#hello brain can I please sleep now? Please?
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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago
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Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst
You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own
(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)
Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results
The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill
Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia
Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in
Just so many options and flavours of angst
Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos
WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS
Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.
You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.
Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.
When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.
Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.
König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.
After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.
Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.
One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.
The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.
The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.
Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.
John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.
Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.
Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?
Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.
In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.
The sight stopped him cold.
The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.
You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.
(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)
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albino-parakeet · 4 months ago
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Oh boy, I can't wait to sleep and see the terrifying deer creatures again. :D <- (Does not want to sleep and see the terrifying deer creatures again.)
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crheativity · 11 months ago
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Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?
SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?
WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!
COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!
Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.
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Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.
After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.
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Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.
As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.
(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)
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Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.
He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.
(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)
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Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.
At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.
Just like you, he hopes.
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Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.
If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.
If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?
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Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.
Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.
Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.
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Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.
He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”
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♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
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imaslutforwritingshit · 1 year ago
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Things Ethan Landry would text you if you were his s/o- charismatic killer trope.
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1. SUNRISE SCARE
Ethan: Wake up, baby. I can see you sleeping in.
Y/n: i am awake. im already brushing my teeth.
Ethan: no, you aren’t. I’m watching you right now.
Y/n: how
Ethan: The window. You’re so vulnerable when you’re asleep.
Y/n: I can’t see you.
Ethan: But that’s the point, love.
Ethan: please get out of that nightgown, before I take it off for you.
Y/n: why? what is it doing to you?
Ethan: I’ll show you later.
Y/n: oh ?
Ethan: good morning by the way ❤️
2. TEASER
Y/n: hey. you get the answer for #12?
Ethan: Oh, dear. My girlfriend is cheating on the math homework.
Y/n: im not cheating, dummy. im asking an educational question.
Ethan: If you can cheat so easily on calculus, how do I know you’re loyal to me?
Y/n: because we both know what would happen to me if I would cheat on you, ethan.
Ethan: and what’s that?
Y/n: …
Ethan: you think I would kill you?
Y/n: don’t lie to me. we both know you can’t control yourself around me. i know you touched yourself while stalking me when we weren’t dating.
Ethan: such disgusting thoughts. I might need to fuck your brains out to get rid of them, don’t you think?
Y/n: in what way would you take my brains out? With a knife? Or with your cock?
Ethan: we’re in class
Y/n: are you hard right now?
Y/n: hello? it’s just a question.
Y/n: if you don’t answer me, i’ll ask Chad to fuck me instead. i’ll enjoy letting him bend me over.
Ethan: I can’t wait to see his blood on my hands. what day should I do it? today? kill him tonight?
Y/n: it was a joke. i just didn’t realize i turned you on that fast, ethan.
Ethan: don’t act dumb with me. you know what you’re fucking doing.
Y/n: no, i don’t. you should really answer my question.
Ethan: don’t act like you aren’t aware that I’m throbbing in my jeans
Ethan: stop acting like this
Ethan: i’m gonna fucking punish you so hard tonight
Y/n: lol because of giving you an erection?
Ethan: i can’t wait to see how much you’ll laughing when I’ll have a knife to your throat.
Ethan: making you scream with my dick.
Ethan: you want that?
Y/n: yes
Ethan: fucking whore.
Y/n: you love it.
Ethan: I do.
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thewritingrowlet · 4 months ago
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The Determined Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene
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tags: creampie, anal, breeding, daddy kink
word count: 6k+
author's note: well, here's the continuation of The Loving Wife—I hope you like this one
p.s. I want to write about Isa or Seeun next; I hope I have ideas for that.
“Hngh? Huh?”, you mumble as your brain kick-starts your body on a brand-new day. As the rest of your consciousness returns to you, you feel weight on the left side of your body. “Who?”, you take a sniff, “oh, Irene”. After getting a grip on the time and day, you close your eyes to get back to sleep. That is, until you feel Irene poking your cheek. “Good morning, my love”, you greet her with closed eyes. “Good morning, honey”, Irene yawns audibly, “do you have work today?”. You tighten your arms around her, “let’s not start our day like that”. “How do you want to start, then?”, she asks, letting out another yawn after, “do you want to breed me first thing in the morning?”. “God, not this breeding thing again”, you think to yourself, “love, are you that serious about getting pregnant?”. You feel Irene rubbing her face against your chest, “I want to have your child—our child”.
You get on top of your wife and hover closely above her face while your hands are planted on either side of her face, “how badly do you want it?”. In the dark, you see Irene smile warmly, “I want it so fucking bad; I want to make you happy”. You clap your hands twice to turn on the lights—God bless modern technology. “Love, you know I’m happy with what we have. I don’t want to burden you with a child—not to mention that you also have a career to pursue”, you try to reason with her. Irene furrows her eyebrows in anger, dissatisfied by your words, “if you use my career against me one more time, I’m leaving you”. You pull her into a sitting position in front of you, “honey, please; I didn’t mean it like that. Surely you know what I’m getting at”. Irene frees her wrists from your grip and crosses her arms, her gaze straying away from yours, “I don’t want to talk to you today. You can go to work if you want to”.
Irene’s behavior leaves you no choice but to give her some space and hope that time will help her come to reason. “I love you, honey”, you dare say, and a part of you expects a slap on the cheek. Seeing that you’re not getting a response from Irene, you get off the bed and get ready for the day ahead. Since you don’t have eyes on your nape, you can’t see that Irene sheds a tear as she feels rejected by you, the person she can’t live without—the love of her life.
-
“Good morning, boss!”, Miss Park greets you excitedly as soon as you enter the company building. “Hi, hello. Good morning”, you return her greeting and shake her hand. “You look like you have a lot of things going on right now”, she comments. You let out a heavy sigh, “I do, actually; had a little disagreement with my wife, and she said she wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day”. “Ah, sorry about that, boss”, Miss Park, not expecting such answer, clears her throat to cope with the awkwardness, “anyway, you don’t have much today, sir; just proposals and other paperwork to read and sign”. “Thank you, Miss Park”, you part ways with her in front of the elevator that leads to your office.
You start your routine of hanging your suit jacket on the headrest of your chair and waking up your computer from its slumber. “That’s a lot of emails—how are there 22, man?”, you eye the list of unread emails on your screen, and you see that some of them are paid leave applications that are pending your approval.
When you started your company, you made a commitment to approve such applications without questions and encourage department heads under your command to follow suit. It’s not like it’s a complicated process, anyway; one just needs to fill out a form they can get from HR, ask their manager and head of department to sign it, and then wait for your approval. Such simple steps are set in place to make sure that employees can take a leave in a timely manner—no need to be kneeling and begging for this. Combined with the rules the company has set, you’ve seen reports from employees saying that they’re satisfied with your system.
“Oh, his child is hospitalized; I should visit them later”, you comment as you see an application from a certain Mr. Lee Minhyung from the marketing department. “That’s one down; a few more to go”. You click on the arrow to go to the next email, one from Miss Kim Minjeong, “wait, that’s Mr. Lee’s wife, no?”. Of course you remember; HR notified you by letter and asked you to fire one of them when they learned that they were a married couple.
You read the content of the email, and obviously, she’s also applying for a paid leave; it’s their child who is hospitalized. “Yeah, easy”, you apply your digital signature on the letter as a sign of approval, just like you did with her husband’s. As you’re moving your cursor to go to the next, you wonder what it’s like to have a child, and importantly, what it’s like to be in a crisis involving your child. “I wonder if Irene is ready for such situations”, you sigh, “why are you so determined to have a child, my love?”.
-
“Miss Park, tell Mr. Oh to put the parcel in the car; I’m coming down in a bit”, you say to your secretary over the phone. After getting an answer from her, you put on your jacket and walk out of your office, towards the elevator.
You see a handful of heads of departments on your way down, as they take the same elevator you are. “Any news, ladies and gentlemen?”, you ask. “My son is getting married next week, director—you’re invited to the wedding, by the way”, Mr. Shim, head of IT, shares the good news with you. You shake his hand firmly, “congratulations, Mr. Shim. Send me the details and I’ll be there”.
The rest of your conversations with them are cut short when the elevator stops and opens on the bottom floor, indicating your time to leave. “I’m going to visit someone’s child at the hospital; I’ll see you later”, you exchange goodbyes with the crowd and turn around towards Mr. Oh and Miss Park who are already waiting for you next to your car.
“Is everything in there?”, you ask Miss Park. “Yes, sir. Would you like to be driven for?”, she asks. You shake your head, “no, but I want you to come with me; I’ll need help carrying these stuff—c’mon, let’s go”. You get in your car with Miss Park and drive to the hospital, where the child is hospitalized.
“Excuse me, director”, Miss Park starts a conversation as the two of you wait at the red light, “I know this is presumptuous of me, but can I ask what’s happening between you and your wife?”. “She wants to have a child, Miss Park—that’s all you need to know”, you explain briefly, “why?”. Miss Park pulls out a small envelope from her jacket, “your wife stopped by earlier and gave me this”. You take the envelope from her hands and put it in your pocket, “thanks, I’ll see what this is about later”.
-
You walk with Miss Park towards the child’s room with your hands full of stuff. You’re carrying a basket of fruits in one hand and a box of pudding in the other, while Miss Park is carrying some food for the parents. “Knock on the door, Miss Park. My hands are full”, you gesture to her with your head. Miss Park knocks three times, and not long after, the door swings open. “Director! Miss Park!”, Mr. Lee exclaims, “wha-what are you doing here?”. “Hi there”, you smile, “oh, y’know, just wanted to see your son; maybe I can lift his spirits or something”.
Mr. Lee welcomes you in, and you immediately make eye contact with the boy lying in bed. “Hey, bud. How are you feeling?”, you show him a friendly side of you. He smiles weakly and tells you that he’s feeling better compared to yesterday. “That’s great to hear”, you show him the bag with the pudding in it, “I have some pudding for you, buddy—ask your mom to cut it for you, okay?”. The boy giggles in excitement, and you feel a surge of warmth that you don’t think you’ve felt before.
You grab a chair and sit next to him after handing the stuff to Mr. Lee and his wife. “Hey, buddy”, you gently rub the back of his hand that’s not connected to the IV drip, “what happened to you?”. “I remember feeling weak and blacking out at school, but I don’t remember anything else, sir”, he recalls. “You must’ve been so tired after studying so hard, haven’t you?”, you look over your shoulder and see that Mr. Lee and his wife are smiling at you, seemingly in approval of your actions, “your parents must be proud of you, bud; you look like someone who works hard for school”. The boy beams, and he decides to brag about his grades, “I got a 90 on my last math test, sir!”. You chuckle out loud and pet his head gently, “oi, great job, you! Hey, guess what: I’ll buy you some shoes to wear to school after you leave this place—how does that sound, buddy?”.
You leave the boy’s side after getting a high five from him, and it is now time to speak with his parents. Mr. Lee shakes your hand, “thank you so much, director. About my work—“. You cut Mr. Lee off with a pause gesture, “please, let’s not worry about that right now; I’m not here to talk about your work. Your son is more important than any work, Mr. Lee”. He smiles and bows in gratefulness, “thank you so much, director. I promise I will always work hard”. You pat him on the back while laughing, “you like making me get richer, don’t you, Mr. Lee?”.
When you turn your attention to Miss Kim, she bows in respect. “Thank you for visiting, Mr. Director. It means a lot to us”, she says. It must be true that it only uses two muscles to smile, because you’re not tired of smiling—not even in the slightest. “I’m just trying to help the both of you—ah, can I address the both of you casually? We’re not at the office, are we?”, you say to Miss Kim and her husband. Miss Kim nods, “of course you can, director. Feel free to call us by name”.
You grab the bag of food from the table and hand it to them, “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet, but if you haven’t, please eat now; I have some sandwich for both of you. Miss Park will keep an eye on your son”. Mr. Kim and his wife say goodbye to their son and tell him that Miss Park will stay with him while they eat, getting a nod in response. “Can we talk while you eat, actually?”, you say to them, and they nod at you, “follow me outside, please”.
You sit on the sofa near the nurses’ station with the couple. “I have some questions if you don’t mind, Minhyung-ah”, you initiate the conversation. “Of course, director. Ask away”, he says. You start by explaining your situation first, “here’s the thing, my wife has been begging me to make her pregnant, and admittedly, I’ve been rejecting her request because she has quite the career and I don’t want her to just throw it away, considering how long it has taken her to build it”. Mr. Lee and Miss Kim look at each other before turning back to you, “I’m guessing you’re curious what it’s like to have a child, especially as a working couple”. “That’s spot-on, Minhyung-ah”, you give him a thumbs-up, “so, can you tell me?”.
“I’ll start first—y’know, as a dad and all that”, Mr. Lee takes a deep breath before sharing his perspective, “personally, director, we were also concerned about our careers at first, but having a child has been the greatest thing in our lives”. Truthfully, you’re surprised to hear such an answer, but before you make any judgment, you ask Miss Kim to share her thoughts first. “I agree with my husband, Mr. Director”, Miss Kim says, “I must say, though, seeing your child get sick hurts so damn bad—this isn’t the first time Daeyoung-ie has been hospitalized, and seeing him lie in bed like that hurts so, so much”. You want to open your mouth, but Miss Kim isn’t done talking just yet. “I can’t explain it but love for your child isn’t similar to love for your spouse, director—something about being willing to do anything for your child isn’t comparable to anything else”, she piles on.
You stay silent as you try to process everything you just heard. “That’s quite the answer, actually”, you rub your chin, “I’ll talk with my wife about it, I guess”. Mr. Lee glances at his wife quickly before turning back to you, “I don’t know about you, director, but the process of making a child is very, uh, fun”. You chuckle out loud, and you see that Miss Kim is smacking her husband while blushing. “I’m sure it is, Minhyung-ah—I mean, look at you: clearly you had fun”, you shake your head in amusement, “alright, Miss Park and I will be leaving after this. I’ll keep my promise and buy your son some new shoes after he’s out of this place, but you’ll need to remind me”.
-
Irene’s Genesis is parked at its usual spot in front of your house, and you feel excited to talk with her about getting her pregnant. You get out of the car after parking it next to hers and run straight to the house. “I’m ho—what the fuck!?”, you see Irene lying on the carpet in front of the TV with nothing but bra and panties on. “Irene? Love?”, you slap her cheeks gently but rapidly to get her to open her eyes, “honey, wake up, please”. You look around the house for signs of what has happened, and you see a tall bottle of whiskey that is almost empty sitting on the table in front of the sofa—no shot glass means that she must’ve drunk it straight from the bottle.
“I… hate you…”, Irene says weakly, her eyelids too heavy to open, “s-stay away f-from me”. Not the best thing you could hear right now, but you’re glad that she’s okay, just drunk—verydrunk. “Let’s move you to the bedroom, okay?”, you carry her bridal style—it reminds you of your first day of being married, actually—and walk towards the bedroom. “P-put me down, y-you bastard”, Irene wiggles around, attempting to free herself from your arms, “I-I’m calling the police if-if you don’t put me down”. Irene has never been this drunk before, and honestly, you don’t know how to take care of her in this state—doesn’t mean you won’t try, though.
You place her on the floor momentarily while you grab a blanket and spread it on the bed. You pick up your wife from the floor and put her in the middle of the blanket and wrap her body with it, just in case she loses control of her actions and starts throwing punches or kicks. “W-what are you doing to me, you asshole—let me go!”, Irene tries to free herself from the blanket burrito, but since she’s very drunk, she’s not strong enough to do anything other than to run her mouth. “Love, it’s me”, you softly say to her, “you’re very drunk, aren’t you, baby?”. “Heheheheh”, Irene laughs, seemingly mocking you, “me? drunk? I’m on cloud nine right now, baby—had to-to take care of myself since my husband wouldn’t”.
Her words sound particularly painful to you right now. You went from feeling excited about talking to her about having a child, to feeling sad about the sight in front of you, and you feel powerless to do anything but let tears run down your cheeks. “Alcohol brings out the best of us, doesn’t it, love?”, you wipe your tears, hoping that doing so will help you calm down faster, “I guess this is how we wrap things up today”.
-
In your peaceful sleep, you’re shown glimpses of what having a child would be like. First, you’re shown a projection of Irene with a big belly; “we have a child, love! I’m so happy to have a child!”, she says. You really want to keep watching this clip, but your brain wants to move on to the next, which is one where Irene is doing tiny jumps while holding your baby, who is wrapped in a small blanket; “who is my good boy, hm? Who is my lovely, handsome boy?”. Like before, your brain quickly moves on to the next part of your dreams. You’re shown images in quick succession of your child taking his first steps, going to school for his first day, and finally, the moment where he makes a vow to never stop loving his wife, and to continue to be with her until death do them part—the speed makes it almost feels like someone is holding down the right arrow key during a PowerPoint presentation.
As soon as the presentation finishes, you’re stirred awake by your brain, as if telling you to start working on making it into reality. Your ability to vividly remember dreams isn’t always helpful because you can indeed remember everything, no matter how scary or joyful it is. “I had a dream, baby”, you say in a soft voice to Irene, who is still wrapped in a blanket, “I saw what it’d be like if we had a child—it was such a beautiful dream, my love”. You rub her exposed cheeks gently as you narrate the rest of your dream to your wife.
“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, love. I’ll go back to sleep now��good morning, by the way”, you say to her as you close your eyes and get ready to get back to sleep. “Wait!”, Irene exclaims in a tiny voice, taking you by surprise, “wait, don’t go back to sleep yet”. You lift your head off your pillow and take a good look at your wife. “Are you alright, love?”, you ask her, trying to gauge her mood. With how limited her mobility is in the burrito, Irene can only shake her head. “N-no, I’m not”, she starts tearing up, “p-please hold me in your arms”.
You unwrap the blanket and hold Irene in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry about the blanket, love. I was just concerned about you punching or kicking me while being drunk”, you spray pecks on her head as a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so sorry”, Irene apologizes as tears start freely flowing out of her eyes, “I-I didn’t have anyone to talk to, s-so I resorted to drinking—please forgive me, my love”. Since Irene is in the mood for apologies, you decide to follow it up with one of yours; “I got your letter yesterday, love. I understand what you were saying, and I’m sorry for not calling you or saying anything back”. Irene shakes her head, “n-no, it-it’s okay, I understand. I-I was just so fucking desperate to do something, s-so I decided to write you a letter”.
As soon as Irene stops crying, you move on to the next subject, which is your little trip to the hospital to visit your employee’s son. “Love, I visited someone’s son at the hospital yesterday”, you say to her, “he fainted at school and was taken to the hospital after that”. “Oh, poor boy”, Irene comments, showing empathy, “so, what then?”. You tell her that you and Miss Park brought some stuff for the boy and his parents; “I also promised him that I’d buy him some new shoes to wear to school”. Irene pecks your cheek as a sign of approval of your actions, “good thinking, my love”.
“Not just that, though”, you pile on, “I also asked the parents what it was like to see their son lie in bed sick like that”. “Yeah? What did they say?”, she asks. You take a deep breath first, “they said that it’s such a painful sight—this wasn’t the first time the boy had been hospitalized, by the way”. Irene can sense that something else is coming from you, so she urges you to keep going. “I just kept thinking about whether you’d be ready for such thing, should it happen to us and our child”.
Irene holds your hands tightly and rubs the back of them gently. “I’ll need you to be with me every step of the way. If I have you next to me, I’ll face anything head on”, she says. You put on an assuring smile, “of course I’ll be there with you, love. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, is it?”.
Irene gathers her strength and mounts your body, “does that mean you’ll be breeding me? That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?”. You run your thumb across her lips, “yes, love, but I want you to do something first”. “What? What is it? Tell me”, Irene starts getting excited at the prospect of getting pregnant. “We’ll be having a lot of sex in the next few days, so I want you to grab a pen and paper and write down your consent so that I won’t have to keep asking”, you say to her. Irene jumps off the bed and runs—or stumbles, rather—out of the bedroom to do what you ask, and while you wait for her, you decide to get ready for sex; you take off your clothes but leave the boxers on for Irene to do the honors and lie down on the bed.
“Here! Here!”, Irene enters the bedroom running and shows you a small piece of paper. You grab the letter from her hands, “let’s see what you wrote, hey?”.
“My name is Bae ‘Irene’ Joohyun, and I am the wife of Director Kang Junho.
I hereby declare that I consent to everything that my beloved husband will be doing to me, as we are trying to have a child of our own. If he wishes to have sex, then I shall comply without asking questions, for I am his beloved wife.
His for eternity,
Irene”
“I know you’re still hungover, but I’ll accept this anyway”, you chuckle as you climb onto the bed, “are we ready?”. Irene joins you in bed and kneels next to you, looking down at herself. “Lo-love”, she says with a tiny voice, “I-I know your dream was about a son, b-but you—erm—you don’t mind having a daughter, do you?”. You take her hands in yours, “of course not, love. Having a child is already such a blessing—it matters little if it’s a boy or a girl”. Irene looks at you with a smile, “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you”. “Nah-nah-nah”, you deflect, “you just kept saying breed me over and over again”. Irene moves to sit on your lap and pecks you on the lips, “I mean, that’s how a woman gets pregnant”.
“My love, listen to me, please”, you inhale deeply, “I promise you this will be the last time I ask this: what about your career?”. Irene rubs your cheek gently, “love, I don’t care about my career; motherhood will be my greatest achievement—ask me one hundred more times, and I’ll give you the same answer each time”. You move to sit with Irene in your lap. “I will be there with you, love; I’ll be the best father I can be for our children”. “Children?”, Irene bursts out in laughter, “goodness me—now you want to have more than one”.
That’s enough yapping and laughing—it’s now time to fill your wife with baby batter. You place your palms on either side of Irene’s hips and lock eyes with her, confusing her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, she asks. You smirk, “just thinking about what position I want to fuck you in”. She blushes in response, “w-whatever it is, m-make sure you cum inside”.
You scoot backwards until your back can lean against the headboard. “You want me to ride you, honey?”, she asks, “but what if the cum drips out?”. You shrug, “I’ll just fill you up again”. “Yeah, we can do that”, Irene unlatches her bra and hands it to you, “hold on to this, honey”. Let’s be real, you have better things to hold on to, such as her ass and tits—eh, actually, let’s entertain her for now.
Irene fondles her tits, weighing them with her hands, “do you think they’ll grow bigger, honey?”. You shake your head, clueless, “I don’t know how it works, love. We’ll have to see”. She then holds your hands and places them on her tits, “touch me, please”. “Gladly, baby”, you lick her nipple to tease her.
Irene is great at reacting to stimulations; you’re barely doing anything with her tits, and she’s already squirming around. “Mo-more”, Irene yelps, “oh, please—more”. “Do you think you can give me some breast milk right now?”, you tease her as you squeeze her tits, as if trying to get breast milk out of them. “Prob-probably not”, Irene throws her head back, “I-I don’t think it works like that”. “Ah, unfortunate”, you pinch her nipples, “would love to taste some right now”.  It is when you latch your mouth on her boob that Irene starts moaning loudly.  “Oh, yes, big baby”, Irene palms the back of your head, “big baby can make small babies”. You want to laugh, but you haven’t had enough of your wife’s tits just yet.
Irene’s impatience is showing, as she picks up the pace of her humps. “Please fuck me already”, she begs, “don’t you want to fuck me? Don’t you want to fill me?”. You reach down towards your crotch and hers, “you’re so wet, aren’t you, love?”. “And-and you’re so hard”, she replies. “You know why I’m hard, baby?”, you ask, teasing her one last time. “Y-you—oh, God—you’re hard because you want to fuck me”. You praise her by pinching her nipples, “good answer, baby—now let’s start, hm?”.
You lean back against the headrest and tell Irene that she’s free to do whatever she wants with you. You see that Irene wants to free your cock from your boxers, so you help her out and lift your butt off the bed momentarily. “Who needs a career when you can just spend your days worshipping a cock like this?”, Irene utters, her eyes locked on your erection, “skip work this week, please. It’s not like they can fire you”. True, no one can fire you, but there’s something odd about not going to work, especially as the big boss. “I’ll see what I can do, baby”, you promise her. You keep an eye on Irene, “do you want to suck me off first, baby?”. Your words snap Irene out of her little trance, stopping her from mindlessly stroking your cock; “n-no, let’s skip past that”.
Irene takes off her panties and guides your cock towards her entrance. “I want you so bad, baby”, you egg her on. It is an exaggeration, yeah, but it always works—look, Irene is going down on your cock while moaning! “Oppa”, she calls you by an endearment from way back when, “do you remember our first time?”. You start flipping the pages of your memory to recollect and find the memory with little trouble. “How can I not, love?”, you smile, “you’re my first and only”. Irene lets out a soft yelp when she finally manages to fit your whole shaft inside. “Y-you let me be on top be-because you wanted me to get used to you”, Irene closes her eyes and starts rolling her hips back and forth, “you were splitting me in half, oppa”. Irene’s tight-but-wet grip makes you moan, “it was really hard for me to not just bust right away right there, love”. “Yeah?”, Irene teases with a smirk, “let’s see how long you can hold it in now”.
 “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight”, you grit your teeth, “I love it—I love you”. Irene likes dirty talk, but words of love and affirmation work better on her, proven by how she’s picking up the pace of her bounces. “Yes! Fuck, yes!”, she yells, “I’m perfect for you, daddy!”. You pull her closer to your face so that you can kiss her and show her how much you love her. “Come on, baby. You can do this—fuck, you’re so good to me”, you whisper to her. She plants her forehead on your shoulder and begs for help; “please, please fuck me like you usually do, daddy”. You comply to her request by thrusting up and meeting her in the middle, timing it perfectly to make sure that you can reach her deepest spots.
Irene’s moans are one of the many things you will never get tired of in your marriage. The perfect mix of low- and high-pitched moans (and the occasional yelps and screams, too) makes you feel really good about yourself every single time—the daddy kink is simply the perfect icing on the cake. You don’t really pay attention to yourself, so you don’t know what you look like or what sounds you make during sex, but considering that Irene never complains about it, she probably finds you very attractive during sex—nothing that kills the mood or the like.
“You’re squeezing me, baby”, your focus is turned back to Irene, “you want to cum?”. Irene nods weakly, “please let me cum, daddy”. You never said anything about not letting her cum, but since she’s asking very nicely, she’s more than welcome to cum any time—preferably soon, though; you’re almost on the edge yourself. “Cum for me, baby”, you egg her on, “if you cum now, I’ll breed you”.
Timing couldn’t be any more perfect, as Irene announces that she’s about to cum after a few more bounces. She lets out a very loud scream, but it’s more than fine; it’s not like there’s anyone else in this house other than the two of you—even if the breeding is successful and she’s pregnant, the fruit of the labor won’t be here for another 9 months, so until then, Irene is free to be as loud as she wants.
Irene falls limp to the side, feeling weak from her orgasm, and you use this window to take a breather and get yourself together. “One-one second, please”, Irene squirms around as she basks in the high of her orgasm. “You can take as much time as you want, baby”, you run your hand back and forth on her back to soothe her, “I bet you can’t feel your legs right now”. She chuckles with heavy breaths, “that-that’s your fault, daddy”. You tell her that she can rest while you leave to get some water for her.
When you return, however, you see that Irene’s eyes are closed, and when you lean closer to her, you hear subtle snores coming out of her mouth. You set the glasses of water on the bedside table and pick up the letter to re-read what she’s written. “I consent to everything”, it says, and you’re tempted to push her further. “Let’s see if you’re ready for anal”, you mutter under your breath.
She’s lying flat on her stomach, which allows you access to her rear without having to move her. You make sure that your cock isn’t too dry by slathering spit on the whole thing before you try to pierce her ass. You plant your knees on either side of her closed thighs and spread her cheeks gently to find your target. Even though she has said that she consents to everything, you don’t want to do anything sexual to her while she’s asleep. “Irene, baby”, you pat her cheeks gently to wake her up, “we’re not done yet”. Irene stirs awake and turns her head to look at you, “sorry, daddy; I fell asleep”. You peck the back of her head and tell her that it’s okay. “I’m going again, okay?”.
“Wait, wait—that-that’s not where you breed me, daddy”, Irene grunts in pain when she feels you in her ass. “Consider this your punishment for falling asleep”, you grit your teeth, “fuck, you’re so tight here, too”. “B-but you said it’s okay—AH, FUCK, DADDY!”, Irene lets out a very loud scream when your shaft reaches the deepest point of her ass. “Say your safe word, then”, you challenge her, and Irene shakes her head in response. “N-no, I love getting fucked in the ass”, she grunts, “just don’t cum in my ass, please”. “Oh, yeah, that’s right; we’re trying to get her pregnant”, you think to yourself. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll go back to your pussy after this”.
You lean forward a bit and place your hands on the bed to make sure you’re steady. “Be good, baby”, you whisper to her while you prepare your hips to fuck her ass hard. “Pl-please, just fuck me already”, Irene yelps, “fuck my ass, daddy”. That’s a green light as bright as any, so you start doing what you’re in this position for: to fuck her ass.
Irene’s screams of pain start getting replaced with moans of pleasure, as she gets more comfortable with taking you in the ass. “You’re so hard and big, daddy”, she praises you between moans, “you’re so good at fucking me”. Her praise serves as fuel to your fire of lust, and with a grunt, you pick up the pace of your thrusts. Your wife is reduced to just moans, unable to do anything else but lie flat on the bed while your shaft is stretching the muscles of her rear.
You feel that you’re almost there, so you pull out of her ass and roll her onto her back. “I want to see you, baby”, you say to her before plunging back into her pussy. She feebly stretches out her arms, asking you to hold her in yours. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her body, while your lips crash into hers. “We’re going to have a child, baby”, you say in a soft voice.
-
“Mr. Kang, your wife is about to give birth. Would you like to be present?”, a nurse asks you. “Yes, please”, you get up from the bench, “please show me the way”. The nurse starts walking towards the room where your wife is, and you feel cold sweat running down your forehead. As you follow the nurse, you pray to the higher beings that your wife and daughter will make it out of this in perfect health.
“She’s here, sir”, the nurse opens a door and leads you inside. “Oh my God”, you exclaim; Irene is pinching her thighs until they’re bruised while the rest of her body is drenched in sweat. “My love”, you move to her side and hold her hand to stop her from pinching her thighs, “my God, how can I help you, baby?”.
More and more nurses enter the room, and all you can do is trust them to do what they do best, which is to help during delivery. You try to focus on your wife, but her screams and the nurses’ voices make it very hard for you to do so. One particular scream from Irene wrenches your heart, making you shed a tear. “God, help her, please”, you chant in your head over and over again, praying in your earnest for her and your daughter’s safety.
-
You slowly open your eyes, and you try to make out where you are right now. You gather your strength and stand up from your seat to check up on Irene. “Wait, that’s—“, you rub your eyes to make clear of the sight in front of you. “This is our daughter, honey”, Irene says tearily, “we have a daughter”. “Oh my God, what a blessing”, you let out a sigh of relief, “what happened to me, though? How did I get here?”. Irene places a hand on your cheeks and rubs it softly, “a nurse said that you passed out, so they had to carry you here”. You feel bad for them for having to carry you as a dead weight and you promise that you’ll compensate them later.
“Love, we have a daughter”, Irene repeats as she breaks down in tears, “we have a daughter—can you believe that?”. You place a hand on Irene’s head to soothe her, while you use your other hand to reach for your little daughter. “Hi, baby”, you say gently, “welcome to the world, little one”. The sight makes you shed tears of your own—who knew it would turn out like this, because you certainly didn’t. “What’s her name, honey?”, Irene asks. “Yeseo”, you wipe the tears off your cheeks and peck your daughter over the blanket that’s covering her (because you don’t want to compromise her hygiene or something like that), “your name is Yeseo, my dear—my sweet, sweet daughter”.
-
“Welcome home!”, you excitedly open the doors of your house and lead your wife and daughter, who is peacefully sleeping in her arms, inside. Once they’re in, you close the doors behind you and lead them to sit on the sofa. “I love you so much, baby”, you say to Irene. “I love you so much more, honey”, she replies, “and I love you so much, Yeseo-yah”. You look at your daughter lovingly, and you really want to give her a peck. “Can I peck her, love?”, you ask your wife, earning a laugh from her. “Of course you can; you’re her father”.
Irene hands Yeseo over to you, and you make sure that your arms are perfectly steady. “Yeseo-yah, I love you so much”, you say in the gentlest voice you can come up with, “I will protect you and your mother with my life”. Obviously, she can’t say anything back to you, but you’d like to think that she can hear you, and what’s better for Yeseo to hear first thing than words of love from her parents?
“Love, I want to celebrate”, you say to your wife, your gaze still locked on your baby. “Yeah? How?”, Irene asks, “you want to make more babies?”. “Seriously?”, you look at her with an I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that face, “no, love; I don’t want to make another one just yet”. Irene laughs out loud, “oh, you know, I was just making sure—so how do you want to celebrate?”. You gently run a finger on Yeseo’s cheek, “I want to make her birthday a holiday at the company, and I want to raise everyone’s salary by 8%”. Your wife moves to sit closer to you and wraps an arm around your back, “yeah, that sounds like a good celebration”.
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leonsgfpost · 3 months ago
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note: hello, it's me again! This is the second part of my first post (you can find it on my profile). I'm sorry if this is too long or I made a mistake, I just lost my mind for Leon, you know? 🎀
tags: Leon RE2 x f!reader, smut, unprotected sex (please don't do it), creampie, oral (famele receiving), masturbation and more!
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Weeks went by and he finally did it, it was the most embarrassing moment of his life.
He had approached with two coffees in his hands and a packet of those sweets he saw you eat at every break. Because yes, he was very attentive. You like the pastries bought at the bakery down the street and the coffee you usually drink bitter to counteract the sweetness of the pastry. After making an effort and putting the most awkward smile on his face, he got up the courage to ask you if you wanted to hang out. And lucky for him, you accepted. That day of the date, he arrived an hour early, and had jotted down some questions on a crumpled piece of paper now inside his jacket. And just as he expected, you arrived with the cutest outfit he had ever seen. He knew you were the best, always wearing nice clothes that brought out all your features in just the right way. He felt like a fool for only wearing one of his blue shirts and the best pants he had found in his closet. But it had been a wonderful afternoon, he took you to a nice restaurant, moved the chair for you and paid the bills despite your complaints. Then, when the sun was going down he walked you home and you kissed his cheek so sweetly that he stood for ten minutes outside your door even after you closed it.
That night he couldn't sleep, because he realized that he really liked you, that you could stop his heart completely and not just his dick.
The two of you started to frequent each other more, started flirting at work, complicit glances and sloppy kisses in the lonely corners of the station. He didn't want to be a hormonal jerk, but the feeling of your mouth and tongue sliding past his lips fucked his brain. You were so pretty, so perfect that he had to have you, soul and body. He was determined to win you over. And so he was the most detail-oriented guy you ever met, bringing you nice flowers, chocolates, leaving you a coffee every morning on your desk and leaving you cute notes against it.
In no time you fell for it, because let's be honest, no one could resist.
The relationship was formalized, and you swore you never saw such a cute smile on someone's face after giving he a big "Yes." to his proposal. Leon felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, he had a cute, funny girl whom he loved madly because it didn't take you long to get into his heart. You came into his arms as if it was where you belonged, because it was, you belonged in his arms. Just like now, you're buried comfortably in his embrace and the television had been forgotten, you were both too busy devouring each other's mouths.
Leon's hands held each side of your cheeks, drawing your face towards him so he could keep pushing his lips against yours eagerly. It was a simple wet kiss, and he was already dripping inside his pants. And with every sweet sound that came from your lips, his mind was spinning. He wanted to put his hands on you, he wanted to bend your body and pin you so much against the couch that it was getting absolutely silly.
But he didn't want to push you, what if you felt obligated? What if you thought he was just a pervert? What if-
All those doubts were gone as quickly as they came as he felt you climb onto his lap, your arms around his neck and his hands instinctively squeezed your soft hips, pushing you down eagerly. He let out a deep moan as your fingers tugged his hair a little, pulling it away from your lips and he instinctively chased after you again. You had to hold back a laugh at how fucked up he looked from a simple wet kiss, how you could feel him so hard beneath you.
"Hey, Leon. Do you want to... Do you want to continue?" you ask sweetly, moving those pretty eyes of yours to his blue eyes that seemed to want to devour you completely. Before you could think anything else, he was already nodding eagerly.
"Yes, yes... Please." He murmured, his voice was hoarse and came out along with his heavy breaths. He cupped your face, pulling you into him. His lips moving hard against yours, the sloppy sound of the kiss echoing in his small living room. His hands moved down from your face to the sides of your shirt, pulling it up and he pulled away from your lips to lower his gaze to your chest. His breath caught in his throat, moving his hands to the clasps of your bra.
"Can I?" he asked looking at you, as if he wouldn't need to choke on your tits. After all, he was a gentleman.
And when you barely mumbled a small "yes" he removed the garment as if it had somehow insulted him. Your tits fell freely in front of his eyes and he swore that here he belonged. His mouth quickly catching one of your breasts, sucking like a hungry man. As he felt your fingers tugging at his hair and your moans echoing in the room, he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He could cum from just sucking on your pretty tits.
For lack of air, he pulled away from your nipple watching with fascination the red mark left on your tender flesh. His eyes lifted to yours to push his mouth against yours again, one hand on your cheek and the other holding your hip.
"Lift your hips." He said between kisses, smiling as he felt you obediently follow his request. His hand moved to cup your pussy above your pants, feeling the wetness and heat radiating from your center. And as much as he wanted to bury his face between your legs, he wasn't sure how long he could hold back and not cum intact in his pants. He began to massage your center gently before he began to stroke you harder, his fingers searching for your clit above your clothes. When he decided you were both eager enough, he began to unzip your shorts. His heart (cock) was about to burst with joy as he saw more of your panties exposed to his hungry eyes. It didn't take him too long to slide your shorts down your luxurious thighs, gasping at the sight of the dark stain on your underwear.
"Babe-" You moaned almost shyly as you watched his eyes not move from between your legs. His eyes lifted to look at you again, letting out a low moan as he impacted your mouth. His hands gripped your hips, moving you as if you weighed nothing to place you on the couch.
"You're so cute like this..." He murmured, looking at you as if you were the brightest star to come down from the sky just for him.
"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." His voice sounded genuine, mesmerized by the sight of you lying beneath him as he had so often fantasized. So ready, so willing for him. His lips moving down to your neck, beginning to kiss the full expanse of your skin. His hands beginning to impatiently pull down his own pants and boxers, letting out a sigh as the cool air made contact with his raging erection. One of his hands reached down to slip inside your underwear, feeling like he was going to faint when his fingers made contact with your wet folds.
Were you that wet for him? Did he turn you on as much as you turned him on? This was paradise, paradise was between your legs and he was ready to drown himself in it. It didn't take him long to plunge a finger inside you, feeling your walls sucking him hard. He was letting out more moan than you, simply by touching you like this.
"Leon, I want you... I want you, please-" You asked more impatiently, grabbing his hand for him to finally give you his nice cock that you could see it quivering between his legs with excitement.
"I know, I know. I got you, pretty girl." He whispered against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his fingers and with his palm he pressed your clit in a way that made your legs tremble around his hand. When he decided he could take no more, he pulled down your underwear completely, fixing his eyes on your drooling center in a lewd way. For him.
His hands spread your thighs, trying to look away from your pussy, to look at your face, but damn, he was mesmerized. He really wanted this to have been something more romantic, maybe some wine and candles but all those thoughts vanished as he pressed his tip against you. His chest rose and fell, massaging your thighs with his gaze fixed on how the head of his dick was lost from his sight as it entered your warmth. His gaze lifted for the first time to see the expression that crossed your face as he began to fuck you with just his tip.
"D-Do you want more? Does it feel good, huh?" he asked awkwardly, because he's never been good at this 'dirty talk stuff', but he was trying for you. His face was red, slowly moving his hips and his thumb moving up to caress your clit.
"Leon, Come on-" You moaned impatiently in the sweetest way, lifting your hips to try to take him deeper. Your walls were sucking him hard, and he was weak so he started thrusting harder and harder, giving you time to get used to it. He took a shuddering breath, lifting one of your thighs so he could go deep and his head rolled back with ecstasy.
He was not going to last.
He wanted to go slow, to make love to you but quickly found himself fucking you like a repressed man. And his expression was the cutest, his brows furrowed with pleasure and his pink lips slightly parted. A thin layer of sweat was beginning to cover both of your bodies.
When he opened his eyes to look at you, he cursed under his breath. You looked just as he had imagined you all this time, the hottest expression on your face, your body jerking against the couch and your tits bouncing happily with each thrust. And he closed his eyes again because he felt his abdomen tightening from the familiar sensation of his orgasm building. His thumb started stroking you faster, trying desperately to get an orgasm out of you.
The sound of your skins colliding and your moans echoed off the walls, a sound so wet it was almost sinful. His hips began to move uncoordinated as fast as he felt your walls clenching around him tightly, and he knew it.
"Don't stop, Don't stop." You repeated over and over, your nails scraping the smooth skin of his back with ecstasy at the coil forming in your belly that was ready to explode. His cock was touching all the right spots inside you, his veins rubbing and molding your walls with need.
"I can't, I can't... I'm sorry, baby-" He apologized with a choked sob escaping his lips, as his cock contracted and began to shoot its load inside you. His mind went blank and his arms making an extra effort not to let himself fall on you. His face burned knowing he cum before you.
But his brain was too fucked up as he continued to slowly move his hips against yours. As his mind began to clear, he looked up at you with his eyes cloudy and his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.
"Let me, let me make it up to you..." He asked in that pathetic voice of his, getting out of you with his trembling body and moving backwards on the couch. He knelt between your legs, staring at the mess he had made in you. His sticky semen escaping from inside you, staining the couch cushions.
"Leon, Wait-" You murmured, tangling your fingers in his sweaty hair before he plunged his face between the piece of paradise he held for his own blessing. His pretty blue, misty eyes meeting yours, and he let you know he wouldn't let go until you were broken.
Because he was already crazy, there was no turning back from his addiction. Because you were a drug to him and this was just beginning.
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Thank u so much for supporting my previous post, I hope this one wasn't too long or boring for you 💕🫶🏻
Remember that you can read the first part on my profile, let me know if you liked this one too.
bye, bye (💌)
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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months ago
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New Homes | Platonic Yandere Tweels x Child Reader
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“From today on (Y/n), you’ll be hanging out with the Leech family so please…be on your best behavior.” 
Your father was always a little timid. Always speaking with a little quake in his voice. His eyes were always wide darting around. His softer hands like to shake as well. Always wavering even when he held you tight. 
Your father is timid. which is why he warns you when he leaves you with the Leech family. Babysitters always make him nervous. It must be because there are two this time—two babysitters with lopsided haircuts and smiles filled with sharp daggers for teeth. 
“Hello little (Y/n), we’ll be sure to take good care of you.”
“Oi (Y/n), you a swimmer?”
The twins were nice…for teenagers. Other teenagers you knew would sooner shove your head underwater than help you tread it. Other teenagers also didn’t jump at the chance to fight people but that was other teenagers. Not the Leech twins. 
“(Y/n), I told you not to look at Floyd when he’s doing that.”
“But that guy is still holding onto our ice cream.”
“We’ll have some at home. Don’t point at him it’s rude.”
Jade is the twin with his bang on the left side of his face. He’s proper and polite, always doing his best to keep you on schedule. Helping you with your homework when he notices you’re struggling or reading to you when it's time to sleep. 
“Let me blow your nose.”
“Mmm okay.” 
“Good job. Are you ready to go over the edible mushrooms again?”
“Mm okay.”
Floyd is the twin with a yellow left eye and a pitchy voice. He’s loud and silly, always doing fun things that make the day exciting like running in the halls of the manor or playing tickle-monsters when you’ve been working too long.
“I just have to finish these sheets and then I can play!”
“Boooriing!  Let’s just play now!”
“B-but Jade said–”
“Jade can make you catch up later! Let’s get our water guns!”
“Yay!”
They were always so much fun to be around, even work wasn’t so bad with them around. They made a place for you in their giant home. Giving you a room as big as your living room back home, which you slowly filled with the larger souvenirs from your days together.
Speaking of home, it was becoming harder to recall. Trying to remember when you thought of your home if the bathroom was to the left of your room or your father’s. It was an odd feeling that sat at the back of your mind when you looked at the glow-in-the-dark ceiling art. Consciousness fading in and out it didn’t stop your brain from planting the seed of curiosity.
“Why…am I at their house so much?”
Usually, the answer would have been simple. Your father worked late so you had babysitters. But you didn’t go to their house usually. They also didn’t feed or play with you as long as they did but that was beside the point. 
“(Y/n), you’re playing with your food.”
“Oh sorry Missus Leech.”
You made quick work of the beans on your plate, enthusiastically scarfing down what you could. It didn’t feel right to disappoint Missus Leech, while she never once yelled; there was just this feeling about her. One that called for respect. 
“Take your time, (Y/n). I was only worried you’d drift off to sea.”
Looking up at her, tilted your head in confusion.
She let out a giggle. The adult kind that made you feel embarrassed. Looking at Jade, he had an amused smile too, “She means your mind, (Y/n).”
“Oh, I guess a little.”
“What’ya thinkin’ about elver?”
Floyd spoke between bites of food, reminding you to do the same. 
“I just think I miss my home a little bit.”
Taking another hefty bite you missed the disdain on someone’s face. A purposeful cough brought your attention up to the patriarch at the head of the table.
“How are those new shoes we bought together?”
Lighting up at the memory of your new shoes, you barely finished chewing. 
“So cool! Everyone at school thought they were nice too! And I got so many compliments.”
The older man laughed, nodding his head. “Good. Good. Maybe we should go shopping again soon.”
“Okay!”
Dinner went on like usual with dessert ending your time at the dinner table. Letting Jade and Floyd lead you to your bathroom to begin your nightly routine. You fought off the urge to yawn while Jade helped you brush your teeth, failing when he told you to spit. 
“It’s always nice when Mama and Papa come back from trips.” 
Floyd spoke with his back lying on the giant bed, filled with stuffed animals and pillows. He was tossing your clowned fish stuffy in the air catching it with ease. 
Jade still smiling continued buttoning up your pajamas, “Yes, it seems like the trip went well.” 
He looked at you, reminding you to follow him to your bed. “What about you (Y/n)? Did you miss them?”
Your eyelids were feeling heavy. You rubbed them to try to wipe the feeling away.
“Uh yeah.”
Helping Jade shuffle your stuffies around to make a place for you a knock at the door was heard. Floyd must have opened it because by the time you turned Missus Leech was there.
“Mama!” 
Rubbing at Floyd’s head she waved to you and Jade.
“Hi there! I was wondering if I could join you for bedtime?”
You couldn’t tell if The question was for you but if it was Jade answered anyway.
“Of course, Mother. We were just about to read their bedtime story.”
Tucked in next to Missus Leech you let yourself lean against her as she flipped through the pages of the book. Letting her words soothe your mind with the familiar words. Jade and Floyd were close by too making you comfy enough to go to sleep.
When the story was done, everyone gave you goodnight kisses before heading for the door. With the last of your energy, you remembered something important.
“Floyd, are you picking me up tomorrow or Daddy?”
________________________________________________________
The teenager was squeezing the fleshy cylinder shape with an intensity strong enough to bend metal. The crunching and squelching of a man’s neck barely brought comfort to Jade as he continued to squeeze his hands.
“There there Jade, these things take time. It was optimistic that they’d forget by now.”
Unfortunately, the words of his father didn’t calm him down. He headed over to his next target, this time allowing them to throw a punch. Dodging the punch he cradled their hand, maneuvering his arm around until it snapped in the opposite direction. The screaming that followed would have curdled blood for most but it was a lesser result to Jade. Who ended it quickly with a firm kick sent backward and into the skull. The crunch that followed and the abrupt cut to the scream allowed the Leech twin to breathe. 
“I knew they wouldn’t forget. Despite all the work we’ve done. But they still expect him to come.”
His father stepped forward, avoiding the bodies to place a comforting hand on Jade’s shoulder.
“Perhaps he still does…to them.”
Jade’s eyes widened, the implication bringing a stark realization. He turned to his father, his yellow gaze answering the unspoken question. 
To think that with all the work he was saddled with, the sniper still hadn’t abandoned his child. The likelihood was slim but possible. There were quite a few blind spots when it came to the school. Jade had previously ignored them because of the promised security of their contract with the one who wanted him dead. But it seems that wasn’t all they needed to worry about.
“Do you think he plans to take them again?”
“I’d hope not,” entering the warehouse was Fiona Leech having traded out her evening dress for a jumpsuit and shoving a receiver of a baby monitor in her pocket, “our little elver is just about to be settled. It’d be cruel to try moving them again..”
“I don’t think he cares at this point,” Jasper Leech suggested. Pulling out a revolver, he casually aimed and shot the two people tied in the back of the warehouse. He continued, “I hear he’s been getting sloppy with the jobs that one has so graciously allowed him to fix.” 
Jade balanced himself wiping his shoe clean with a rag, chiming in himself. 
“Now he’s trying to go back on his word. Absolute scum.”
“I’d hate for us to pull them out of school, more change is not what that kid needs.”
“I wouldn’t mind limiting my club activities to partake in homeschooling.”
His mother held his face patting his head fondly as she cooed,” You’re a good boy Jade but you have your new job and all those plans I wouldn’t want you to give that up.”
Jasper sighed, scratching the well-groomed stache on his face. “Guess that means we’re ending our contracts early.”
“Seems so…..Now Jade go on get to bed you have school in the morning.”
“Yes, Mama.”
______________________________________________________________
The shade was nice on sunny days. The coolness that came with the blackened space near the fence was like heaven. The spot was farther away from the plastic playground and the other children running all throughout. Minutes ago, you were just like them running wildly at a more loose game of sharks and minnows. 
Past the wood-chipped ground was the back of the school building where the teachers were chatting. Disappearing between the rectangular windows, their attention was on something inside. Distracted enough not to scold you for stepping away from the others. The triumph of your expert timing was the true prize. Relishing in the leaves of the trapezoid-shaped bushes pushing through the fence. Crunchy, tickling, and overgrown the feeling against your back was a minor trait of this sacred place. 
There was also the oddly pressing poke of something warm coming through the hole of the fences. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you smiled.
“Hi, Papa.”
“Hello, my Starlight!”
Turning around to mirror his position you laid on your tummy to look him in the eye. His tactical glasses were off and his hair had changed. His longer hair was gone, traded out for a faded cut. Different but still your father. You let his larger gruffer fingers hold your own through the fence, his hands for once not shaking. 
“Can I tell you all about my adventures?”
“Of course.”
He let you rant, smiling and nodding all along to all your different adventures. You even took off your shoes and showed him the flickering lights in its soles. He waited until you were out of breath before asking the question again.
“Would you like to come with Papa, this time?”
You hesitated kicking your feet against the wooden chips of the playground. 
“Are we going back to our home?”
“...No.”
Tilting your head,” Then are we going to the Jade and Floyd’s?”
The names made him shudder as he hurriedly shook his head. 
“W-we’re going someplace new….”
“Where are we going?”
He rubbed at his eyebrows. He was getting annoyed. But you knew you had to ask otherwise you’d be brought somewhere you hated. Like that one time.
“(Y/n) you’re curiosity is great but—”
“Does where we’re going have a bed? Does it have a kitchen? Are we going to be only eating the gas place’s sandwiches?”
He scrunched his hands into his hair, grasping for his non-existent flowing hair. His lips were quivering and his eyes were watering. It made you nervous, sitting up from your tummy and on your knees. You sent a look over your shoulder at the window–the teachers were still occupied. Looking down at your father, you silently sighed as you got into character.
“Hirano wherever you're taking that little Starlight, it better be the best place for a kid. Those Leech’s are makin’ sure they're on time at school, they're well-fed, and I haven’t gotten a call from protective services for a good while.”
“I know! I know Mama but they won’t let me leave. I screwed up! I screwed up really bad! If I don’t do another job for that guy, he’s going to have my head! B-but I want to go back to normal! I want to spend my days helping (Y/n) with homework and coming home and watching those silly cartoons with my Starlight–”
Your heart was aching and your eyes were getting watery. You waved a hand at your eyes and cleared your throat sticking your hand through the hole to hold his. 
“Y-you’ve got to get your ducks in order before you take your Starlight back–”
“But Mom!”
“Don’t but me…Starlight is safe. You’ve got to make sure you are too before you take them back.”
“But the debt I owe…it’s so big and their patience is thin. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back….”
Taking a deep breath, you went back to your original position on your tummy. 
“Papa, I’m always going to be here. Safe and waiting for you. So you can go on your work trip I don’t mind.”
He smiled at that reaching through the gate to affectionately bop you on your nose. 
“That’s right…I’m just on a work trip. I’ll be back before you even notice. I’m gone!”
He began to scooch away but you stopped him calling for him to come back to the fence. You kissed his forehead and he kissed yours.
“I’ll….see you when you got back Papa….”
“Yup! You know it! If you need anything just ask your grandma, okay?”
“...Okay…”
Like that, he disappeared. 
You were left to stare at the disfigured leaves and dying branches. Burning the memory of his face into your mind.
“(Y/n)! Your brother’s here to pick you up.”
It took you a minute before you stood up again. Frantically wiping at the water streaming from your eyes, you waited until your throat was no longer croaky to finally respond.
“Coming!”
It was all a blur, saying goodbye to your friends and packing your backpack. The memories of the sweet older lady you used to spend so much time with. She taught you how to help your father, explaining the work he was in. It made your head hurt. Thinking about it now, you can say that’s why you stay at the Leech’s house so much.
“Ready to go little elver?”
“Yeah,” you stuck your hands up while he brought you up higher supporting you with his arms. You didn’t want to but you let your gaze fall on the disfigured spot in the bushes behind the playground fence. 
Floyd glared at the spot.
“What’s over there, (Y/n)?”
Visualizing him one last time. You’re glad you could say goodbye. Curling your head into his uniform’s collar, you blinked your extra tears away. 
“Nothing anymore…let’s go home, please.”
You missed the smile on Floyd’s face, laughing to himself as he made his way to the family car. 
“As always, little elvie!”
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missaengg · 21 days ago
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Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.
Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭
Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home
Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.
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Your bedroom feels lonely.
Too lonely. 
Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour. 
You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.
A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst… 
Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.
His cologne.
“Rafayel?!”
“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”
“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”
You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”
“Just now. Came straight here.”
You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.
Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.
He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.
“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.
His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.
“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him. 
“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….” 
The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.
“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”
Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.
“Raf, I missed you too, but–”
He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.
He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.
“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”
Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.
You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.
“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white. 
“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”
He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.
You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.
Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length. 
“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.
“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.
You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.
“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”
You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”
He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.
You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve. 
“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”
Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”
“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.
Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.
You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.
His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses. 
“Raf…” you plead.
Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.” 
His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.
You can’t breathe. 
You can only helplessly call out his name.
Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.
Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.
“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.
But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst. 
He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.
You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.
 “I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”
He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.
“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.
Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”
You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.
You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.
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tired-teacher-blog · 5 months ago
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denki kaminari finds out his s/o thinks his voice is attractive/it turns them on? please, and thank you so much
Melodious temptation
Characters : Kaminari Denki/ Fem reader
Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Sexual Intercourse/ Fluff/ One shot
Notes : Thank you for the lovely request cutie though I'm truly sorry it took me too long to deliver, but I still hope you enjoy my input.
Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist
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_ "Hello gorgeous." a shiver runs up your spine at the sound of his voice mouthing the words straight into your ear.
It's a habit of his to whisper sweetly, and seductively, just so he could sense the breath hitching in your throat everytime he does.
_ "Oh, h.. hi." and there you are, failing to maintain your composure yet again.
His hands move up your shirt, and his chin rests on your shoulder as you finish up rinsing the last plate, "I'm done folding the laundry honey, so can we go to bed now?"
_ "Wha.. yeah, yeah sure." it's almost comical to be frank, that you're barely able to hold on to your sanity whenever he's being this way, does he even realize the extent of his behavior on you? The heat pooling in the pit of your belly or the electrifying throbbing in your deepest depth? Does it ever cross his mind that in moments like these, all you could think about is being trapped beneath his large body while he pounds you into oblivion?
Probably not, luckily..
_ "Denki.." you start cautiously as he plops down on the bed with you, pausing for a bit until hearing the cheerful "huh?" moving past his lips before you decide to carry on, "how was work today?"
He shifts a little to face you and blinks a few times but says nothing, the confusion plastered across his face is understandable though, as he has already answered that same question of yours over dinner just a few hours ago.
_ "Is everything okay sweetheart? Were you not paying attention to me earlier? That's brutal you know." and he finally regains that familiar bright smile you adore.
_ "Of course I was!" you sit up at once, strained shoulders shaking slightly and hands fisting the bedsheet beneath you, "let's just go to sleep okay?" you feign nonchalance and kiss his lips softly before turning on your side and squeezing your eyes shut in a futile attempt to escape the interrogation you know is coming, but for a while it doesn't, coaxing a sigh of relief to leave your chest as you finally start to relax.
_ "Wanna tell me what's going on?"
You were wrong, he will not let it slide easily because he is now pressed up against your back, arms wrapped around your waist and lips ghosting over the reddening shell of your ear, and it's the last thing you need right now.
_ "N.. nothing, nothing's going on, so let's just sleep." and the strangled moan lacing your words does not go unnoticed as he chuckles amusedly in response before sinking his teeth into your soft flesh to bring out an even louder whimper from you.
_ "Oh, I see," it's like a switch has been turned in his brain, and his previously careful hands suddenly became a bit more persistent as they lowered to clutch onto the delicate skin of your thighs, "that's okay love, you don't have to be shy about it."
Your eyes widen and your jaw clenches when he forces your legs apart with one swift flick of his wrist, you wish to scold him for it but your voice refuses to give, and who knows? Maybe it is for the best, because you're sure to humiliate yourself otherwise.
He thinks he's smart, that he understands the state you're in right now but he truly doesn't.. and you just want to laugh at how funny, endearing, and truly embarrassing this makes him look.
_ "So tell me princess, should I carry on?" his teasing words are nothing less than a blissful torture for your ears, you crave hearing more of his nonsense but also wish he would shut up.
_ "Just.. don't stop." you express eagerly and brace yourself for his next move, the throbbing in your core intensifies as he pushes your panties to the side and runs his thumb slowly along your glistening clit.
_ "Oh look at that, you're already wet for me, I wonder why, I only just touched you," he growls smugly and nuzzles your nape before saying, "you love me too much that just having me near is enough to wreck you."
_ "It's not.. what you think." it's really not, his dumb brain is painting a picture that couldn't be further from the truth.
Although you do love him– more than he knows, more than anyone else in the world, what you're experiencing right now is due to something else that you've tried your hardest to hide, but maybe it's time to give in and admit it.
_ "Then tell me what it is." his demand is laced with a smirk that you could perfectly imagine, the words vibrate throughout your body and settle right where his fingers are teasing you relentlessly.
_ "Just.. stop talking and do something!" you're at your limit already, and the stiffness nudging your bum is evidence that he is as well.
_ "You got it sweetheart, fuck.." he struggles to keep his cool while clumsily working on freeing his raging cock.
Ragged breath and impatient grunts are hitting your ear and pushing you closer towards orgasm, and suddenly, nothing is any longer enough to quench your thirst for the man chanting your name over and over again while brushing his leaky tip over your folds, before carefully pushing into your welcoming heat with a satisfied growl.
Finally..
_ "Baby you're so warm.. you feel really good around me." his whines are just above a whisper but you hear them loud and clear.
He sings your praises while setting an unforgiving pace from the get go, but you truly don't mind, if anything, you're yearning for more and are no longer reluctant to ask.
_ "Keep going.. please Denki don't stop! Deeper please.. talk to me, tell me you love me.." you burst out in pleas and reach a shaky arm over your head, threading your fingers through his golden hair and pulling his face even closer to yours.
_ "I love you, of course I love you, fuck.. you're the only one for me.. you make me, ugh damnit.. you make me lose my mind."
You've always loved the sound of his voice, when he's upset or when he's excited, when he's confused or when he's pleased, and especially during his most vulnerable moments, moments like this one, when he'll truthfully tell you anything you wish to know.
_ "I'm so close!" you cry out a warning and arch off his chest as his thrusts turn erratic.
_ "Together sweetheart, let's cum together." he moves a hand down to join the cock drilling into you mercilessly, fingers rubbing on your sensitive clit and delighted moans invading your senses and coaxing shockwaves of pleasure to wash over your shuddering body like a hurricane.
_ "That's it, that's my girl, ugh fuck!" he reluctantly pulls out of you, fisting his pulsating cock until finally bursting all over your thighs.
Silence fills the air for a while, nothing is heard but heavy breaths and stifled whimpers as you both come down from your high, and all you wish for at the moment is to close your eyes and drift off, however..
_ "I kept wondering what turned you on all of a sudden, until you asked me to keep talking to you," he gently turns you around to face him, flushed cheeks and tired smile brightening his handsome face as he playfully slurred the words, "that's interesting." and the teasing continues.
_ "N.. no you're wrong! I was just caught up in the moment." you're fully awake now as you strived to defend yourself, hitting his chest weakly before hiding your face there in shame.
_ "Okay okay I'm sorry," hearty chuckles ripple through him while he held you close, luring a soft giggle past your lips as you finally started to relax, "alright princess I'll tell you what, let's take a little break and then test this theory again shall we?" and he whispers the proposal provocatively, greedy hands already exploring your body, and pulsing cock awakening to rub against your thigh.
You knew from the start, that revealing your secret would be a bad idea and you were right, because the sparkle in his eyes as he's eagerly groping your flesh and sensuously whispering promises of what awaits you, proves it.
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therobotmonster · 4 months ago
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The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice
Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."
The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.
He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.
The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.
It was a veritable buffet.
So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.
So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.
"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.
"My name is Alex, and no." She said.
He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.
So why wasn't he Alex now?
It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.
No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.
"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"
He blinked.
The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.
"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"
He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.
Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.
"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"
The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.
"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"
She rolled her eyes.
"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"
"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.
"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"
"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"
"The mortal realm?"
"More specifically?"
"The Earth. The United States."
"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."
The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."
"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."
"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."
"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.
The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"
"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"
The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-
The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.
"How are you doing this?" He gasped.
"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."
"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?
He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.
Almost.
He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.
None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.
"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.
"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."
Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.
"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."
Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.
"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."
Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.
A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.
The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"
He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.
He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.
"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."
"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"
"What are you?"
"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"
"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.
"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"
"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."
Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.
"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"
"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
--
Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.
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tinydefector · 7 months ago
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Hello! How are you? This is my first time requesting so I hope this is okay, but can I request a shorter scenario g1 Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz and Ironhide with a human s/o lives for chaos? They would point at Megatron and say ‘bitch’ just for the reaction. 🩵
Cursing Megatron out
Ps I'm sleep deprived af it's 12am right now and just finished this so enjoy.
Word count: 2.3k
Warning: description of fighting, swearing
Masterlist
Ratchet masterlist
Ironhide masterlist
Jazz masterlist
Optimus prime Masterlist
________________
Optimus Prime
They yell loudly as Megatron goes to grab them, they smash him in the face with a tire iron as he is then tackled by Optimus. The Decepticon leader had ruined their date night. They flip him off as Optimus throws Megatron across the ground, his servo wraps around them quickly pulling them closer as they scramble up onto his shoulder. "Eat shit and die Fuck face!" They yell at Megatron. 
Optimus clutched their small form protectively against his plating, battling protocols roaring. Had circumstances been different, the Prime would have roared in fury at your fierce defence against the tyrant but he was dealing with trying to keep them safe. 
Megatron howled, clutching a fist to his dented face as energon streamed between digits. His optics blazed murder, craving nothing more than to snuff the fluttering spark of Optimus' and the human he held so closely. 
"You've made a grave error this day, little beast. No corpse shall hide you from my wrath!" Megatron bellowed, brandishing his fusion cannon as if to raze the very earth. His field screamed promised agony that sent lesser mechs scampering for shelter.
Optimus vented his battle mask into place, tucking them securely against the safety of his backstrut. weapons primed and wrathful fields promising eons of hurt against any who dared to touch his Human.    
"You shall not harm them, Megatron. Leave. now. while your spark yet functions," Optimus warned in a voice low and in a heavy growl that sounded feral and unlike the Prime.
"Maybe you should get Shockwave to give you a facial reconciliation!, oh wait I did it already!" They sneer back from Optimus' shoulder at Megatron. Their teeth are bared at him as they snarl. If anyone else had seen the human they would have thought they were an animal.
Optimus suppressed an amused sigh at their show of fangs, so small yet fearless against the monster terrorising his people for millennia.  Megatron bellowed in foaming rage, lunging toward where they perched upon Optimus's armoured pauldron. "Insolent pest! I shall grind your bones to powder and force-feed them to - aggh!"
A well-placed shot from Optimus's ion blaster struck the warlord, toppling the tyrant shrieking to the dirt. "Last warning, Megatron. Leave. or face me," Optimus rumbled, field pulsing protectiveness intertwined with fierce Protection.  
With a snarl Megatron takes off. Once both Optimus and his human lover settle from the adrenaline and battle protocols. Optimus cradled their small form within his battle-worn servo, venting slow ex-vapor to purge lingering fumes. His optics dimly regarded their fragile body. 
"That was a foolish act of bravery, little one," Optimus rumbled gently, digit carefully brushing across their  forehead and down their cheek admiring their eyes alight with fire. His spark swelled at the determination.  
"Sorry, I..  I got caught up in the moment, he missed me off ruining date night" they huff out while pressing their face into his neck cabling. Their body shakes from the adrenaline. "I hit Megatron with a tire iron" they whisper as it slowly registers in their own brain.
Optimus vented a soft huff of static, equal parts worry and weary amusement filling his field at their admission. "A valiant act indeed, though foolhardy against one as powerful as he," rumbled Optimus, vocals warm with approval despite the danger of the situation. His optics flicker in fondness. “Please do not do that again” 
Ratchet 
 Megatron let's out a horrific scream as he gets electrocuted. He hadn't noticed the humans who had shoved the taser between the plates of his armour. "Get Tazered Bitch, not so fucking tough now huh?" They shout at the downed Decepticon only to be scooped up by Ratchet. Ratchet swept them into his servo with a staticky huff, deftly dodging the warlord's flailing blows as voltage shocks wracked Megatron's colossal frame. His field buzzed approval at their fearless defence of him. 
"Reckless sparkling! You'll deactivate my rusting struts with stunts like that," Ratchet grumbled, though optics shone bright relief beneath grizzled plating. Megatron howled upon the earth, shaking off aftershocks that would crush the stoutest Autobot, madness glinting a terrifying helm snapped halfway 'twixt beast and machine.
Ratchet backed swiftly from flailing reach, hoisting their small form beyond harm's sight. Ratchet takes off transforming around them before he begins scolding the for how stupid they were, how dangerous it was. And the fact Megatron would personally hunt them now.
"Have you any idea how foolish that stunt was?!" Ratchet's engine revved indignantly even as he sped across the scarred earth, his cabin vibrating with barely-suppressed wrath and equal measure relief. 
His sensors remained fixed upon the precious organic cargo nestled within his altforms cab, monitoring vital readings  "Do you want a personal vendetta from Megatron? Because that's how you get a personal vendetta, you glitched little slagger!" Medical scans analysed each minute shift of breath. 
"Reckless, Just...do not scare me so, small one," Ratchet rumbled quietly, worried and care etched in every bolt and wire. 
"He had it coming Ratchet, plus that Amazon taser is getting a 10/10. 'WORKS GREAT, I Tazed a large alien warlord and he screamed like a bitch, will in fact work on creeps on the street' " they laugh while they look in the revision mirror to make sure they aren't being followed by said Decepticon.
Despite himself, Ratchet's engine sputtered an amused huff at their tone - so fearless in the face of giants who had destroyed armies. "Oh I've no doubt - the reviews certainly won't lack colour!" Ratchet agreed wryly, subtly activating scanners to sweep their escape route while watchful optics remained pinned to their reflection. 
His vents sighed relief upon confirming no stalking signatures upon their trail, enemy or otherwise. Swinging wide the Ark's bunker doors, Ratchet transformed with care not to jostle his delicate cargo. Blue optics peered down aglow with a glare "Come now, troublemaker. No more outings for the next month for you while the oaf licks his wounds." His states while guiding them to the medbay. 
“no fair Ratchet!” 
Jazz
They cling onto Jazz as the bot hides behind a boulder, multiple autobots had been out when the Decepticons had attacked. They are held tightly by Jazz as he debates the best possible to get them out of there unscaved.
Jazz vented softly, hugging their form protectively against his plating as pedefalls rumbled outside their scant cover. 
"Ain't nothin' t'fear, li'l light. Ol' Jazz'll getcha outta here one piece, ya feel me?" he murmured soothing static against their ear, subtly scanning surroundings through plating. An opening presented itself, if he could provide distraction just long enough...
Pressing a swift kiss to their forehead, Jazz.” Go, sweetspark! Ain't got but a klik - I'm right behind ya!" Jazz called desperately over the roar of weapons, swerving and banking with abandon to keep pursuers engaged but alive. 
 "Hey ol' buckets 'a bolts! Over here!" With that, he peeled from cover in a burst of speed, transforming mid-leap to present the biggest possible target, tailfins flared wide. Weapon systems engaged, greeting the three pursuing seekers with enthusiastically snarky exclamations as he led them on a merry chase. His sole purpose in those seconds - buy precious time, before sharply veering back toward cover with afterburners blazing. 
They do take off running but stop as they see Megatron advancing towards Jazz. They aren't far from either bot and in a split moment of bravery or stupidity their shoe is off and being flung right at Megatron's helm. "Your shit ass piece of Junk you lay a fucking hand on my boyfriend and I'll rip you apart with a fucking Magnet and plyers, don't you fucking test me you dipper wearing, goofy as looking supervillan wannabe!" They shout. It make the whole battlefield go almost dead silent. " Yea you fucking hear my bucket head, ill make you wish you were rusting!" They shout again. 
Jazz's optics widened in horror behind his visor, witnessing your defiant act through static-laced vision. Fear gripped his struts like freezing polyhexian tundra. 
Megatron's helm barely shifted from the impact, regarding their small form with optics glinting cruel amusement. His cannon charged with purpose to squash resistance as pointless and fleeting as an organic.
"Foolish creature. Your lives mean less than insects" Megatron sneered, taking ponderous steps their way that may as well have been a funeral march. The field around him broadcast murderous intentions that sent even the seasoned warriors around bolting for cover. 
Jazz would not be denied. With a grief-stricken keen that curdled energon in lines, he flung himself between you and that doom-wielding arm aiming to end what meaning he had left. His field pulsed frenzied protectiveness tangled with pleas no words could voice. 
"Ya want 'em, Megs, you'll hafta go through me first! An' I been dancin' this dance a long time..." Jazz spat static. Jazz was quick to get them out of there grabbing them and taking off. It isn't until they were back at the Ark did he finally transform, arms wrapped around them as he gives the a peace of his mind.
Jazz clutched their body against his chest plates long after abandoning the battle site, fleeing farther than ever felt safe from those sworn to end all he had left. His engine roared wildly, fuel pump pounding faster than any sabotage mission's duration against the relief of delivering them from harm. 
Only within the Ark's fortified bunker did his struts unlock enough to collapse wearily to the floor, holding them close as grateful cries and static escaped in equal measure. "Don't you ever fraggin' do that ta me again, ya hear?" Jazz gasped brokenly at last, cupping their face desperately within his quaking palm. His visor glimmered tears unshed, relief and terror warning in equal measure. 
"Can't lose ya...yer all Ah got left in this mess. Please, li'l light...don' scare me like that." Raw emotion clogged his vocalizer to near uselessness, pressing reverent kisses between choked intakes. 
"He was going right for you baby!, I'm not letting the 3 tonne prick hurt you, so what I lost a shoe next time it will be a hydro flask of salt water and I hope it dents his helm" they state as they grab his face plate returning his kisses with fevor.
Jazz huffed a static-tinged laugh at their fierce declaration, so brave yet trembling in his gentle grasp. His cooling fans cycled accelerated drafts, systems still buzzing from terrors faced alone to shield them from doom's sightless gaze. 
"Frag if ya ain't the bravest thing this side'a Cybertron," Jazz rumbled. He pressed his faceplate into their shoulder holding them tightly, not willing to let go yet. Curling them protectively against the humming mass of his spark, Jazz vented shaky ex-vents. "Mah brave, beautiful li'l light...keep shinin' that fire, sweetspark." Jazz whispered raggedly into their shoulder. 
Ironhide 
 Ironhide shoots at Megatron. His human companion latched to his back as he uses his body as a shield so the war lord couldn't get them. But they were making it rather hard as they tried antagonising Megatron. 
"Damn did they build you like a shit box on Cybertron or did you pick this form yourself!" They shout out. 
Ironhide careened across the scarred terrain, engine roaring as his heavy cannons unloaded volley after volley into the Con warlord's encroaching chassis. Megatron's howls shook the earth, armour blistering under Ironhide's righteous fury for daring to threaten his human lashed securely to broad backstruts.
"That's it, slaggertits, dance for me!" Ironhide bellowed back at Megatron. 
Megatron lunged forward through a hailstorm of plasma, cannons charging in a frenzy to end lives denying his rule. But Ironhide spun on a dime, releasing another blast to cave in an optical relay before transforming ram-tight around you both. 
His engine pounded like the Pit below, field alive with devotion harsh as his bearing yet gentle as newborn sparks flickering against red-and-blue armorweave. When Megatron gets too close they lob a can of WD-40 At him which Ironhide shoots cause it to explode in his face. "Get sunbeam shitlips!" They yell in delight as Ironhide takes off with them trying to get to safety.
"That's enough outta you, squishy," Ironhide rumbled, yet his cannons sang in harmony with your unbound spirit. His mission remained unchanged - shield the light of life, defying all forces that sought to smother its radiance. Ironhide's cannon fire consumed the volatile projectile in a brilliant fireball, engulfing Megatron in inferno. As they take off leaving Megatron in a fireball of energon and wounds. 
"Right in the visual output, squishy!. Primus, I think I'm in love," Ironhide roared instatically, tires biting earth as he tore across the ravaged wastes well beyond enemy sensors. His spark soared like the smelting winds of Vos. Ironhide's engine purred a low rumble as his struts unwound, tension leaching from armour plating now safe. His field pulsed weariness, yet underlying it swirled pride and fierce gratitude for your indomitable spirit so small, yet burned brighter than any star.
"Can't say I approve of y'all's antics out there, squishy. But Primus if you didn't frag up that rustbucket good," Ironhide chuckled, copper-sheened plating creaking in amusement. Never had he witnessed such fearless bravery, nor met a soul so worthy of the praise.
"He had it coming, Ironhide!You're not going to tell prime are you?" They had just faced down Megatron and cursed him out yet they were worried over being ratted out. Ironhide's engine grumbled a tired huff, his massive frame unwinding into a sprawl across the barren earth. He transforms lifting them up into his arms
"I'd be a fool to deny you put the fear of Primus in that rustbucket," Ironhide chuckled. "But Prime's got enough weighin' his wires. Don't need him fryin' more circuits over our antics." A digit gently booped their nose, gaze softening. "Your spark burns brighter than all the Well's glory. Ain't no mech takin' that from you - least of all one as glitching as Megs."
"Our secret?" They asked looking up at him.
"Our secret, squishy.” Ironhide replied, massive frame creaking gently as massive fingers curled to cradle them against his chassis.
Taglist: @angelxcvxc
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jjmaybankswifeyx · 8 months ago
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don’t play with me princess
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zach justice x fem!reader
warnings • smutty smut smut, zach : daddy, kissing, use of yn, pet names, oral sex, flirting, angst, jealous zach, swearing , 18+
summary: you went on dropouts after being friends for years and him begging you for ages to come the podcast , you finally give in and things kick off.
*Do not copy my work*
*zach has his own place in this*
you were messaging zach all last night about the podcast, what time to come etc he was being so sweet telling you he’s gunna be with you the whole time but knowing zach he will probably bully you for it tomorrow on the podcast “i’ll be fine” you mumbled before dozing off to sleep.
you wake up at 11:06 to zach phoning you making sure your awake as you always sleep in, unfortunately you had just woke up and had an hour to get ready and leave as you had to be there for 12:30 and it takes 20 minutes to get there “yea you just woke me up” you say rolling out of bed “good can’t have my star guest not come” he says, you hang up the phone starting to get ready doing a natural look as you didn’t have time nor effort to do a glam look, once you finished your makeup you chose your outfit then left.
you got there about 5 minutes before the pod started saying hi to everyone “omg yn” alyssa shouts across the room running towards you engulfing you in a big hug “alyssa ahh i missed you so much” you say with a massive smile “alright alyssa she’s mine calm down” zach says appearing around the corner with a smug little smirk on his face “oh shut up zach” turning around to face alyssa again and walking into the studio.
“hello welcome or welcome back to dropouts today we have an extra special guest, my girlfriend yn y/l/n” looking at u in shock “oh you wish” looking at the mic “i do i really do, so yn” your quick to answer as your nervous as what hes gunna say “yes zach” already dreading the question “how have you been” relieved with this you start to smile “yea it’s been great honestly i’ve started my own clothing line and makeup and it’s going great!” smiling knowing how far you’ve come “wow that’s great! any boys recently ?” jared says adding to the convo “oh jared you know” you say winking at him before you both start bursting into laughter, you look over at zach and he looks like he’s burning a hole into your brain, he looks mad ? you chime in “no guys i’m jk don’t clip that” you say with a nervous laugh zach still does not look impressed until he spits out “oh yn you wouldn’t even kiss jared on the cheek never mind do the devils tango with him” smirking you reply “oh and how would you know that” he stares at you for a second “okay guys if your not subscribed to the patreon you get a 7 day free trial, you get extra bits from these podcasts also you get them earlier plus extra videos like the drunk episodes when we get me and some other people drunk and try spill some secrets” you just look at him unimpressed as he carries on.
by now your on the subject of sex and relationships jared talking about this girl he is going out with tonight and how he would love to have something with her as theyd been speaking for months “yea jared i think you just gotta go for it, no woman wants a man who takes their time, and they don’t want to beg for it either ” you say giving him a woman’s perspective “oh yn you were begging for it last night” zach says smirking earning an oh and oh shit from jared and alyssa you just completely gobsmacked on what this man just said to you “oh please like i would go to you for that your probably not even as good as you make out zach, actually alyssa can you relate to this a man always says he knows what he’s doing yet he can’t get it in the right hole” jared and alyssa start laughing hesring a very quiet yes from alyssa as zach says “oh trust me i know what i’m doing” you didn’t look impressed “hm ye still don’t believe it sorry zach” he’d had enough at this point he wanted to throw you over his shoulder, take you upstairs and prove it while you were screaming out his name “don’t play with me princess”, jared just gasped and alyssa just started laughing you however just turned over and said “of course i’m gunna mess with you other wise your gunna wind me up so” looking over at him letting your eyes drop for a mere second you saw him readjusting himself seeing a massive bulge in his pants looking up with him smirking at you.
alyssa and jared start having a conversation about something i’m not sure what i was zoned out thinking about what zach said and his bulge until you were pulled out by zach coming closer to you wanting to whisper something “i’m gunna fuck you so hard after this your not gunna be able to even speak and say i didn’t know what u was doing, you understand me gorgeous?” you nod while backing away just smiling jared and alyssa obviously caught on “um guys what you saying over there” knowing you were caught until zach chimes in “oh i was just asking yn about something i heard about her clothing line and it’s true but not able to say sorry. it’s a secret” you sigh knowing zach just saved your ass and his.
after 1 hour of you and zachs glances you started you flirt with jared to get a reaction out of zach, must say he contained himself pretty well until the pod finished you said your goodbyes to jared and alyssa claiming you were gunna hang out with zach for a while as you haven’t seen eachother in months they believed it obviously as it is true you did miss him but you needed him now, as soon as they walked out that door you said “so you gunna prove it to me or what?” walking over to him looking up batting your eye lashes without a word he smashes his lips into yours quietly letting out little moans and gasps as he picks you up taking you to his room he throws you on the bed hovering over you “hm you look so good today” moaning while he’s kissing your neck “you too baby, wanted to have my way with you since i first met you” you moan against his touch not knowing this as you thought you guys were just friends with the occasional flirt “take your clothes off princess wanna see you” he says throwing his shirt some where across the room, after hearing those words you have never done something quicker you were lying there naked while zack still had his jeans on he slowly started kissing down your stomach reaching down to your bare dripping pussy “this wet already baby? hm someone’s needy” saying with a grin before you could answer he dived into your pussy sucking your clit making you scream out in pleasure “hm zach more baby please” he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you sucking and licking your clit, you could hear his tiny little moans and the vibrations coming off, “could jared eat your pretty pussy like this baby?” he says hint of jealousy in his voice you shake your head unable to focus “words princess” he says picking up his pace “no! daddy you do it better than anybody” you say about to come until he stops what he’s doing and looks up at you “what did you just call me?” you now are very embarrassed yet the words come out you couldn’t stop it “d-daddy” he smiles looking at you “fuck princess i cannot do this i need to be in you” you sigh then spreading your legs for him as he unbuckles his belt letting the cold air hit your core “fuck gorgeous such a good girl for daddy” he says slipping into you, he’s massive so much bigger than you thought “fuck daddy your huge” that just gives him a boost and he starts picking up the pace, “oh baby you don’t how long i’ve wanted to do this” he says moaning in your ear “me too daddy needed your cock for so long hmm” screaming without a care who heard you “your mine princess” you moan at the words nesrly making you cum alone “all yours daddy” you say trying to fight for breathe “what princess didn’t quite hear you?” ramming into harder and deeper “i’m yours daddy all yours!!” shouting even louder before he utters “good girl” as his thrusts get sloppy “where do you want me beautiful” without even thinking you say “in me daddy i’m on the pill” he does a couple more thrusts before you both are cumming the hardest you ever have, nobody has ever made you feel this way and you loved it, he pulls out of you now all cocky “that prove it to you huh” saying all confident “wasn’t even that good” you say smirking “hm i wish i could believe that but your moans and words say different gorgeous” he says before getting something to clean you both up.
as you were laying there he says “i meant it you know” you look up at him confused “your mine now, not letting you go” you just kiss him as you fall asleep tangled up together.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
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javiscigarette · 8 months ago
Text
Emergency Contact
Frankie Morales x f!reader
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Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.
Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time
w/c: 6.8K
a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!
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You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.  But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."
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The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings. 
You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock. 
2:13 am.
The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.  
"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.
"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.
You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.
"You couldn't have called anyone else?"
You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal. 
"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"
You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.
"What did you do this time, Frankie?"
He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."
His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.
"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.
It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.
Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky. 
All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.
When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands. 
Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain. 
Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.
This or you.
A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.
And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better. 
"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."
You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.
There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.
With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.
"I'll be there in 20," you say.
There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"
Always an air of disbelief.
"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"
"I know, I... thank you."
You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.
This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass. 
At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.
You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.
___
He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.
The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.
He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.
Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.
"What?" you finally snap.
"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.
"Absolutely not."
"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."
The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask. 
"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.
"Right. Okay."
Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.
Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him. 
It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.
Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.
And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him. 
So you do. 
Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision. 
Fucking pathetic. Both of you. 
“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."
“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly. 
Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.
"Don’t call me that, Frankie."
He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house. 
Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours. 
“Tell me what happened, Frankie?” 
You ask even though you don’t really want to know. 
Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face. 
"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know. 
“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.
He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.
"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"
"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"
Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to. 
"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"
Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.
"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"
Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.
"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."
That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.
"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"
You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,
"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."
He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap. 
“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."
You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.
"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."
He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"
You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again. 
"Just forget it, Frankie.”
But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that. 
"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"
You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.
Not a single damn thing.
"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.
Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?
But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.
"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."
"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“
“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."
There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.
The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits. 
And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you. 
You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. 
But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.
“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."
You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.
You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms. 
One more night.
Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."
And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.
Inhale
Exhale.
You should want to fight.
But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight. 
He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.
And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.
Inhale.
You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.
And exhale. 
You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.
But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.
“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked. 
“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.
You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.
Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.
But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.
He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.
He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.
Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.
A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand. 
"Frankie."
This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of. 
He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy. 
“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."
You don't tell him to stop.
You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat. 
It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger. 
He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.
“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”
As if you could say no.
As if you even wanted to.
He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can. 
It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.
He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth. 
Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes. 
And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.  
His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach. 
“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.
This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.
Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.
And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.
He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.
More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.
And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.
Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand. 
He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.
"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there. 
"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down. 
Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.
Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.
"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue. 
You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.
"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.
You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.
And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.
You both know. And neither of you care.
No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.
Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.
You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again. 
"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out. 
He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.
"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.
And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. 
You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.
"That's it baby. Look at me."
And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.
"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.
"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."
He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is. 
Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painful reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.
His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does. 
And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.
One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic. 
"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.
"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."
He doesn't have to tell you twice.
You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.
You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.
He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.
His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.
His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be. 
But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.
He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's. 
When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.
"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.
He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.
"Can I stay?"
His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.
He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.
The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.
"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."
A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.
You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.
Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.
You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.
For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.
Just one more night.
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Thank you for reading!! :))
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reverie-starlight · 3 months ago
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{need you now- hawks}
y’all remember need you now by lady antebellum?
gn!reader, no physical descriptions. angst-ish? kinda fluffy. I’ll be doing a part two of this from keigo’s perspective eventually.
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you can’t sleep.
this has been happening more and more lately, and you wonder how much more you can take without starting to hallucinate.
he’s back home from a mission now, which you only found out because of one of his fan accounts. well- “home”. he’s been staying in the luxurious house the commission kept aside for him. nothing homely about it according to keigo, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.
not after you got caught up in the argument and told him you wanted nothing to do with him.
you had shrugged it off when you saw the post, not knowing if it’s been too long to try and reconcile, but now you’re going down memory lane, holding back tears as you flip through the photo album he made you.
you fight yourself to stay off your phone, but you get to a photo of him kissing your cheek and you can’t stop yourself any longer. the loneliness you’ve been feeling all this time finally wins out.
the clock reads 1:15 AM.
is he even awake right now?
it’s been a month… and he’s always so busy, do you even cross his mind anymore? he always seems to be on yours.
you call anyway, against your better judgement and your heart lurches into your throat when he actually answers.
after two rings, at that.
“hello?” his voice both soothes you and chills you to your bones at the same time.
“hi keigo,” you whisper.
“hi, ba-“ you think he’s about to call you baby out of habit and you wish he hadn’t stopped himself. “did you need something?”
he sounds… somber. solemn. sad.
not at all like the keigo you love.
guilt pools in your stomach at the mere idea of you hurting him this badly.
“I…” you bite your lip. “I miss you.”
you hear his breath hitch. “really?”
you wish you could see his expression and figure out what he’s feeling. he’s always been so good at keeping his voice free of emotion.
granted, he always tried to turn that skill off around you, so you gather that he must be feeling guarded.
you keep going. “I’m so sorry for that night, keigo. I said things that I didn’t mean and I regret it so much… I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
he’s quiet on the line for a few beats and then and exhaled “I’m sorry too, baby. we both said some pretty awful things, didn’t we?”
you laugh, but it sounds a bit more like a sob to you. “yeah,” your voice breaks. “keigo, I… I need you here with me. can you please come over so we can talk about this?”
he clears his throat, likely working overtime to continue to keep the growing emotion out of his voice, but it sounds thick when it breaks anyway. “y-eah. yeah, I can come over. I need you too. I’ll be there soon, okay? unlock the window for me, sweetheart.”
he hangs up and you quickly move to do as he asked.
five minutes later, he’s on your balcony, sliding the glass and slipping into your room.
he immediately wraps you in his arms and your body, once cold and empty, fills with a warmth only he could provide.
he’s whispering words into your scalp. “I love you, y’know that? I love you too much to ever want to break up.”
you nod against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. “I love you too. I’m sorry,” these words are repeated between the two of you- they shoot out of your mouth and hit his chest, sinking into his skin and bubbling up his throat only for them to hit your scalp and absorb into your brain, then fall out of your mouth again like a well oiled machine working overtime.
but there’s nothing habitual about these phrases- as is the case for any time you say them, they’re promises.
promises that will never be broken again.
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I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally wrote it :3
AND I’m gonna work on this from his POV, which I’m almost more excited abt than this one 👀
@emmyrosee sum angst (ish)
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tan1shere · 3 months ago
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The 30th
Billie Eilish x female reader !
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A/n: was listening to this today and I had to write for this song, I actually love it. I hope you enjoy the story, it's actually one of my favs :,)
Summary: You got in a crash, after something bad was happening, you had called billie leaving her worried after you hung up, and didn't respond to her texts.
Warnings: angsty angst. Car crash, a hospital, depression, arguments ??, happy ending 😇
Masterlist
Things weren't like they were. Things were harder now that she wasn't in your life as much. And God you missed her. You had just gotten out of a toxic relationship. Your best friend, Billie had gone distant because of that.
"She's manipulating you and you can't fucking see it." She screams. You two were currently in an argument. "Stop this." - "No actually that's a lie you do see it you just don't want to admit the fact she's using you." Angry tears run down your cheeks. "Be quiet, you don't know what you're saying right now." Her head shakes. "I don't know what you're saying right now. You're not you, Y/n. You haven't been ever since you got with that son of a bitch." You slap her, out of instinct. Things fall silent. Fuck, why'd you do that? She stares at you. After a moment you speak. "I just think you're jealous." She scoffs. "Of what being in an abusive relationship?" - "No! Because she gets to have me and you don't."
Silence, yet again. "You know." She begins, everything's still, quieter. "Even if that was the case. I certainly don't want this version of you."
And that was the very last time you spoke to her. I mean how can you even communicate after a fight like that. The way she left shortly after. You loved Billie she's been there for you through it all, ever since you were kids. Everything feels so empty without her. She was your everything. And now that's all gone. You knew she didn't even want to see you right now. But you desperately needed to hear her voice.
The breakup had ended horrible. You told her you just couldn't anymore, because Billie was right. She was right about everything. You told your ex that she was infact mentally abusing you. Violently fucking up your brain. And just as you thought, she took it terribly. She started to scream at you, things breaking. Your heart aching. You wanted to get away but you were scared. All you could think of was Billie but she wasn't even near you. She's gone from your life. And you don't blame her.
It was all your fault, you chanted. All your fault. "Hey! You fucking listen to me." You hear your now ex's rough voice booming in your ears. Your attention back on her. "Can you please calm down-" "No I fucking won't. Was it her?" Your eyes roll slightly having enough, you were tired. "No, Bee. It wasn't her, i don't even talk to her anymore thanks for the reminder." She stares at you. "Did you two have something going on?" You sigh out, going to leave. She grabs your arm gripping tightly. "I asked you, a question." "Even if I had, why do you care you're most likely sleeping with others." She went quiet. You weren't stupid. Staying so long with her? Yeah that was stupid. But you knew everything all along. You knew she was using you but you lied to yourself. "Fine, whatever I don't even give a rats ass anymore. You were pathetic anyways."
You were laying on your couch, trying to feel something. Shouldn't you be happy she's gone? You should. But you're not. You don't have anyone, what's the point in anything when life is as dull as it is. Silent tears still escaping your eyes. You didn't want to be here anymore. Should you pack up and leave? Move out of the country, start a new life? You knew you had to do one thing before any of that. You grab your phone and dial her number.
"Hello?" She answered after 5 rings. She really answered. You take a second finding it so foreign to hear her voice again after months.
"Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."
And just like that you hung up. You didn't want to even know her response. Quickly getting up and grabbing a duffle bag, packing it and heading out to your car. Those tears still spilling from your eyes. But you didn't even know why, they just kept coming.
You were driving on the motorway, hearing your phone ding like crazy. Eyes faintly blurry. Your sobs eventually came out of you. You hadn't properly cried in such a long time it's like you needed this. But the unthinkable happens and you almost forgot you were driving. Everything happened so fast. Everything went black.
Billies View.
It was November the 30th. I was sitting at home, but the day just felt odd. I couldn't pin point why. Until my phone started to vibrate, I look to see her name pop up. I stare in disbelief. I didn't know if I should answer. But I ended up doing so. "Hello." I say, wondering what this was about. Then I hear her voice. Her sweet soft voice. But it wasn't as sweet than I remembered. Wasn't as soft. It was dull, full of exhaustion. "Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."
Those were the last words I heard before she hangs up. My heart rate quickens sensing my feelings were right about this weird day. Something bad was about to happen.
I spam her phone, trying to get her to message me back. When there's nothing I'm immediately in my car. Knowing exactly where to go. Knowing her mind. But as I get on the motorway the cars are piled up. Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Then that makes more panic rise inside me, it's early in the morning why is there so many cars backed up. Then I see the vehicle I truly did not want to see. "No.." I breathe out. I didn't care about the traffic, it wasn't moving anyways so I get out of my car. Run down the side to try get to the ambulance. This can not be happening, please be a nightmare. "Wake up Billie. This isn't real." Oh but it was. I see her car upside down, and my heart sinks down to my ass.
I sprint to the ambulance, seeing her body, still. On the small stretcher. "Woah-" "im family." I sternly say. I was getting in there whether he liked it or not. "Family?" The male infront of me inquires. I think for a second. "Girlfriend." Did I really just say that. The other guy nods at the one infront of me. "Let her on." I go over to her instantly. I felt sick to my stomach, her skin pale. My brows knit together. "Shes unconscious, and quite injured." But that's all I heard them say. My ears ring, head spinning. Everything about this broke my heart.
Readers view.
You couldn't shake the slight throbs through your head. Your eyes opening slightly, feeling as if you were in a car. A groggy groan comes out of you. Your eyes then open enough to see someone above you. How did you even get here was the only thing running through your mind. "Y/n?" You hear faintly, your eyes open fully now. Seeing Billie. You were in an ambulance? You were still trying to remember everything. "Love?" You then hear her say. "W-what happened?" It comes out muddled but she understood. "You got into a crash." As soon as she says that it's slowly coming back to you, every feeling, flooding you entirely. "Why a-are you here tho? How'd you k-know." Your voice was incredibly weak.
"You don't remember calling me.." She breathes. "Huh?" Billie shakes her head. "Nothing- what do you remember?" She asks. You think for a moment. "Breaking up with her- a-and then falling asleep on my couch after she left." You say, looking at her. "I don't really remember the rest or how I got here-" She nods as you say that. Not before your eyes start to slowly close.
You were awoken by a beeping, adjusting to the slight light in the room. You look around noticing you were in a hospital on a bed. You turn to see Billie laying slightly on a chair in the corner, asleep. How long has it been, you wondered. You continue to look around, going to move when a pain shoots through your side. You winced in pain. Causing Billie to stir awake. She looks at you. "Hey, take it easy." Her soft voice, followed by her coming over was truly comforting. Her eyes stare at your own. "You look pretty." She then says, grabbing your hand, placing it in her own. A small smile was to be seen on your face. Your smile. The one she always made you do before you had changed. You were happier then.
"Billie.. I'm scared." You then say, she takes a moment. "Me too. They haven't told me about what's going on, probably because I'm not immediate family." She sighs. But for your sake she knows you need reassuring. "You'll be ok though, you're here right now right?" You nod gently. "My side really hurts-" "the meds must be wearing off. They said if you woke up to press this button and it'll inject some into you." Everything felt normal again between the both of you... key word, felt.
Months go by and you slowly get back into eachothers lives, but something was still missing. It was her. And not in the way previously. You've always loved Billie. But maybe it was a romantic love. You wanted to be hers. Everything was dull still. You had ended up squishing your ribs slightly in the crash, so that was in the process of healing. Along with your heart. It was a Sunday, you were just watching TV when Billie was going to come round. She opens the door eventually, waving at you. You wave back. She had sensed you still weren't yourself, she saw it. However It wasn't always, you tried your hardest to put on a smile for her majority of the time.
Today however was a hard day, your mind would not shut off and you just couldn't bare trying to fake it. She then comes over to you. Needing to talk about everything. You had requested that there'd be no talk of any of it till you were ready but she needed to get some things off her chest.
"Sometimes you look the same.. just like you did before the accident." You look at her, emotionless. "Shes out of your life now-" "I know. But I still feel empty inside Billie." There was a soft silence. "I know you don't remember calling me. Right before the accident. You said you loved me." Was she piecing this feeling you were feeling together. It was coming back to you. You had called her and said that. "I know it wasn't a friendship kind of 'I love you'." You didn't know how to respond to her, keeping your gaze on her. "I need to know if it's true. Or if I'm going insane, because if it is true. Tell me." You still say nothing, feeling tears pool in your eyes, knowing how miserable you've been because you don't have her the way you truly wanted.
She needed to confess something.
"What if it happened to you on a different day. What if you hadn't called me beforehand. What if it was on a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way, What if you fell into deep water and no one could find you. If you changed anything would you not of survived." Now she's tearing up, frantically saying all these things that have been deep inside of her for far too long. "You're alive, you're alive. You're. Alive." You leap forward bringing her into a hug not even caring about your rib. You hug her so tightly. She gently hugs you back holding you close, whispering into your hair. "Your alive." - "I'm inlove with you Billie." You speak into her shoulder, crying yourself. Crying hard.
She pulls you back grabbing your face gently. "I'm inlove with you too, and seeing her break you like she did. Hurt me. Knowing I could've done better, in a good way. I would've protected you. Cared for you. Love you. The way you always deserved." You smile at her. Your true smile and this just makes her say the next 2 words. "Be mine." Your smile widens. "How could I ever say no." You both smile, leaning in and kissing one another tenderly.
Let's just say she was forever thankful for that call that day.
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Late Night Calls
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Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 23: Can't get to sleep
Summary: Miguel misses you.
A/N: I'm just gonna go stare out of the window.
Warnings: phone sex, lube, jacking off, reader has a job which takes them away from their home on conferences occasionally, Miguel sleeping nakied, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 941
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Miguel shifts in bed, rolling over for the seventh time in two minutes. He just couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any position that was remotely comfortable. 
He grabs your pillow and buries his face into it, inhaling your scent that still lingers on the cotton. He hates when you’re away, hates it more than anything. 
He knows it’s selfish and impractical, you had an important job that you loved and it was only a few times a year that you went to a conference that he couldn’t attend with you. He’d never stop you, never voice his upset. But he misses you. Painfully. 
There’s a buzz buzz buzz of his comminator and he groans, huffing and rolling over until he realises it’s you calling. 
He answers quickly. “What’s wrong?” 
You chuckle, “Hello to you too.” 
“Baby, it’s the middle of the night-”
“Then why aren’t you asleep?” 
He pauses, “I…”
“Don’t lie.” He can hear the smile in your voice. 
“I’m having difficulty.” He mumbles, laying back down, his heart already calming at hearing you.
“I know.” “How?” 
“Lyla called me.” 
He swears and groans. 
“She said you weren’t sleeping.” 
“So she woke you up?” He says gruffly. 
“No, I have trouble sleeping without you too.” You say soothingly.
“That’s a fucking lie, you fall asleep the second you get into bed.” He scoffs.
“No,” you draw out the word teasingly, “that’s only when you’re in the bed with me.”
He mumbles something noncomitable. 
“What was that?” You laugh.
“Nothing, just grumpy noises.” 
You laugh harder and he smiles, his chest growing lighter at the sound. He shifts a little, stretching and rolls onto his back.
“I’m glad you called, miss you.” He mumbles.
“I miss you too.” 
“I miss you more.” 
You snort and he grins again. 
“I know why you can’t sleep,” he says after a moment.” 
“Oh, yeah? Why?” “I didn’t fuck your brains out beforehand.” 
You laugh harder.
“Hey,” he tries his best to interject some outrage into his voice, but it doesn't work. 
“I think that’s why you can't sleep.” You retort.
“Maybe.” You pause, you hadn’t expected him to just admit it. “Why don’t you?”
Miguel swallows thickly, “Why don’t I what?” 
“Come?” 
He wriggles a little, a shiver running down his spine. “Not the same if you’re not here.” 
“I am here.” 
He swallows thickly. 
“I think it’ll help you sleep.” You say softly. 
“Okay.” He breathes out the word, fragile and quiet on his tongue. “What… what should I do?” His voice small.
“Get the lube from the bedside table.” 
He nods, then adds a quick, “yeah,” as he rumages around in the top drawer and pulls it out. 
“Lay back down.” 
He follows your suggestions without a second thought, getting comfortable and pulling down the blankets.
“You naked?”
“Hmmm.” 
“Good boy.” 
He lets out a little groan at the sound of your voice. 
“Put your fingers on your chest.” You say softly, his mind going a little numb as he closes his eyes and places his fingers against his skin. 
“And just traiiiiill down,” you whisper. 
He groans as he strokes down his chest, picturing you above him in his mind’s eye. He shivers, his muscles jumping under the feather-light touch. 
“Tha’s it,” you say sweetly, “Now get your hand nice and wet.” 
He moans a little as he flicks open the bottle of lube and pours a hefty amount onto his palm. The sound of the cap opening is enough to make his cock twitch and harden quickly. That was definitely something to think about later. He rubs the lube in his hand, warming it slightly. “It’s wet.” He mutters.
“Want you to make a tight hole with your thumb and fingers, can you do that?” 
He nods, and then swallows, realising that you can’t see him. “Yeah, I can do that.” He moans.
“Good boy, now I want you to fuck your hand, nice and slow.” 
Miguel bites his lip, whining softly. “Okay.” He holds the base of his heavy cock, positioning it so that he can press the tight little hole he made against the tip. He shivers, his legs squirming. 
“How does it feel?”
“Good, but…” “But?” You smile.
“Made it too small.” He bites his lip with his sharp teeth. 
“You can widen it a little, but keep it as tight as possible, okay?” 
“Yes,” he mumbles breathlessly, “I will.” 
“Good boy Miguel, you drag it down your cock.” 
He groans loudly, thrusting up slowly in time with his hand. 
“Take your time, get all the way to the bottom.” 
He huffs, trying to stop his hips from bucking wildly. 
“And all the way up.”
Miguel groans loudly, the deep sound of his slick hand echoing. 
“You keep doing that, nice and slow.” You mutter. 
He whimpers ever so slightly, his breathing catching in his throat. 
After five more long, agonising pumps you whisper, “a little faster.” 
“Thank you,” he shivers, picking up the pace ever so slightly. 
Three more pumps, “Faster.”
“Fuck.” He misses you so fucking much, needs you there with him now to wrap your arms around him and play with his hair as you tease him. 
“Faster.” 
He whines again, high pitched, his balls tightening. “I’m gonna come.” 
“So soon?” You tease. 
“Yeah,” he whimpers, “miss you, want you, need you- oh!” He comes hard, shooting robs of warm cum all over his stomach as he cries out your name. 
He breathes hard as aftershocks roll through him. 
You giggle playfully. “Did you make a mess?” 
“Yes.” He pouts. “A big one.” 
You bite your lip. “Can I see?” 
“I’ll send you a picture.” 
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