#i almost forgot his horns

[caprenoctem]

Drew this two icons in my style ;) ✨️

I'm thinking about drawing other characters too, who should be next?

[asawelf]

Ais warmup

[askthisfishprince]

[bird1e-painty]

i drew possessed hunter digitally

i think it went well?? i never use ibis paint like,, ever (whenever i look back on it, it looks like something out of a gacha video.HELP)

i didn’t have a ref until around halfway so 🙁

i hate colour theory HOW IS HIS HAIR AND SKIN BLUE I HAD TO CHANGE HIS HAIR TO THE BLUEISH COLOUR WIDHEJDNWKISJD

[retros-artandstuff]

gr

[acaesic]

if yapping in the tags were a job id be jeff bezos

[shwarmii]

i never realized Viktor was missing from Disenchanted Fashions before (or at least tumblr isnt showing him) and i am having so much fun with that bit of freedom towards his wardrobe jfc

[6okuto]

stop an angel from losing its wings

akaashi x gn!reader | fluff. Not that serious. about men cutting their hair

“do you think my hair’s getting too long?”

the knife in your hand stills halfway through a peach for your boyfriend.

keiji watches you, innocently, fiddling with the dark strands falling across his brow as your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the same bangs framing his face. “keiji akaashi, don’t you dare.”

“...what?”

“please, so help me god, if you cut your hair short i will cry.”

there’s a familiar click as the kettle turns itself off, hot water meant for his tea bubbling against glass.

“pft—”

“don’t laugh!”

“i’m not—” his chuckle is barely muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you gape.

the last time he cut his hair was maybe six months ago, and you’ve watched it slowly but surely reach a perfect length.

it lets you make little horns when you shampoo his hair as he holds you against him,

it looks stupidly good when he combs it back for special occasions,

it falls in his face just enough that it’s brought you the gift of keiji with his blue light glasses, cat slippers, and a little sprout ponytail on top of his head, tied with a little fruit hair tie, as he works away late into the night.

and he’s allowed to cut it. he is, but at the same time—

“this is serious! keiji, please- i’ll get on my knees and beg, look, please.” 

the apartment isn’t big; your spot in the kitchen is just a few meters away. it takes all but three seconds to leave the fruit you’ve cut for him and jog over with your arms wide open.

keiji holds his out to stop you. “what? no—”

“please, please, please, please, please,”—you dodge and slide to the floor, wrapping your arms around his legs—“please, my angel, my beautiful boyfriend, love of my life who i love so much, please—”

“i’m—” he snorts while you laugh between desperate pleas, muffled against the cotton of his pajamas, “i didn’t want to cut it, i was just wondering.”

and you sigh, loosen the grip around his pajamas, now slightly wrinkled. “oh thank god.”

keiji snickers and moves his hand to rest on your head. it travels down to hold your jaw, tilting your face to look at his. “is cutting my hair really that awful of an idea?”

you lean into his touch. “i mean, no, you look good no matter what. but they’re not joking when they say every time a boy with perfect hair cuts it too short an angel dies.”

he hums, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. “so are you the angel in this case?”

“am—” you almost parrot the question, caught in place by the amusement on his face. “shut up.”

“because if you’re the angel then i definitely can’t cut my hair.”

“oh my god.” the hair in question falls in front of his eyes again, and you take the opportunity to stand up while he fixes it. “whatever, i’m leaving, you nerd. go back to editing or whatever it is you do,” you huff with a smile and pinch to his cheek.

his soft laughter fills the room while you move to let him work, (swearing when you remember his tea you promised to make,)

but your leg is caught by one of his, and a hand is suddenly holding yours against his face.

keiji shoots you a smug smile, keeps you near just a little longer, just so he can say one more thing—

“okay, angel.”

forgot i wrote this months ago. hey

🏷️| @pelicanpizza @godoffuckedupcats @causenessus @priv-rose @ur-local-simp @xaaavi @respitable @hasti-666 @deepenthevoid

[gutsby]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[ifwdominicfike]

matt helps you out a little while taking a group photo with him and his brothers

── .✦. ──

“okay, guys can you hurry up my arms gonna fucking fall off already god-“ nick says while holding up the small camera in his hand.

you all had gone out but it really was just an excuse for you and nick to get good pictures to post, as the night went on the pink and orange hues in the sky were starting to fade before you knew it.

you guys had been trying to get a good picture for about 10 minutes now, nick was complaining about why he had to hold the camera, chris kept saying matt was blocking his view, and matt kept pointing out every cat he saw so you weren’t really getting anywhere.

“okay okay nick shut the fuck up already, kid we’re going” chris says obviously irritated by his brother, you stood in front of matt so you weren’t blocked by him. nick had angled the camera high to get all 4 of you in the photo, you heard the click and saw the flash go off.

“fuck y/n again you need to tiptoe or something bitch” you groan, this was the third photo already with only the top of your head showing. “no need to yell nick im right here, my ears are gonna melt off because of you” matt giggles at your response which also causes you to laugh along with him.

“can we hurry the fuck up before i start walking home i swear you guys are not funny” this leads to you, chris and matt to look at each other and laugh once more. “okay kid no need to throw a fit just come on” chris says motioning to the camera, same process again, only this time it was half of your face.

“there’s no way- im so done. matt get the car started im going home-“ your cut off by matt grabbing your wrist and dragging you back “nope sweetheart just one more, please?” he smiles and you groan rolling your eyes. “fine but what if w-“ you feel matts hands grasp onto your hips and lift you up a little “what the f- matt put me down” he laughs while tightening his grip.

“nick hurry up and take the picture come on” he says hurriedly, his touch tickling you, making you squirm and giggle, the flash goes off once again. “FINALLY.” nick yells “we finally have a decent picture, okay now we can go home” he bluntly says making his way towards the car, chris on the way right behind him.

“that was not funny matt, what if i fell?” you say, trying to straighten out your clothes from twisting and turning around in matts hold. “but you didn’t though baby, did you?” he grins while you roll your eyes at him in “annoyance”.

“yeah whatever matt” you couldn’t hold back your smile anymore when you felt his hand snake around your waist and pull you in closer, he looks down at you and smirks. his lips almost connecting with yours until you hear nick honk the horn. “can you guys hurry up?! im not trying to see you two make out 5 feet away from the car!”

you and matt burst into giggles “he just has to ruin everything, kids fucking annoying.” he grabs your hand and gives it a small kiss before making your way back to the car.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

first blurb and idrk what this was.. i was bored and wanted to write it sigh. THIS WAS A PROMPT AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT WHERE I FOUND ITT 💔💔. ugh anyways i also know this is sorta unrealistic because the triplets are lowkey short kings.. BUT THAT DOESNT MATTER, bye love youu ᥫ᭡.

[queenlucythevaliant]

clean your sword

i. Peter had thought many times about dying for his brother, killing for his sisters, as all oldest children do.

ii. He'd imagined it a hundred times: how if his mother and father were ever killed, he'd get some low-skill job and make sure Lucy's clothes still fit her as she grew. How he'd make fists and fight dirty if Susan was ever threatened. What he'd do if Edmund ever had to flee the country on a dark, windswept night.

iii. Yet when he heard Susan's horn that day, he still froze. Only for an instant, he thought, "this can't be my job, right?"

iv. The blood on his sword shone red when it was all over. When he wiped it on the grass, the stain it left was almost black.

v. They'd put Susan in his arms when he was two years old. Peter didn't remember it, but he knew he'd been waiting for her till then. He wasn't a real person until he was a brother.

vi. And when they walked back to the pavilion, Rhindon bumping Peter's hip, all he could say to his sisters was, "I'm sorry I didn't come faster."

vii. The High King was almost obsessive in the way he cared for Rhindon. When he grew older and required weapons larger than those made for a child, he obsessed over them too.

viii. He told the others, in no uncertain terms, that if it ever came to it in battle, they were to leave him and live. As their brother and high king, he commanded it.

ix. The first time Edmund risked himself for Peter's sake, Peter didn't speak to him for a week.

x. He was oiling his sword when Edmund found him. "See, the thing is, Peter, being brothers goes both ways. If you can love me enough to die for me, than I get to love you just the same."

xi. Peter agreed with him then, to avoid the argument. He was sick of not talking to his brother. Yet privately, he knew that Edmund was wrong. That sacrifice was Peter's special prerogative, as the first-born.

xii. Back in England, his mother noticed that Peter had become more fastidious. She didn't notice that his protective streak has grown - and maybe it hadn't, really.

xiii. It was uncanny, how Peter would always show up just when his siblings needed him. He'd round a corner, and there was Lucy stamping her feet and scowling at a bully. There was Susan, crying, and now his knuckles were bloody.

xiv. He cleaned the blood off in the sink so carefully. The water ran red for a second, and it almost seemed black.

xv. When Caspian asked for the High King's advice, looking so very young, Peter jerked his chin towards the sword a Caspian's hip. "Be ready to use that," he said. "Keep it clean, and close."

xvi. Susan forgot Narnia and she forgot Aslan. Yet selfishly, Peter still hoped that she would never forget how quickly he came when she called.

[fefern]

Hello!! I'm in love with your Wuwa hcs and writing in general and I'd love to put in a request, if you're still open for them :0 <3

I'd like to request some fluffy hcs for Jiyan with an s/o that's part dragon, has horns and tail and maybe some scales like Mortefi(forgot if you spell his name like that I'm sorry😭 the red scientist guy). The s/o is super protective of him but also aloof in public, super cuddly in private when the time is right, brings him rocks and flowers as gifts and all that cute stuff, basically courting him by "dragon standards" hajsjdjd

Thank you for your time!<3

✧˖° his reaction to a dragon hybrid lover. | jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: look in the sky! it's a bird, it's a plane, it's a... dragon hybrid reader? just how will jiyan react to being courted by you, and how does he love you as someone who's part dragon?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: jiyan and gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello hello hello! i hope you are doing well lovely anon!! thank you for sending in an ask, and i hope this fufils what you were looking for ;;!! sending lots of love, and as always, requests are open! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

your tail would be so so pretty, decorated with scales that had colors that mimic the colors of the clouds and skies. 

your horns would be cute on the top of your head, a bit pointy and glowing in the night. 

jiyan has come to adore your dragon features, finding them both unique and absolutely beautiful. he’s caught often staring at the way your scales on your face, neck, and tail all catch the sunlight just right to create a glimmer like nothing he’s ever seen before. 

he’s quiet in the way he admires you, gently curling a piece of your hair behind your pointy little ears and smiling whenever you look over at him when he does. 

he didn’t have time to confess to you about his feelings though, he was caught up with being a general and of course, he also had to consider the fact that he didn’t really know if you would reciprocate them back. 

would you prefer mating with another dragon hybrid yourself? is that how these things work?

after a few months of being around you though, he began to notice some… strange things. 

for example, whenever you two were walking around the city, you’d always be on the defensive, not letting anyone get too close, not even the chef when you’d go get lunch together. 

then, sometimes, when he comes back from long patrols, you overload him with rocks and flowers that you’ve gathered for him, and he always says thank you, even though it’s a bit difficult to bring back to his home.

(he keeps them in his room forever to admire when you’re not around.)

also, lately, you’ve been much more affectionate with him, rubbing your cheek against his and getting very touchy as well, always wanting to be close to him physically. 

he expresses his confusion about your behavior to one of the researchers when he stops by one day to gather some intel for a mission for his rangers. 

one of the researchers directs him to a shelf that discusses about dragon hybrids, and the man spends almost the entirety of one day learning more about you and your species. 

the way he feels his cheeks flush a soft pink when he realizes just what it means for you to have been doing all these actions. he feels like he had a revelation, but at the same time feels stupid and dense. 

he’s quick to come back to you one day with flowers and your favorite food in hand, giving them to you and confessing his love for you on top of a quiet hill with a beautiful view of the starry night sky. 

“my pretty dragon, you’re prettier than anyone in all of huanglong, and i have loved you for quite some time. will you do me the honors and be mine?”

when you say yes, he feels overjoyed and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug as he’s careful not to hit your horns or tail while doing so.

after the successful confession, a few things change. 

for one, when you begin sleeping over more at his place, he begins to gift you dozens of fluffy blankets and pillows. he organizes them in a nest-like position for you to cuddle up in, and finds it adorable when he comes back to the sight of you curled up in the fluffiness. 

jiyan will cuddle with you more often now, guiding your tail to wrap around his strong muscles so that you get your fix of touching as much of his skin as possible. jiyan likes to run his hands over the smooth scales to coax you to sleep.

he enjoys pecking soft kisses on the scales of your face and neck; it’s his little reminder to you to not be insecure about something so beautiful. 

overall, you’re jiyan’s most beloved treasure. he will do anything to make sure his little dragon is safe and loved.

[whatswrongwithblue]

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider  . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

 

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.  

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And  any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.   

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.  

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

[moonlight-prose]

hi! just watched someone like you last night & i saw your requests were open for eddie 😫

either:

1. "did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm."

or

2. "we should really get up." "we should....but we won't."

whichever you like better!! they both screammm eddie to me

love is here to stay

a/n: what i wouldn't give to cuddle with this man in the mornings. possibly making him late for work as other things ensue. and i've always tied jazz songs to movies from the early 2000s and 90s. so this is based off the ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong song. i fear i'm down bad for this man and would love to have him be my boyfriend.

summary: mornings where the summer heat was unbearable and energy was nowhere to be founr, made getting up a difficult task. add a sleepy eddie and a multitude of kisses and suddenly it became near impossible.

word count: 1k

pairing: eddie alden x reader

warnings: semi-explicit so 18+ ONLY!!, summer heat eviserating anything fun, banter, eddie being a fucking tease, sweat, he calls the pussy her, comfy loving scenario.

New York City roared to life on the other side of your apartment wall. Chatter of people shouting, horns of taxis already stuck in morning traffic. Not even your shut and locked window could block each noise that came through. It was a place that demanded to be heard the second the sun rose up in the dark blue sky.

You mumbled something unintelligible, hand reaching for the covers that were no doubt kicked to the bottom of the bed. Halfway through the night the air shut off—effectively making your place a hellscape with no chance of avoidance.

What began as a night filled with naked skin and fast bitten thrusts, turned to the both of you sleeping as far away as humanly possible. You were almost certain if you opened your eyes you'd find Eddie at the edge of the mattress—his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Matching you completely.

"Mm," he groaned into his pillow, flipping over to his side, an arm flinging around your bare waist. "You move too much."

"Shut up," you muttered.

You could feel the tendrils of a somewhat breeze filter in through the living room where you'd left the fire escape window open. Neither of you bothered to shut it after the glass of wine and shared cigarette turned to stripping him of his shirt and you of your pants. It felt like a miracle you made it to the bedroom at all—his body collapsing atop yours with a pained groan; hands grasping for any piece of plushness he could find.

"Make me." Even in sleep he managed to grin like a tease. His eyes shut and hand shifting to cup your bare ass. "Feels like you want to," he sighed around a half yawn.

You shuffled closer, cheek pressed to his chest. "Feels like the fuckin' world is on fire."

He tapped your ass. "That it is baby."

What little energy you could gather was bled from your body the longer you lay there. Summer eviscerated any means of joy in your life. What could you do? Hiding inside was all you had left in order to escape the heat. Now even that left you withering against his torso—body slick with sweat that would only return moments after you washed it off.

"Eddie," you yawned, throwing your arm over his stomach. He offered a grunt; the heat now muddling his brain and cutting off his ability to form words. "You work today?"

His arm raised above his head, onto the pillows beneath him. (Pillows he stole in the middle of the night.)

"I could," he sighed. "Got lots to do at work."

"Ah. I forgot. Big time hot shot."

The audible smack of his hand landing harder on your ass made you laugh; your leg kicking out to deter his attacks. He couldn't help it. Toying with your flesh was the highlight of his mornings. His eyes creeped open, lips tugging into a lazy grin that screamed drowsiness. Only to watch as he jiggled your flesh—fingers kneading at you like a fucking cat who just found the softest pillow in the world.

"Unless you intend to fuck me stupid Alden. I'd stop that."

His head fell back with a raspy groan. "Got no energy to fuck you stupid baby." You glanced at him, chin resting on his chest. "How about I just fuck ya? Huh?"

"Stupid or no deal," you mumbled.

"My cock is gonna be begging for you all day."

"Too bad." You smiled, pressing a kiss to the hair that nestled in between his pecs. "Shoulda thought of that before you didn't call the super to fix the fuckin' air."

His sigh was wistful—-relenting. "Yeah I know. I'll call 'em today."

The city took over your conversation when silence began to filter in between the cracks of your haven. In this small bedroom, you were safe. Content even as the warmth of your lover began to stick to your skin and cause discomfort. Moving wasn't an option. Nor was taking a cold shower.

So you remained there, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath.

"We should really get up," he muttered, head turning to face the window.

The sun came through your sheer curtains, casting a shadow along the hardwood floor. You marveled at how picturesque it was—how heavenly.

"We should..." You placed another kiss against his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat along your tongue. He groaned, his eyes meeting yours. "But we won't."

"Baby," he breathed.

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it Eddie."

"C'mon!" he laughed. "Lemme eat your pussy. I'll be really nice to her."

"Fuck off. 'S too hot." You buried your face into his skin, biting back the peal of laughter he could tell lay on the tip of your tongue.

"All I'm saying is she's never not liked my tongue down there."

The loud smack you land to his stomach causes a howl of laughter to erupt from his chest. His body rolling over to trap you beneath him—pressing you down into the mattress as he bit at your neck. Another echo of the city poured in through the open door, cracking through the bubble you both resided in. But the feel of Eddie trailing kisses down your stomach killed every sound that didn't belong to him.

"Too hot my ass," he mumbled along your hip bone, teeth scraping the skin hard enough to draw a moan from your lips. "It's never too hot to have something sweet, baby."

You smiled, curling your fingers into his hair. "I hate you."

"You love me," he retorted, drawing your thighs up and over his shoulders. "Admit it."

When he looked at you like this: eyes bright enough to put even the sun to shame. How could you say anything but yes?

[hadersversion]

‘tis the damn season.

“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue! reader

warnings: 18+, SMUT, p in v, fingering, begging, overstimulation, use of babe....let me know if i forget anything lol. ALSO in some places in america, thansgiving eve is literally just a holiday to get drunk in your hometown

your home for the holidays for the first time in years. you've been avoiding rafe, the reason you've been away for so long, but after seeing him again all the old feelings come back. when rafe sends a text one night, you end up in the back of his truck like old times.

i parked my car out front of my childhood home, staring at the old exterior.

somethings never change.

being back in the outer banks felt strange. it has been a while since i have been back, avoiding come home for as long as i can. but with a few begging phone calls from my mom and kiara, here i am.

i knock on my front door and am greeted with a bright smile.

"jj?" i ask, confused.

"welcome home, stranger." he says, with a hug and grabbing my bag.

i walk into my living room and see the pogues, sitting with my mom. a homemade 'welcome home' banner hanging above their heads.

my mom comes over and gives me a big hug. "i thought i would never see this face again." she says with a squeeze.

"boston isn't that far, mom." i tell her but i know she would never leave the outer banks. never in a million years. i turn towards the others and smile. "i wonder who could've put this together?" i say, looking at kiara.

"hey it wasn't all me, pope was the one who brought it up." she says, engulfing me in her arms.

"guilty." pope chimes in, joining the hug. i feel jj and john b join in as well. my family.

we break away and hang out in the living room, catching up.

"don't tell me you went all city on us, y/n." john b pokes fun at me.

"not completely. but it is nice having more things to do than hang on the beach and smoke." i wink.

"who could want more than that?" jj asks, making us all laugh.

"speaking of," kiara starts. "there's a little thanksgiving eve celebration happening at the wreck. just some people from high school. nothing big."

"just a chance to get drunk of our asses and go to dinner the next day hungover." jj says, causing kiara to nudge him.

"what do you say? want to join us?" i look around the room at my friends, all eager waiting for my response. with a sigh, i nod and they all cheer. "thank god, i don't think i could've done that alone."

i smile and nod. it should be fun, it will be. but my brain can't help to wonder if the one person who's kept me away from coming home will be there. no, he wouldn't. not with the pogues. but a part of me can't help but hope to see his face.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

i fix my sweater in the mirror in my room, my body fidgeting from anxiety. it's been a few days and i still can't shake that feeling from my body about being home. sure, i'm happy but this place holds so many memories. memories i wish to bury. i stare at the photo booth picture tucked into my mirror of him and i. i guess i forgot to hide this with the rest of the stuff. i take it off the mirror and sigh, examining it.

almost four years since it was taken. almost four years since we called it quits. and yet, he still haunts my memories. his presence making itself known through cheap beer at the bar, expensive men's cologne at the mall, exhaust that leaves motorbikes as they ride down the street. he's always there, whether i like it or not.

the sound of a horn breaks me free of my thoughts.

"y/n, they're here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"coming!" i open my dresser drawer and slip the photo in before racing downstairs. i kiss my mom on the cheek and slip out the door, rushing into the van.

"ready to get fucked up?" jj asks with his devilish smirk.

i roll my eyes and laugh. "let's go."

we pull up to the wreck, it's already dark outside and a slight breeze fills the air. we all hurry in, greeted by familiar faces. my name is called from every direction, old friends from high school or the beach. all my fellow pogues who i know and love. when i'm done making my rounds, i head over to our table. everyone has some drink in their hand, beer or cocktail, and they all smile up at me.

"who would've though little y/n y/l/n would be a pogue celebrity?" pope jokes.

i flip him off and slide in next to john b. kiara hands me a beer and i take a sip. "i'm not a celebrity, i'm just one of the only people from this island who actually made it off."

they all make jokes at my despair, teasing me in any way they could when sarah walks up. i feel my stomach flip and i smile at her. "y/n!" she embraces me. "i'm so happy to see you!"

i hug her back and smile. "me too, sar. how's everything been?"

"the usual but i can't complain." she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "it's been forever."

"it has." i sigh. "it really has."

we all share stories and laugh around the table. we take shots, chug beer, and play different drinking games. just like old times sake.

"i need another beer." i say with a slight slur in my voice, standing up. "anyone else?" everyone shakes their head as i excuse myself.

i walk up to the bar and wait my turn, twirling my debit card in my hand. it could be the alcohol but i feel content and happy to be home.

"y/n?"

until that moment.

i don't want to turn around, i don't even want to accept my fate in this situation.

i know that voice, i could recognize it in a crowd of millions of people. it was the voice that lingered in my dreams, my thoughts.

i turn around and look at the man.

"rafe."

he looks older, his hair buzzed and some facial hair covering his face. but those eyes. they are the same eyes of the boy i loved.

we stood there, not saying a word. just taking the sight of one another in.

"i didn't know you were home." he says, not breaking eye contact.

i nod, biting my lip. "i am, i got home monday."

he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "how long you here for?"

"till saturday. then i'm going back to boston." my throat feels scratchy and my face is on fire. i want to be anywhere but here now.

his eyes continue to study me. "two more budweiser's, please." he says to the bartender. i open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. "on me, think of it as a welcome home gift."

the bartender hands me the beer and i smile. i turn back to rafe and tip the bottle to him. "thanks."

"no problem." he clinks his bottle to mine. we both take a long sip. my eyes are desperately trying to find a place to land, ending up on the bright sign above the bar. but rafe's are still on me.

"you okay?" kiara asks as she walks behind rafe. she is my gurdian angel.

"yeah, just waiting for my beer. excuse me." i squeeze past rafe and walk back to my table. i look back at him and smiles. i hate him.

a few drinks more and my ears are ringing. it was loud and everyone was far too drunk. i excuse myself for air outside. there are a few people lingering, smoking cigarettes or waiting for ubers. i smile and take in the nostalgia.

"you know, it would've been nice to know you were home." i hear rafe's voice next to me.

i roll my eyes and look up at him. "oh, would it have been? sorry, i didn't think you'd care." i say coldly. that liquid courage is taking control.

he looks down at me. "and why would i have not cared?"

"hmm, let me think." i put my finger to my chin. "oh, right. 'don't ever contact me again. we're so over. i wish i never met you. blah. blah. blah.' do you want me to go on?" i say to him.

i watch as he processes what i said to him, the words of our last fight. he looks guilty, for once in his life. "that was years ago, y/n. w-we were just kids."

"oh, really? then why haven't i heard from you for the past few years? phone works both ways, rafe." i say, shrugging.

he stands there quietly, i got him.

"how's school been?" he asks, nonchalantly.

"are you for real?" i ask.

"what? i'm being nice." he says.

i huff with frustration. "you are such an ass." i push pass him and walk onto the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asks, following after me.

"away from you." i say, not looking back.

i hear him run up behind me and he gently grabs my arm. "y/n. y/n, stop."

i turn to look at him. "what do you want from me, huh? you want to torture me even more?"

he stares at me, hand still on my arm. "what? of course not. y/n, i missed you."

"fuck off." i spit out without thinking.

"you're drunk."

"and you're an asshole." i say, flatly. "you...you fucking broke my heart and you expect me to act like everything is fucking dandy?"

"y/n." he tries to plead his case.

"no, rafe. you don't get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay with us. do you know how much you fucked me over? one day you're telling me you love me and you want to move to boston with me and the next, you're dumping me over the phone." i poke his chest. "i did everything you wanted, i kept what we had between us a secret, i took care of you. and nothing was enough for you."

he looks down at his feet in guilt. "i-i know, i'm sorry. i was...i was fucked up back then. with my dad on my case and the drinking...i wasn't okay. i felt like..." he cut himself off.

"what, rafe? you felt like, what?" i ask.

"like i was going to hold you back, alright?" he raises his voice. "you are too good for this place, for me. i didn't want to hold you back. i loved you too much to do that to you." i stare at him and laugh. "what? what's so fucking funny?"

"you, rafe. you." i sigh. "instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid. we could've worked that out. but you were too scared." i close my eyes and shake my head. "goodbye, rafe."

i walk down the street, hugging my body as the wind blows. a weight has been lifted off my shoulders but there's still that feeling i get whenever i think of him. that feeling that i miss him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

thanksgiving flew by, even though i had a hangover that felt like it would last a lifetime.

i helped my mom clean up the kitchen as the pogues did the dishes and took the trash out. just like old times.

once we were done, we sat outside around the bonfire. you would think after yesterday, drinking would come to a halt but jj found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and mixed it with kiara's apple cider. we all enjoyed each other's company but my mind could not help but wander. my last conversation with rafe ringing through my head.

"instead of being a man and handling your emotions, you ran and hid."

i shake my head and take a sip of my spiked cider. as much as it rang true, there was still that part of me that wonders 'what if?'. the more i thought about it, the more i wanted to pick up my phone.

no, i need to be the bigger person. i'm stronger than that. i can't text him first.

then i felt my phone buzz in my lap.

rafe: hey

i stare at the text and bite my lip. i know i should ignore it, let it go unread. but my fingers work against my brain and type 'hi' back to him. i sit there, eagerly waiting for a response.

rafe: can we talk?

rafe: i'm sorry about last night, i'm a fucking idiot.

rafe: there's so many things i could say to you rn

rafe: but i miss you.

rafe: i wanna see you.

i look around at my friends and sigh, they would be so mad at me for this.

y/n: sure, give me like an hour.

y/n: park down the street at the usual spot.

my friends leave my house, mainly due to me faking another wave of hungover puking. i run upstairs and check myself out in the mirror, i look damn good. when i get his text, i sneak out the backdoor and hurry down the street. i see his truck parked under the big tree, the spot he always parked in.

i open the truck door and hop into the passenger seat. i look over at him, he's still in his dressy clothes. a blue polo that hugged his arms right and khakis that made his thighs look exceptionally big. he knew what he was doing and i can't tell if i hate him or love him for it.

we drive in silence for a bit, his radio playing music faintly. his hands grip the steering wheel as his mind looks like he's on another planet. i play with the ends of my sweatshirt, anxiously waiting for him to do something. anything.

he pulls up to the beach, the spot where we would always come to. it was dark and the waves crashed against the shore loudly. he turns the car off and looks over at me.

"thanks for meeting me." he says simply.

"sure."

"i'm sorry about last night. you went out to have fun and i ruined it, i know i did."

i just nod at him.

"and...you were right. about it all." he sighs, running his hands over his face. "i should've manned up, talked to you about how i was feeling. but you know how i get. i get too in my head and just jump to conclusions. it wasn't fair to you." he looks into my eyes. "these past few years without you have been a living hell and i have only myself to blame."

"are you drunk? high?" i ask.

"w-what?"

"are you not sober?" i ask again.

"i'm sorry, what? of course i'm fucking sober." he says. "why would i not be?"

"rafe cameron...taking accountability? i'm sorry, it just seems so...foreign?" i laugh.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

i laugh again. "oh, i'm sure. and...the sky is green. we live on the planet pluto. aliens exist and so do unicorns!"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "y/n, i'm telling the truth! god, you always joke around."

"yeah, because i know you." i say to him. "and you would rather eat concrete than admit you are wrong."

"eat concrete?" he asks, with a smirk.

"you know what i mean!" i huff with frustration.

he grabs my hand and stares in my eyes. "y/n, i am fully sober. we are not in another universe, it is not opposite day. i was wrong and i am sorry."

my brain malfunctions as i look into his eyes. "y-you mean it?"

"every word i said."

my brain not working means i experienced a lack of better judgment. i grab rafe by his collar and connect our lips for the first time in years. this kiss, the one i have longed for since i left this place, was the missing puzzle piece i've been searching for in my life. everything seemed to make sense again.

his hands cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped into my mouth. he was hungry for me and i wasn't going to stop him because i felt insatiable as well. his hands roamed from my cheeks down to my neck and onto my shoulders.

i needed more.

i climbed onto his lap and straddled him. my arms connected around his neck as he pressed against me. i felt his cock hard against his khakis and i wanted it. i wanted it all. i rubbed myself against him, causing us both to moan.

he continued to kiss me until he broke away and looked at me. his puffy lips formed a cocky smile as he brushed his nose against mine. "you missed me."

"shut up." i was itching for more.

"admit it, you missed me. you missed the way i made you feel." he states.

"rafe, shut up and kiss me, please."

"ah ah ah." he shook his head. "not until you tell me."

"you're such an ass." i roll my eyes, trying to catch my breathe.

"yet, here you are, rubbing yourself against me in my truck." he says, kissing my cheek. his lips then go to my ear and down my neck. "i want it all with you, right now, babe. but i need to hear it."

"fine! fuck, i missed you. are you happy?" i groan, needing him.

"very. get in the backseat." he demands. i quickly follow his order, hopping in the back over the seats. he gets out of the truck and opens up the back door, sliding in next to me. "come here." he pulls me back onto his lap and we pick up where we left off. i continue to rub myself against him as he sloppily kisses me. "just like old times." he jokes and i hit his shoulder. "c'mon, don't act like you don't think about it."

"oh, i do. but i bet you think about it more than i do." i smirk.

"probably." he laughs. his fingers fall to the hem of my sweater and he plays with it. "now are we only here to kiss or?"

"why? you wanna fuck me in your truck? just like old times." i say, making fun of what he just said.

"i do, i wanna fuck you right here, right now. it's all i've been wanting to do." he kisses my jawline. "do you want me to fuck you?"

this is what i missed the most, our back and forth.

"yes, rafe. i want you to fuck me." i moan out.

with that, he practically rips my sweater off my body and starts to kiss down my chest. his large hands palm my clothed breast. i bite my lip and let my head fall back, missing the way he affected my body. i felt his hand snake around to the back and unclip my bra quickly.

"show off." i say, out of breathe.

i smirks and connects his lips to my nipple, sucking and licking it. his hand massaging my other. "don't pretend you don't like it."

i smirk and shake my head.

he continues to focus on my tits, going back and forth between the two.

"more." i whisper, eyes clenched shut.

"what was that?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"i need more, rafe. please." i beg.

"look at you all needy for me. i knew you missed me." his hand slipped under my jeans and panties, stopping right at my core. i felt his fingers curl inside me, going in and out. "all wet for me, huh? what a good girl." he pushed in, fingering my cunt, when his thumb found my sensitive bud. he added pressure, circling it, and i felt as though i was seeing stars.

"s-shit." i cry out, moving my hips to try and gain some friction.

"feel good, baby? let me hear how could i make you feel." he picked up his pace and a pornographic moan escaped my lips. it's been forever since someone has made me feel this good. rafe knew my body like it was his own, he knew how to get me going. "there we go, like how my fingers feel?"

"u-uh huh." i nod, mouth hanging open.

his fingers worked their magic, rubbing my clit at a pace that'll make me come undone in no time. "love the way you look on top of me, baby. so fucking sexy." he attached his lips to my tits again and continued fingering me.

i felt on fire.

i place one hand on the window and the other on his shoulder, holding on for dear life. the more he whispered about me and the faster his fingers were going, i was cumming on his fingers before i knew it. i rode out my high, screaming his name. once i was done, i felt him pull his fingers out of my pants, my juices getting all over myself. i stared down at him, trying to catch my breathe, as he popped his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

"just as good as i remember." he cleaned his fingers off and kissed me again. my hands ran down his buff chest and stopped at the bottom of his polo, lifting it up. his gold chain laid against his chiseled body, he was perfect. i felt as though i was in a trance as i began to kiss down his chest. i could feel his groans vibrating in his chest and i smirked because i was the one making him feel this way. "i need to fuck you."

"you need to?" i laugh, kissing lower and lower.

"yes, y/n. i need to bury myself inside of you, please." he pleaded.

"i like when you're the one begging." i bite him lightly, causing him to hiss.

"i bet."

i unbuttoned his khakis and sat up so he could slip them off. his grey boxers were discolored from the precum leaking off his cock. he took his underwear off and his cock sprung out. "i-i don't have protection." he said, mentally cursing himself out.

"well, are you clean?" i ask.

"yes. i-i haven't been with anyone since." he openly admitted.

i felt the darkness overtake my eyes as i lower myself down onto him. his breath hitched as he slipped all the way in. he was deep inside of me, causing a few tears to leave my eyes. but the pain subsided as he started to rock my hips with his hands, moving me back and forth. i picked up the rhythm he started with me and placed my hands on his shoulder to steady myself. i felt the truck rocking back and forth as i did so.

his hands found my ass and rested there. "fuck, i missed your pussy. so good, takes me so well." he kissed my chest as i grinded back and forth.

i felt my finger nails dig into his shoulder as his cock hit all the right spots. i looked down at him and he stared at me in awe, like i was some work of art. "fuck, rafe. you're so big."

i bite my lip as i let my head fall back in pleasure. i ride him fast as i keep saying his name. "shit, y/n. you're such a good girl, you're so hot. you feel so tight."

i connect our lips, i feel his hands tighten around my ass. this means he was close. "i want you to cum in me, rafe." his eyes widen as he opens his mouth to ask for permission. "p-please fill me up. i miss it so much." i say, trying to catch my breathe.

with that, he lets out a groan and my name falls from his lips like a prayer. "y/n." i feel him coming inside me, painting me. it doesn't take long for his thumb to find my clit again. with the extra pressure applied to my overstimulated cunt, i feel my head reeling. the air in the truck is hot, making it almost hard for me to breath. it all feels too much, my body releasing onto rafe yet again.

we sit there, panting with our eyes closed. i rest my head on his sweaty chest and he kisses me gently. he rubs my back, tracing circles into it.

"felt even better than i imagine." he says, his voice gruff.

"you thought about it a lot, huh?" i smirk.

"all the fucking time."

i take him out of me and sit next to him in the truck. the windows are foggy and our hands find each other, holding them. i get a sense of weird nostalgia, from how things used to be with us.

"well that was a thanksgiving to remember." i joke, trying not to feel overwhelmed by what happened.

"'tis the damn season." he replies.

i slowly slip my sweater back on and try to find my pants.

"w-wait." rafe says. "is this...is this it? just a single fuck and you're gone."

i look at him, his eyes pleading with me.

"i go back to boston on saturday rafe, we only have like a day and a half."

i wish we could keep this going, i wish this was how things always were. but i had to think realistically. i have to go back home, i have to move on with my new life.

he grabs my hand and squeezes it. "boston is only an 11 hour drive. hour or two by plane."

"rafe." i say.

"i can't lose you again. i can't, y/n. these past few years have sucked without you. i can't wait until you come home for christmas again. now that i've got you again, i can't risk it."

i sigh and kiss his hand. "i know. i know." i close my eyes and shake my head. "we'll make it work. we almost did it before."

"we can do it again." he smiles sweetly. i kiss his lips gently, laying my hand against his chest.

"you'd do an 11 hour car ride for me?"

"y/n, i'd fucking walk if i have to." he smiles.

i roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. "you're so cheesy."

he lays me back against the truck seats and kisses me. "don't act like it doesn't work for you."

[tojisun]

a cute idea just popped in my head!! imagine other bikers give simon an upside down peace sign (meaning ride safe/keep both wheelson the fround hehe) when his s/o with him. and she just waves her hand to others <3 they're the cutest couple 🥹

i definitely need a biker boyfriend in my life, yeah... that was all and now im going!! have a great day/night bestie <33 ☀️🌙

IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING TO THIS RN BUT AHHHH OH MY GOD THAT IS SO ADORABLE IM GONNA CHOKE!! thank u sm for sharing this omg ^3^

this ones short n told from outsider’s pov teehee <33

biker!simon mlist / star divider by @/plutism

ajax’s head turns when he hears the short honk from logan, the other whirling past the speeding sedan to trail beside ajax’s bike. he watches as logan brings his hand up, two fingers jutted out, and makes a pointing motion somewhere in front.

ajax follows logan’s signal, sitting up on his bike to see past the hoods of the cars, before catching sight of the infamous ‘ghost rider’ – a funny name given that the bike doesn’t remotely look like the harley that was used in the film, but one that stuck anyways. it was dubbed by a fan after seeing ghost in his first ever rally and ghost, with his sleek black skull mask and extra flare, took upon the name with pride.

but that’s not what logan was pointing at, ajax’s sure, because perched behind ghost’s bulk is a smaller figure, one whom ajax remembers hearing about – ghost’s darling girl. the man’s other half even when they’re polars of each other; sun and moon, or however else the two are described.

ajax isn’t really sure who started the rumour that the two are opposites because last time they all met, simon and his girl were equally… grossly in love.

finishing each other’s sentences, actions matching up even when they’re not looking at each other, defending each other’s honours type of grossly in love.

simon pulling his girl’s chair towards him because – and ajax thanks the otherman’s tact – it would have been too much if he just plucked her from her seat and plopped her on his lap type of grossly in love.

but ajax understands why – you’re simply such a beautiful person.

ajax’s not a shy guy – he’s sure shyness naturally gets replaced the moment one begins trusting themselves with their lives as they take on a bike – but there he had been, stuttering when talking to you. you had asked him how he knew of ghost and ajax swears it was like he almost forgot anything about himself. even how to ride a bike.

but you were so genuine with your interest in getting to know him that he felt so relaxed being around you; stutters getting replaced by the sureness in his voice, previous embarrassment getting trampled and replaced with comfort. ajax left that night feeling like he’s just been adopted as your older brother, lack of blood relations be damned.

logan’s light honking snaps ajax from his thoughts again and he turns to his friend, sending him a nod, before the two are revving their bikes to catch up to ghost rider.

when the two are close, logan splits from ajax until they’re flanking ghost on either side. it’s ajax who presses his horn button to catch ghost’s attention.

it’s laughably endearing how both you and ghost whirl your heads to turn to ajax, and while ajax can’t see ghost’s expression he’s blessed to see the way your glare melts away the moment you make eye contact with him.

one of your arm untangles from ghost’s waist to offer ajax an excitable wave. ajax raises his hand and points two fingers to the ground – ride safe! – hoping that you understand what it means, let alone know that it means anything.

ajax’s eyes flit towards ghost’s head and even though the other man is all visored up, ajax sees him nod back before returning the gesture.

logan honks on the other side of the pair and ajax watches as the interaction was mimicked. you give logan a happy wave as well and logan, the bastard, replies with a flying kiss.

ajax laughs when ghost flips logan off.

OH HOW ADORABLE THIS CONCEPT IS IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING AND KICKING MY FEET!! hope u liked this <33

adding more characters in this fun lore teehee >:)