eyes. “ask me why,” he instructs softly.

you swallow thickly. it’s hard not to, when he’s looking at you like that — warm and familiar and intense and scary, all at once. your eyes follow the strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead, suddenly realising just how close he is. “why?”

jeonghan sets down the tape, tilting his head to the side, choosing his words slowly, carefully. “because if i ever ask you to move in with me again, it’ll be very different to this. can you pass me the scissors?”

you barely even hear the last part. “different? different how?”

“just… different.” he shrugs, reaching over you for the scissors himself. “you’ll be dating me, for one thing.”

time seems to come to a halt when he says those words, and you barely manage a whisper — “what?”

jeonghan rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. “i’m trying to say i’m in love with you, dipshit. can you please take a hint?”

you malfunction. it’s late and your brain is already fried enough from finals and he’s staring at you, and this isn’t a dream, this is real.

and so you launch your roll of tape in his direction.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

jeonghan doesn’t even need to dodge the tape, but still gapes at you. “what?”

“you can’t— just drop a love confession like a — like a hot potato, and then expect me to catch it!”

“a hot potato?” he repeats, and then he’s biting down on a laugh, shoulders shaking. “did you just call my love confession a fucking hot potato?”

“no! yes, well — ” you flounder, confused in your embarrassment. “oh my god. you’re so mean. i wasn’t ready.”

jeonghan’s still laughing. “if i’d warned you in advance, what would you have answered?”

and now it’s your turn to stare him down: “you didn’t ask anything yet. what am i supposed to answer?”

that only tilts jeonghan’s smile further upward, and he scoots closer, leaning on one arm. you can smell him, soft and fresh and so incredibly near, as he speaks — “you’re smart. i think you can work it out.”

you kiss him first. quick and sweet, over and over. you think it’s probably answer enough.

also in my head this is the same couple from this drabble but they can be read separately

an / hana comeback era ⁉️ this is just something i wrote super quick but HIII it’s been almost 2 months since i posted some writing 😭 i’m so sorry this awful piece is the first thing u guys get, hopefully will write something better soon!

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uravitypng · 1 month ago

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ghost kurapika x (chubby) reader

KINKTOBER: voyeurism + multiple orgasms

word count: 2.1k words / mdni ! 18 i got really carried away while writing this so that's why it's this long, it was meant to be under 1k asdfghksg. kurapika has some yandere tendencies in this xoxo

when kurapika was still alive he was driven by revenge, his afterlife is fuelled by you. kurapika resents the living and whenever someone new enters his home with cardboard boxes piled high in their arms and a key in the door he wants them to leave. when you came through the door tripping over your own feet and reading out loud a to-do list of things you need to buy he thought exactly the same as all those other times.

then it changed. it wasn't a sudden change, it was gradual. people normally don't want to stay long but for you it's been two years. normally his 'visitors' leave after a while of his hauntings but you've stuck around and now he doesn't want you to go.

in fact now he doesn't even want you to leave the house, the outside world is dangerous and he knows that more than most. you're too delicate and fragile and he can't keep you safe when you leave.

you really like where you live although you feel at times you're being watched... it's not a particularly bad feeling though...

that suspicion you have will be confirmed soon.

kurapika wants to look after you, he watches you while you sleep to make sure you don't get nightmares and watches the door for intruders. he cares for you like he does his clan. everything is platonic, he's never thought of you that way, you're like family.

whenever you'd get changed he'd look away or leave the room but one day he overheard you on the phone complaining about how you slipped in the shower and fell down, luckily you only fell and didn't hit your head and get concussion. kurapika hears this and worries, the next day he's following you into the bathroom to make sure you're safe the entire time.

you lift off your top and throw it into the laundry basket. he was supposed to look away until you get in the shower and the steam surrounded your body but he didn't look away, he didn't even turn after seeing what you were doing. he didn't take his eyes off you as your soft stomach and full breasts get exposed, not wearing a bra because why would you? you're at home. he didn't take his eyes off you when you lowered your leggings down and your thighs come into view. he never looked away from your body as you climbed in the shower and he moved closer to you to 'keep a closer watch on you.' really moving closer made it easier to see you through the steam. he never looked away as water dripped down your skin and you stepped out the shower wrapping a fluffy towel around you.

this started his constant watching, now he's seen you he couldn't look away. the smell of passionfruit fills the bathroom as he takes in your soapy plump body in the shower, your hands running along your body covered in body-wash and hair wet from the shampoo. kurapika presses the palm of his hand over his trousers and groans your name, imagining you stroking him and imagines him helping you in the shower, taking over the task of getting you clean.

after you come home, obviously tired, from a long day, you'll get changed straight away into pyjamas and as you undo your bra with your heavy breasts now free and you moan in pleasure and relief, no more underwire along your body and knowing that you don't have to leave again for the day. kurapika nearly chocks on his own spit as you moan in relief.

when you bend over or stand on your tipy-toes all he can think about is taking you right then and there. as you bend over the sofa to reach the tv remote your top slivers up and everything is on display, it would be so easy to touch you, 'if only ghosts could.' he throws his head back as he comes imagining fucking you right there.

kurapika watches you as you put on a pretty dress and his eyes turn red with worry, 'where are you going?' 'it's late outside.' 'you're too pretty to be alone.'

as you leave kurapika waits by the door, his fist are clenched and he wants you to come home, it's dark out. his mind is racing with hundreds of thoughts, wishing that you'd come home. 'what if he lost you? what if you never came back? he can't lose anyone else.'

hours later he watches you stumble in through the door and he can smell alcohol on your breath. 'is this where you've been, out drinking? what if you got hurt?'

you kick off your shoes and fling yourself in your bed, your arm covering your face and wriggling off your dress. kurapika frowns. his frown turns into pink cheeks as you move your hand under your underwear and whine as you make contact with your clit. kurapika sits on the bed next to you and watches as your face scrunch up, his hand itches to touch you.

he's been content with watching but you've never done this before, or at least he's never seen you do it and he wants to do it for you. he didn't think he'll ever be able to touch you or talk to you but as he puts his hand on your hip you whelp. he didn't expect you to feel anything but you clearly did.

you know you felt something, a cold hand against you. you may have been out drinking tonight but you're only tipsy, and getting more sober, you definitely felt something. you freeze. "is-is anyone there?" your friends would call you crazy talking to yourself but you always feel like someone's watching you, you never feel alone, you always feel like someone's sitting next to you. "i sound ridiculous," you mumble but your mumble is cut short when your breath hitches as you feel that cold sensation again, this time up and down your hip, almost in a soothing matter.

'if i can touch her what else can i do? what if i really concentrate?' carefully swinging his legs over you and resting above you he kisses the side of your neck. you shiver not expecting it and buck your hips up, feeling someone on top of you. you should be alarmed but you're not. somewhere in the back of your head you're always had a suspicion that you weren't alone but you buried the thought down.

kurapika smirks as you move under him and shiver, liking the effect he has on you. he needs you. he wants you to see him. you gasp and your eyes are wide. a man is above you. a very pretty man, blonde hair and cloudy grey eyes that are looking down at you fondly, his gaze makes your cheeks heat up. a singular drop earring hanging down his face.

he knows you can see him as you gasp and make eye contact. "h-hello." you say quietly and he smiles,

"hello my love." you're bashful but feel safe all at once. you've never felt safer in anyone's company. "i'm so glad you can finally see me darling." before you can say anything else kurapika is kissing your neck again making you shiver and running his hands along your body. he fiddles with the hem of your underwear, "can i?"

immediately you hum in confirmation, not caring if you sound needy and you do, making kurapika happy with the knowledge that you need him. you'll stay here with him.

you lift your hips up to help him and he pulls them down. kurapika kisses your neck one last time before moving between your pillowy thighs, opening them wider with his hand and making his way down your body with his lips, kissing your chest and rib, your tummy and your hip, all the way down to your pussy where he opens up your pussy lips with his hand making you moan loudly and he smirks. the temperature of his hands on you mixed with the air that's now blowing on you makes your senses heightened. with his hands on you he flicks your clit gently with his tongue making you breathe heavily, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking making your laboured breathing turn into loud moans. it doesn't take long for you to come but kurapika doesn't give you a break, touching you again, this time pushing two fingers inside of you and making you scream.

"feel good darling?" you nod your head rapidly as he continuously hits your gspot with his long fingers, his thumb stays on your clit and rubs it. you come again.

by this point his cock is so hard that it's hurting but he doesn't want to stop not yet. he makes you come one more time on his fingers while you screech and lifts himself up so he's looking at you. "i'm going to fuck you now love." he kisses your temple, sweaty after so many orgasms. at some point he must of taken off his trousers but you didn't see. you don't know where they went either so who's to question ghost logic and rules.

kurapika takes your hand in his and lays them next to your head before slowly pushing into you. you gasp at the sheer size of him even after so many orgasms and foreplay. when he is in you fully he waits and pauses for you to feel comfortable, and leans close to your ear. "i'll make you feel so good my darling but you've got to say my name okay."

"okay, pretty boy." his cheeks are pink as you call him pretty boy. when he was still alive people would ask him if he was a girl, and say he looked feminine he used to hate that and he thought he would hate someone calling him pretty but when you said it he didn't hate it. not at all.

"kurapika," he tells you his name, smiling and you repeat it. he liked pretty boy but nothing beats you saying his name, it sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth. he's never loved anyone saying his name as much since his klan was murdered. you go to tell him your name but he interrupts you, "i know who you are darling. is it okay if i move now?"

"yes. please kurapika, please move," you reply breathlessly and he listens to what you want as he starts moving, rocking his hips gently and squeezing your hands.

"i'm so thankful i can touch you," he kisses you shoulder and his thrusts stay the same. he seems composed but he wants you badly, he'll take it slow though and make sure you get treated how you should be treated- like a queen.

he's not the most experienced in the world, he never cared much about sex, it wasn't a priority when he was alive but he will make you feel good, he'll make sure of it. you feel so wet and warm that it's making him lightheaded but he grounds himself by squeezing your hands.

you don't stop moaning and whimpering his name all night as he makes you come over and over again as you plead for a break but at this point he doesn't let up, holding your plush thighs in one of his hands and keeping it over his shoulder. "can't take no more! please 'pika can't come again."

"yes you can darling, you can give me another one." and you do. another one and another one and another one.

just as he's about to come a image flashes through his head of you swollen with his baby, a baby with beautiful red eyes, the kurta clan has a chance with you.

ropes of white shoot into you as he comes and you're shocked at how warm it is because the rest of him is cold. he groans and his grip on you tightens as he orgasms. kurapika stays inside you for a minute before slowly pulling out not wanting you to suddenly feel empty. if it's also plugging up you full of his cum then that's just a byproduct...

when he pulls out he gives you a chaste kiss where you go to chase it reaching up higher to kiss him, he lets you kiss him and mumbles against your lips, "i love you."

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epry-creative-crafts · 10 months ago

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See you on my YouTube channel: https://studio.youtube.com/channel/UCHAK-mJVfRr95EtVn4kVTEQ

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kaciidubs · 1 year ago

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Surprise! | Felix x Reader

❣ In collaboration with @onmykneesforchanlix ❣

❣ Summary: Felix was a cat shifter, living most of his days in his cat form due to unfortunate living circumstances. That is, until you found him one rainy night and his life changed for the better. Years later, he decides that it's time to finally reveal himself to you fully. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 5.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Cat Shifter! Felix, slight Dom! Reader, Pussy Drunk! Felix, smut, slight angst [Felix's life before Reader], fluff, first time as a semi-couple, feminization [Felix wears Reader's clothes], unprotected sex, decryphilia, creampie, begging, praise, desperate/needy love making ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Felix is referred to as kitten, Lix, Lixie, fluffy ending ❣ ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

Felix’s early life wasn’t much to brag about; growing up in an era where animal shifters were being seen less as a threat and more as an equal was a blessing in disguise, but that didn’t mean he had it easy. There was still discrimination, prejudice, and general unease, and even as a cat shifter he wasn’t free from any of them; losing his part time job due to “staff overflow” and his tenant kicking him and multiple shifter families out of their apartment building due to “remodeling”.

His roommates at the time were able to fall back on family members or other friends, but he was by himself in the city, and he didn’t feel comfortable asking them if they could house him until he got back on his feet. So, he tried getting by on his own until he could find new roommates or someone willing to host shifters.

He was able to stay a few nights at a hostel, applying to any place that had a hiring sign while earning his keep by helping the owner of the hostel - however, he wasn’t able to keep it that way for long. Which is how he found himself surviving in his cat form, easier to maintain throughout the night as he slept in worn out boxes off the side of the road.

Then, one rainy night changed his life for the better - the night he met you.

You, who was walking the dark, rainy streets with a broken umbrella and your face tucked as far into your jacket as it could go.

You, who stopped in your tracks when you saw him sleeping in that small, water damaged cardboard box just outside of an alleyway.

You, who scooped him up and tucked him into the free space of your jacket before taking him back to your apartment with the promise of taking care of him for the night.

Well, what started out as one night turned into two years and counting by your side as your loving little orange cat, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way - save for a few key things. The major one being he had yet to reveal his human form to you while you were home.

He figured that you had a feeling about him not being only a cat, from the way he participated in your morning routines with his own tasks - you doing your hair was him grooming himself, you brushing your teeth was him having a dental treat until you left so he could shift and actually brush his teeth - to the way you still had an unopened 16-count of cat food because he preferred eating the dinner you had over any form of gourmet tuna.

But, you never mentioned anything about it, you never even made a sly passing comment despite the way he’d participate in your one-sided conversations with too many coincidental meows or glares whenever you said something he didn’t agree with.

You even wrote out the alphabet on a sheet of paper so he could “pick his own name”, using his small paws to walk over the letters ‘F’ ‘E’ ‘L’ ‘I’ ‘X’ before rubbing his face against the side of yours with a content purr.

All of these events culminated into this moment now, where he was currently sitting on your bed in his human form freshly showered and naked as the day he was born; the pajama shirt you wore that night laid out in front of him.

Tonight was the night Felix was going to show you the real him, the him he hid from you out of fear that you wouldn’t want to keep him around anymore, fear that he’d go from your kitty ‘Lixie’ to just another alley cat.

His plan was simple, really; dress in your clothes to give him the comfort and confidence he needed and surprise you once you got back from work, apologize for not letting you know the night you brought him home, and hope that the kindness you've shown him for the past two years would continue further.

Orange tail swishing behind him with anticipation, he wasted no time in pulling the pink shirt onto his arms before slipping it over his head, quickly engulfing himself in your warm scent and soft cotton.

Smoothing out the top, his soft brown eyes landed on the piece of clothing he forgot he even took out, his human ears turning red at the sight of your white panties laying bright against the blanket.

He didn’t have any clothes at your place, usually reserving himself the grace of either wandering around nude or donning one of your hoodies and a pair of underwear he’d make sure to wash himself before you got home; and this plan had the added point of him wearing something to cover his exposed lower half.

Hence, the white lace panties with pink bows that he was sliding up his pale legs and tucking himself into, finishing off his look for the night.

Perfect.

Sneaking a peek at himself in the mirror near your closet, he felt a low rumble in his chest - the shirt slightly swamped him and the panties’ waistband sat comfortably below his tail to not cause irritation or annoyance, this couldn’t have worked out more perfectly in his favor.

A soft yawn tumbled from his lips and he glanced at the small digital clock you kept on the nightstand; a little less than an hour and a half until you came home, which meant he had more than enough time for a quick nap before his plan would go into effect.

Stretching his arms to the sky with an even bigger yawn, he allowed himself to curl up against your sheets and close his heavy eyelids - content purrs escaping him with each exhale.

“Lixie! I’m home!”

His ears perked up at your voice and he stretched with a big yawn, slowly rolling himself into a sitting position and tiredly rubbing his eye until his brain finally kicked into gear; you were home.

A rush of excitement ran through him as he scrambled onto his knees, hands seated in his lap as he stared at the door in anticipation - his heart thumping hard in his chest.

What were you going to say? Would you still like him as a human? What if he wasn’t pretty enough in his human form?

His ears drooped as he deflated, small hands now anxiously playing with the hem of the shirt that was supposed to be his comfort. He heard you shuffle around the adjacent room, mentally going through the routine he’d seen you do time and time again; keys in dish, shoes at the door, work bag on the chair in the living room.

“Lixie? Where are you, kitten?”

The closer your footsteps grew toward the bedroom door, the more he wished he could shrink in on himself - it wasn't too late to change back, was it? No, no, he wanted you to see him - he wanted to show you the real him.

“Lixie?”

Where was he? He usually greeted you at the door, meowing loudly at you while rubbing himself at your legs. Maybe he was still asleep, curled up on his favourite place, your pillows?

You quietly made your way to the bedroom, your hands resting on the handle for a second before opening the door.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what happened next.

“Lix-” Your eyes met a familiar warm brown set, but that wasn’t what stopped you in your tracks.

No, it was the fact that said eyes belonged to a blond man currently sitting in the middle of your bed, dressed in your sleep shirt and nothing else - at least, that’s what you could assume from the sight of his bare thighs.

Maybe you should have screamed - should have shouted curses and threatened to call the police but all you could do was blink at the man. Opening your mouth to say something, the words get stuck in your throat, making you swallow thickly while your eyes lingered on the man in front of you.

Felix felt small under your gaze, shy even. He nervously pulled the shirt to cover his legs when he noticed you staring at his bare thighs.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea, he thought to himself.

He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything - any words or sounds dying before they even reached his throat. His eyes met yours when he looked up, and he noticed a small smile forming on your lips.

“Lixie?” You questioned quietly.

He felt his ears twitch at the sound of his name, catching the notes of joy adding sunlight to the word; his tail swishing in response. You seemed to like his reaction because you took a small step away from the doorway before rushing toward where he was sitting.

“Oh... my little Lixie! Look at you- I can’t believe it- My cute little kitten is a shifter!”

Felix felt himself blush at the awe in your tone, his hands tightening against the hem of your shirt.

“Lixie,” you hummed as you ran your fingers through his soft blond hair, “you’re so pretty.”

Felix’s lips curled up into a smile, and when your fingers found that spot behind his ears - scratching just the way he liked - he couldn’t help but start purring.

The first word to leave his lips is your name - his voice a bit raspy since he hadn't spoken properly in months.

“Why didn't you show yourself sooner, kitty?” You cooed, tracing your fingertips down the side of his face and stopping at the soft curve of his chin, smiling when he leaned into your hold.

“I…” He swallowed thickly, nearly shocking himself at how deep his voice was, “I wanted to but... I didn't think you'd like me anymore…” He couldn't help but hold your gaze, addicted to the soft sparkle in your irises as you studied him.

“Why would you think that, hm? You're my Lixie,” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes never leaving his, “You’re my pretty kitty…” You gave him a reassuring smile, your thumbs running along his reddened cheeks.

With the way you looked at him with so much love and care, he couldn’t help but blush - his cheeks dusted in a pretty pink.

“Look at you,” a soft laugh fell from your lips, and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to feel them against his own, “wearing my shirt? Were you trying to turn yourself into a gift for me?”

A hot flush ran down his back, goosebumps rising on his skin as he remembered what exactly he's wearing.

“N-Not just your shirt…” He stammered, gaze falling in embarrassment from the guilty admission.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, and instead of answering you, Felix leaned back and lifted up the shirt - not all the way, but just enough to reveal the panties he stole out of your drawer.

You sucked in a breath at the sight, pink little bows decorating the white lace he was wearing. It was your favourite pair, Felix knew that.

That's why he chose them.

They were a bit small for him, but he didn't mind - he just hoped that you were okay with it too.

“Lix…” His name left you in a breathless sigh, a hand falling from his cheek to graze up his thigh, but no further than that. “You really turned yourself into a gift for me, huh?”

You knew how the lace fit your body, but the sight of the white patterns hugging his slim hips and slightly bulging over his dick had your brain whirring. You didn't miss the soft whimper that fell from his lips, or the way his legs shifted toward your touch.

Felix bit down on his lip when he felt your fingertips ghosting over his inner thigh, barely touching him. He spread his legs a bit, hoping you’d get the hint and touch him - but you didn't, your fingers running up his thigh and stopping before they reached the lace, then down again.

“You know... it really makes me sad you didn’t shift for me sooner.” His eyes widened slightly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout until you continued, “We could’ve had so much fun way sooner than this.” There was a sharp glint in your eye that made him whine, his hands tugging the shirt higher up his stomach.

“I’m... sorry,” he mumbled, trying to hide his face with the shirt until you stopped him.

“It's okay Lix,” your hands came up to tug on his shirt, “why don’t you take this off for me, hm?”

He nodded, wasting no time in pulling it over his head and throwing it next to the bed.

“So pretty,” you whispered, brushing his hair out of his face.

Your fingers grazed against his ears in the process and he moaned, the melodic sound melting into a purr that you practically felt vibrating from his chest.

“They’re still sensitive even in your human form…” Humming, you caressed your thumb along the base, “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“P-Please,” he whimpered, his hands itching to reach out to you from where they were planted on the bed, “it feels so... good.”

“Feels good, yeah? I can make you feel even better... if you let me.” You moved your hand from his ears to his chest, gently pushing him back to lay on the bed.

Your fingers brushed over his nipple and he gasped at the sudden rush coursing through his body.

Eyes flickering down from his eyes to his lips, you leaned in closer with a soft whisper just barely grazing the pink skin, “Kiss me, kitten.”

Felix lifted his head so fast he was shocked he didn’t accidentally headbutt you as your lips met.

It was different, so different from the way you would kiss the top of his head when he’s curled in your arms in his cat form, yet the softness remained the same. He didn’t think it could get any better until he felt your lips part, and when your thumb and finger pinched his nipple, he gasped and your tongue was ghosting against his own.

He let his tongue run along yours, humming lowly in the back of his throat. His cock was already hard and straining against the lace; the tip leaking pre cum, forming a small wet patch.

It hurt, but Felix didn’t know how to ask you for more. He tugged on your shirt, wanting you closer.

You couldn’t help but laugh against his lips, pulling back just enough so that your noses remained touching. “Eager little kitten, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

Pecking his lips one last time, you sat up - kneeling just above his lap - and pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it where the pajama shirt laid.

Felix’s eyes widened - he’d seen you in your underwear before, sure, but taking in your body in his human form had fireworks going off in his head. You looked soft - he knew you was soft - but he needed to feel you with his hands, his mouth, anything you allowed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, staring at every bit of exposed skin, wetting his dry lips with his tongue.

You laughed shyly, trying to cover yourself with your hands, “Don’t look at me like that. You've seen me in underwear before - hell, you’ve even seen me naked!"

Felix felt the blush spreading on his face - it was true, he had seen you naked, too many times to count, but that was when he was in his cat form; sitting on the counter in the bathroom when you took a shower or a bath, never leaving you out of sight.

“I-I know! But-” This time, he allowed his hands to touch your forearms, trailing up the skin to your wrists, then the backs of your hands, “I... I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to see you like this- touch you like this.” He kept his touch strictly on your hands, resting over the bra that kept the sight of his dreams hidden away. “I want... C-Can I see more? Please, I wanna see you.”

“You could've had me like this months ago, kitten.” Your tone was smug, but you still reached behind you to unclasp your bra - not taking it off just yet, “It’s okay, you can touch me.” Your hands reached for his as you guided them to your bra straps. "Help me take this off?"

Felix swallowed thickly, his hands shaking a bit from how nervous he was. He didn't want to fuck this up. This might be his only chance.

His fingers grazed the straps and he immediately decided he hates the texture - too rough, no wonder why you were always rolling your shoulders once it was off. Eyebrows furrowing at the offensive clothing, he slowly pulled them down the curves of your shoulders and had to physically fight back the moan growing from the way the bra went slack - your breasts threatening to spill from the cups already.

“Keep going, Lixie, take it all the way off for me.”

Felix pulled it down completely before throwing it aside, his hand itching to touch you. Reaching out hesitantly, he lets a finger run over the soft flesh of your bare breasts; goosebumps spreading over your skin as you send him a reassuring smile and a nod, giving him the okay to continue.

He doesn’t waste any more time cupping your breasts with his hands, squeezing them carefully.

If he thought kneading his own blankets was heaven, then this was damn near nirvana; your breasts resting in the palms of his hands - or at least, what he could fit - while the rest squished up with each flex of his hands.

“You-You’re so soft... oh, fuck, you’re so soft.”

You shivered at the curse falling from his angelic lips - the thought of your kitten, your Lixie, so smitten over what he’d seen time and time again making your core throb. “Softer than that blanket I spent so much money on for you?” You teased, laughing at the pout that overtook his lips.

“That’s different! You... You feel better than any blanket or any pillow I've ever laid on.”

“You’re so cute, I’m just teasing you.” Taking his hands away from you, you pinned them down on the mattress near his head, leaning over him with a teasing grin.

It took all the strength Felix had to not cum right then and there; your breasts were right in front of his face, giving him the chance to kiss the soft flesh before circling his tongue around one of your nipples.

You moaned at the sudden attack, your hands tightening around his wrists while his mouth toyed with the hardening bud. Without having to be told, he released your tit with a wet pop before latching onto the second, making a sound you couldn’t tell was a moan or a purr.

“Lixie.” You moaned, and if Felix's eyes weren’t shut you would’ve seen them roll to the back of his head. You barely touched him and he was already at his peak, wondering how it was even possible to feel anything better than this.

He bucked his hips up, moaning loudly at the delicious friction and the waves of pleasure running through his body. His eyes were closed tightly, mouth agape with breathless pants rolling past his lips.

He was so close, he could almost taste the orgasm on his tongue but he fought against it. He didn't want to cum like this, not yet.

"Please," he whimpered, not sure what he was even asking for.

“Keep your hands up here, Lixie, okay?” You slowly sat up, trying not to laugh at the needy whine that settled in his throat when your chest no longer surrounded his head. “Keep them up there or else I’ll stop, understand?”

He nodded senselessly, eyes glossy and chest flushed pink; he nearly forgot how to breathe when he saw your hands go to your jeans, popping the button open and sliding the zipper down. He nearly cried when you shifted off of him, only for you to shush him with a tut of your tongue.

“Gotta take my pants off first Lixie, I told you I can make you feel even better, and I will.”

You turned away from him, pulling your jeans teasingly slow over the curve of your ass before pulling them off completely - repeating the same process with your underwear.

Felix couldn't help but stare at your ass, almost drooling at the sight. His hands moved to reach out to touch you but he stopped himself before you could notice, repositioning them next to his head in hopes of going unnoticed.

Leaving your clothes in a puddle by your feet, you quickly climbed your way back onto the bed and over Felix’s lap - not sitting down just yet. “You know, as much as I said you missed out on showing me the real you before, I can’t wait to see what I’ve been missing out on too.” You danced your fingers up his stomach and to his chest teasingly, watching as his hands fisted the sheets underneath him. “I’ll take good care of you, kitten.”

Felix watched as you lowered yourself so settle in his lap and a sharp moan escaped him, the warmth of your pussy settling over the thin lace he still had on.

He fought the urge to look down between your bodies, wanting to take a peek but instead looking up at you, trying to grind his hips up against yours. “Please... I- I can’t.. I want,” he stuttered out, “it hurts.”

“Use your words Lixie,” you hummed, a light roll of your hips nearly sending him to the stars, “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, but you have to use your words, kitten.”

“Please, I want... no, need you to touch me,” he breathed “‘m so hard it hurts." He thrusted his hips up, groaning softly, “Fuck, you feel so good,” eyes fluttering shut with another thrust, he bites back a whimper, “please, I’ll be good for you... just touch me.”

A soft smile graced your lips, “That’s my good kitty.” Lifting yourself onto your knees, you wasted no time in tugging your lace panties down his hips and the swell of his ass, “Such a dirty kitty, making a mess in my panties, huh?”

All he could do was moan wantonly, his dick finally free from the tight confines as he eagerly kicked them down his legs and off the bed.

You leaned back over him, pressing your lips to his in a slow kiss and letting your thumb run over his slit to collect the pre cum. Felix moaned into the kiss, parting his lips for you to slip your tongue in. Your tongues touch as Felix cupped your face in his hands, not wanting to part not even for oxygen - he doesn't want to even think about the kiss ending, pouring all of his emotions into it as if it were the last thing he could do in his human form.

Your free hand covered one of his own, squeezing it gently as you parted from the kiss. “I’ll let you slide for now,” you whispered, your lips still brushing against his, “but next time I'll have to punish you.”

Felix felt you shift above him, but before he can register anything, the warmth of your walls are enveloping the head of his dick. "O-Oh! Oh fuck!"

You placed your hands on his chest and sank down on him completely, hissing a bit at the stretch. “Fuck kitten, you feel so good,” moaning softly, you wiggled your hips, “feel so full.”

He fisted the sheets underneath him, throwing his head back, mouth agape in a silent moan. “S-So warm," he gasped as you lifted your hips up and sank down on him again, your walls clenching around him. Suddenly, his hands flew to your hips to stop you from moving, “Please wait, fuck- I'm not gonna last long.” Your eyes met and he sucked in a shaky breath, “Shit, you feel so perfect around me. Better than what I’ve imagined…”

“You”ve thought about fucking me?” Your light giggling made your pussy flutter around him and he nearly sobs at the feeling. “What a naughty little kitten I have - makes me wonder what else goes on in that pretty head of yours.” With your hands settled on his chest, you slowly rocked your hips against his, moaning at the way his dick massaged your insides. “Let me show you what the real thing is really like, are you ready for that, Lixie?”

“Oh god, please show me,” he whined, his grip on your hips tightening slightly.

Moans spilled from his lips as you moved your hips teasingly slow, your fingertips digging into his skin, leaving behind small crescent marks.

Overwhelmed from the pleasure, his moans quickly melted into whimpers and pleas. He doesn't hold back, making you smirk, “Let it all out kitten. Am I making you feel good?”

He nodded his head frantically, unable to stop the moans tumbling from his kiss bruised lips.

“Good boy, such a good boy, Felix.”

He didn't even have the chance to react to the sound of his full name falling from your lips when you rose slowly before dropping back down. You were riding him, the person he loved so much he thought his heart would never beat the same - he felt tears begin to swell in his eyes as his hands followed your pace.

“Kitten? Hey, are you alright?” Your voice filled with worry as you immediately stilled your hips, your hands reaching up to gently caress his cheeks, “am I hurting you?” Concern grew in the pit of your stomach as you watched a single tear roll down his cheek, reacting quickly to catch it with your thumb.

Felix shook his head, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Lixie, I need you to answer me - do you need me to stop?”

His watery eyes snapped to your own as he choked back a sob, “N-No! Don’t- Please- I... I feel so good, I can’t- I love it- I-I love yo-”

Soft hiccups broke his sentence into rambled parts, and it all suddenly clicked; he was crying from pleasure, crying for you.

“Oh... My sweet kitten…” You cooed softly, catching more stray tears with a swipe of your thumb before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you too, do you wanna keep going?”

More tears spilled from his eyes at your words and loving actions - you loved him back, he couldn't be happier than he was in this moment.

His favourite human loves him the way he loves you.

“Yes please... make love to me... please.” He whispered, hands wiping away the last few tears that were still building in his eyes. He gave you a watery smile, eyes scrunching up and face exuding a brightness you never thought was possible on a person.

He looked so pretty under you, cheeks tinted pink and eyes looking up at you, so full of trust, so full of love.

Your heart fluttered and you had to stop yourself from smothering him with butterfly kisses around his beautiful face - he still needed you, and you were going to do what you promised you would; take care of your kitten.

Taking his hands from your hips, you threaded your fingers with his before pinning them at the sides of his head, shifting your position slightly. “Don’t worry about anything else, Lixie - let go of everything and focus on me.” With his nod of approval, you started to ride him once more, the new change in angle letting his dick caress the front of your pussy.

“O-Oh my god,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back as you moved your hips, grinding them down. “‘s so good, please don't stop,” Felix slurred his words, so lost in the pleasure - he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

You picked up the pace and leaned forward, letting your noses touch before connecting your lips in a short, sweet kiss.

“You're so good Lixie,” you panted against his lips, squeezing his hands tighter, “fill me up so well, so perfect, my perfect kitten.”

He moaned at your words, squeezing his eyes to focus on keeping his orgasm at bay - he couldn’t let it end so soon, he wouldn’t.

“Are you close, baby?” You mused, keeping the pace of your hips with ease, your lips brushing against his ear. Felix’s cock was hitting your g-spot with every move of your hips now and you could feel your own orgasm slowly approaching.

“I-I can hold it!! Wanna be a good kitten for you, want you to cum first,” he pouted, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. He freed his hands from your grasp, moving them to hold your hips as he continued to thrust into you. You lightly grazed your teeth against his earlobe, nibbling on it before pressing a kiss to his neck.

“P-Please,” He whined, tilting his head to the side to grant you more access to his skin, “I-I’m gonna- I want you-” He felt like his brain was on overdrive, every nerve ending burning at every point your bodies were connected. His right hand sandwiched between your bodies to where his cock was currently drilling into you, fingers frantically searching for what he knew would help you come before him.

You panted against his jaw, nipping at the pale skin lightly, “To the left baby, m-move your hand to the left.”

Obeying your direction, he shifted his wrist and his fingers landed on a soft, slippery nub that made your pussy clench.

“F-Fuck! There, right there baby!”

His fingers moved experimentally over the nub, circling around it and you moaned in response against his jaw, "You're doing so well kitten, making me feel so good."

Felix continued to circle his fingers against your clit, drinking in the moans that spilled from your lips. He was determined to make you come first, moving his fingers a bit faster, “Good like this?”

Nodding hastily, you connected your lips to his neck again and sucked on the skin, the desire to mark him swelling inside of you - you wanted to mark him as yours.

Following the change in tide, you were now the one wantonly moaning against his skin, riding him that much faster and a bit more sloppier. “‘S so good, F-Felix- it’s so good!”

His heart skipped a beat and he quickened his pace, digging his feet into the mattress to fuck into you faster. “C-Come for me? Please- I need you to come for me, c-come with me-” He was so hard it hurt, his stomach clenching and heaving with each ragged breath - he felt himself tear up as he begged whatever higher power was listening to let you come first, please let you come first.

“F-Fuck Felix, right there!” You moaned out, quivering above him, “G-Gonna come!”

Your orgasm rapidly approached as you held onto him, his frantic thrusts bouncing your body against his own. His fingers dug into your skin, and he hoped that they were going to leave a bruise - a marker of his desires finally coming true. You bit down on his neck, tongue running soothingly over the marks left on his skin.

It only took a handful of thrusts before you were shaking above him, your moans growing in volume as you wrangled your hand free from his to tangle in his hair. “Lixie! Felix! I'm c- oh god, I'm coming!"

The grip you had on his dick grew tighter and he groaned, pace faltering as you came around him with a loud cry barely muffled against his neck.

“T-Tight- S-So tight, I can’t-" He was getting dizzy, both hands now coming to wrap behind your back and hold you as close as he possibly can. “Gonna c-come, wanna f-fill you, please? L-Let me- s-so warm, please, please!”

It took a second for you to register his words, head dizzy from your orgasm, before you nodded frantically, "O-Of course kitten, go ahead - breed me.” You whisper and it's all Felix needed to hear.

With one more solid thrust he emptied himself inside you with a loud cry, his hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm. His glazed over eyes found yours and you smiled at each other, noses bumping as you leaned in for a bliss-filled kiss.

Your lips touched softly in a short peck - soft and sweet and all you both ever needed after an event like that.

“Good kitty,” you giggled, gently scratching your nails against his scalp, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate against your chest. “Let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

Felix couldn’t help but whine, not ready to let you go as he squeezed his arms around your sweaty body, “Can... Can we stay like this a little longer? I like holding you...like this.”

You beamed at the blush taking over his face and nodded, “Of course, Lixie - hold me as long as you want, it’s only fair for bow often I’ve held you.” Tucking your face into the warmth of his neck, you murmured, “From now on, you can hold me as much as you want, my sweet kitten.”

❣ This one's been in the works for a while, but I'm so honored to have done this collab with my lovely Miu! I hope you enjoyed reading and by all means, leave some nice words for her because she's genuinely an amazing writer! Love you lots @onmykneesforchanlix ❣ ❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

#Kacii's Masterlist #lee felix x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix smut #lee yongbok x reader #Shifter! AU #Kitty Shifter! Felix #Shifter! AU SKZ #lee felix angst #lee yongbok smut #felix angst

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year ago

Text

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #cod: mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

Text

A lot of people at Home Depot are getting froggy at my comparison of them to the Third Reich. This is, of course, a media fabrication. The Nazis had easy access to working tools, and lumber that was straight. What I actually called them was “a group of useless, tin-hat fascists that can’t even stock a fucking lightswitch.”

Back when I was a kid, small hardware stores were all over the place. You could get on your bicycle and ride over to the local lumber shop, and a weird old guy would tell you what stuff to buy, occasionally implying that he was your real father. Then you’d ride home, and finish your project, happy in the knowledge that at least you could control the construction of a potato cannon or low-dimensional-stability, non-permitted birdhouse.

At some point, buoyed by the renovation-crazy era of reality television, the big hardware giants started rolling in. They’d buy out or crush all of these little hardware stores. Why would you go to two of them, they’d ask, when you can get all your stuff here, in one trip, for cheaper? This would be a great thing indeed, if I didn’t have to go to three different big-box hardware stores in order to satisfy literally any weekend project shopping list.

At least with Abnormal Ed’s House of an Unusual Amount of Paracord, you’d know what you were getting into, and if you shopped at his place a lot, he’d probably start stocking the stuff you need. With Home Depot, you’re not even a blip on their immense Excel spreadsheet of Raw Data Pure Data Good Data. With an international reach, your insane hyper-local desires (limited to your house) average out to nothing against the demands of everyone else. There’s no way you can potentially influence them to start offering something unprofitable like, say, white spray paint, or hammers that aren’t made of tinfoil, without taking hostages.

What can we do about this? Other than building a time machine and going back to save small hardware stores – which would probably require buying some parts at Home Depot, which means we’d be wasting a beautiful Saturday afternoon driving all over the city just to pick up red and black wire – the only thing we can do is convince them that an even larger, angrier, hardware store is coming to kill them.

I got the idea when I had a bunch of sparrows flying into my kitchen window. You cut out some silhouettes of bigger birds and just paste them on there. They think a bunch of giant crows are hiding behind the window, and steer clear. It took a lot of time to construct an entire elaborate replica of a hardware store megaconsortium in the empty parking lot next to the Home Depot headquarters, and it was very hard to paint the Chinese ideographs for “HILARIOUS FUN DOESN’T STOCK UNPROFITABLE ITEMS RENOVATION DEPOT” while holding on to the 60th storey of a Potemkin building made entirely out of old cardboard boxes, but I managed to pull it off. You could hear the lifetime middle managers shrieking in fear of their new competitors from blocks away, and by the time I got home, the local Home Depot had finally decided to stock both light fixtures and light bulbs.

#best of

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chiefdirector · 1 year ago

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I'm feeling kinda sappy.

Could I ask for a story where Gibbs gets married to the reader and she moves into his house. Gibbs is away on a case and maybe she starts going through boxes in the basement and digs up pictures of his mom, dad, Kelly and Shannon. She hangs up a bunch of their pictures on a wall. Gibbs comes home sees it. He stares at it and is very quiet. The reader is nervous but then Gibbs tells her it's perfect and no one he's ever been married to wanted to honor them like this.

we keep this love in a photograph... | Jethro Gibbs | NCIS

I know it isn't exactly how you asked, but i took a few liberties, hope you don't mind

(Y/N) knew she shouldn't have been snooping around, it could break the trust that she worked so hard to earn, but she couldn't resist. Jethro had recently asked her to move in with him, a big step considering the nature of their relationship. They had to work together and trust that their lives would be safe in the other's hands, but living together meant not only trusting your life with someone, but opening it up to them too.

She knew that Jethro had a past filled with too much sorrow for one man to carry alone. He had tried to bury it in failed marriage after failed marriage, eventually resigning himself to the bachelor lifestyle. He had tried to continue his ways when he met her, but she was something new, something unexpected.

Vance had given (Y/N) the day off to move her stuff in and get settled fully. She had spent countless nights and weeks here with her lover but had never really left anything here except a toothbrush and a spare set of clothes. She never really needed anything more. It was easy enough to part ways with most of her belongings, sofas and dinings chairs never meant all to much anyways. Managing to fit most of her stuff her a pick-up truck, she had set off to her new home.

It was only when she opened the old hallway cupboard to store her now empty suitcases did she find the box. It wasn't labeled, but the creases and fingermarks on the cardboard showed that it had been opened and shut rigorously over the years. The rest of Jethro house was meticulously organised, there wasn't anything that didnt have its own place. Nothing was stored where it wasn't meant to. Especially old boxes.

Slowly, she opened the box and peered inside, being greeted by several picture frames. Most of them were empty, or cracked. There was no reason to keep any of them. Still she flicked through the frames. Lifting the last, she made eye contact with a young redhead holding a small infant. Even though (Y/N) didn't recognise the faces, she knew who they belonged to; Shannon and Kelly.

Quickly, she put the box back, but left the final frame out. She placed it on the sofa before trekking down to the basement, her mind focussed on one thing only.

----

Jethro got home hours after the sunset.

The house was quiet and still, he had expected as much. After toeing off his shoes, made his was through the house, intending to set the coffee maker ready for the morning. One less thing to think about in the far too early hours of the day. He stopped before he made it to the kitchen.

Jethro wasn't a man that hesitated, but the sight of his smiling wife and daughter handing on the wall made him freeze. Her bright eyes and red hair was the last thing he had expected to see, but after the day he had, he couldn't be more thankful.

He took a moment, turning to his left to find (Y/N) laying on the couch, nails and hammer strewn messily on the coffee table. Her engagement ring shone in the moonlight. Gently, he shook her shoulder to wake her.

(Y/N) hummed tiredly. "You're home?"

"Thank you." Jethro said, ignoring her question.

She shot up at the memory of what she had done. Making eye contact with him, then the photograph. "You don't mind. I didn't overstep, did I?"

"Not at all." Jethro sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her onto his chest. "Not at all."

Tags:

@innercreationflower

#chiefdirector #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis cbs #ncis #ncis x reader

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months ago

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Omg

Sev and reader introducing little fucker to Silco after she’s born?? My heart🥹

GAWDDDDD

men and minors dni

silco's always been better with children than with adults. they make more sense to him. children are up front, they say what they mean, they don't lie. they're simple. they're easy to please. a card trick, a coin pulled from behind their ear-- that's all it takes to get a kid smiling and laughing and squealing.

so, when silco finds out that his best friend is expecting: he's thrilled.

i've mentioned this before, but silco actually makes himself the godfather of your kid. obviously; you guys were going to ask him to be the godfather anyways, but you were going to ask after the baby was born.

silco showed up on your doorstep when you were five months pregnant, a box of diapers on his hip, a cardboard box with a crib printed on it propped up on the wall beside him.

"silco? it's saturday, do you and sev have a weekend meeting?" you ask, worried. silco chuckles and walks into your house like he owns it.

"no, dear, i'm here to begin my godfatherly duties. sevika told me you haven't gotten a crib for the nursery yet, and it's never too early to start a stock of diapers." he says, handing you the box of diapers and starting to drag the boxed crib inside after him.

he's a huge help during the pregnancy, surprisingly. he's always letting sevika take time off-- to go to all your appointments with you and to help you once the baby comes.

during your pregnancy, he stops by your house once or twice a week, sometimes after work with sevika, sometimes on his own; always with a new toy or onesie for the baby, and a bottle of whiskey for sev, and takeout from whatever place you're craving for you.

silco's always been the closest thing sevika has to family, you've always been happy to welcome him into your life and home. but, you've never really seen the two bond.

they're both stand-offish people, they communicate in their own telepathic language, developed over years spent working and living together. but, when they talk about the baby, they both glow.

one of your fondest memories from your pregnancy was watching sevika show silco the sonogram of your little girl. it was the first time you'd seen the two of them hug. it was the first time you'd seen silco cry. he'd even wrapped you up into a tight hug, kissing your head and then awkwardly patting your belly.

he's one of the only people you let meet little fucker when she's still a newborn.

you and sevika are paranoid, first-time parents. you're also both huge homebodies. you have no desire to drag your weeks old daughter around town and show her off to all your germ covered family and friends.

but, your best friend, your family, and silco-- they're different.

silco's there at the hospital when you're in labor. he and sevika share a cigar in the parking lot when little fucker's safely delivered. he meets the baby then, cooing down at the bundle of blankets in your arms; but mostly, he's just there to check in on your and sev.

then, about a month into her life, you invite silco over to formally meet his god daughter for the first time.

you dress little fucker in one of the outfits silco'd picked out for her months ago, and you watch in fascination as the stoic man bursts into tears for a second time when he takes his god daughter in his arms for the first time.

sevika just laughs, and wraps her arm around her best friend.

"she looks just like you." silco sniffles, his eyes quickly flashing between sevika's face and your daughter's, comparing their features.

"tell me about it. i carried the little shit around for nine months, and she decides to come out lookin' like sev instead." you pout from the couch. sevika giggles and kisses your scalp.

silco chuckles through his tears, and then presses a gentle kiss to little fucker's head. "she's beautiful." he whispers.

you smile and nod, and sevika chokes on her tears beside you.

"yeah, she is." you whisper.

once a week, from the day she's born, silco will come over and take little fucker out for an afternoon.

sometimes he takes her for a stroll, sometimes he takes her to his place, sometimes he takes her along to run errands with him. it doesn't matter. he just gives you and sevika a few hours, every week, to just... relax. you're pretty sure it's the only thing that kept you sane for the first year of motherhood.

little fucker loves her uncle silco. he spoils her to no end, and he's not scared of you or sevika, so he'll blatantly disobey your rules in your own home to make your daughter smile. plus, he's not the one that has to deal with the sugar rush that comes two hours after he shovels candy in your daughter's mouth.

when she starts talking, little fucker calls silco 'unky silly.' he blushes every time she says it, but can't find the heart to try to correct his god daughter.

their favorite place to go is the aquarium. silco likes the sharks, little fucker likes alligators. they can spend the entire day there, just pointing at the animals and fish to one another.

i think little fucker's born when jinx is like 7, so it's the perfect age for jinx to absolutely adore her baby cousin.

jinx is the youngest of her siblings, so she never got to have someone look up to her. but little fucker worships the ground jinx walks on, and it's a huge boost to her self esteem. (it also makes her behave better, at least when she's in front of your daughter. she wants to be a good example.)

when jinx isn't in school or with her siblings, she's always accompanying silco on his little fucker dates. you can count on your daughter being returned from silco's house with at least three braids in her head.

you get all of jinx's baby clothes as hand me downs for little fucker, which only makes jinx all the more convinced that little fucker is actually just her baby.

sure, you and sevika made the kid, but it was just a gift for jinx, right?

it's hard for you to deny that accusation when you watch the two play, all the older kids wrestling in the back yard while jinx, ekko, and little fucker all arrange their teddy bears and action figures in seated positions for a tea party, jinx patiently waiting for little fucker to pick out the perfect hat for her to wear.

this isn't to say her older cousins don't love her. mylo, claggor and vi are constantly flinging her around, giving her piggy backs and tossing her in the air and giving you mini heart attacks. it's just that her and jinx have a special bond.

but, as much as she adores jinx, she will always hug her unky silly first.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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st4rfckerz · 10 hours ago

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can you do puppy reader x rafe

i got a little carried away only because this was already kinda in my brain 🤭

The house was alive with music and chatter, a steady pulse of bass thudding beneath the lively hum of voices. Every room seemed packed, from the kitchen where drinks were being poured, to the living room where groups of friends huddled together and chatted amongst themselves. It was the kind of party that felt electric, but also just a little too chaotic if you stayed in one spot for too long.

You stood with your friends near the back door, laughing at a joke you barely caught. Your gaze flickered to the crowded kitchen, then to the hallway leading to the garage. The noise was starting to get to you— not in a bad way, but enough to make you crave a moment of quiet. Besides, you’d noticed the fridge out in the garage earlier and figured it might hold a drink better than whatever lukewarm mystery concoction was in your red cup.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, flashing your friends a quick smile before slipping away.

The hallway was a welcome contrast, cooler and quieter with the party’s chaos muffled by the walls. You opened the door to the garage, stepping into the dimly lit space. It smelled faintly of motor oil and old cardboard, and the air carried a slight chill. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying just enough to cast faint, moving shadows over the cluttered shelves and scattered tools.

You made your way to the fridge in the corner, pulling the door open to reveal a bounty of drinks— sodas, bottles of water, a few beers tucked into the side racks. The cool air was refreshing against your skin, and for a moment, you just stood there, soaking in the calm and scanning the shelves.

The moment didn’t last long. Behind you, the soft creak of the garage door made you stiffen slightly, your hand pausing mid-reach.

Rafe stood there with the easy confidence of someone who always felt like they owned the room, even the dingy garage. His hands were tucked into his pockets, one shoulder pressed against the doorframe, and his sharp blue eyes were fixed on you. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, studying you.

“How’d you get in here?” he asked, his voice low but carrying enough edge to make your stomach flip.

You straightened your composure, clutching the cool aluminum of the soda in your hand. “Kitty let me in,” you said matter-of-factly, shrugging as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Rafe’s smirk deepened, the shadows shifting across his face as he pushed off the doorframe and took a slow step toward you. “Kitty, huh?” he drawled, his tone somewhere between amused and skeptical. “Guess she’s just letting anybody in these days.”

The cool can in your hand grounded you as you moved toward the door, intent on slipping past Rafe without giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

But he didn’t make it that easy.

Just as you reached him, Rafe shifted, his broad frame blocking the doorway entirely. His arm stretched out lazily, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. The motion was casual, but his stance made it clear he wasn’t letting you leave just yet.

“Where you goin’? I’m still talkin’ to you.” His free hand shot out, catching the edge of the garage door. With a deliberate pull, he swung it shut, the soft click of the latch sealing you in. The sudden quiet felt heavier now, the distant thrum of music muffled behind the walls.

Rafe leaned back against the closed door, arms crossing lazily over his chest. He gave you that same maddening smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Relax,” he drawled. “Just figured we could finish our little chat without an audience.”

“There wasn’t a chat,” you shot back, your tone sharper now. “And there’s nothing to finish.”

But Rafe didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve seen you around, you know,” he said casually, like he wasn’t cornering you in a garage. “You’re the one that’s always followin’ that John B around like a lost puppy.”

The mention of the name made you pause. Your eyebrows knit together as you looked up at him, trying to gauge where this was going. “And?” you prompted, crossing your arms defensively.

Rafe leaned against the closed door, one hand idly brushing against the frame as he watched you. “And,” he said, drawing the word out slowly, “I’m just saying, you could do a lot better.”

The statement hung in the air, heavy and deliberate.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, your voice dripping with disbelief. Rafe’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened, a storm of frustration brewing just beneath the surface. Before you could react, he stepped forward, his hand pressing firmly against your shoulder and guiding you backward until your back hit the cold, hard wall of the garage.

Your breath hitched as the cool surface sent a jolt up your spine. The drink in your hand threatened to slip as your fingers tightened around it, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Rafe's breath was warm against your skin as he loomed closer, his hand resting on the wall beside your head, his body pressing just enough into yours that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

His eyes searched yours, intense, unrelenting, and then his voice dropped to a low, almost predatory whisper. “You don't have to settle for him, you know,” he murmured, his words brushing over your skin like a caress. “I could make you feel so better than John B ever could.”

His hand shifted, slowly, and he let his fingertips graze the side of your arm. Your skin prickled with tension as his hand traced a line down your waist. Rafe smiled as he leaned closer, his voice low and dangerous. “I know what you need,” he whispered, his gaze flicking between your lips and eyes, watching your every reaction with a mix of curiosity and something darker. “And it's not him.”

Rafe’s hand lingered for a moment longer on your body, the heat of his touch still searing your skin as his gaze held yours, intense and calculating. With a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped back. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes still followed your every move.

You didn’t waste another second. The moment Rafe stepped aside, you quickly moved toward the door. Just as you reached the doorframe, Rafe’s voice called out, sharp and commanding, breaking the heavy silence between you both.

“Hey.”

You froze, your hand still gripping the door handle.

“Just think about it, okay?” his tone dark and almost amused, like he knew exactly how much his words were affecting you.

You could feel the heat of his presence, even with your back turned. Without another word, without giving yourself a chance to reconsider, you swung the door open, rushing back to the party.

#nai writes ୨୧ #nai answers!#puppy!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #drew starkey #obx #outer banks #st4rfckerz

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