#his vibe egoes so hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Text

all that talk is killing me - rafe cameron

request here: Fighter!Pilot!Rafe AU x Sweet!Reader. word count: 6.5K (YIKES) warnings: tooth rooting fluff and rafe being too charming.

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be.

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots.

Sunglasses permanently glued to their faces, that stupid untouchable arrogance radiating from them, the knowledge that they were some of the best in the world at what they did. It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so…predictable.

You had sworn off pilots. No, you’d sworn off men in a uniform all together.

It wasn’t like a hard rule or anything, but after what happened with your last boyfriend—who, shocker, also wore a uniform—you weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. You’d learned the hard way that guys like that came with way too much baggage.

Long deployments, their egos inflated to the size of fighter jets, and let’s be real, they weren’t exactly known for being faithful. Military men had a reputation, and in your experience, they earned it. You weren’t about to get your heart broken again.

You’d been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

So yeah, working at a bar right next to a Navy air base wasn’t exactly ideal, but you weren’t here for the guys. The Mirage was just a job, a way to pay the bills while you figured your life out. It was a decent gig. Good tips, a steady flow of regulars, and every now and then, you’d get to watch a squadron of cocky, ego-driven fighter pilots try to charm their way into someone’s pants.

Fun to watch, but that was about it.

The first time Rafe walked into The Mirage, you felt it immediately—the shift in the air.

You had your back turned, trying to keep busy wiping down the bar, but you could practically feel his presence as he swaggered up, like the whole place had just taken notice of him at once. Lean and built like he was carved from the side of a mountain, with shoulders that filled out his flight suit just right, and a chest broad enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat.

And when you finally turned around? He was standing there with that stupid, lopsided grin, a couple of dog tags peeking out from beneath his half-zipped flight suit, the sleeves pushed up like he had zero intention of playing by any rules but his own. He had this ridiculously good-looking, disheveled kind of vibe going on, like he’d just gotten off a jet and didn’t care that his hair was all over the place.

You almost hated how good he looked.

He didn’t even hesitate when he caught your eye. He walked right up to the bar and leaned on it like he owned the place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that probably worked on most girls. “Can I get a beer?”

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal.

“Sure,” you said, not bothering to match his energy. You grabbed a bottle and slid it across the bar to him, intentionally keeping it short and sweet. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of a flirty smile or small talk. Guys like him lived for that.

“Thanks, darling.” He tipped the bottle to you, still grinning like he knew something you didn’t. You sighed, turning back to your work, already half-expecting him to hit on someone else.

But over the next few days, Rafe kept showing up.

Every night, like clockwork, he’d stroll in after his missions with that same laid-back swagger. You noticed how people gravitated toward him, like he had this magnetic pull. His squadron buddies? They idolized him. Girls? Yeah, they fell for him hard, like they didn’t see the giant walking red flag that he was.

But the worst part? He kept coming back to you.

Every time he walked into The Mirage, he’d make a beeline straight for the bar, leaning in with that smirk that was starting to get under your skin.

“You’re not like the other girls around here,” he said one night, lounging across the bar like he was settling in for the night.

So typical it gave you chills. He was a natural-born flirt, and he knew it. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t have to be.

You snorted. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“They all like a guy in uniform.” He motioned to his flight suit, like he was showing off. “But you? You don’t seem impressed.”

You met his gaze and deadpanned, “I’m not.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Usually, when you gave guys the cold shoulder, they got the hint. But Rafe? He wasn’t so easily shaken. If anything, your disinterest seemed to make him more determined.

“Gotta say, I like the challenge,” he said, watching you like you were some kind of game he was about to win.

You rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but laugh. The guy had confidence, that much was clear. But you had to remind yourself why you’d sworn off pilots. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’d been with a guy like Rafe before. The type who’d make you feel like you were the center of his universe—until you weren’t.

“I don’t date pilots,” you told him flat-out one night after he tried to get cute, leaning closer than necessary over the bar. You were done playing games, and he needed to know it wasn’t happening.

He just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a second before that grin returned. “That a hard rule?”

“Pretty solid, yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical as hell, “You don’t even know my name.”

He leaned in slightly, that annoying grin never leaving his face as he took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re right,” he said casually, placing the bottle back down. “So, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The audacity. Like his smooth confidence was supposed to melt away all your reservations like you were just another one of his conquests. You could see it so clearly now—the cocky smirk, the way his voice had that low, drawling quality that practically screamed “I get what I want.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you wiped down the counter. “I’m not giving you my name, Rafe.”

"But you know mine," He arched a brow, not even remotely phased. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone firm.

But you could feel a tiny sliver of amusement creep into your voice despite yourself. He was relentless, and for some stupid reason, it was kind of fun to watch him keep trying.

There was something about a man in uniform that made women lose all sense of reason, and you weren’t about to be that girl again.

And yet, Rafe Cameron kept coming back.

Like a stray, relentless and impossible to ignore. And as much as you tried to play it cool, to not be another notch on his flight log, you couldn’t help but notice how his grin deepened every time you turned him down, like he was getting some kind of kick out of the challenge.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” you asked, throwing him a sideways glance as you refilled a couple of drinks for some regulars down the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

He chuckled, that easy confidence still dripping from him. “Not when I see something I like.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grabbing an empty glass and polishing it to distract yourself. “Well, you’re wasting your time,” you muttered, half-hoping that would be enough to shut him down for good.

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like the two of you were in on some kind of private conversation.

“Maybe. But something tells me you’re not as immune to my charm as you think.”

That did it.

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. “I’ve met guys like you before. You roll into town, flash that cocky smile, and think you can get anyone in bed because you’re a hotshot pilot. You’re probably great at what you do, and I’m sure girls throw themselves at you left and right. But I’m not one of them.”

His posture faltered just a little, and you almost—almost—felt bad for bursting his bubble. But then he just laughed, “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, nonchalant, but you could feel a small sense of satisfaction. “Why should I? Guys like you are all the same.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you with a look that was half amused, half intrigued, like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nah, I don’t think we are,” he said, almost to himself. “But I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

That hit a little closer to home than you expected, and you felt your defenses kick back in full force. “Yeah, well, they’re good ones.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, his tone softer than before. He tapped his fingers against the bar, like he was considering his next move. “But just so you know, I’m not looking for an easy win here.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Because everything about you screams ‘I always win.’”

He laughed—more like he was in on a joke that only he understood. “True. But this feels different.”

Different. Sure, like every smooth-talking pilot didn’t say the same thing when they were trying to get a girl to let her guard down. You’d heard it all before.

“Look,” you started, leaning on the bar now, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy when you’re not playing the whole ‘bad boy in uniform’ thing. I’m not about to go down that road again. Especially not with someone who spends more time in the sky than on the ground.”

His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”

“And you don’t know me either,” you shot back, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s true.” He nodded, but there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel like he was more than ready to change that. “But I’d like to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” His grin was back, but this time, it felt less like a game and more like a challenge. Not in the annoying, overconfident way, but in a way that made you almost—almost—want to see how far he’d go. “And I’m willing to take it slow, if that’s what you need.”

You weren’t used to guys like him offering to go slow. In your experience, they wanted everything fast—fast cars, fast planes, fast relationships. The fact that he was even suggesting the idea caught you off guard.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you said, though your voice wasn’t as firm as you wanted it to be.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But maybe you want to give me a shot. Maybe.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick. But all you saw was that stupid grin and those frustratingly blue eyes that were starting to chip away at your resolve.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, not fully committing but not entirely rejecting him either.

Rafe’s grin widened like he’d just won a small victory. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the drinks you were supposed to be serving, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Damn it.

You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet, but maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind the idea of him trying.

Because, against your better judgment, you kind of liked the way he made you feel.

Over the next few months, Rafe didn’t just disappear like the others.

He stuck around, but not in the way you expected. At first, you thought he was still working some angle—coming into The Mirage every night, sitting at the bar, chatting you up like he was trying to wear you down. But after a while, something changed. It wasn’t like he was chasing after you anymore. It was more…normal. Friendly, almost.

It started small. He’d ask you about your day, your shift, little things like that. He didn’t push for more. When he wasn’t in the bar, he’d still check in—he’d send these short, goofy texts from time to time. Just little updates, nothing deep.

“Heading out on a mission, don’t burn down the bar while I’m gone.”

Or, when he was away for a while:

“Bet the place is boring without me around, huh?”

It wasn’t anything serious. Just light, casual. And you liked it that way. It was enough to feel like he was there, but not so much that it freaked you out.

Sometimes he’d ask about your life outside of work—how your art classes were going or if you’d gotten your car fixed yet. He never let you walk home alone. You hadn’t expected that from him. Like, when you first met Rafe, you pegged him as the type of guy who only cared about himself. But he’d actually listened to you, remembered stuff you’d said, which was…surprising. And kind of nice.

Still, you kept your guard up. You weren’t about to let him in fully. Not after everything you’d been through before. But you couldn't deny that a part of you enjoyed his company.

One night, about six months in, he came into The Mirage after being away on a longer mission. He looked more exhausted than usual, but his grin was still there as he slid into his usual spot at the bar.

“Miss me?” he teased, tapping the counter as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few weeks. That flight suit clung to him like a second skin, half-zipped just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of a tattoo peeking out. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off forearms roped with muscle, veins running down like they were tracing a roadmap to all the trouble he’d been in. His dog tags swung carelessly against his chest, catching the dim light of the bar.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Not even a little,” you shot back with a smirk, pouring him his usual. But the truth was, things had felt kind of off when he wasn’t around.

He took a sip of his beer, watching you closely like he always did. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

You expected him to throw some cocky line back, but instead, he just chuckled. “You been good?”

It was such a simple question, but there was something in his voice that made you pause for a second. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Same old, same old.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

Everything felt kind of…easy with him now. You didn’t really know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d started to see Rafe as more than just a cocky pilot. He was still all of that, sure, but there was more to him than you thought. He wasn’t just the guy who flirted relentlessly; he was the guy who checked in, who listened, who made you laugh when you didn’t even feel like smiling.

It was nice.

That night, The Mirage was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud laughter. The usual suspects were there—pilots unwinding, a few locals mixing in, and the occasional sailor trying his luck. You’d been running around non-stop, the orders coming faster than you could keep up. Rafe had disappeared to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you were focused on getting through the rest of your shift.

That’s when someone came up behind you. You didn’t even see him coming—just felt the sudden press of a hand on your waist, fingers gripping too tight, a body too close. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart picking up speed as you twisted around to see who the hell thought they could just grab you like that.

It was some guy you hadn’t seen before, a stranger with bleary eyes and a stench of cheap whiskey rolling off of him. He leaned in, way too close, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred, his hand sliding lower, and you felt your stomach twist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, trying to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grinned, like he thought this was some kind of game.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled, his other hand moving to grab at your arm, pulling you back toward him.

Panic flared fast in your chest. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, pulling you closer.

“I said, let go!” you shouted, shoving him harder this time, your voice cutting through the noise of the bar. Your heart was racing now, pounding in your ears.

You glanced around, hoping someone would see what was happening, maybe step in, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own worlds, too fucking drunk to notice.

The guy just laughed, a low, sleazy sound that made your skin crawl. His hand slipped lower, fingers pressing into your hip, and you felt a cold rush of fear. “Just want to have a little fun,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You opened your mouth to scream, to shout for someone, anyone, but before the words could come out, you heard it—the sound of glass shattering. You blinked, confused for a second, and then you saw Rafe.

He was back, and he was livid.

You’d never seen him like this before, eyes dark and wild, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching. He shoved through the crowd like a storm, fists already balled at his sides, his whole body taut with rage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, like he was barely holding himself back.

The guy barely had time to turn around before Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent him stumbling back into the bar.

“Get your hands off her,” He spat, his voice like gravel, his eyes blazing.

The guy looked stunned, confused for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer. “Hey, man, relax—”

But Rafe didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” he growled, stepping closer, his hands still clenched into fists. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fuckin' hand.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, your pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You’d seen him mad before, but this was something else entirely. His whole body was tense, like he was ready to pounce, and there was a look in his eyes that was almost… feral.

The guy seemed to sober up real quick, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Rafe. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, hands up in surrender as he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe watched him go, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched like he wasn’t quite done yet. He turned to you, his eyes softening a little, but his face still hard, still angry. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breathing.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed, but your voice was shaky, betraying the fear still thrumming through you.

Rafe stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently touch your arms, his fingers light against your skin.

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you could see the worry etched into his features.

You nodded again, feeling a little steadier now, your heart still racing but slowing down, your breath coming easier. “Yeah,” you whispered, “Thanks to you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly, “Not with me around. I got you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, and you realized—maybe, just maybe, you were really starting to trust him. And that thought, more than anything, scared you to death.

It's why it felt so hard to be around him from that day on. You were trying to balance between wanting to keep things normal with him and avoiding getting too close. After what happened that night, you were more on edge than ever, and it didn’t help that Rafe was still making his usual appearances, his cute texts and late night calls. His protective streak had only made things more complicated.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual like he was trying to read between the lines.

You shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t buy it. “You seem off. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” you said, a little too quickly. “Just a long night.”

Rafe didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a drink and started chatting with you about mundane things—the kind of small talk that was meant to fill the space without digging too deep.

He casually mentioned his plans for the weekend, how he was heading out with some friends, making it clear that he was open to other social opportunities.

“Gonna be out of town for a bit,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he was testing the waters. “Thought I’d let you know.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Okay.”

He paused, a smirk playing at his lips as if he was waiting for a reaction. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in your voice gave you away.

Rafe’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied with the effect he was having. “Just checking. Didn’t know if you were going to miss me or somethin''.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find plenty of people who will,” you shot back, grimacing.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, you’re more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s what makes life interesting,”

You finally let yourself admit it—his casual flirtation and the way he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of you was starting to mess with your head. And that was exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, your petty self, doesn't answer to a single one of his texts while he's away. You figured if he wanted to play the game, you could play it too. It wasn’t like you were avoiding him or anything; you just wanted to make a point.

The first day, you didn’t think much of it. The second day, you told yourself it was no big deal. By the third day, you were trying not to obsess over the fact that your phone hadn’t buzzed with a message from him in the past twenty four hours. Like he'd given up. You kept yourself busy with shifts at The Mirage, catching up on sleep, and even dabbling in a new painting project.

When he finally came back, you were trying to act like it was just another day. You were behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting away when he walked in.

Rafe’s usual swagger was in full force, but today, there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, like he’d been through the wringer. He slid onto his usual stool and flashed you that same charming grin, but this time, it felt a little more… tentative.

“Hey, stranger."

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like you hadn’t been avoiding him. You set a beer in front of him and went back to wiping down the bar, giving yourself something to do so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

Rafe took a sip of his beer, “So, you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alrigh'?”

“Just been busy, I guess.”

“Busy or just avoiding me?”

“Why would I be avoiding you?” you chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been working and catching up on things.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Uh, duh. He was making you fall for him. Recklessly.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much force. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine, especially not when a girl you'd never seen before decided to eagerly join him on the stool next to his.

You didn’t mean to be staring at them. You really didn’t.

But there she was, practically hanging off Rafe’s arm like some kind of human accessory, her giggle obnoxiously loud over the music in The Mirage. She had this glossy, perfect hair, one of those flirty little dresses that clung to all the right places, and legs for days. And she was touching him. All over. Laughing way too hard at whatever stupid joke he’d just made.

You could feel your stomach twist into a knot, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you so much. It’s not like you hadn’t seen this before—girls throwing themselves at him like he was the last guy on Earth. You’d watched it happen a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

But today? Today it felt different. Today, it felt like there was a boulder lodged in your chest, and you could barely breathe around it.

God, this was so stupid. You didn’t even like him like that. He was just…a friend. A hot, annoyingly charming friend who maybe made your heart race a little bit every time he walked into the bar. Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were not—repeat, not—catching feelings. You couldn’t be.

Still, your hands were gripping the bar a little tighter than necessary, your smile plastered on your face as you poured drinks for some regulars, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing over at them every five seconds.

But then she had the audacity to look right at you, her big doe eyes blinking innocently, and ask, “Hey, could you get me another drink?”

Your fingers tightened around the beer tap, and you felt a jolt of irritation shoot through you. The girl was practically hanging off his arm, and here she was, smiling at you like you were her personal waitress.

You forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure, what do you want?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, leaning in even closer to Rafe as if she needed to be attached to his hip. “A tequila sunrise, please,” she chirped.

You had to grit your teeth to keep from rolling your eyes. “Coming right up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, turning your back to them as you reached for the tequila.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze burning into the back of your head, could practically hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He was loving this. Watching you squirm, seeing you get all pissy while he played the charming flirt. God, he was such an asshole.

“Here you go,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady.

She beamed up at you, completely oblivious, and took a sip. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

He looked like he was having the time of his life. That stupid grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he leaned in close to hear whatever the girl was saying. And she was soaking it all up, practically melting into him, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

You felt this weird, hot sting in the back of your eyes and immediately blinked it away. Oh, hell no. You were not going to cry over this. Over him. No way.

But it was getting harder to hold it all together. You turned away, busied yourself with wiping down the counter, anything to stop looking at them.

And then it happened.

He looked over at you.

Just a quick glance, but enough to catch your eye. Enough to let you know that he knew you were watching. And damn it if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of it.

That did it. You felt the flush of heat creep up your neck, the anger boiling under your skin. You slammed a glass down a little harder than you meant to and mumbled something about taking a break.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers called after you, but you were already pushing through the back door, needing some fresh air, some space to get your head straight.

You ended up in the alleyway behind The Mirage, your back against the cool brick wall, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep it together. You felt so stupid, so ridiculous for even letting this get to you. He wasn’t yours. He was just…Rafe. And you were just you, the girl who’d sworn off guys like him a million times.

But it hurt. Way more than you wanted to admit. And before you knew it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, cursing under your breath.

And that’s when you heard it—the creak of the door swinging open, footsteps on the gravel.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Of course he followed you. Of course he did.

“What’s this?” Rafe’s voice was teasing, that familiar low drawl that usually made your heart flutter, but right now it just grated on your nerves. “Are you crying?”

You scoffed, keeping your back turned, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. “No. Just…got something in my eye.”

“Sure you did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, that stupid, smug grin that he always wore like some kind of armor. “You jealous or something, sweetheart?”

God, he was such an ass. “No,” you snapped, turning to glare at him. “Why would I be jealous? You can flirt with whoever you want. I don’t care.”

He stepped closer, still grinning like he’d won something. “Really? ‘Cause you looked pretty pissed back there.”

You felt another tear threatening to fall, and you bit down hard on your lip, willing it to stop. “I’m not pissed,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just…busy. And you’re distracting.”

Rafe laughed softly, and you wanted to smack that grin off his face. “Distracting, huh?”

He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and it just made everything worse.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Just…leave me alone."

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer, reaching out to tilt your chin up so you had to look at him. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and you hated how good it felt, how much you wanted to lean into his touch even though you were mad as hell.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, all teasing gone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sniffed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for some stupid reason, that only made the tears come faster.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, hating how weak you sounded. “Just…go back to your fan club, okay?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there, something that wasn’t just amusement. “Fan club?” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You mean that girl?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That girl. You seemed pretty into her.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost…gentle. “Sweetheart, you think I’m interested in her?”

You blinked, not trusting yourself to speak, so you just shrugged.

Rafe shook his head, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “Nah. I’m not. I was just…” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was just waiting to see how long it’d take you to get jealous.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You—what?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, C'mon. You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at her? You looked like you wanted to rip her hair out.”

“I did not,” you protested, but the redness in your cheeks betrayed you.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Yeah, you did. And I gotta admit…kinda hot seeing ya all riled up over me, sugar.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat in your voice now. It was hard to stay mad when he was looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world.

He laughed softly, but then his expression softened, and he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you closer. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “For the record, there’s no one else. Just you, okay?”

Your heart did a stupid little flip at his words, and you wanted to be mad, you really did. But instead, you just felt relief flood through you.

“Okay,” you whispered, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead, his hands wrapping around you like he was never letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I kind of like that you do.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you,” you mumbled, but your arms were wrapping around him all the same.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

Then, you shifted back a little, looking up at him. His face was closer than you’d realized, his breath warm against your skin. You could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly like he was trying not to smile too much.

"You’re an asshole, y'know that?" you whispered, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He laughed, a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than heard. "Yeah. But you kinda like that about me, don't ya?"

There was no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. "You think you’re so charming."

"That's 'cause I am," he shot back, but his voice had this low, husky tone to it now. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there a beat too long. You could feel your heart speeding up. It was like everything slowed down in that moment.

Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, his eyes locked on yours, searching, waiting for any sign that you didn’t want this. But you did. More than anything, you wanted this.

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours.

It was gentle at first, careful, his hands still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he was memorizing every inch of you. You could taste the faint hint of beer on his lips, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin, you felt something sweet, something that was just him.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then something in you snapped. You sighed against his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound, and that was all it took for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for permission, and you granted it without thinking, opening to him, meeting him halfway.

All the tension, all the months of pretending you didn’t feel anything, it all spilled out at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss.

Rafe groaned softly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. And you kissed him back just as fiercely, letting yourself feel every bit of it. When you broke apart for just a second, gasping for air, but he didn’t go far. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was seeing straight through you.

"God," he whispered, his voice ragged, "I’ve wanted to do that for so long."

You didn’t even have time to say something before he captured your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands were everywhere now—one in your hair, the other sliding down to the small of your back, holding you like he was never going to let go.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, his forehead pressed against yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out, a smile spreading across his face. "You sure you don't hate me?"

You laughed, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Maybe just a little," you teased, but there was no hiding the smile that was stretching across your face, the way your fingers still tangled in his hair, like you couldn’t let go.

He chuckled, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, softer this time, sweet and playful. "Well, I can live with that." he murmured against your lips.

And as he kissed you again, you realized that maybe you could, too.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #pilot!rafe #topgun!rafe #top gun maverick #hangman!rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #fluff #he's down bad #itneverendshere works✨

313 notes · View notes

joosthead · 5 months ago

Note

We need more bottom joost content im so fucking serious…I need subby joost or I’ll explode RAUGHHHHHH

FUCK i love a subby man ... i fully agree we need more subby joost bc just look at him. guhh . anyways hope you enjoy these thoughts teehee it's genuinely filthy pls heed my warnings. also i'm unsure honestly if this is subby more than it is about edging and overstim but . send me another ask w more thoughts if you'd like something different as well < 3

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: nb!reader. lmk if i missed something and it's not nb, i will change accordingly!!

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (unprotected sex, edging & overstim m!receiving), drunk sex (both drunk, but this is where edging comes in). send an ask if you need more details about this part <3

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

in general i feel like so much of his vibe is so pillow princey. he loooveess to lie down and take whatever you'll give him

he generally is a tease and loves being teased, and i think this is a huge part of his submissiveness—i won't pretend like i think he's the biggest subbiest sub ever with how fluid he is but i do think in every session together, he lurvsss some teasing and edging.

absolutely adores a handjob w edging. sunday morning and he's so so hard cuz he just woke up that way and he has to wake u up. you roll over and you're like "are you actually serious?" but you're not gonna let your baby suffer (and you tell him such, which makes him even harder). he doesn't know what's gotten into him—he's usually much stronger than this, usually the one pampering you, making you ask for it, but he fully turns so whiny when like this. in minutes, you have him moaning like a bitch, teasing him with your tongue but never actually taking him into your mouth; when he gets close, you cease your stroking of his cock, and watch as it's like his entire body reacts to it, and hear how labored and heavy his breathing gets when you've brought him to the precipice, but never over. a beautiful sight, his pink cheeks amidst his pale skin, the rosy color creeping down his neck and his chest and the leaking angry pink tip of his cock, wet and slick as you stroke him to completion.

loves being taken care of fsfs. being called pretty, handsome, pretty boy (this one especially). it's so serious for him. loves getting his ego stroked in all ways possible, but especially if he's on his knees for you.

it really never happens except for when you're drunk but. he fucking loves when ur both sloppy drunk and all you can really think is your own pleasure. there was one time you two came home from the club, kissed all the way up the stairs, you palming him through his jeans the entire way; then the moment you got him laid down on the bed, you rode him, got off, rolled over, and went to sleep. he had to jerk off by himself to get the edge off, looking at you next to him on the bed the whole time. in the moment, it was very (sad violin noises) but looking back on it—that drunk and frenzied look in your eyes, almost like you didn't care about him or his pleasure...it was so hot and a little part of him felt ashamed for thinking so.

but the shame never sticks around too often, never lingers. he knows you care about him, knows that it was just a symptom of one too many drinks and his hands exploring your body (i.e. your hips and ass) the entire night to make you use him the way you did.

drunk or not, i think his favorite occurrence is when you're riding him and he just gets to watch you lose it atop him, grinding back and forth on it. it may not be the most stimulating for him specifically. but seeing you use him, the only thought in your mind your own pleasure—he really loves it.

i don't think he'd be into being edged when you're actually fucking—the better alternative to being used like a toy is overstimulation. when he cums before you, there's something in his head that insists that he has to make you cum one more time before he can rest. then you say, "please, just a little more, joost," and he knows he has to do it. strangled, he says, "i can't, i can't do it anymore, schat," but he knows he should, sloppily thrusting into you before he gets soft, the pain of the overstimulation completely lost on him in the venture for your own pleasure.

i also have a lot of (good. great even) feelings about joost talking ab liking his ass eaten but idk if i can go that far here yet

i need him

#joost klein smut #joost x reader #joost klein #joost #joost x you #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein x reader #asks #juno's fics #juno’s hcs #juno’s smut

304 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

Mornin’ Sunshine

A/N: this is a result of my post horny thots so you’re welcome! ♡ ♡ definitely in the realm of self indulgent hehe.

~word count: 1.5k~

Summary: early morning slow sensual fucking with Joel Miller

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, consent, unprotected piv (please wrap it b4 u stick it) slow sex, mutual pleasure, handjob, pussy play, creampie, Joel is such a passionate lover, nipple play, edging, praise kink, pet names, hella chemistry between Joel and the reader, he’s in love love, domestic Joel, soft! Joel, caring! Joel!, he just wants to make sure you cum first! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, mood board is just used to set the vibe, NSFW (+18) minors dni!

Main Masterlist

If there’s one thing that Joel Miller loves to indulge in as he adjusts to living a domestic life again, it’s you. More specifically; early mornings with you tangled in his sheets, thighs still sticky with yours and his cum from the night before simply because you were too worn out to clean up properly. That’s how he likes it, filthy. Raw. Sensual. He likes being able to dip his hand down between your thighs and gather up your pooling arousal between his calloused fingers. The scent of sex still lingers in the hazy early morning air as his arm drapes around your waist, and tugs you firmly against his chest.

You can feel his wiry patchy beard lightly scraping against the thin skin against your neck as he presses soft open mouth kisses, humming as he breathes out through his nose. Your legs are tangled together under the thick quilt, and he knows you’re beginning to awake from your deep slumber when he feels you reach for his hand, threading your fingers over the top of his.

He’s grinning against your skin, nibbling playfully on the shell of your ear with his teeth. You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your lower back. You love it when he wakes up immediately desiring you. Although, how could he not? Your beauty shone both on the inside and within.

He slowly rolls his hips forward, letting out a soft pathetic grunt when you gently push your ass back against him. “Mmm. Good morning to you too..” your voice is sticky with sleep, raspy, yet softer than his.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He croons. His voice dips down an octave sending a flush of arousal between your thighs. You’ll never get tired of his thick Texas twang. It’s buttery smooth with a hint of smoke and spice. It drips like sticky sweet caramel, and sets a fire deep within your belly like a splash of whiskey does.

The covers begin to rustle and bend as his hand curves around your hip, he gently squeezes as his hips roll forward once more. “D’ya want me sweetheart?” His question sends your thighs clenching together tightly as you suppress a moan from slipping out.

“Always.”

Pleased with your response, and mutual eagerness, his hand slowly slips from your hip, and down to the cleft of your ass. You're wearing nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties as the rough pads of his fingertips gently stroke you through the thin fabric. His eyes are blissfully closed as he feels the dampness pooling. It brings him a sense of pride knowing that he’s gotten you this wet, and he’s barely touched you.

“S’wet.” He hums sweetly into the spot just below your ear, leaving more open mouth feather light kisses. “S’all f’me?” He knows it is, he just likes it when you boost his ego.

“All for you Joel.” You let out a soft-sweet sigh as a smile graces your features. Your arm slowly reaches behind you, fingers finding their way into his soft bed head. He loves it when you play with his hair, especially when your nails scratch against his scalp. He doesn’t even have to ask; your nails are already gently scratching his scalp. He loves it. He lets you know with a soft grunt. It rumbled from deep within his chest before passing through his parted lips.

He scoots his hips back slightly as his hand that was presently toying with you, was now slowly pushing his boxers down over his hips. He sighs as his heavy cock springs free. The bulbous head is weeping with a bead of precum leaking from the tip. He’s heavy in your hand as your fingers slowly wrap around the veiny shaft.

Another grunt, followed by a pathetic whimper as you swipe your thumb across the tip, collecting his arousal as you slowly pump your hand around him. He only seems to grow harder from your gentle touch as his hand brushes across yours, finding your covered slit with ease as he slowly drags his fingers against it, applying just a tad bit of pressure. Your thighs instinctively fall open so that he has easier access to where you drip for him most.

You toy with each other awhile longer, wanting to get yourselves worked up as much as you can. You know exactly what he needs, and he knows exactly what you need. It’s a partnership based on balance after all. Mutual pleasure is something you both deeply relish indulging in.

You’re both a whimpering chorus of sensual sounds. Maestros to your own tunes as you play one another like strings on a violin. He grunts praisingly, you whimper his name.

He’s gently tugging your panties down in a slow movement. He can’t help but chuckle when they stick to your puddle of arousal that has built up between your thighs. He gently peels the fabric down past your calves and ankles.

The sheets rustle as the mourning dove coos just outside the open window. A warm summer breeze kisses your skin as you let out a breathy sigh. He drags the tip of his cock through your sticky wet folds. When he finally begins to sink into your warmth, you both release a shuddered breath as his arms reach up to encase you. His broad size is overwhelming, yet comforting at the same time. He fills you up to the brim, stretching you out as you accommodate his thick size.

You're perfect for him. The perfect partner. The perfect cunt. He knows how much you love when he talks to you in an unbridled, filthy manner. He loves it too. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt.” He murmurs against your skin as he slowly thrusts his hips forward into your ass.

“Always perfect f’me.” He grunts low into your neck. His teeth are scraping your delicate skin while one hand is firmly grasping around one of your breasts with his pointer finger and thumb gently toying with your pebbled nipple.

You mewl out his name, eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he slowly fucks into you. You can feel every inch of his cock move inside of you. God, you love it when he fucks you like this. You love the feeling of him buried so deep inside you, it’s hard to grasp just where he begins, and where he ends.

“Good girl.” He lets out a hot puff of air as he holds you as close as he physically can to his chest. His hips grind against your ass in a circular motion.

Soft giggles are exchanged as he accidentally slips out after pulling his hips back too far.

“Too wet?” You teasingly muse.

He chuckles deeply while gently releasing your breast from his grasp. His hand dips down to where your bodies were previously connected as he grabs ahold of his length and eases it back inside of you. He playfully nips at your shoulder blade, “ain’t ever such a thing of bein’ too wet f’me darlin.”

True.

Instead of grasping your breast once more, his hand gently curves around the crook of your thigh as he coaxes it to rest around his hip with your toes planted firmly on the mattress. He has full access to your pussy, more importantly, your clit as he wastes no time to gently play with you once more.

Your moans increase as his fingers rub your sensitive nub of nerves in quick motions, faster than the rhythm of his hips are fucking into you. It’s a tantalizing combination that has been concocted just for you.

Your moans intensify from the growing sensation in the pit of your stomach. His name falls from your lips like a prayer that is shared just for the two of you. Your sweet little sounds urge him forward. He knows you're close when you try to get away from the intense pleasure surging through your veins. He doesn’t let you. He pulls you right back against his chest, tsking softly under his breath.

“Shh.” He coos. “You’re alright baby. I gotcha. She’s sensitive this mornin’ hmm?” You can feel him smirking against your skin that is beginning to bead up with perspiration. He licks the salty dew like a man starved as he buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Jus’ wanna make sure you cum.” He reassures you with one heavy jut of his hips that has you seeing stars between closed eyelids.

“Jus’ wanna love on ya.”

“My baby.”

“My honey.”

“My everythin.’”

Praises fall against your sweat stained skin as he buries himself inside of your warm pussy as deeply as he can reach. Deep enough that his tip is brushing against your cervix. You cry out his name as your nails sink into his forearm. A choked sob, an I love you, a post orgasm laugh as he stays buried inside of you, not wanting to part from your warmth just yet.

He’s kissing you all over as you softly giggle. Your noises that he loves so dearly are cut off when his lips finally find yours. It’s a searing slow kiss. You can taste the passion on his tongue as he breathes out deeply through his nose.

“How d’ya want your eggs? Scrambled, or over easy?” He asks, a boyish grin plastered on his face as he kisses you sweetly.

“Scrambled.” You softly responded, fingers tangling through his hair as you pulled him in close.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @amanitacowboy @saradika @tessa-quayle @darkroastjoel @kirsteng42 @yazsos @casa-boiardi @lovers-liability @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

2K notes · View notes

lnfours · 1 year ago

Text

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!” you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris request #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader fluff #fluff #blurb #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #mclaren #mclaren imagine #imagine #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x fem!racer #enemies to lovers #lando norris enemies to lovers

2K notes · View notes

astrologylunadream · 11 months ago

Text

Everything Your Person Loves About You♡🧁🍇🖤 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi it's Lunadream!! I will be showing you all the things that your person loves about you♡ hope you find your message💌🖤

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🍇🍨☕

Pile 1🧁

Pile 2🍇

Pile 3🍨

Pile 4☕

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🍨☕🖤

Pile 1🧁

Sign energy: Love at first sight, Twin flame, Pride, End, Book, 8th house, South node, 5th house, Aquarius, Taurus, ☄❤🦢⚖

👤Your person's energy: Very romantic energy for this pile's person, omg this is a connection that has been going for a long time possibly beyond this lifetime. I'm seeing this as someone you have hit a roadblock with, and the relationship may have slowed down or come to a stop.🤚 Scorpio, Leo, Aquarius and Taurus placements, specifically could be Taurus over their 8th house or Aquarius over their 5th. Your person has a passionate and deep nature about them, they probably love the story of romeo and juliet as it is their idea of true romance. When they love, they love so deep and endlessly. Omg this person loves like they're in a romance book.📖💞 I think they are very physically attractive to my pile 1's, ohh and their voice is so addictive to you lol. They are very prideful in themselves and their talents, this may be someone who reads or writes online a lot. Some of my pile 1's fell in love at first sight with this person!!🥰 This could be a twin flame connection for most of you take what resonates, you may see them as your other half that compliments you perfectly.☯⚖ I feel like they just came into your life and just completed you in some way, soulmate vibes~💓

🖤What they love about you: Concert, Desert, Hug from behind, Despair, Ring, Mercury, Mars, Fire, 5th house, Gemini, 🧛‍♀️❌🍬🌃 Omggg my pile 1 this is getting good!!😍 First of all they love your mind and the way you think, the way you sort out your thoughts and the things you talk about. They love hearing you speak (especially on phone calls I'm hearing📞) and they feel like you have such a beautiful rhythm to your voice and the way you think.💭💕 Ahh your person LOVES the way you hug and hugging you too, I'm definitely seeing that they love the way you pull them in every way especially physically very interested in you😍🙊 They love how creative and sweet you are! Also this is so funny but I feel like they love the way you react when you're angry or sad like it is attractive to them??😳 The way you say no to things that don't serve you is so amazing to them, like they can just see the fire in your soul and it lights up! Your interests, hobbies and music you listen to all makes them more in love. Physically they really like your behind, that is what is came up😭😳 There's more but this is not that type of reading so we'll leave it there for my pile 1's😂😂 I think they really love seeing you have fun and enjoy things, they can't ignore the spark in your eyes when you love something.💓

💌Messages from your person: Who are you? I'm playing with fire, Your soul is mine, It's hard to explain, What have you done? It's meaningless, I can save you, Something is pulling us together. (Ahh a soul connection is real between you two💞) Extra cards: Closed, Choice, Actor, Drown, Lean

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the cupcake emoji~🧁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 2🍇

Sign energy: Short term, Imagination, Fit, Ego, Reach out, Sun, Scorpio, Neptune, Leo, Moon, 🌅🧜‍♂️🎰🕺

👤Your person's energy: I'm getting very intense vibes from my pile 2's person, almost like they got something to prove. Leo, Scorpio, Pisces and Cancer placements, I'm getting Scorpio and Leo vibes the most. They are very captivating and their stare is so deep, they have a lot of confidence and self respect. They have quite an imagination and fantasize often, mostly of themselves and their life I'm hearing. I think they know you are attracted to them or tell themselves that, like "pile 2 is definitely into me😎" haha. They may try often to fit your ideals or their own, striving to be a living fantasy. You or them could be reaching out to the other but I feel like it's more likely your person. They are very attractive and alluring, I think they put a lot of effort into themselves. Omg pile 2's person loves showing off, and getting attention, probably have people obsessed with them secretly. They are reaching for the stars I'm hearing, very ambitious.☀️ The number 7 may be significant, I am seeing a lot of self energy with your person. They are heavily focused on how they appear to others, and to you. Illusive siren vibes, they draw you in deeply🖤

🖤What they love about you: January, Lay down, Solitude, Self love, Siren, Leo, Lilith, North node, 9th house, 7th house, 🎫🔍😗🤷‍♂️ Ahaha okay for my pile 2's your person loves your aura and who you are. They see you as a reflection of themselves in some way, they are in love with the way you treat yourself with self respect and confidence.👑💞 Also I think they are heavily into your attitude and outlook on things, honestly they are so attracted to your edgy side.🔪 Like your more intimidating self, they actually are really attracted to that side of you. Your person has a thing for your dark side🙊 Also you may spend time alone for yourself and they love that about you, that you make time for yourself and put yourself first when needed <3 Also how curious you are about deeper topics like occult and for some of you it's shadow work, your person loves how interested you are in those things.🖤 I do see that your person may love the idea of a relationship with you, having you as a potential romantic partner for them. Also they love how mysterious and beautiful you are, like your energy is so magnetic to them. They think you're very smart too, even if you don't think so. Of course take what resonates but I'm seeing your person loves fantasizing hot scenarios with you😳 Over all they just love how you radiate confidence and pride in life and they love how you take control of the things you want in life.♡✊🖤

💌Messages from your person: You might get scared, You made a mistake, You should have texted me, I won't let you be with anyone else, Please don't hide your pain, Tell me the truth, I won't forget this, It can't be (My pile 2's your person wants to know how you're feeling💓) Extra cards: Hands, Longterm, Wild, Grey, Disturbance (Some spicy energy from your person but I'll leave it up to interpretation for this reading🚫🙈🖤)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the grapes emoji~🍇 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 3🍨

Sign energy: Prank, Final, Drive, Prove, 6th house, 4th house, Water, Aquarius, Sun, Venus, 🗡🐏🌉😰

👤Your person's energy: Okay so we have some interesting energy for my pile 3's person!! First off they may have their sun in 6th house or Virgo, but I'm also getting Aquarius sun or venus. Cancer, Leo, Libra and Taurus placements aswell for you guys💓 Your person has a touch of soft femininity to them (no matter the gender) like they are just very caring and sweet at heart.🥺 I'm getting that this person gets very defensive if you play with their feelings or emotions, they dislike being tricked or mislead. Some of you know this person through online, or there is a connection to them with that in some way. You think of this person often or on a daily basis, some of my pile 3's overthink about this person!!💭 Lol I think one or both of you try so hard to act like there's nothing going on between you to like friend zoning or trying to remain professional, but like the relationship means so much to you both I'm hearing♡ You feel very familiar with this person, they are very protective over you too like family. I am getting that they are also very supportive of your love for them. They make you feel safe and in love, omg and I am hearing that they have a fierce side to them when it comes to protecting their loved ones like no one will want to mess with them because they will fight hard to keep you safe💗

🖤What they love about you: Desperation, Mall, Handsome, Model, Captive, 4th house, Pisces, Aries, 9th house, Uranus, 🗡😖😗💢 Ahh my pile 3's your person loves your soft side and the way you show your emotions. This is a strange message but I'm hearing they really love when you are desperate over something like them, like they are so into that😳 It's a weird kink of theirs. But anyways they love how passionate and vulnerable you are for the things you care about, your hopeless romantic nature. Your person thinks that is so attractive of you😭💞 They love if you blush over them too like "omg they're so cute/attractive/so magnetic" like they really love you like that~ <3 I think they love being stuck on you or the idea of like, not getting over you🥺😢 They fantasize about you on every level from physical to emotional, also they love when you get angry/aggressive🤬 Idk but they think you're so attractive when you're angry like whaaat??😂 But also... they love being able to protect you or keep you to themselves, hugging you and touching you to make you feel at home.💕 Aww pile 3 your person really loves just having you with them or knowing you are safe. They do fantasize about holding you I mean not taking their hands off you LOL they love how delicate and cuddly you are. Also you may have exotic model features that they find very appealing, your legs may be something your person loves about you😍 They really love the way you love them because it feels so soft and sweet to them🥺🍰💗 Also the way you dress is very lovable to them, like they wanna go shopping with you <3

💌Messages from your person: I want to, I'm touched, No one loves me like you do, I finally found you, Your laugh is contagious, What's yours is mine, Why can't you tell me? We would be perfect together (Omggg pile 3 your person loves you so much!!😭💞 They want to you to say you both are perfect for each other💞💕) Extra cards: Explosion, Competition, Honest, Crazy, Message

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 4☕

Sign energy: Difficult, Saturn, Only one, Compulsive, Inactivity, 1st house, 12th house, 4th house, Vertex, Mercury, 😥👩‍🎨🤙👉

👤Your person's energy: Okay so there is definitely a block between you and this person right now, it could be emotionally or physically but there is definitely something between you guys that feels confusing and hard to read one another.💭 Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Pisces, Cancer, Gemini and Virgo are possible placements for your person, could have Mercury or Saturn in 1st house. This person may not be able to comfort you right now, or perhaps trying to comfort you too much. They may think or talk like an older person even if they are younger, they think responsibly and may be very strict with themselves. This is a very hard time for both of you I'm hearing, and you are trying your best to stay strong.✊ There are definitely confirmations of reaching out spiritually with this person, through tarot and such as this may be the only way to truly call out to them right now. Fate is in the works for you two though, and eventually communication will become more stable and upfront. This person feels like home to you, and you feel connected to them on a higher level.🌠🖤 This is someone you are familiar with, they may keep coming back to you. Some of my pile 4's see this person as the one.💍 But I definitely think this person isn't communicating the best with you right now, But they are trying their best in this connection. This is someone who fantasizes often about being in touch with another's emotions and desires, truly connecting on a level beyond physical.🔗♡ Very dreamy and spiritual individual.

🖤What they love about you: August, Audience, Silence, Lost in translation, Number, Water, Neptune, Aries, Virgo, 10th house, 🧚‍♀️🛏💦😏 Okay my pile 4's I'll try not to go into to much detail but your person is being very naughty right now so we'll just have to keep it simple😬😰 They love your artistic sense of beauty, you have an aesthetic eye and they find that very attractive. They love how illusive and mysterious you are, and your emotional intuitive side. My pile 4's your person loves getting lost in you while thinking of you, dreaming of you is something they love to do. They may have more dark or intimate dreams of you, fulfilling all their fantasies.😅😳 They have a lot of subconscious thoughts they need to translate into their conscious mind, there are things they may not even know they love about you or weren't aware of. But also... your person loves the thought (just the thought😰) of taking you under their control or dominating you in some way most likely mentally. Your vulnerable and fragile side is strangely attractive to them. They would love if you were addicted to them, but they love being that way with you regardless. They may love how your subconscious mind works or seeing you unconscious.. You are like a fairy to your person, they want to catch you and keep you just because you're pretty to them lol.😂🖤 I feel like they're just waiting to say "are you lost?"🥺 so they can take you in and hold you tight.🤧♡♡ They don't mind waiting for you too.

💌Messages from your person: I shouldn't, I'm stuck with you, You can decide, Save me from myself, Believe me, I'm lost without you, You know what I'm doing, Would you kiss me back? (Aww pile 3🥺💞) Extra cards: Fishing, Practical, Heart, Lost in translation, Secret admirer

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the coffee emoji~☕ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

886 notes · View notes

sato-s-only-wife5107 · 2 months ago

Text

LMK!Wukong: The Game.

Word Count: 1078.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Clingy Wukong acting like a baby.

Authors Notes: Based on that one (TikTok?)video with the lady and her adorable clingy kitty. It felt very LMK!Wukong coded, so I couldn't help myself. Hope you enjoy! And don't be shy, feel free to request whatever you want!

<---Previous | Masterlist | Next--->

The vibe of Flower Fruit Mountain was rather peaceful in the past few hours. The little monkeys didn't come to bother you or anything today, which made you a bit suspicious. Wukong wasn't any different though, still the same old monkey, clinging to you like a child with its favourite toy. Not that you minded your boyfriend’s embrace, but being able to scratch your nose would have been nice.

You were on the internet when you saw the inspiration to do something… fun. You glanced at your Monkey King and smiled a bit as he repeatedly nuzzled into your stomach. You moved to sit up on the bed and stretched, which made him briefly let you go so he could do the same. When he was about to bury himself back into you, that's when you struck and stopped him.

“What?” Wukong looked at you in confusion with a small frown when you didn't allow him to cuddle you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Stay,” you warned, which made him twitch in excitement at the challenge. The way his tail moved and how his eyes zeroed in on you made him look like a wild animal ready to pounce and not let go till your body stopped moving… Well, in this case till you stop resisting.

“No,” he said yet again like the stubborn little monkey he was.

“Stay,” you repeated, which made the Monkey King pout like a baby. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Mine,” he whined as he opened his arms in an attempt for you to collapse into him.

Not today.

“No,” you warned again.

“Not mine?” he teared, you had to give him credit, his guilt trip game was fire.

“Yes yours, but no touchy,” you assured him and tried not to laugh.

“Why?” he whined, but listened to you nonetheless, which surprised you greatly. He showed more self-control today than you gave him credit for.

“No,” you stood firm, wanting nothing more than to see where his limit for the day was.

“Mine…” He pouted at you, his lip quivered, and he looked like he was about to cry. It hurt your heart and soul… But you knew him too well to fall for that.

“We're gonna play a game, okay?”

“No, mine,” his quivering pout turned stubborn, his arms still open till you lowered them by his wrist with your index fingers.

“We're playing a game,” you said more forcefully, not giving him the choice.

“Mmm,” he whined, but it's a potential game with you, and he’s Wukong, so he let you continue.

“It's called keep hands to self, okay?”

“No!” he snapped immediately.

“Volume!” you snapped back.

“Don't care!” he snapped back.

He’s such a child for such an old monkey. You mused to yourself.

He wanted you in his arms! He didn't want to play a stupid game that required him to have you right there but not be able to touch you. He was offended you'd even suggest something like that.

“Too much of a coward?” you smirked and raised a challenging brow that made him flinch. “Maybe you're too weak to be able to do such a simple task?”

“No…” he grumbled and folded his arms as he looked away.

He's so predictable… I admit I wanna kiss him right now though… you thought to yourself and decided to reward the Monkey King a bit when you were done torturing him.

“C'mon~ surely my big strong Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven won't be bested by a tiny little game,” you worked his ego, and as it always did, it worked.

“Fine, I'll play your stupid game…” he caved, but his fingers intertwined with yours.

“That-that means your hands too,” you were trying so hard not to laugh as you pulled your hand away from his.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes again.

“Yeah, that includes your hands too,” you told him and removed your hand from his. “Keep hands to self, remember?”

“I don't like this game!” he protested and reached to grab your face, but you were faster and grabbed his wrists.

“My face as well, no touching my face,” you spoke and moved his hands to his lap.

It really hurt you to deny him, the adorable pouting baby opened his arms in an attempt to get you to give in first, but you stood strong.

“No hugging,” you mused.

“Ugh,” he glared at you but kept still with his hands on his lap. You could tell it was taking everything in the Monkey King not to just jump you and be over with. The proof was in the way his tail twitched and swayed in annoyance… and the fact that his entire body was shaking like a chihuahua.

“Good job!” the second the words left your mouth, that's exactly what he did… jump you.

“Finally!” he said as he squeezed you in his arms, but not so tightly that you'd be uncomfortable and want another reason to leave his arms again.

“W-wait, we’re not done yet!” you laughed and tried to get through to him, but it was clear to see that you had lost.

“We are done,” he said firmly and buried his face into your stomach.

“I'll tell you when- I'll tell you-” You still tried to peel him off of you, but he was stuck to you like Flex tape. “I'll tell you when the game is over,”

“It is over,” he pulled back a bit to speak but buried his face into your stomach again.

“No, no, no,” you laugh, “let's just try it,”

“No, mine!” he held on firmly.

“But-”

“Mine!” he yelled as he squeezed you more.

“Gods dammit,” you swore with a laugh as you gave in and stroked your fingers through his bed head. “Okay, okay, you win.”

“Mine~” he smirked up at you and moved up to bury his face into your neck.

“All yours, silly monkey,” you chuckled at his display.

Honestly, you couldn't resist him, just as much as he couldn't resist you. You snuggled into his furry chest and took in the scent of your conditioner he kept stealing. You felt at peace at that moment, and it didn't take long for the tired hero to KO. Not only that, but you still couldn't escape, even with him asleep. Not that you minded, you revelled in your Monkey King seeking your comfort and love. That was the bare minimum he deserved.

176 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 8 months ago

Note

Poor Idia, his mom probably saw the fanfiction he wrote of him and Yuu.

I love the image of Idia writing fan fic of him and Yuu and just maaaaybe changing the names so the non existent people reading it don't know who it's about. It saves his ego just that little bit. He could also just have a diary on his pc where he's written about his feelings on any number of things, not just Yuu.

Idia x Yuu is one I have a hard time writing since they don't interact much outside of events, but one of the things I have noticed from those events is that Yuu sort of has that "dog put in the enclosure to keep the cheetah from loosing it" vibe with him. He tends to be fairly normal-ish in his interactions with them and I like that. He doesn't have a real reason to think badly of Yuu (he even offers you some gummy worms in one voiceline) and I think he would be really thrilled to talk with a Yuu who was missing their shows and wanted advice on similar ones in Twisted Wonderland. I could see his diary entries reflecting a slow burn from seeing Yuu as just someone he talks to, to a genuine friend, to someone who he has overwhelming emotions for and doesn't know what to do with.

So he writes little fan fics set in some world or another where he can talk to Yuu normally and do fun little things. Sometimes you do normie stuff like go for coffee, but most of the times he writes about those adventures he fantasized about as a kid, just with a new party member.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader

361 notes · View notes

quin-ns · 1 year ago

Text

Fake Blood (Ethan Landry x Reader)

Word count: 5.6K

Summary: spoiler: the blood isn’t fake. alone in your apartment after your friends had been attacked, you ask ethan to stop by. he does in an unexpected way and you get more than you bargained for

Tags: (18+), friends to lovers, minor violence, knife tw, flirting, making out, virgin!ethan, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, the ghostface robe stays on during sex, denial ab ethan being a murderer :) (if bad why hot?)

A/N: just watched scream 6 for the first time only a few days ago and couldn’t get this psycho out of my brain (tiktok edits didn’t help lol). timeline might be a little wonky but tbh it’s not relevant. also this follows the theory that ethan did the big apartment attack. I really wasn’t expecting this to be this long but it’s worth it yall I promise

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

As much as you liked Mindy, if you knew becoming friends with her would lead to you being integrated into her friend group of past and present serial killer victims, you might’ve thought about asking someone else to partner up with you for a presentation in your film studies class.

When you’d asked her, it was mostly to avoid having to accept an offer from a guy named Jason, who had always stared at you during that class and brought up the ‘Stab’ movies whenever he could (this was before you knew your friends knew him, but you still got a weird vibe from the guy).

She’d been excited to hang out with you after you two gave your presentation, and that’s how you wound up spending most days with her and her tight knit group of friends.

You were probably closest with Mindy, but you liked her brother too. For a guy named Chad, he was actually pretty chill. You got along with Tara as well, who was in a bit of a rebellious phase after being attacked and nearly killed, which you only learned about once they trusted you enough. Her older sister Sam was mostly cool too, but a bit overprotective. There was a gloomy aspect to her, but you supposed it made sense given that she was betrayed by her murderous boyfriend and now the internet peddled theories that blamed her for a series of killings in their home town of Woodsboro.

They had a tight bond, and even though you grew close with each of them, you knew you’d be an outsider. Like Tara and Sam’s roommate Quinn, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Chad’s roommate Ethan. You all had shared multiple conversations about their trust issues. It must’ve been hard to even start to trust people after all that.

Out of all of the other “newcomers” as Mindy once put it, you got along with Ethan the best. He was a little quiet and sorta dorky (which your friends would tease him about a little—all friendly, of course) but he was fun to talk to. You guys liked a lot of the same stuff, including horror movies, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute.

In your opinion, with his curly dark hair and eyes to compliment, the whole “shy guy” thing was part of the appeal.

You wondered if he’d ever make a move, or if he even knew you were curious about him in that way. You wouldn’t go so far to say it was a crush for your ego’s sake, but you wouldn’t send him running off with his tail between his legs like you did with most guys.

Like that guy Jason from film class, who, just before Halloween, was killed alongside his roommate by a masked killer.

“Didn’t he have a thing for you?” Mindy asked you as you were all gathered around the TV, finding out the news together.

You were sitting crammed in a chair next to Ethan since the others had all taken up the couch space. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did unfortunately make it easy for them all to look your way and stare. You didn’t like the attention.

You were in shock at the news, especially when the anchor revealed Jason had also killed your film professor. Ethan pointed that out, saying if the guy was crazy enough to do that he might’ve even gone after you.

“Maybe the killer who killed him did you a favor,” Quinn suggested in response to Ethan.

The thought terrified you. You looked around the group. “Do you guys think he really would’ve hurt me? He seemed weird, not psycho.”

“We talked not that long ago, nothing seemed off,” Tara revealed with a grim look. “He asked if you and Sam were gonna come to the party.”

You hadn’t planned on going—what the hell would’ve happened if you had?

You exchanged a look with Sam, who seemed to have the wheels in her head turning.

You zoned back into the news as the reporter explained the mask found was a ghostface mask—like from the Stab movies. And of course, the actual Woodsboro killings.

“Pack a bag,” Sam told her sister, springing up to move around the apartment building.

Sam and Tara argued, which was a little weird to witness. You tried to sink back into the chair, while Ethan looked at you like he wanted to say something.

Hopefully it wasn’t “get out of the chair” because you didn’t think you could move.

The night ended with you going back to your little apartment alone. Your roommate was out of town and so your anxiety was on high alert.

A lot had happened that night apparently, including Sam and Tara getting attacked in a convenience store and them being questioned by the cops.

As much as you cared about them, you feared what would happen if you were with them.

That’s why the next night when you were invited over, you had been hesitant. A government paper was the perfect excuse, but you had FaceTimed with them so you all could keep an eye on each other.

You sat at your little desk, your laptop opened to work on your paper, and your phone propped up on your cup so you could talk to them hands free.

Apparently everyone was together at the apartment except Ethan, who told you he was studying in the library when you texted to ask him. You responded that you were working on a paper and that if he wanted to come over to keep you company, he could.

You’d spent some time alone with him, but not a lot when you really thought about it. It was always in the group—who were all murder suspects, according to Mindy’s movie rules.

You knew you weren’t the killer, and you had absolutely no motive. The others were still suspicious of you so that hurt a little (maybe that was another reason why you were keeping to yourself), but you did your best to understand that they weren’t just suspicious of you.

Everyone was a suspect, and no one was safe.

You felt even less safe when Mindy said she’d call you back. You didn’t know why she had to hang up so urgently, but you had a feeling it had to do with the emotional conversation Tara and Sam had been having in the background. You couldn’t make out most of it clear so you avoided mentioning it.

You sighed and checked your chat with Ethan. He hasn’t responded to your text. You were getting nervous now that you weren’t video chatting with your other friends anymore and the thought of being home alone didn’t bring you much ease.

You thought about just going over to the Carpenter’s (and Quinn’s) apartment, not wanting to bother Ethan further. Maybe he was ignoring you on purpose.

However, it was a far walk there. You didn’t feel safe making it alone at night—especially with a killer on the loose, likely targeting your friends. If you had a car, maybe, but you were a broke college student who could barely afford a place to live.

You sucked it up and double texted Ethan, this time asking if he could come over and that you were worried.

When he didn’t respond right away, you gave it a few minutes.

A little while longer passed and since you now couldn’t focus on your paper, you tried to call Mindy back. Then Tara. Then Chad. Then Sam. Then Quinn. Then Anika.

Not a single one of them answered.

You took a deep breath. Then, you went to double check that your door was locked.

You tried to call Ethan, but his phone went immediately to voicemail. It must’ve been dead or powered off.

That left no one else to call, and you felt more alone than ever.

You sat down at your desk and tried to focus.

You ended up going to your bedroom, putting on sleep clothes, and watching a comfort show under all your blankets instead, paper completely forgotten.

Your phone dinged from your bedside table and when you looked at it, you saw a message from Ethan. Only a few hours late, but he said he was on his way up.

That was sudden. You tried to not overthink being alone with Ethan too much.

A few moments later, there was a knock at your front door.

You climbed out of bed, not really caring that you were wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt. Your friends had seen you go to class in about the same when you had all night study sessions.

When you got to the door, you got a little nervous. But you knew it had to be Ethan, so you tried to push the anxiety aside and unlocked then opened the door.

You were met with shock and horror.

Towering over you in your doorway stood a figure in a black robe… and a ghostface mask.

You tried to slam the door, but the person caught it. You choked on a scream when they shoved their way in, holding a knife. There was a small stain of red on the metal blade and a darker, bigger mass on the robe.

Blood. Blood was red.

You scrambled back and tried to think of where to go. None of the doors in your apartment locked, not even the bathroom door.

Your heart and mind raced and suddenly you were spewing words.

“I don’t know what to say to make you not kill me, but I please don’t,” you rushed out.

The person—the killer—moved closer to you after shutting and locking your front door.

You ran, but there was really nowhere to go. The killer ran too. You tried to lure them to the bathroom and shove them in, but they dodged and had you almost within their grasp.

They didn’t slash the knife, though.

You ran for the front door, but the killer grabbed you by the arm. You were shoved back against your hallway wall and pinned. Your back slammed against the wall, but not hard. They held the knife to your throat—not too close, but it was still there and still kept you frozen.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

The words came out before you could stop them. You internally scolded yourself. That’s the kinda shit the girls who got murdered asked.

There was a laugh, and then a familiar voice.

“I’d never do that.”

By the time the killer reached for the mask and pulled it off, you still hadn’t processed your shock.

“Ethan?” you gawked up at him while he gave you a cheeky smile. He let the mask drop and the hand holding the knife fell to his side.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said through a smile, excited eyes scanning your face for realization.

“Is this… is this a fucking prank?” you questioned, finally comprehending. “Ethan, what the fuck!?” You shoved him back by his shoulder, admittedly a little pissed. “You’re covered in blood!”

He stayed standing in front of you.

“It’s fake, I promise. It was just a joke,” he reasoned, looking a little guilty. “Y’know, cause Halloween and… alright, maybe my timing isn’t great.”

You scoffed out a laugh at that. “It’s terrible timing. There really is someone after us.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologized with a small, apologetic smile. You stared at him, still surprised. He looked so innocent for someone that could pull off, let alone come up with, such a messed up prank.

“Is this where you’ve been? Dressing up to mess with me while there really is a killer after us?” You questioned, raising your brows and crossing your arms.

“Y’know, if there really is a killer after us, we probably shouldn’t let each other die virgins,” Ethan stated in a flirtatious way he easily could’ve played off as a joke. Maybe it was entirely a joke, but you played along in a different direction.

You scoffed. “And you’re just assuming I’m a virgin?”

He shrugged, the long fabric of his costume rustling. “I see how you are with guys. They want you, you never want them.”

“So what, I’m a tease?” you guessed, used to hearing that but a little disappointed to think it would come from him.

“No,” he clarified quickly. “But they’re just never good enough for you and you know that. Like that jerk Jason.”

You cringed a little at the mention of him, and then felt bad about that. The guy had been murdered, after all.

“Don’t say that, he’s dead.”

“So what?” Ethan asked plainly, surprising you a little. “He was a killer too. He could’ve gone after you, you should be grateful to whoever did it.”

You furrowed your brows. He was starting to sound like someone else. “Grateful?”

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be.” Ethan’s expression as he spoke was one of reassurance. “You could’ve been next, you never know. He was one of those guys who couldn’t take a hint that he was beneath you.”

You had no idea he thought that way about you—that there were men he deemed unworthy. It was enough to distract you from the shift in his demeanor.

“And what? You’re saying you’re one of the guys who’s good enough for me?” you couldn’t help but wonder. You never thought about your dating history (or lack of) like that.

“Hell no,” he said, surprising you yet again. You were expecting a ‘yes’ with the way he was coming onto you all of the sudden, but what he said carried even more of a self-depreciating brand of charm. “But I’m hoping maybe you’ll pity the loser who’s had a hopeless crush on you for a while now and give him a chance.”

“You’re not a loser,” you said before you registered the rest of his words. When you did, you were taken aback at the confession. “But you’re not usually this… bold, Ethan.”

You wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but there was a lot wrong these past few hours.

“What can I say? I’ve been feeling more confident recently.”

You hummed, understanding that in a way.

“Maybe it’s the whole ‘we could die any second’ thing,” you ventured a guess.

He smiled to himself, like you’d just referenced an inside joke you weren’t a part of.

“Could be,” he agreed. He laughed a little and looked down at himself, then met your eyes again. “Sorry about scaring you. It was in poor taste. We both like horror movies… I don’t know, it was stupid.”

You scoffed, but you weren’t really mad anymore.

“I like horror movies, I don’t want to be in one,” you told him, eyeing the knife he held loosely in his right hand. “Is the knife real?”

“What?” Ethan asked, feigning confusion. He lifted the knife and examined it. “This knife?”

“Yeah, that knife,” you parroted back his playful tone. “You said the blood is fake, but is the knife real?”

A devious look crossed Ethan’s face. He held it to your throat slowly, holding it horizontally. You didn’t flinch, much to his pleasure. He seemed almost impressed.

“Gotta be authentic, right?” he mused, eyes flicking to your parted lips as you breathed steadily. “Can I kiss you?”

When his curious eyes looked back at yours, you couldn’t help but notice he still held the knife. The rush of excitement you felt scared you more than the fear of him letting it slip forward.

“What’s the knife for?” you asked with a surge of confidence, taunting him a little. “If I say no?”

Ethan laughed at that. He pulled it back and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the wood, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it wasn’t from fear—it was from anticipation. Maybe your curiosity was a little more than that after all.

“You’re safe with me,” he assured. “Promise.”

His words felt layered, but in a way you couldn’t define.

Perhaps it was his way of saying he’d protect you. Maybe it was strange, especially given his entrance, but you found yourself feeling exactly that with Ethan. Safe.

Nothing was going to hurt you, certainly not him.

“About that kiss…” you started, giving him the indication that he was looking for.

Ethan took the hint and ran with it, lips crashing into yours in the blink of an eye.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was needy and hungry. You tried to move your lips in sync with his, but he was much more dominant.

A joke that you’d never say flashed by about him practicing.

It was easy not to laugh when Ethan’s hand threaded into your hair and his tongue began to explore your mouth.

The leather glove felt strange. It made you pull back a little, which you almost couldn’t do with the way Ethan eagerly chased your swollen lips with his own.

You glanced over his costume again. It looked really legit—when did he have time to get it? Was he actually gonna wear this for Halloween? You swore you remembered him and Chad talking about some other costume he made out of cardboard for the frat party.

Before you could spiral down that path, Ethan pulled the leather gloves off quickly and cast them aside. It was like he could read your mind. Both hands went to your face, pulling you to meet him halfway in another searing kiss.

You didn’t know what was coming over you, but whatever it was was causing arousal to stir in your belly.

You figured out the answer to that pretty quickly.

It was want. You wanted Ethan.

“Is the other offer still on the table?” you uttered softly when you and Ethan had to part for air.

He grinned, unable to contain it.

“Thought there was no way in hell that would work,” Ethan admitted a little breathlessly. “Thought I never stood a chance with you, but I liked you anyway.”

Ethan had a boyish charm about him usually, but now that was combined with a streak of deviance that you finally now noticed.

You weren’t expecting to be as intrigued by it as you were.

“Give yourself a little more credit,” you told Ethan, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch a little. One hand rested on your shoulder and the other fell to hold your hip, tucking under your baggy shirt and rubbing your skin beneath. “You are pretty cute.”

Ethan’s smile only grew, but when you leaned in to kiss him again his lips met yours.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided the two of you to the ground with your back leaning against the wall. He was in front of you, on his knees, with you in his lap.

You ran a hand through his curly hair and you guided his lips back to yours. From what he’d revealed, Ethan hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls. It was a damn shame, because the boy was a great kisser.

His hand caressed your thigh as he trailed upward. You gave him a soft sound of encouragement when his fingers found their way to the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay?” Ethan asked, which made you want to grab him and kiss him again.

“Yeah.”

His hand slid into your shorts and your underwear.

One finger—you guessed middle—pushed inside of you. A small gasp escaped you at the intrusion and he watched your face.

Ethan was making sure the sound wasn’t of pain, which it wasn’t, and you appreciated that.

He withdrew the digit, then pushed in again. He repeated the motion a few more times before adding his index finger.

Ethan’s breathing grew heavy as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. He thrust and curled them inside you with rhythm. He managed to find one pretty quickly. That plus his thumb rubbing at your clit, you were falling apart in mere minutes.

Your brief orgasm rocked your whole body, leaving you clenching his fingers and quivering.

Ethan muttered things to you, but you could hardly hear over the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your head rested back against the wall as you caught your breath, still trembling from the aftershocks. Ethan withdrew his hand from between your legs and out of your shorts.

Your eyelids felt heavy, but in between slow blinks you saw him lift his fingers to his lips. You watched breathlessly as he placed them into his mouth and moaned at the taste of you.

No words would come out of your mouth, but he took rendering you speechless as a compliment.

“I’ve thought about that,” Ethan started, voice a little ragged. He was watching you, but his hand had moved off to the side. “What you’d look like… what you’d sound like… what you’d taste like.” The awe in his eyes as he spoke left you swooning.

“And?” you managed, sitting up a little straighter.

With the change in your angle, you could feel the bulge in his pants, even though the added layer of the costume he had yet to remove.

“You’re better than I ever imagined,” Ethan finished.

A scrape against the floor alarmed you. You looked to the sound and saw Ethan grabbing the knife off of the floor.

You watched as he brought it between your bodies. He first tucked it through the leg of your shorts, the cold metal sliding against your skin as it caught under your underwear as well. Then, he pointed the sharp side facing out. Finally, he sliced up through the fabric. You gasped a little as the cold air of the room hit your newly exposed skin. He did the same with the other leg, then pulled the tattered material away from your body.

You did the honors of pulling off your shirt. You didn’t have a bra underneath and you almost laughed at the way Ethan gawked at your fully naked body when you cast it aside.

“Your turn,” you told him. You were completely undressed, while he still wore the long, black disguise.

“Actually,” Ethan said a little eerily. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I was thinking I could leave it on?”

It was a question, there was room for you to say no. Maybe you should’ve, it was a little weird. But you weren’t really thinking about that. You were more focused on how badly you wanted Ethan to fuck you, and that clouded your brain.

“As long as you don’t put the mask back on,” you relented in a joking tone.

“You’re so fucking cool,” Ethan rushed out before slamming his lips into yours. The knife was cast aside again—you didn’t see it happen, but both of his hands were on your face.

You laughed a little against his lips, dazed and drunk on arousal. You didn’t really care about the logistics of it.

His hands moved down, but you were distracted by his lips dominating yours.

You heard the sound of his zipper being undone and he moved a little—you guessed shoving his pants down his thighs.

There was no time to look down because in a rush, Ethan was pinning you back against the wall with his body. One hand gripped your waist, holding you in place for him. The other was presumably guiding his cock to your entrance.

You gasped a little against his lips when he started to press forward while simultaneously pulling you down into his lap. The fabric of the costume draped over your thighs, blocking your view.

The stretch of his cock pushing into you was more intense than you could’ve predicted, but your whole body trembled with pleasure at the feel.

Finally, he either got too excited or lost his patience, and guided you down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan cursed to himself, body straining to keep from moving. His head dropped to your shoulder, heavy breaths hitting your neck. He leaned against you, forcing you against the wall.

His cock twitched inside of you and his body tensed, trying to hold back.

You panted slightly, trying to get your breath back. You ran a hand up his back and you felt him shiver. Your hand moved up the back of his neck and into his mess of curls.

You always liked Ethan’s hair.

You gave a small, barely qualifiable tug, but it had an effect. His body jerked, causing him to move inside of you. You gasped a little, but the motion felt good.

He lifted his head to look at you. His face was a little flushed and the lust blown look in his eyes made you quiver.

“You can move,” you whispered out, not trusting your voice.

Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He secured the arm around your waist a little tighter and he put the other hand on the wall, giving himself leverage.

The slow drag of him moving out of you made you gasp for breath. The thrust back in knocked the air out of your lungs.

He set a quick pace after that, hips slamming eagerly into yours as the pleasure and excitement overwhelmed him.

It felt good, really fucking good.

Neither of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were sure you’d figured it out because your whole body tingled with pleasure.

You cried out his name, which only spurred him on.

In a jarring movement you could hardly track, Ethan dragged you from the wall to the floor. He put himself on top of you, never once withdrawing from inside of you.

He watched your face as he pounded into you. Ethan had more leverage this way, able to grip your hip in one hand while the other held the top half of him off of you by being planted on the floor near your head.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, which you couldn’t see because the bottom half of your body was covered by the black costume. You hardly paid any attention to that aspect. You didn’t care that he wore it, not when you were this caught up in pleasure.

(In hindsight, you should’ve).

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Ethan breathed out, hips starting the stutter with every thrust.

The knot in your belly started to tighten as he buried himself into you over and over.

You couldn’t speak, your breathing was so labored as you reached to cling to him.

His head dropped down to your shoulder as he allowed more of his body weight to fall onto you. You found yourself enjoying the feel of him truly being on top of you.

You hardly noticed the fake blood smearing onto your bare skin. When you did, you were too gone to care.

You bucked your hips, meeting his stuttering thrusts. He was getting close to his edge and so were you. You moaned beneath him as his forceful thrusts sparked pleasure through your entire body.

“I’m close,” you managed to moan out against his ear.

“Oh, fuck,” Ethan groaned out, cock pulsing inside of you at the thought. He lifted his head enough to be able to watch your face. “Come again for me, please,” he panted out, nearly falling over the edge at the mere anticipation.

The begging was hot, and your body was already ready to give him what he wanted.

You noticed his eyes flicking down your body, seeing the red stains on your skin. That was quickly forgotten by you when your whole body began to tense and quiver. You held onto him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You didn’t see his eyes linger.

Ethan couldn’t hold it together, not with the way your body tightened around him as your orgasm rocked you.

He collapsed on top of you, holding you against him as his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were clenched shut as he frantically shoved his hips against yours, burying himself deep. His cock twitched, his whole body shivering as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan.

The sound of him alone was enough to prolong your pleasure as you rode it out, but the extra movement and the feeling of him filling you was an added bonus.

He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively pulling the air from your lungs.

After a moment, he found the strength to roll off of you, only to then drag you to his side.

“I can die a happy man, now,” he joked morbidly.

You shoved him a little by the shoulder like you had before, but not enough to actually make him go anywhere.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you argued weakly.

He flashed you a brief grin. “I meant it as a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes and did you best to laugh it off.

You lost track of how long it took you to move from the floor to your couch. The same thing happened between the time it took for you to get from the couch to your shower.

It was a tiny shower that couldn’t fit two people, so you rinsed off as quick as you could. You were tired, and your legs felt weak, and you knew you’d be sore in a way that would make it hard to keep calm tomorrow.

Whatever he had used for the blood, at least it washed off fast. You were able to finish up in a matter of minutes.

You threw on new pajamas and crawled into your bed, managing to tell Ethan to take however long he wanted and that he could stay over if he wanted.

You found yourself hoping he would.

You were nearly asleep when the shower shut off and Ethan finally joined you in bed. He was only in his boxers and a black t-shirt, which he must’ve been wearing under the costume robe.

A thought nagged at the back of your mind about the costume, wondering why he’d gone through all of that just to mess with you for a minute—albeit a terrifying minute. It didn’t seem like him, but then you remembered you’d only met him a few months ago.

You were so exhausted you fell asleep in his arms, not awake enough to care about all of the weird details. In fact, the only thing you could think about was how much you liked falling asleep with Ethan’s arms around you.

In the morning, you found out your friends had all been attacked.

You showed up with Ethan after the feed on your college’s chat app blew up with images of cops swarming and ambulances outside of Sam, Tara, and Quinn’s apartment.

Mindy seemed relieved to see you, but not so much when she realized Ethan was with you. Maybe she’d cleared you as a suspect in her head.

She yelled at him to stay back, accusing him of being the killer. Nobody was taking Quinn’s death well, but Mindy was especially heartbroken over Anika.

“Stay back!” Mindy yelled at Ethan, who did as she commanded.

Everyone turned on him then, even Chad. Everyone except you. They demanded his alibi.

“How do I know you’re not the killer, roomie,” Chad spit at him, amped up.

“I was with Y/N last night,” Ethan defended, holding his hands up in a small show of innocence, before you could say a word. “We were… preoccupied, alright?”

You wanted to elbow him for how he worded it, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. It might’ve been on purpose, you weren’t sure.

He wasn’t close enough to do that, though, and now all eyes were on you.

“Yeah, he was with me,” you backed Ethan up.

You weren’t going to leave him hanging because it was the truth, but you knew what that implied, and so did your friends. They all shared subtle—but not unnoticeable—looks. Your face felt warm, while Ethan bit back a prideful smile.

“So you guys, um…”

“Chad, stop,” Tara scolded him before he could point out the obvious.

“Point is, we had nothing to do with this,” Ethan stated.

We?

They were suspicious of him, and now he was lumping the two of you together. There were always two killers in the movies—you began to doubt if the alibi would ease their anxiety or only spike it.

You thought back to when he had showed up to your apartment in that costume. He’d scared you, but you accepted it when he told you it was a joke that he mistakenly took too far.

It made you wonder. What if it was him?

If he wanted to hurt you, he easily could’ve. That didn’t seem to be his intention. What was? Seeing how much he could scare you? Get your heart rate up? Seeing if you wouldn’t believe him?

Or was it seeing if he could put the evidence right in front of you and have you ignore it because of a crush?

Fuck. Maybe it was some weird combination of all. Were you that gullible? Or were you overthinking it now?

Your brain struggled to come up with a conclusion.

You wanted to believe Ethan was innocent. You really, really did.

It was easier than believing you had slept with a killer. Or potentially worse, that you had feelings for one.

Ethan gave you a slight, assuring smile.

Your head told you one thing, but your heart told you another.

Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you kept your mouth shut and gave him one back.

#quin-ns writing #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry smut

1K notes · View notes

carolmunson · 4 months ago

Text

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

#emperor geta #geta x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #geta x you #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction

304 notes · View notes

cutiecusp · 5 months ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit.

Ex husband! Simon Riley x reader.

A text shapes your life forever. You just don't know it yet.

TW: mentions of cheating/divorce. Smut. PnV, pining, edging, power play, dom!Simon. Probably the smuttiest I've ever written.

You text your ex on a night out. He picks you up on his motorbike, feelings, and more ensure.

You swipe on your phone, idly killing time. You were out with the girls, celebrating a birthday. You post a few snaps on social media, and flick your phone off, the glassy screen reflecting your make up you spent forever on.

Straightening up your dress, you signal to the barman for another fruity potion. You were about three deep, and the vibes were immense. You felt the weight on your shoulders, but you paid it no mind as your favourite songs thumped over the speakers.

Cocktail in hand, body moving under the fluorescent light you dance with the girls, your cares and worries begin to hide at the bottom of your glass.

Your lipstick stains the straw as you finish your drink, you saunter over to the bar on your heels as you sit back to your seat.

Your phone notifies you of a reply on your latest selfie, you take it out of your bag, frowning as you focus on the screen.

'Look good enough to eat, doll. 💀'

Simon... your ex-husband, who you could never quite cut out of your life with one of his signature comments. You type a reply.

'Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest 🍑'

You put your phone away and dance to a few more songs before heading to the bathroom. Reapplying your lipstick and fixing your hair, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You see the shadow before you hear him. The smell of cigarette smoke and the cologne you brought him for his birthday fill your senses.

'Think it's cute to tease me, sweetheart? What, not getting enough cock as a free woman?' Simon says gruffly in your ear, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, titling your head up to look in the mirror.

"How did you?-" You pause.

"The location of the club was on your photo, love. Didn't I teach you to be more careful?" He cuts you off with a rough kiss to the temple.

"Think you've had enough fun, anyway... text the girls, let them know I'm taking you home."

You can't find it in you to protest as he runs his hands down your sides. Simon was like a drug, addictive and powerful, and it was hard to get out of your system.

You take out your phone, and does what he says, before clasping your hand in his.

"One more night." You say, more to yourself than anything as he leads you out of the club.

His only response is a grunt as he takes off his long sleeve shirt and wraps it around your waist.

"No one sees you but me. Get on." He urges you onto his motorbike, clipping your old helmet on, securing the strap under you chin before pulling it so his face was close to yours.

"No more games, my mistake was signing those papers while I was deployed." He says softly.

"You want one more night with me?" He asks plainly, his onyx eyes dark with desire. You nod dumbly, mesmerised by his gaze on yours.

"Words, sweetheart. Tell. Me." He asks again.

"Y-yes, Simon. I want this." You stutter out. Your once sweet Simon had been completely taken over by *Ghost* his work alter ego who you'd heard so much about, but he never subjected you to until now.

He started the engine and lurched forward, forcing you to wrap your arms around his leather cut. Stifling a laugh, he sped off into the night.

Arriving at his flat, you set down on steady feet as you cross the road to his front door. You lean in to his shoulder, and allow him to escort you through the front door.

Your breathing heavy in your chest as you stop him from removing his helmet. You wanted the full fantasy.

"That's alright with me, love. You can look at your make up running down your pretty face in my visor as I ruin you." Simon smirks.

You blush as the effects of both his words and the fruity drinks take over your senses.

"Knees, love. Show me how much you want this." He commands, pushing your head down as you kneel in front of him.

"So pretty for me." He coos, as he steps between your parted knees.

"My boots need shining, you know what to do." His gruff voice sounds deeper through the helmet.

You look up at him, your reflection reflected in the carbon plastic, you poke your tongue out in a matter of mock defiance, before lowering yourself on his boot. Your sensitive core pressed against his laces as your rock your hips against the material, soaking your thin bikini bottoms. You let out a little whimper as the pressure feels so damn good against your needy folds.

"Good girl." Simon commends you, as he brushes your hair back from your face with his skeleton gloved hand.

You nod and rock your hips a little faster, chasing a high you know only he can give you.

"You feeling good, baby?" He asks, his hands in your hair.

With an affirming nod, you mumble out a thank you.

"Sorry, couldn't hear you. I know you could be louder than that."

"Yes, Si. Thank you... Feels good." You admit. You hate and love how he makes you feel. Your need bubbling up in your throat as you are ready to declare anything he wants, if he just lets you-

"Stop, love." He pulls your hair so you are looking up at his blank face, hidden by the helmet.

"When you come, I want it to be on my cock. Be a good girl and get it out for me." He strokes your jaw.

"Let's put this mouth to good use, eh?"

You fumble with his belt, eventually pulling it away and unzipping his jeans. You see his size, against the fabric and your mouth waters.

"Please. Si. Let me.." You beg, your eyes unable to look away as you take out his cock from his jeans.

Your mouth enclosed over the tip of his length, suckling and rolling your tongue over the sensitive flesh. You feel smug as you hear him hiss, pulling on your hair as he bucks his hips against your mouth.

"Fuck, love. I forgot how good you feel around my cock" He says, looking down at your face, your make up beginning to run down your cheeks as they hollowed in and out, as if you were putting on a show for him.

You let out an amused huff as you take him deeper, rocking your hips against his boot slowly as your mouth takes him to heaven and back.

Eventually, he pushes you down to the floor, off his boot. You moan at the lack of pressure against your clit

"Get on the bed." He orders, his body betraying his cool exterior.

"On your bloody knees, ass up for me."

You scramble on the bed, your legs jellified as you assume the position he requested.

"Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want that?" You nod, anticipation running through your body in waves.

You feel a sharp sting on your ass as he brings down his gloved hand on your flesh, wet with his own arousal.

"Words. Sweetheart." He repeats, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes, Simon. Make me feel good." You give him your permission, as he pushes your dress over your hips, tugging your bottoms down, exposing your wet folds to the air.

"Such a pretty pussy, love. She's been neglected, hasnt she?" He asks, running a finger through your sensitive flesh.

You mumble a yes, when another slap hits your ass.

"Louder, love. Hasnt she?"

"Yes. Si!" You agree, tears in your eyes at the sting of his hand on your sore skin.

"And I'm the only one that can make her feel better, isn't that right love?" He presses, his finger breaching your walls.

You rock your hips against his hand, almost chanting his name at this point, anything to relieve the pressure building in your lower stomach.

"Y-yes, only you." You slur, completely drink on emotions.

"No one like you, Si." You admit, as he pulls away from you.

"You want this?" Simon asks one last time.

You wanted to tear your own hair out. You were desperate for him to fill you up, make the ache go away for a little while, why was he hesitating?

"Fuck yes. Please, Si, please." You beg, looking into his helmet, your face wet with tears, your make up tracing lines down your face, your lipstick on your chin. To you, you've never looked messier, but to him, you've never looked more beautiful.

He lines up his hips with yours, pressing his length home, sheathing himself in your warmth. You both let out a hiss, as pleasure caresses your spine, and fleets over your body in waves.

You feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat as he pulls you back onto his cock.

"You like rough, sweetheart?" He asks through clenched teeth as his hips snap into yours, knocking the breath out of you with every thrust.

You barely manage to get out a reply as he picks up the pace, pushing your head into the pillow as he pounds into you from behind.

Your moans drown out his as he hits your spot over and over again.

"Keep making those noises for me baby." He urges as you feel the wave of an orgasm approaching.

He stifles a groan as you clench around him, your walls suffocating his cock as he feels you getting close.

"Gonna come for me, baby?" He taunts, as his pace is hard against your body.

Your eyes close tight as it hits you, a white flash behind your eyes as you reach your climax, your pussy tight around him as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you, your toes curling in pleasure.

"Too much.." You gasp, trying to come down from the high.

"You have one more for me. Don't you?" He reaches over your hip and teases his hand over your puffy clit.

"Wanna come with you, baby." He insists, as you feel another orgasm rip through you, and you feel Simon stiffen, as you feel his spend inside you.

He rips off the helmet and pulls you down onto the bed, onto the bed. He removes his gloves with his teeth, and collects a little of your arousal on his fingers and licks them clean.

"You were right. It does taste sweeter."

A/N thank you all so much! This was a labour of love, totally wrote it at the bus stop, hoping no one would read over my shoulder. It's not been proof read, but I kinda love how bossy he is here.

@misshugs @frudoo @thevoiceinyourheadx @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @shadowdark00

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #fanfic #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost x reader #ex husband simon riley #biker simon riley

290 notes · View notes