#i could think and speak but my eyes stopped working
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lamefish · 2 days ago
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kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw
you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.
he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?
of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.
a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.
that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.
and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.
“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”
“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”
“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”
you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.
“three.”
kento blinks. “three what?”
“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”
it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.
“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”
“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”
kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.
and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”
he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.
“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”
he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”
you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.
still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”
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roanniom · 2 days ago
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Couldn't Wait
Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, piv
When you come home from your girls night out, you had expected to find your boyfriend on the couch watching a horror movie or reading a comic book. You hadn't expected to find him waiting to pounce the minute you walked in the door.
"What has gotten into you, Eddie Bear?" you ask with a laugh, kicking off your heels so he can pull you down onto the couch with him.
"I need you, baby. Need you right now." His voice is rough between kisses delivered to your neck and cheeks and collar bone.
"Ok just let me change out of these clothes real quick -,"
“C’mon honey please, ‘m so fucking hard, jus’ look.”
He’s right. His cock is standing at attention in his sweatpants, clearly aching and reaching out for you. He drops a hand to his lap and palms himself slowly.
“Fuck, baby. Please. Need that tight little pussy. Let me have it.”
Your eyes widen taking in the state of him.
"Eddie Munson, what has gotten you so worked up that you could barely wait for me to get back?"
Eddie's gaze shifts away from you sheepishly over to the coffee table. Before he can stop you, you reach for the thing he'd glanced at - a polaroid of you. On your back in your shared bed. Naked and blissed out with a tattooed arm reaching in from the bottom of frame to rest a hand in the space between your legs.
"Oh," you say simply, a small smile forming on your lips.
"Baby, I'm fucking aching for you."
You play with one of his curls and pretend to consider it.
"Why didn't you just take care of yourself while I was gone?" you ask. "I wouldn't have minded."
"You think I would deprive myself of a goddess in favor of my own shitty hand? Babe. Be serious."
Eddie's eyelids are heavy and his chest rises and falls a little more rapidly the more he gets worked up. You drop your palm to it and let it slide down the plane of his torso, down his abdomen, and into his lap.
"Alright. We can be serious." You wrap your hand around his length through his pants in earnest. Eddie intakes breath sharply.
"Yes. Yes yes yes."
Your clothes on the floor in a matter of seconds, Eddie replacing the cups of your bra with his hands.
"Ahhh finally," Eddie says with the gusto of a man having his first drink of water after a long thirst. All you're doing is grinding down on him, working yourself up to reach his level. But the look on Eddie's face implies he's reached nirvana.
"You wanted me that bad, huh?" you tease, a bit more breathlessly.
"More than a blind man wants to see the sun," Eddie says reverently into your cleavage.
"Well that's an exaggeration," you chuckle. You can't press it, however, because Eddie begins pressing his finger on your clit through your underwear. After a few minutes you find yourself writhing above him.
After a particularly loud moan from you, Eddie grins.
"Speaking of exaggeration..."
"Oh shut up and fuck me, Munson," you smack his shoulder and climb off him to divest yourself of your final scrap of clothing.
"With pleasure. princess." Eddie gives you a salute before chucking off the rest of his clothes as well.
Before you can ask him how he wants you, however, you're twirled around to face away from him, his hand on the back of your neck, guiding you to kneel on the couch.
"That's it, baby," Eddie practically purrs. He lines his tip up with your dripping center, but instead of immediately sheathing himself inside of you, he swipes from your core down to your clit.
"Fucking tease," you complain, wiggling your hips to entice him forward. After all of his pleading and cajoling he was still making you wait. A swift slap to your ass makes you squeal.
"Takes one to know one."
When he finally does slide inside of you, you realize he's right. You'd rather this - a quick fuck in the dark of night with your lover - than seeing the sun.
~*~
I hope you enjoyed!
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myladysapphire · 2 days ago
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His
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when a rumour reaches Jace that you are to marry another man, he makes sure to show you that your are his.
based of this request
word count: 732
CW: MDI, 18+, smut, p in v, possessive behaviour, obssesive behaviour! fluff? jace is very possessive or reader and makes it known she is his, breeding kink, not beta read!
Jacearys Veleryon x twinsister!reader
authors note: much shorter than my usual works but i think it sums up the request well!
dividers by @zaldritzosrose
masterlist
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He couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it.
You were his, everyone knew it, and yet here the servants were, gossiping about your recent proposal to some lowly lord.
You, a princess, a dragon rider and the other half of Jace’s soul, was to be married to some lord from a place he had never even hear of!
Blind rage filled him, as he stalked out of where he sat in the library and towards the gossiping maids.
Slamming his fist on the table, he drew their attention. “What are these lies you speak of!?” he demanded, his tone dripping with anger.
“The princess” one spoke, swallowing roughly as nerves filled her “They say she is to be betrothed to Lord Oakheart”
“oh?” he hissed, voice dripping with venom, “stop with these vile rumours, the princess is to marry me” he slammed his fist on the table “and I will hear no more of your pitiful lies” he said, kicking a chair as he moved out of the room.
And went to remained you of who you belonged to.
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He saw you sat beside the man the silly little maids said you were to marry. His hands bawled into fists as he stalked forward, painting a pretty smile on his lips.
“princess” he greeted, kissing your hand softly. His eyes darting to the position of the lord, sending him a glare. “Who is this, idaña mandia?” he questioned
“oh…this is-“ “lord Arthur Oakheart, my prince” the lord interrupted, his voice high pitched and nasally as he rudely interrupted his sweet sister.
“And why, prey tell, are you, with the princess?”
“I am courting her”
“no” Jace spoke, his tone short and snippy.
He looked shocked, hesitating as he continued with a stutter, “I am” he swallowed, looking towards you for aid “the queen she-“
“do not lie to me!” he near shouted, “I am to marry the princess, in what world would some lowly lord, such as yourself a better match than the very prince she was born with and raised with? hmm?” Jace seethed “leave”
“I no-“
The lord tried to insist, again looking to you for some support, only to again find none.
But the mere look to you sent Jace over the edge, and a punch was swiftly delivered to Arthur’s face.
“I will punch every damn man our mother puts in front of us, you are mine” Jace near growled, as he pulled you away from the weeping lord.  “Must you entertain so many of them?”
You shook your head “Jace, if I had a choice-“
“Do I have to show you? Show them all, that you are mine?” he said, pulling you close to him “have I not already made it clear”
“you have” you insisted, your hand caressing his cheek.
“clearly not as thoroughly as I though” he mused, before grabbing your hand and dragging you to his chambers.
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“Your mine” Jace groaned as he pounded into you from behind. His cock filling you perfectly as he fucked into you. “Say it” he demanded, his hand moving to grip your hair as he fucked into you faster.
“I’m yours…oh gods ‘m yours” you said between moans. Your face a mess.
Tears running down your face as he fucked you relentlessly.
He had been fucking you for hours. Filling you with his seed relentlessly.
Your mind was a haze, and all you could think of was him, and how you were truly and utterly his.
“Maybe I should get you pregnant” he mused, his hand moving from your hair to grip your throat, as he flipped you, so that he was now on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders. “Your already filled with my seed, perhaps a babe would show you who you belong to”
You moaned, your mind blank as another orgasm washed over you.
“you’d like that wouldn’t you, to be round with my child… have me pumping you full of my seed for the rest of our lives” he groaned, at the image himself.
You nodded, more tears falling down your eyes as the pleasure became too much for you.
“Please Jace…I’m yours, breed me, claim me! Make me yours!” you screamed, as you and Jace came together.
Your mind a haze of why needed to claim you so badly, when all you had and would ever think about was him.
idaña mandia = twin sister
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alwaysobsessed777 · 2 days ago
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PANCAKES FOR DINNER - N.M.
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So I'm not sure how many words are in this....but there's not warnings, this is just kinda cute???Anyways....enjoyyyyyy
The car ride was tense. I hadn't planned on leaving so soon but work changed what it had wanted me to do. Nika's grip on the steering wheel bleached her knuckles, her jaw stayed tense. I couldn't help but feel guilty, I randomly sprang this info on her the last second. Our summer plans before she went back to UConn for summer training and I went back to working out my musical career were ruined.
"I'm really sorry about this...Nika, I'll make it up to you," her jaw seemed to relax, her hands loosened it's grip.
"No need to apologize, I'm just....I just wanted to spend this next month with you," I almost wanted to spill every feeling, every thought I had about this woman right now after hearing those words. But we were just friends, nothing more.
"sometimes I wish I had a normal dream, like, being a doctor or...or whatever other people want their jobs to be."
A smile spread across the girl's face, a silent celebration went off in my head. "Being the next big pop star is no easy thing. You're dreams were just stronger than others, that's why you're making it a reality."
"Becoming a professional basketball player isn't that easy either."
She snickered. "I'm far from professional, but I'll take it."
"College.... professional....same thing," I paused, "you'll definitely go pro though. You're literally amazing at what you do."
A silence stretched between us, a quiet awkwardness. "I don't know if I will."
"Nika, please, if they don't have you going to like the Aces or the Storm.... they've lost one of the best players to ever walk this Earth."
As heat rose to her cheeks, a small smirk formed on my lips, "Stop, that's the biggest lie you've ever told....and you've told a lot."
"I never lie," that was lie in itself. It's not like I've been lying to her for three years now on how I only wanna be friends.
"Puh-leahs, all you do is lie. Like, when I first met you, you thought you could fool me by saying your straight...did you think I was that stupid," I rolled my eyes, "but it is very kind of you to speak so highly of me." Her dramatic hand-to-the-heart, the batting of her eyelashes, I couldn't help but laugh a little.
The light banter almost making me forget the fact I was getting ready to get on a plane....key word, almost. My palms began to sweat, I could feel my mind start to spiral, I hated planes....and I was getting ready to get in one.
"Hey," The girl beside me slides her hand to my thigh, resting it there for some comfort. "You alright?"
"Aerophobia."
"What?"
"Fear of flying in planes," I quickly faced her, her face softened.
"It's gonna be alright, okay?" Her hand intertwined with mine. The warmth of her hands fighting with the chill of mine, it brought me back from my spiral. Only a little.
I nod, "look at me." Her hands encompassing my face, her thumbs rubbed gently across my cheekbones. "Everything is gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. I'll even wait here with you til you have to get on, alright?"
I nodded, pulling her into a hug. A hug from her seemed to make the rest of the world cease to exist. All I needed was her, her warmth, and the comfort she provided.
But, I couldn't have just that. I had to get on some stupid plane to achieve some stupid dream.
"Alright, we're gonna go inside and just chill til you get on the plane, okay?" I nod, "I better get a call when you land in Cali."
I chuckle, "you will. No doubts about it."
We walked in, hands together, and I couldn't help but let the nerves get to me again. "I wish you could come with me."
Nika's smile seemed to brighten the world around us, "if I could, I would. Sadly, I gotta stay here in ole Croatia and hang with the family."
"I'm gonna miss you," then my thoughts spiraled. The possibility of a crash, even though it was like 1 in 100,000 that I could get in a fatal one. The thought of never seeing Nika again. I wouldn't have been able to tell her how I feel....so I did it. "Nika, I just gotta let you know I have so many feelings for you. Not just the friendly ones, like, the more than friends ones. I wish I was with you, like, I like you so much. I just feel like I make things up in my head that you might like me too, then I go down this rabbit hole of you never actually liking me, not even as a friend. Anyways, I feel like when I'm around you I can't help but feel like the entire world couldn't provide me with as much happiness and you do. I....I...God I think I love you, Nika."
Her eyes widened, surprise mixed with whatever feelings she had towards me, it was written all over her face. I should've just jumped on the plane and hoped it crashed cause I felt more embarrassed now than ever before. At least I'd be at peace with being on the plane if it meant never knowing what Nika really wanted to say.
"How long have you thought that?"
Not the questions, "for...for about three years."
She nodded, stepping closer to me, "You really think I would ever not like you?
""Platonic or romantic?"
"Either."
"Both....I just thought I liked you so much I was making things up in m-"
She cut me off. Her lips crashed to mine. The way her hands pulled me impossibly closer by the waist. My hands shot to her hair, wanting to bring her even closer to me. I had always wanted this.
"God, I've wanted to do that for years," her whispered words left me shocked. I pulled back a bit.
"What?"
"Y/N, you have no clue how bad I've been wanting to do that. Ever since I've gotten to know you...it's like you draw me even closer...wanting more....needing more. I just thought maybe I was reading into things. You're confident and charming, why wouldn't I think you were like that with everyone. But to know you feel the same way....I wish I would've made the move a long time ago."
I couldn't help but smile. Her words causing a heat to rise through my neck, settling on my cheeks. "You're joking."
"Nope," popping the 'p', "I couldn't have been more serious in my life."
My flight was being called, and I couldn't help but notice the nerves had been settled...or I was just currently distracted by the fact Nika had feelings for me.
"So....I gotta go," before I could keep going, Nika planted another soft kiss on my lips, "but maybe I should tell my manager nevermind."
Her laughed filled the space, "Nope, gotta become the biggest pop star in the world. I need you to surpass Taylor Swift one day."
"Whatever," I turned to leave, but took one more glance back at the brunette, "I'll call you when I get off, promise."
A/N: I got one done after months of not being on here!!! Hopefully this is good...enough cause I don't know how I feel about it. @ittiwdwysylm here ya go, Nika fic out!!
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st44rkeys · 3 days ago
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KISS OR SKIP.. - rafe cameron smau
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prev - masterlist - next
a/n: they're cute ig🙄
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Topper stepped forward a grin plastered on his face. “What’s up guys? Welcome back to the channel"
He gestured dramatically at the tables before them, each neatly arranged with bowls, whisks, and a chaotic assortment of baking supplies. “Today we’re doing something a little different. We’re going to bake cakes!”
“But" Topper continued pausing for effect “there’s a catch.” He leaned in slightly the camera zooming to capture his expression. “We’re doing it without a recipe.”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
"Speak for yourself"
“Let’s introduce the teams" Topper says, stepping into the frame. He slings an arm around a smiling brunette next to him. “First up we’ve got me and my lovely girlfriend Ruthie"
Ruthie waves at the camera her smile warm and a little shy.
“Next" Topper continues, pointing to the next pair “we’ve got Sofia and… unfortunately my least favorite Cameron, Sarah.”
Sarah doesn’t miss a beat. She flips him off with a deadpan expression while Sofia bursts into laughter.
“And finally" Topper announces, turning toward the last duo "we’ve got Rafe and a very special guest. You might remember her from my last video" The camera pans to Emi who immediately starts laughing and covers her face with her hands "....Emi!"
“Hello" Emi waves cheerfully at the camera, her bright smile lighting up the room. Rafe standing next to her, doesn’t say a word, just watching her with a faint smirk
“I have to warn you guys you should probably be scared" Emi says as she ties her pink hair into a ponytail.
Rafe steps over to grab two aprons, handing her a pink one while slipping on a blue one himself.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Sofia asks tying her own apron
Emi glances over, her smirk widening. “Because I grew up baking cakes. My mom owns a pastry shop.”
The room goes quiet for a moment, their playful smiles faltering. Sofia glances nervously at her Sarah
"We're fucked"
Rafe leans in closer his voice low so only Emi can hear. “Didn’t you say your mom is a fashion designer?”
She glances at him her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “She is" she whispers back. “I just lied to freak them out. I don’t know shit baking cakes.”
Rafe stares at her for a beat then lets out a low chuckle. “So what you’re saying is…I’m doing all the work?”
Emi flashes him a sweet almost innocent smile, batting her lashes dramatically. “Exactly. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you company.”
He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Lucky me" he mutters already reaching for the mixing bowl.
“What flavor are we going for? Vanilla?” Emi asks glancing at Rafe. He nods with a hum of approval
She heads to the fridge, grabbing the essentials they’ll need- milk, eggs, and butter before pausing to add a carton of fresh strawberries to the mix. Returning to the table, she sets everything down in front of Rafe
“Figured we could level it up a bit"
Rafe smiles pulling her into a quick side hug before turning his attention back to the batter. As he works on mixing it, Emi takes charge of the heavy cream. She divides it into two bowls, adding a drop of pink food coloring to one and blue to the other. A small smile tugs at her lips as she stirs
“So Emi how are you liking it here so far?” Ruthie asks her tone warm and curious.
She looks up from her bowl meeting Ruthie’s gaze with a friendly smile. “It’s really pretty" she says, pausing for a moment before adding with a laugh "and really hot too.”
Without thinking twice, Rafe leans in with a smirk. “Yeah because I’m standing next to you.”
Emi rolls her eyes, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush as she lightly smacks his arm. “You’re annoying" she mutters though the smile tugging at her lips betrays her amusement.
“What was that?” he teases pretending he didn’t hear her as he steps closer, his arms braced on either side of her trapping her against the counter. “Say it again.”
Emi laughs, trying to wiggle free. “Stop it. I’m trying to finish the creams.”
“Not until you repeat it" he murmurs, his voice low as he leans in closer his lips just near her ear.
“Hey you two" Sarah shouts pointing a spoon in their direction. “Hands off each other and keep it PG, will you?”
Emi glances at Sarah, sticking out her tongue playfully. Anyway, she thought to herself, we let all that sexual tension go two days ago.
It wasn’t anything wild just a little make-out session. They had been lying in his bed, watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and before either of them realized it, things escalated. It just… happened. Then again the next day, and again...
She couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips as the memories played through her mind. Were they a thing? Emi wasn’t sure. They flirted, kissed sometimes, but nothing was ever confirmed.
Usually Emi was the bold one in relationships, never shy about making the first move. But with Rafe, it felt different. She was hesitant, almost nervous to ask the question she knew was looming.
Maybe it was because she liked him more than she’d planned to. More than she was ready to admit. And then there was his fame, which played a huge role in all of this. Emi had never been one to doubt herself she was confident, unapologetically so.
She was confident when it came to talking to Rafe, too, never second-guessing herself around him. But the comments his fans left? She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but they stung. Just a little. The constant judgment, the expectations- it wore on her more than she cared to admit.
“Hey where’d you go?” Rafe snaps his fingers in front of Emi’s face, pulling her back to the present.
Emi hums her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just thinking about how to sabotage Topper’s cake. You in?”
She flashes him a playful smile and he laughs, shaking his head. “How can I say no to you?"
Let’s just say Topper’s cake is about to get a little too salty.
Sofia walks over to them, and Emi raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. The brunette immediately throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey I’m just bored.”
Rafe flicks her forehead. “Uh-huh sure. You’re definitely up to something.”
“Can I have the blue?” Sofia asks eyeing the food coloring.
Emi immediately shakes her head, not even hesitating. “No.”
“What?” Sofia huffs in disbelief.
“Be original" Emi shoots back with a grin. “Pink’s mine, blue’s for Rafe.”
“You don’t own blue.”
“I’ll gatekeep it if I have to"
Rafe grabs the food coloring, slips it into his pocket and casually drapes his arm around Emi’s shoulder. “She said no" he says with a smug grin.
Sofia glares at him then turns to Topper. “This is cheating.”
Topper looks at her genuinely confused. “Just grab the green coloring" he says nonchalantly, as if it’s the most obvious solution.
Sofia narrows her eyes, pointing at the two with a mischievous look. “You two better be careful."
As Rafe slides the batter into the oven, he turns to Emi who’s casually perched on the counter, munching on strawberries.
“We got them for the cake” he says stepping closer with a grin.
Emi shrugs nonchalantly, popping another strawberry into her mouth. “I love strawberries"
He leaned over the counter, his hands gripping the edge as he opened his mouth with a teasing smile, waiting for the last bite of the strawberry.
She handed it to him, but just as her fingers brushed against his lips, he playfully bit down on her finger. She gasped quickly pulling her hand back. “Oh I’m never feeding you again"
Rafe smirked, his forehead gently pressing against hers as he spoke in a low, teasing tone. “Who are you lying to?”
Her breath hitched at the proximity, her heart skipping a beat. She grabbed another strawberry, trying to distract herself but before she could take a bite, Rafe snatched it from her hand with a grin.
“Hey"
He loved messing with her. Every time he teased Emi, she’d blush a reaction he hadn’t expected at first. She always seemed so bold, and most of the time she was.
But then there were moments like this, when a simple comment or a subtle touch would leave her cheeks tinged pink. And every time it happened, it drove him absolutely crazy in the best way. Some people might say this was moving too fast, but for Rafe, it felt just right like everything was falling into place.
She was only supposed to be here for a week, but that wasn’t going to cut it. He’d already decided he was canceling that return ticket. No way was she leaving so soon. He’d book her another one for next week or the week after, if he had his way. And he would make it happen.
The way she furrowed her brows and pouted in concentration had him completely captivated. Her little quirks, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, drove him wild. He didn’t even realize he was staring, his own lip caught between his teeth as the urge to kiss her grew stronger with every passing second.
“They’re not even dating" Topper says to his girlfriend, watching the so-called lovebirds laughing together like no one else exists.
“Give them a day" she whispers with a grin stifling a laugh of her own.
It was becoming routine for their friends to witness this dynamic ever since Emi arrived. The two were practically joined at the hip. Whether it was playful touches, head wrestling, or even sneaking kisses, their chemistry was impossible to ignore. And of course, they had Sarah to thank for catching them in the act more than once.
After thirty minutes of baking and decorating, the three cakes were finally ready. Topper and Ruthie’s creation looked like it was barely holding together, Rafe and Emi’s cake was decent though the strawberries were cut a little unevenly and Sarah and Sofia’s cake easily looked the most professional.
Topper had called his mom in the kitchen to be the judge. As she took one look at the cakes, her eyes landed on Topper’s leaning tower of disaster. “I’m about to be so judgmental" she announced with a laugh, looking the mess in front of her.
She took a bite of their cake, and the moment it hit her tongue, she coughed her face twisting in disbelief. “Ruthie I thought you could’ve at least saved this cake? Why is it so salty?”
Meanwhile Rafe leaned against the counter, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. Emi pressed her hand to her mouth, struggling to keep her own giggles contained as Ruthie’s voice rose in the background, blaming her boyfriend
Mrs. Thornton stepped over to Sarah and Sofia’s cake her expression softening as she carefully sliced into it. The room went quiet as she took a bite chewing it smowly. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips and for a moment hope flickered in the air.
“It’s… dry" she said finally “But still, it’s better than whatever mess my son and his girlfriend attempted.”
Topper groaned, dragging his hands down his face in utter defeat. Ruthie glared at him, crossing her arms tightly, her frustration practically radiating off her.
Sarah grinned. “We’ll take that" she said, sharing a high-five with Sofia.
Mrs. Thornton then turned her attention to Emi and Rafe’s cake, her eyebrow arching as she studied the slightly messy frosting. “Well it’s… something"
Emi reached for Rafe’s hand, her fingers curling around his as they both waited for what she has to say. Mrs. Thornton cut a small slice, tasting it cautiously.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait… this is actually very good" she said her voice tinged with genuine amazement.
“We won" Emi shouted her eyes sparkling with excitement. Without a second thought she jumped into Rafe’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight. The others immediately burst into a mix of protests
“She hasn’t decided yet"
“Ours looks way better"
“Let’s just wait-"
Mrs. Thornton rolled her eyes, clearly done with the back-and-forth. “I thought I made it obvious, but Rafe and Emi win.”
“Take that losers" she teased, grinning at their friends. She couldn’t stop smiling as Rafe laughed, spinning her in his arms.
"Fuck yeah"
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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 days ago
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hi! idk if you take requests currently. I'm new around here, but I've read. Everything in your whole masterlist. And I love your writing so much. Um. So!
I really love. Flirty villain with the power to mess with people's emotions to like, calm them or seduce them or whatever he really wants X hero who should hate it but secretly is really into it because it's a release of control for him and he's exhausted
“You’re back,” the villain stated. The hero was…an interesting person. Although they had avoided the villain in the beginning, now they were crawling back to them — nearly desperate.
A desperate hero was generally easy to control, the villain was fully aware of that. They didn’t even need their powers to do so. So, the advantage, the position of power the villain found themselves in was anything but unappetising.
However, there was something in their stomach, something that twisted whenever the hero was standing in front of them.
“…I’m sorry to bother you again…I, I don’t know, maybe I can pay you next time?”
“Next time?” The hero started blushing and unfortunately, the villain was very amused by it.
“Oh, sorry, I—”
“Come in and sit down.” The hero stared at them with those horrible puppy eyes, jaw slightly dropping.
Sometimes, the villain’s heart would start beating fast enough to worry them. Mostly, when they looked at the hero for too long. That wasn’t only distracting, it was also incredibly annoying.
“Thank you,” the hero said and they smiled that sweet smile that was usually reserved for scared civilians as reassurance.
Was the villain even worthy of such a smile?
The hero sat down on the villain’s couch and folded their hands in their lap.
“Anxiety?” the villain asked.
“…yeah, it got really bad again.”
“Work?”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
The villain stared at their nemesis. Lamentably, they could see how well-built their nemesis was. Them being attractive was becoming an actual problem since the villain was slowly getting the feeling they were the one being seduced.
They took in a deep breath. Their powers demanded physical contact.
Which made it quite intimate.
The villain didn’t know how to feel about that.
“What do you do outside of work?” They walked behind the couch. Last time, they had held hands.
The villain swallowed.
This time, they touched the hero’s neck. They were gentle, but the hero took in a sharp breath.
As usual.
“Voluntary work, mostly.”
“God, you’re disgusting.” As response, the hero laughed quietly. Apparently, they were already relaxing.
“I also work out.”
“Yeah, I figured.” The villain let their hand wander under the hero’s shirt, gliding over their collarbone. “Do those things calm you? Or are you thinking about work the entire time?”
“…it…” The hero took in a deep breath and the villain leaned over, their lips close to the hero’s ear.
“Easy, take your time…” The hero let their head fall back. They let out a somewhat satisfied sigh that sounded a lot like the villain’s name.
The villain’s eyes widened.
“Don’t be inappropriate now,” the villain mumbled. The hero smirked.
“Sorry…nothing calms me like you.”
“You’re being a little careless, don’t you think? Maybe I should keep you to myself, you’re certainly pretty to look at,” the villain said, pushing their voice deliberately deeper. They let their fingers go up: following the hero’s throat up to their chin.
“Gosh, you can be so mean.” Suddenly, the hero grabbed the villain’s wrist and started guiding the villain’s hand.
Too stunned to speak, too surprised to do anything, the villain simply let them do whatever they wanted, only for the hero to stop on their chest. Right under their palm was the hero’s heart, the villain realised.
“I loathed you so much when you did this the first time,” the hero admitted. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were fighting. You were teasing me a lot. You even slapped my ass, I think.”
The hero rolled their eyes, smirking.
“Well, you deserved it,” the villain said. They could feel the hero’s heart beating under their skin.
“Hmm. You remember.”
“Of course.”
“I hated how safe I felt.”
“You’re not really safe with me,” the villain reminded them. They could betray them anytime. Capture them, keep them here, kill them…
“You’ve never taken advantage of me when I’m like this,” the hero said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something to me,” the hero said. Even though their eyes were sleepy, they looked quite serious. “I love it when you’re soft.”
They raised their hand and touched the villain’s cheek.
The villain’s innards were melting. It was painful. So damningly painful.
“I’m exhausted,” the hero whispered. “Can I stay here a little longer?”
The villain couldn’t really breathe. They swallowed. What on earth was this hero doing to them?
“…yeah.”
It was one word, but their voice cracked several times.
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velvet-apricots · 2 days ago
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I was encouraged to write a drabble of this idea I had here
Summary: Lucanis can tell that Rook has a thing for Emmrich. Emmrich, however, seems to be very unaware of her attraction. That is until Spite speaks up.
It was happening again.
He had been talking to Emmrich again. For as bizarre as Lucanis found the concepts of raising the dead, the man was good to talk to. It was refreshing to have another to help with Spite, to have a calm firm hand that could get the demon to behave or stop pestering with questions that Lucanis could not answer, or could not answer in a satisfactory way.
That, and Spite just seemed to refuse to believe him out of… Well, spite.
“The moment I told him how soap was made, he insisted I take a bite.”
Emmrich tutted, leaning on his staff and directing his eyes to the demon as he hovered behind Lucanis’s shoulder. “Oh that would be most unpleasant, Spite. I assure you. The saponification process completely changes the composition of the animal fat. It tastes terrible.”
“How do you know?” Spite hissed.
Emmrich shrugged. “I have gotten soap in my mouth once or twice while bathing.”
And then, almost like clock work, Rook was suddenly there, slipping into the conversation. “What is saponification?” she asked, playing with her fingers as she gave Emmrich a little sweet smile, one she never gave to any of the rest of them. 
Rook liked hearing Emmrich talk. She liked seeing him move his hands. She liked looking at him. Her voice would get higher, and she would jut her hip out as she nervously fiddled with something, be it her fingers or her hair. It was very obvious that she was attracted to the older man, looking for any excuse to speak to him. It was like watching a love sick teenager.
And Emmrich seemed oblivious. Politefully so, but still very oblivious. Either that, or he was keeping up a professional decorum.
And so Lucanis now watched them: Emmrich explaining how saponification was the process of “cleaving esters into carboxylate salts and alcohols by the action of aqueous alkali”. Rook looking at Emmrich so intensely that she might as well be trying to undress him with her eyes. Staring at him from under her lashes with a little stupid grin, clearly not actually even hearing what he was saying.
Meirda, she is practically lusting over the man. How does Emmrich not see that? Lucanis thought, giving a humored smirk.
And then Spite spoke. He spoke and Lucanis wanted nothing more than to be struck down by the Maker himself.
“They should get a room. Together.”
Rook of course heard nothing. But Lucanis watched as Emmrich’s brows went up, watched as he turned to look at Spite, his ears and cheeks ever so slightly going pink as he gave a bewildered, open mouthed stare.
“I beg your pardon?” Emmrich asked.
Lucanis closed his eyes, cringing visibly from embarrassment. “Ignore him-”
“No! Do not ignore me! Take her to the bedroom! It’s what she wants!”
Emmrich took a scolding tone, face now going from pink to red.“Take her to-? Spite that is incredibly inappropriate.”
“What is Spite saying?” Rook asked, leaning back as both Lucanis and Emmrich turned sharply to her to say the same thing.
“Nothing.”
Emmrich ran his hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable and now no longer able to look at Rook at all. “I think I will go make sure Manfred is not getting into any trouble” He mumbled, turning and quickly walking away. Rook followed him, switching from love sick to concerned leader.
Her concern would only make Emmrich feel even more uncomfortable.
“And I will throw myself into a cup of coffee, and possibly off the side of the courtyard.” Lucanis mumbled, turning in the opposite direction and quickly speed walking away. He would have to apologize-
“Do not apologize! I helped!” Spite protested, “He knows now!”
-Apologize to Emmrich.
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mi-olaaa · 3 days ago
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Sweet like honey.. (18+)
Fem!reader, softdom!kento, oral (fem + male receiving), shibari 🤭, and a lil bit of honey 😓, black plussize reader as always! Enjoy pookies!!
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆
“Suprise! Slip my panties to the side.”
Nanami Kento was a very particular man, from the way he went about his day, all the way down to how he wears his ties. And that’s why, you— his ever so precious girlfriend were in your current predicament..
You see, Kento loves coming home to you. On time of course. So on the days he has to do overtime, he seeks out a different routine to have some semblance of control. He gets home worked up, needing to wind down, and here’s where you come in, all sweet like honey.
How could you deny Kento’s whims when he asks so politely to frogtie you, one of his favorite styles, arms behind your back, legs open and tied to your thighs by your ankles, looking oh so pretty and delectable, open and ready to cater to his whims. “Ken—” he cuts you off with a needy kiss, slender fingers finding their way to your pretty pussy, effectively shutting you up.
“C’mon love, you wanted to be a good girl, right? So be an angel and hush, let me worship you.” All you can hear is your muffled whines, and the loud squelching noises echoing off the walls with Kento’s every move of his fingers. He had those sinful brown eyes of his staring into your soul— as if to challenge you to do otherwise.
You don’t even catch it, too caught up with the way his other hand is gripping your hair by surprise, earning a wrung out moan from your lips and a smile from his. You stay quiet and let him tend to you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you, just from his fingers, but you know it’s not over.
He spreads your legs as wide as he can while you’re tied up, pushing your back to the bed, hair tousled and in his face, and all you can think of is how much more sexy can this man get?? I mean his glasses are long gone, dress shirt partially unbuttoned, tie loose and slacks strained against his dick, and it doesn’t help that he’s eyeing you down like you’re his last meal.
Peppering kisses down those gorgeous, plump thighs of yours, taking extra time to kiss along stretch marks and cellulite, whispering sweet nothings before abruptly getting up, leaving you confused, but hushing you before you could speak. “I’m just grabbing some things love, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Kento rolled up his sleeves, fumbling with some things on the nightstand before returning.
In his hands he had a bottle of honey, the same one that you left on the nightstand this morning when you had a cup of tea earlier, and the way your face turned sour had him laughing as he sat back down on the bed. “Kento— what the hell do you plan on doing with a bottle of honey?” And he just wouldn’t stop laughing to even answer, all you got was another hush, and a look from him that had you dripping on the sheets.
“Just trying something i’ve been wanting to do, you’ll like it.” Is Kento’s only response, you start to open your mouth again, abruptly stopping when you feel the cool, golden liquid being drizzled over your thighs. The soft click of the cap closing and a whispered “itadakimasu..” unfortunately was your only warning of how feral your boyfriend was about to get. All of the earlier shit was just to ease you into it, get you relaxed, this? This was him blowing steam.
The noises you made as Kento all but devoured your thighs, biting and lapping at them just to see them jiggle, were funny to him apparently, he couldn’t stop grinning. All he was doing was cleaning up his mess, lapping up the honey, and you already looked ruined, heaving and writhing under his ministrations. When he finally got to your pussy, his eyes were yet again eager and burning into your soul.
You wiggled and whined to your heart’s content, but that wasn’t deterring Kento, you were tied up and his to play with, his to dive face-first into, his to tease and touch, ‘till your nipples were sore and achy. Kento made it seem like you must’ve been sweeter than the honey he just licked off you, his tongue was just berating your poor pussy, lips suckling on your clit, making the nastiest slurping sounds ever to grace your ears.
Every kiss, bite, lap and groan had shivers going up your spine, setting your body on fire with the need to cum on his face. You couldn’t take much more, with how he was sweet talking you, kind words and praise falling from his lips, while his actions were downright dirty. It confused you, in the best way possible, but it wasn’t until he stilled for a moment, groaning into your pussy, the sound muffled— that you came to the conclusion that he came in his pants.
“Shit. I’m sorry love—” He couldn’t even get the words out, you so undeniably turned on by the fact that you haven’t even touched this man yet, how you may be tied up, but he’s on his knees for you, let all hell loose. With a wrung-out cry of his name, you came, squirting and creaming on his beautiful face to high hell, soaking the front of his dress shirt, shit, you managed to get some in his hair, neither of you even knew you had it in you to do some shit like that.
Kento was at loss for words, just staring down at you, breathing heavily. “You just-?” “Yeah..” You sounded embarrassed almost, and he couldn’t have his pretty girl thinking she had to be ashamed of anything she does, he pulled you up to sit on your legs again, back in your starting position but moving you to the floor, thighs wet and glistening, pretty pussy throbbing.
Kento’s need to dig in your guts just got overridden by a new need to reward you, give you a small taste of what he’s been eating on all afternoon. “Open your mouth love, ‘wanna give you a taste too.” Without a second thought you open your mouth, he tilts your chin up, keeping eye contact with you as he unzips his ruined pants, and slides his dick out of his boxers. But before even moving in your direction, you can hear the click of a cap, and see honey being drizzled on his dick.
You’re stuck in a trance of some sorts, watching the honey slide down his dick, and onto the angry, mushroom tip. It slides down slowly, coating the entire length in its sticky sweetness, before you finally make your way to the tip, giving it a soft kiss that has Kento shuddering as you take him in. Your tastebuds are immediately met with the sickeningly sweet flavor of the honey, mixed with his dripping precum.
He bobs your head gently up and down his length, watching you with squinted eyes, taking in every veiny inch, groaning and reaching up to card his hand in your hair, jaw slacked so wide, he’s drooling.
But you kept going, growing addicted to how the honey and precum mixed in your tastebuds to produce the most wonderful flavor, sweet, with a perfect dash of salt. With the noise echoing off the walls, you were sure the neighbors heard, and if they had an issue, they could watch for all you cared. You were sucking the soul outta Kento, tongue teasing the tip, sliding down every vein.
And he loved it. Within a record time of 4 minutes, his knees were buckling and he was giving you something else to taste on your tongue other than honey.
You eased off his dick with a teasing ‘pop’, licking your lips, content to swallow his kids— and he just looked at you like he still needed to release steam, so you let him pick you up like a ragdoll again, and let him put you back on the bed, on your stomach, still tied up to high hell. Your dripping pussy, and glistening thighs were presented to him, and it’s the rope holding you in place, tightly bound but not suffocating, only emphasizing how good you looked on display, trembling all for him.
Thighs bursting out the seams of the ropes, but his excellent craftsmanship kept you bound, and spread open as much as you could muster while tied. Kento kneeled for a moment behind you, enjoying the sight of your pussy, the bright, scarlet red rope bound to you, the slight pudge of your stomach touching the sheets, even the way your ass was up and out, stretch marks adorning his favorite parts of you.
You of course, got impatient, wiggling to catch his attention, it never left you, but he was savoring the look of you. “Ken? C’mon..” He got up, delivering a harsh slap on the globes of your ass, you couldn’t see his face, but you just knew it was probably tore up. “Patience love, let me worship you.” Regardless of his words, Kento gently slid into your pretty, dripping cunt, meeting little resistance due to how long your foreplay was this time.
And as soon as he slid in, he was gone, taken over with the need to remind his pretty girl that while he may be a soft dom, it’s not because he can’t be rough. The bed creaks and groans at his pace, the speed of him driving into your pussy, just to hear her talk back to him, was a complete 180 to how you two were just teasing each other.
“Mhmn— Ken..” You gasp out, hands gripping onto nothing but pure air, partially because you forgot they’re tied behind your back. “Shh, just take it, you’ve been doing so well love, don’t make me take it back.” Kento said through a clenched jaw, watching with each thrust how it seems your whole body just.. jiggled. It had him going harder, kissing your cervix almost, just see your ass move just one more time.
Your eyes were rolled back, and Kento knew it by how your toes curled and how your pussy kept squeezing him tight, he knew you were gonna cum soon before you even knew it yourself. And of course he had to help his pretty girl out, snaking a hand under you to rub at your swollen clit, biting and kissing at your neck, encouraging you to cum.
“Just one more baby? How’re you feeling?” Whispering oh so sweetly into your ear, biting the shell of it teasingly, hand holding onto your hip for leverage and the other’s fingers still massaging your weeping clit. All you can muster to respond is a nod to Kento’s question, the foreplay and rough pace finally catching up to you, pussy aching with the need for your boyfriend to just fuck you senseless.
Kento works his ass off, giving you the meanest strokes, kissing and toying with you, and it all pays off, because not too long after settling on a pace that has your pussy damn near red and raw, you’re hurdling headfirst into your 4th orgasm of the evening, tears pricking at your eyes from how sensitive you’re getting. Kento’s fingers slow their pace on your clit before stopping entirely, so do his strokes.
He pulls out of you, his hand moving up and down his glistening dick as he cums, shooting it down your back, a small whisper of your name leaving his lips. Kento takes a moment to admire you, before you break him out of his focus with your wiggling, and pleads to be untied. He doesn’t even untie you, swiftly cutting the rope from you for a faster removal.
You lie flat on the bed as Kento massages your legs and wrists, figuring you had to be sore from the position, peppering kisses down your back, “You did so well angel, took me like a champ love.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing it.
“Yeah? That doesn’t help the fact that I’m all sticky and need a bath now.” You pout.
“We’ll wash up love, but i couldn’t help myself, you were sweet like honey.”
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
Authors note: life was kicking my ASS 😭 I’m glad I can finally start back uploading pookies ☺️ enjoy this— hopefully I haven’t lost my ability to write.. 💀 (y’all were supposed to get some baby oil action w/ this, but I’ve since then taken everything to do with baby oil out of my fics AND drafts with current events..) I hope this isn’t too long or short or like really weirdly worded either, had to rewrite almost 75% because I deleted some by accident… *insert crickets* Enjoy!!
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freeluigihesbae · 14 hours ago
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𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖) - 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐
(part 1 here)
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(4,543 words)
summary: smut. filthy, fucking smut.
𝗍𝗐: 18+ !! 𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗀𝗂, 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋/𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁 + 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗌, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄
~
"We're going to play a little game, pretty girl." Luigi is still fucking the length of the gun into you, pushing down into the small of your tiny back with delicious pressure and you're finding yourself all the more happy to comply.
"Mm-mhm." You're fighting back every urge telling you to push your ass back and make the sensation hit you faster. You heed your caution because if you don't, you know Luigi would be pretty upset and he'd hurt you.
Maybe you wouldn't mind, but right now, all you cared about was taking what he was giving.
"I'm gonna talk about my favorite memory of you," he starts to twist around and you feel the ridges of the gun running over the sensitive flesh inside and you let out a cry. It evokes a hard and extremely painful slap. 
"Don't interrupt me bitch." He leans forward to bite into your ass and you both moan, the plush skin creating mutual pleasure. You nod your head before he pulls his teeth off. "When I do talk, you're going to tell me exactly what happened. Okay? You can make a sound baby." He pulls the gun out and says the last few words into your ear, letting his fingers dip inside this time.
"Okay Lu." You bite your lips naturally, letting your eyes roll back and soak the pleasure of his fingers curling inside, far more dynamic than the gun could ever be. Humming in satisfaction, he speaks.
"December 1st. We had a call together to talk about-" he stops, pulling you back closer to his body but he does it with the fingers inside of you and it's so humiliating. You let out a sob, shoving your fist into your mouth to compensate for the pain. "That hurt." You whine because it's so natural so natural that it would hurt. Luigi lets out a laugh before speeding up the pace of his fingers, watching you shiver as you're seeing colors before your eyes.
His free hand comes up to slap your ass before giving it a hard squeeze. You let out a concerning yelp, feeling the already stinging skin get kneaded and pulled in every direction his fingers so dictate. You let out a drawn, nasty sound that Luigi nearly moans in approval of.
"Yeah, I like that sound. Wanna hear ya in m'fuckin pain baby." Luigi feigns desire in his voice, drawing out the words so that every single syllable is trickling down like feather light touches teasing your skin.
He succeeds.
"We had a call to talk about my graphic. You remember what you were wearing that day pretty girl?" His fingers are twisting inside, brushing against the spot with every pump but the pace becomes torturously slow, as though he's giving you space to think. It does little to help but you race to gather yourself from mentally crashing to pieces, thinking back to this said day.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
"Hey Luigi." You pick up the call, expecting to continue your usual discussions about the graphic he had worked on since it was the most difficult. At this point, you were already living up every single moment your eyes could land on Luigi. Perhaps, you were trying a bit too hard.
You wore a pair of silky pajamas that were light green. The straps of the top were thin - spaghetti, essentially, and stuck to your skin as it cropped half-down your torso. Your shorts were high rise and decorated with delicate lace at the edges towards the bottom. In truth, it was after hours and usually, nobody had formal calls during this time. You had changed into your clothes much earlier at that point and chose this set, keeping it far back in your mind that you'd have a call with Luigi later.
It was sure to draw his attention because your lined bra made itself known, poking curvaceously through the fabric telling those who dared to look that there was something underneath. You lived alone, so normally, you didn't care.
But today, you cared only because Luigi would see and that care only made you pull the top down to complement the natural seg-way into your chest. That care made you make yourself an exhibit you hoped he'd appreciate.
Luigi stared for a second as you watched his eyes drag up and down once across the screen before he gave you a smile, responding at once.
"Hi. How could my poor self help you?" Luigi asked mockingly and you furrowed your eyebrows then, wondering where the comment came from but giving him the same energy back. "Give me some riches in the form of explaining your graphic? I didn't know I was as rich as you're making me out to be." You responded but then, you see your face freeze, letting you know that the audio likely must've frozen for Luigi too.
No mind, since everything resumed as normal in less than a second but Luigi's expression seemed to tell you something is wrong.
"What'dya say?" Luigi asked, tilting his head and letting his eyes project somewhat of a siren-like, overtly-focused stare on you. You gulped before answering in confusion.
"Jus' said you could give me riches by explaining your graphic and that I didn't know I was as rich as you were making me out to be." You answered unsurely but caught the way his face slightly fell towards the end of your sentence. His next few words seemed to explain why.
"Ah," Luigi starts, rolling his eyes before letting out a sigh. "I thought you said 'making out' and it did something to me for a second." Luigi laughs, but it sounds huskier, like there was more to the sentence he dared not say.
Your heart lurched at the idea but it was so out of place that you forced yourself to move on and just chuckle.
"Well, even if I had said so, you'd have to be here. I'm not so rich I could make a computer to stick a hand through and reach the other side." It was a stupid, convoluted joke that you rambled just to make the atmosphere lighter but that didn't seem to work, since Luigi's stare had only hardened more on you.
"Your top says otherwise. I love the silk on you." You're taken aback but you don't let it show, simply letting your fingers run their course from the straps and down to your stomach, which he couldn't see. Part of you suspected about whether his eyes had followed too, having noticed a slight shift in their focus.
You change the topic because this... this all came later.
But you certainly wouldn't forget.
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You gasp, feeling yourself reaching the point where you just had to let go. His pace had increased, aligning with the increasing impatience as you hadn't given an answer.
"If you don't answer, I'm not letting you cum." Luigi says, cruelly laughing as he heard you whine loudly and clenching around his fingers.
"L-Light g-green -ah!" You want to finish your sentence but the pleasure breaks through a new roof and you're so dangerously close to cumming. "P-Please Lu I wan-wanna cum." You beg without any inhibitions and he pumps even harder.
"Dumb slut can't even finish her sentences can she?" It's a matter of less than ten seconds and he drives his fingers in as far as he possibly can and you let out a scream, moaning ngh ngh ngh in the same tune as his fingers fucking you.
You hope he'll let you get away with it because there was no humanly possible way any understandable words were going to come out of your mouth. The pressure on your walls finally breaks.
"G-Gonna cum." You say in the loudest voice possible, unable to keep it down even on request because of how good you felt and finally, he pulls his fingers out.
And when he does, you bite your bottom lip hard, feeling a sob escape from your throat as you clench around nothing. The pleasure that was so close to pushing you over the edge rescinds its ministrations, settling to the usual arousal that you had started with. Your hands bunch up the sheets you're laying on as you're openly crying, babbling and asking how? why? I wanna cum! oh so shamelessly.
"Didn't finish your sentence. Stop fucking crying." Luigi gives a slap to your cunt and you fall forward, sobbing quietly into the sheets before a hand pulls your hair back.
"Said stop f'ckin cryin' little cunt." Luigi gives another slap, this time landing straight on the pleasurable nub and you moan through the last cry you let out, panting and whining quietly as his grip on your hair tightens. "Save those tears for when I split you open baby." Luigi lets go, watching your head fall onto the bed and bounce as you lie there, helplessly waiting for him to use you. The ruined orgasm only makes you more restless, but you're forced to wait.
"Dya remember what ya wore?" Luigi asks, taking off your panties off, sick of keeping the gusset aside before quickly flipping you around so you're facing him. You scramble and cover your face, embarrassed at the way you knew you would look like in that moment, but he grabs them both before pinning them above you, licking a thick, wet stripe from your neck and into your mouth, devouring every single inch inside. The wetness makes you clench and he can tell, his bulge pressing against you between your legs.
"Tell me. Tell me if you want me to fuck you with this cock." Luigi says, unbuckling his jeans and your mouth nearly waters, surely to let drool spill if your head was turned either side. You nod before swallowing the spit, forcing yourself to focus and ignore the sensations of his dick and fingers touching you.
"Wore my light green p'jama set Lu." You speak in a disgustingly sweet voice, eager to please him as he takes in a deep breath, smiling while he exhales. "My pretty girl. You remember, huh? Good girl," he stops to take his cock out, hitting it against your stomach before he bends over and grabs your face with his other free hand.
"You want a reward for that? You want me to give you a treat for answering m' question?" Luigi shakes your head side to side and you feel the pressure of his fingers digging your soft flesh into your teeth and it really fucking hurts. Nevertheless, you're his pretty, slutty girl.
So you nod.
"Uh-huh." You answer, the best sound you're able to get across your forcibly puckered lips. He leans forward, grinding his cock painfully against the opposing curve of your sensitive cunt which makes you mewl, squirming against his towering figure. "Fuckin' words bitch. Use your fuckin' words." Luigi commands you with a mocking tone, pressing harder into your face. You eyes crinkle, like you're going to cry again because you couldn't. It was so hard to get words out when he was just fucking your face up with his fingers like this but you don't let yourself cry.
"Wan' a-mm- rewa-mm." You try your very best, watching Luigi's chest tighten as he coos. He leans back and lets go of your hands, which you keep there even after he stands back. You watch, admiring him in his full glory. His cock is standing up straight between his legs, deep red from restraining himself for so long and all he does is pull a chair from behind him, sitting down.
You sit yourself up on the bed, half naked as your top is still on. Your legs dangle over the edge as you stare at him unsure of what to do next. Your eyes are threatening to look to the side and look at his gun, but you don't dare to move your sight away. Your eyes were for his body only.
Nothing else.
"Top off." Luigi is curt, speaking with a rough voice and you get the sensation like he'd just rammed his length into you, fumbling and shaking to pull your top off which you finally manage. All that's left on your is your bra. A push-up, specifically, which is hiking your breasts up a half-inch higher. The padding is useless in hiding your hardened nipples, which his eyes are staring at.
You open your mouth to speak but his eyes immediately shift to yours, and you shut them instantly before a sound crosses and makes its way out.
"C'mere. No sounds." Luigi addresses the concern you had of voicing a question, which you now know not to ask since he just answered it for you. You stand up, shaking and playing with the hair strands that sit beautifully on your neck and breasts before you take a single step.
"Crawl." Luigi says, smirking at your reaction afterwards. Your eyes go wide and you feel humiliation cloud your conscience. Fuck, you barely knew this man but everything he said, everything he did made you want to obey because he knew best. He dominated you like he knew exactly where to hurt and help you because he knew.
You were just his dumb, little baby.
But something was far too humiliating about this. So you shake your head slowly, increasing the pace the angrier he got. You weren't trying to get him angry, you were just so embarrassed. Poor little thing.
But Luigi didn't have the same patience with you.
"No?" Luigi asks, giving you a single warning in his question. You stare at the orbs in his eyes, shaking even more as you so badly wanted to listen but couldn't handle the thought he'd make you crawl. You do what you shouldn't, shaking your head yet again.
He runs a hand through his hair before standing up and bending down to pick up his belt. You swallow, eyes widening even more as your they darted between him, his belt, and your feet. You keep your neck facing down before his fingers softly touch your shoulder.
You yelp and you realize that's a mistake because that hand freezes before coming up and giving a hard slap across your face.
His face is perfectly calm, like he hadn't done a single thing but this time, you can't stop the glossy eyes that stare at him. He uses his other hand, dragging the leather of the belt up your body and you slightly lean into him after every curve he hikes it over.
"I'll help you crawl baby since you wanna be such a little bitch, okay? Lu's gonna help you baby he's gonna help his brainless little bitch." Luigi whispers into your ear with a softness that entirely juxtaposes his words and you have nothing to do other than nod, gasping once the belt curves around your neck.
He steps back before pulling the length through the buckle. He stops, staring at your features which are looking back at him in fear, confusion, and arousal. The innocence and desire in your face are so pure he can't help but scare you more and more.
it takes less than a second before he snaps and pulls the belt so fast and so hard, you're choking in an instant. Like an expert, he places the small wedge through the hole which would keep the belt around your neck as tight as possible, giving less-than-needed wiggle room for you to breath.
He steps even further back before jamming his fingers between the belt and your neck, using space that doesn't exist before pulling you to the ground. You choke, falling to your knees, before coughing repeatedly. He's still standing and you realize how small you are in comparison to him. Your eyes helplessly glaze over the toned hamstrings that arch beautifully into his cock, which he's slowly running his hands over. Your breathing is rapidly increasing as you blink, trying to find a way to force the air down but you can't help but watch his abdomen tighten and squeeze in relation to his movement up and down his length. He lets his fingers slip out and grab the extra belt leather that was making the entire set-up akin to a leash, pulling it and what do you do?
You crawl like he had asked, breasts swinging side to side with every movement. You stopped once he let go, kneeling and exuding submission with every curve of your body.
"Open your mouth." Luigi says quietly but you freeze. Your neck was already restricted and now you had to take his cock? You stare, gulping at the thickness and realizing it was going to press hard against the belt around your neck. You gasp, shaking your head but he doesn't listen, placing the tip at your lips.
The precum has a distinct taste, which you gag at but still position yourself for perfectly, arching your back just enough.
"You're gonna take it anyway. If you ever say no again, I'm gonna leave okay sweetheart?" Luigi uses a cunning, manipulatively sweet voice and you, even worse, fall for it, nodding slowly as your lips lightly run over the tip, making him groan.
He pushes in at once, making you lurch back but it doesn't matter, because his hips come in to use that distance, now letting his cock abuse your throat. You feel its ridges abusing the soft flesh inside as he pulls back all the way.
His tip is at your lips again and you instantly cough, gag even, due to the force and he smiles, letting his finger rub your cheeks. He doesn't care though, because he forces himself back in and starts rocking his hips, drinking in the sounds of struggle that you make and adoring the squelch from your lips.
"F-Fuck baby. This is exactly what I wanted to do to you on call," he falters in his voice at first, but later becomes steady in his hips and words. His volume is even, like he isn't obliterating your throat right now. It's like his ears are deaf to the moans, the struggles, the deep-throated noises he's fucking both into and out of you. "I saw your bra poking up out of your silky fucking crop. I saw the way you were pulling it down every now and then. You wanted me to see. You wanted my hands on your tits," Luigi stops, bending down to grab a breast and slap it from below. It stings from the force and you lean forward, letting his cock settle farther into your throat.
"You were such a little exhibitionist the entire time and that's when I knew," Luigi continues pushing his hips harder and harder, the squelches and sounds becoming more distinct as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. "I had to do everything I could to get my hands on you and use you like the fucking rag you were. Fuckin' slut." His hand comes down, slapping you whenever the pleasure was exceptionally good, releasing the tension all across your body and skin.
"Touch yourself." Luigi whispers, not letting his voice shake despite how good you're doing. "I hacked into your computer and I got everything. I found every single call you had with every single person and your texts." He stops, smirking when he watched your fingers struggling to move around because of the force of his hips. He extends his foot forward before saying ride me softly and you immediately set your cunt down on his foot, humping them without any qualms and taking him deeper, feeling pride swell at the way his body was reacting.
"I heard you fucking yourself with those beautiful fingers, moaning my name. You're so fucking beautiful but," Luigi finally can't stop himself, letting his breaths get ragged as he got close. It definitely helped to hear you gagging, suffering under him. "If you ever try to leave, or mm- escape m-me, FUCK-" he falters before flexing his entire body, steeling himself before he cums. "If you ever try to leave I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you so bad you'll forget your name and chant mine like a fucking prayer."
His words are sick and twisted, but they ignite a new wave of pleasure that crashes so hard against your walls, you can't help but cum. He snickers, watching your eyes rolls back while whining, having to manage the feeling of him down your throat.
"You fucking like that. You like it when I control you baby? Huh? Fuckin' nasty aren't you? G'na fuckin' cum. Fuckin' swallow - fuck." Luigi slows down, stalling in your mouth before pulling out and letting himself spill all over your tongue. The white pearls shoot out, coating your tongue and you stare up at him, hair matted with sweat and eyes glossy from his brutal assault, but the hot, pulsing core of pleasure and arousal never dies down as your body keeps craving more of him.
Luigi pulls your jaw down before swiping his tongue inside, swallowing you while you swallow him. His fingers roam the rest of your body while you devour each other before he rubs his fingers on your clit. It's too fucking much and you can't handle it, but he places you still, one hand on your waist and hips while the other is pleasuring your overstimulated cunt.
Luigi snickers before he stops, watching you shiver and hug yourself, trying to cope with how everything feels. He grabs your neck, pulling you up like a limp rope and you grab the bed behind you before obeying, knees shaking and unable to hold your own body. "Ass up and face down. Gonna fuck you stupid baby." Luigi pushes you down into the bed, hand in your hair before he rubs his tip on your slick cunt, moaning himself at how desperate you were. "Your body was made for me and I'm gonna use it and you know what you're gonna do baby?" He pulls your head up, expecting an answer. You savor the pull, loving the pain coming from the strands of hair straining against your scalp.
"Gonna fuckin' take it." You reply, moaning when he pulls your hips and shoves himself inside, a movement done all at once and taking you through and back several stages of shock, pain, and pleasure all at once. The scream he provokes out of you makes him harden more, as you feel the curves of him settling inside you with greater opposition. In response, you clench.
"Fuck me Lu, fuck me fuck me fuck me-" you babble repeatedly and he does. He fucks you, matching the pattern of your chants and it feels like heaven, and true to his word, it feels like he's splitting you open. Exposing all your vulnerabilities.
He's tearing you to the very pieces you were most certainly made from.
He flips you around while he's still inside of your cunt before leaning down, hands on either side of your head before he jackhammers himself inside, drilling into you and you can feel cries of pleasure flowing out of you with fire and fury.
"Mouth." He says, and you instantly know what to do. You let your lips part, moaning un-ceased, before he's swirling his tongue around and he spits inside. Your eyes widen in response, aided by the particularly magnificent thrust which forces tears to your eyes, ones that he watches cascading down your pretty face. A hand comes to swipe away before he takes a taste, licking the same fingers.
"You taste and look good when you cry f-fuck baby." He stops before straightening out his back and pulling you closer, pushing himself deeper inside. It sends you screaming, back arching, letting your breasts present themselves to his lips, spilling out your bra which he rips off of your body. You gasp but get distracted at his coming moves.
He takes the opportunity to suck and kiss around the buds, not quite touching you where it matters most despite his sinful tongue just millimeters from them. It prompts you to beg, instead.
"Please Lu, fuck please suck on 'em please." Your voice is cracking, the pleasure making you sob your words out and he's so driven to make you feel good that he simply obliges, unable to stop the desire when he hears your pitiable and fuckable lips beg him so helplessly.
His teeth are kind, pulling and biting just enough to make you squirm, making the orgasm catch up with you fast. "Ever gonna leave me baby, hm?" Luigi asks, slowing down but aiming his thrusts, desperate to make you unravel beneath him. You shake your head, screams and sobs intertwined as you repeat yourself: no no no no no and Luigi nods in response before you stutter, voice all high-pitched and nearly squealing.
"Can I cum Lu can I can I can I- ngh - lemme cu-" for which he cuts you off, biting and pulling on a free bud and the agony of feeling your breast stretch away from your chest, dancing to the moves of his neck makes your toes curl as you scream his name, shaking violently around his cock.
His hands come down to your waist to keep you in place as you grab the sheets randomly, crying and sobbing, tasting your own tears on your tongue which he never misses a chance at tasting himself as he gives your cheeks a light slap before savoring your salty tears himself.
"My turn." Luigi stares into your eyes, before grabbing the belt that was still around your neck and drilling himself into you, and you realize you just might pass out.
You beg and beg, telling him it's too much.
"'S too much Lu-" You're wailing, but something about the way he takes you makes your body put up a fight and take what he's giving because it just feels too good.
Luigi, on the other hand, enjoys all of this. He wants to make the pleasure hurt. He wants to watch how pleasure makes you shiver and break down into your smallest, most vulnerable pieces. And that's exactly what he was doing and was planning to continue doing.
"Don' fuckin' care. Your tiny fucking cunt is leaking f'me. Gonna take it." Luigi grinds down into you at the end of the sentence and you're babbling, making incoherent sounds, thrashing on the bed. The sight makes him want to drown in this moment and relive it as much as he can. His hand free hand slides up to your mouth, shoving the fingers inside and he knows he fucking knows he's using your body to the max.
He gets closer and you can tell by the way his breaths get quicker and his abdomen squeezes, but you're losing focus from the lack of air. Colors are filling your vision but in all of it, you hear his voice.
"You always going to be mine. Physically," He thrusts once.
"Emotionally." He thrusts again.
"Indefinitely." He fucks you particularly hard this time and you feel your body going limp as he groans, cumming inside. You don't care what the consequences are because honestly... you aren't going to be awake by the time you find the ability to do so. He pulls out and notices how he's spent all of your energy and sanity.
His fingers trail up your body before threading into your hair, massaging the scalp lightly.
"Sleep tight baby. I'll be right here when you wake up." And that's the last thing you hear before your world goes black.
end.
~
@officialdilfenthusiast @mrsmangione286 @lolololagrey - tagging u cuz u commented or reblogged my first part... hope u enjoyed :)
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dannyboy-writes · 3 days ago
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Just some IV
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Helloo!! This is the end of this story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it and thank you so much for all the feedback it had :)
The sunlight coming from the window startled you, and you noticed Natasha standing by it, her back to you.
She had only just woken, or you had grown too used to her slipping out of your arms as you slept.
“Why are you up?” You asked, your voice straining at your throat.
She tensed, then relaxed. “I was thinking.”
“What?”
“It’s late.”
“By the way the light is coming in, yes." It was probably mid morning, Fury wasn't going to like the lost hours. "But you weren't thinking that." 
She smiled to herself, turning to look at you. "No, I wasn't."
You stretched your arms and back, still laying down. "What were you really thinking?" 
She shook her head, "It doesn't matter."
You weren't satisfied with her answer, but she continued nonetheless, "How's your nose?"
You sat up, “I've had worse."
She sat by you, toying with her fingers. Silent.
"How did you sleep?" You asked.
She sighed, "Fine for a while."
"And then?"
"I keep having nightmares," she admitted, your eyes focused on her.
Nightmares were common in your line of work, you grew used to them. Waking up in a cold sweat, hand in your gun or a knife. Throwing something nearby your hand in a reflex.
"What about?"
She bit her lip, staring at you. At your busted nose, and the stitches they had sewn in your eyebrow. Light violet bruise by your cheek and half your face lit with the sun.
The morning sunlight did wonders in your face. 
"You." She let out quickly. "You're in all my nightmares."
You furrowed your brows, "Wha- How? Why?"
"I'm terrified.”
”Of me?"
“For you.” Your eyes were so focused on hers she felt you would pierce through her. “I'm terrified of what could happen to you. Every night I dream something goes wrong, and every night I wake up panting thinking you're gone.
I've had them for so long now. First I thought they would go away, that one day I would just stop freaking out. Then I pushed you away because it was driving me crazy,” she smiled, “And that didn't work. At all. Now I was just worried but at a distance. And then I couldn't sleep anymore.”
You didn't speak.
"The night we fell asleep on the couch was the first real sleep I had in weeks. And that is not a comfy sofa," she chuckled.
She searched in your face for a hint of something, but you had always been hard to read. “Say something, please."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I- Thought it would be easier."
You shook your head in disbelief, pinching your nose softly, and you looked up at her.
Her hair fell on her face as she looked downwards some more, so you tilted her head up holding her cheeks. "I never wanted this to be over. It was your call." You put a hair strand behind her ear. "Is that still what you want, Nat?"
Her eyes found yours with determination this time. "No."
You kissed her deeply and she melted into you, desperate for your embrace. Your hands rustling her hair and pulling her closer to you. Not stopping to breathe. 
Her nose brushed yours and a pinch of pain went up your nerves, but you swallowed any whine that would come out. Her hands clasped tightly your face, not letting you go.
She pulled closer and closer to you and one movement put her nose too close to yours and you stopped in pain.
"I'm sorry." She stopped to look at you. 
“It’s fine.” You caressed her cheek. “I’m more than okay.” You smiled.
“Me too.”
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newtonsheffield · 1 day ago
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So do Kate and Anthony end up dating in the funeral au? Does Kate help him work through his grief
Imagine Kate who still can’t stop thinking about the cute guy who looked like he would burst into tears at any moment. She gets a lump in her throat just thinking about the way his grief was so clearly eating at him. She remembers the look from when Mary lost her Mum last year. She remembers the way she’d hear her mother crying, locked away in a room and Kate would slip inside and sit by the bed until her Dad got home from work. It’s not the same kind of grief but she recognizes it.
She thought about him all day yesterday. And here she is today, still thinking about him when her coworker clears her throat.
“There’s a guy looking for you.”
Kate stopped, “Is it my Dad?”
“I don’t think so.” She clicked her tongue. “Not unless your Dad is young and really fucking cute.”
She never expected to see Anthony again but there he is, with a crease between his eyebrows and his hands shoved in the pockets of his navy peacoat, raindrops in his hair.
“Hi, Anthony.”
He swallows thickly before he speaks. “Thank you for the flowers. That was very- That was kind.”
“It was the least I could do.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
“Did you need something else? Can I help you with-?”
“I can’t date right now.”
She’s a little stunned, but she’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a little. “Okay?”
“I like you.” He said quietly. “You’re very beautiful and I like you and you made me almost fucking smile on one of the worst days of my life but I can’t-. My Mum is a mess, I have brothers and sisters who need me and I’m… well, I wouldn’t be good for anyone right now.”
Kate nodded, “I get that.”
He swallowed again. “I can’t date you.”
She nodded slowly again, “can I buy you coffee on my lunch break? At one? There’s a shop down the street. It doesn’t have to be a date. You can sit across from me if you like and just not be alone.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I’d like that.”
“I’ll see you at one then.”
It’s months later, when Anthony turns to her one day with his brow furrowed while they’re sat in that very coffee shop and leans in to kiss her.
“I still probably shouldn’t date you.”
“Do it anyway though.”
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snickerer · 2 days ago
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I've started a Little Women inspired Azriel x Archeron!reader, if anyone is interested. This is my first time posting on Tumblr, so let me know if I'm missing something. I would love to hear your thoughts!
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After abruptly putting down your pencil, you scrutinize the man lazing across from you.  As your sketch lies abandoned in your lap, you notice that his hair is slightly mused.  Likely due to the autumn wind that signified summer slipping away.  
“When are you going back?”  You finally ask as worry begins to work its way into your chest.  You quickly shove it back down.
“Soon,” Azriel replies simply, and you can’t seem to stop the exasperated sigh that slips out.  
“You’ve been saying the same variation of that for the past month, Az.  I’m not sure if ‘soon’ qualifies as an answer at this point.”
“Short answers keep me from saying the wrong thing.”  
“Rhys has been expecting you for weeks.  Why not just go and save yourself  the trouble?”
“Perhaps I’m looking for trouble,” he offers while quirking an eyebrow.  Despite the slight smile creeping its way onto his face, his eyes are assessing.  You find yourself playing with the picnic basket in between both of you and glance down at the drawing in your lap.  
“You are the trouble,” you reply blandly.  
“I would only cause issues if I went.”  His words seem to linger in the air and seconds pass before Azriel decides to continue, “I’d be a burden.”  The last words come out raw, as if they had caught on a wound that had not been given proper time to heal.  
“You’re not a burden,” you reply firmly before you even realize what you were saying.  And you subconsciously shift closer to him on the blanket.  
“Then I suppose I should stay here and not burden you for a little while longer.”  You bite down on your lip to stop an unlady-like grin from lighting up your face. If your mother could see you now.  As a cooling shadow snakes its way up your arm, it is almost indistinguishable from the charcoal smeared along your skin.  Promptly, you take a moment to wipe off the charcoal enveloping your hands onto your dress- completely staining the pristine cerulean fabric.  
Azriel leans forward and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.  His hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he speaks again.  
“Honestly, I’m beginning to think that you enjoy my company,” Azriel adds.  You feel your eyes widen slightly at the comment and shift away from him.  As your eyes flicker across his face while you quickly distract yourself by picking up your sketch and getting back to work.  
“What are you doing?”  You ask, suddenly, not bothering to look up as a wave of annoyance flares up in you.  
“Looking at you.”
“No, I mean what are you doing?”  You ask again and try to push down the bubbling anger that was threatening to rise to the surface.  Your brows furrow as you add, “You can’t avoid them forever.  They’re your family.”  
“What do you want me to do?” 
“This isn’t about what I want, Az.” You bite back.  Then, taking a long pause to rub your temples soothingly at the aching pain before continuing, “But you should go home.  Work.  Do something with yourself.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to tell me what to do,” he responds.  Azriel’s face was more guarded than before.  More conflicted too, if you were to wager a guess.  
“I never said that.  I said this isn’t about what I want.”  You answer as a wave of guilt begins to build.  Were you too harsh?  Your eyes lock as you study each other and the air around you begins to grow tense.  
“Here.”  You say, breaking the silence, and hold out your sketch to him. 
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faeriesandfolklore · 2 days ago
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A war between your mortal kingdom and the faerie kingdom beyond the veil, having gone on for decades. When you were born, a mark was placed on your wrist to help identify your body if you were to be found in the faerie woods. For your entire life, you have lived in fear, looking from your cottage as the boys of your village go off to fight the fae. 
But still, life must go on. Each day you go to the apple orchard outside of town to work and gather fruits for your stores. It’s a long, quiet walk. It’s peaceful as well, when you do not think of the dangers lurking beyond the wall at the edge of the village. But they rarely come to the orchard. They rarely go beyond the wall. 
Until today, it seems. For as soon as you enter the copse of trees, a strong arm grabs you, the tingle of bells filling your ear as you fight exhaustion. Then, darkness. 
When you wake again you can see a tall, slender figure peering down at you. Dark brown skin, long hair that brushes his waist, eyes that shimmer a pale yellow in the moonlight. And when he smiles, it is almost canine, smooth and dangerous. 
“What do you want from me?” you protest, stumbling to your feet. You are not tied back at all- in fact, the room you are in is extravagant, with an ebony bedpost and marble floors, flames glinting in their sconces. And the man before you is well put together, his jacket made of an expensive fabric, fingers adorned with golden rings. 
The man sits at the edge of the bed, lounging out like a lazy cat. “You see, little mortal… With the war going on, we have not been able to partake in our most important tradition.” His eyes flash, then, a sharp shade of gold. “Do you know what I speak of?”
Of course you do. You have read the stories. The old books, pages worn and ripped. Maidens being whisked from their beds and carried off to the otherworld. Beautiful youths lured into the darkness of the forest, never to be seen again. The reason for the war was simple- the humans no longer wished to provide their daughters as brides for the faeries. 
But that did not stop them from being taken, now. 
“So what is why I am here?” You laugh softly, almost disbelieving. It is almost comical, the thought of a farmer’s daughter being taken in as the bride for some faerie noble. “To be a bride?”
The man leans in, his voice low as he takes your chin into his hands. He tilts your head back, staring down at you with an intense look. “Tell me, what do you have waiting for you in that… Village? An orchard? Burlap dresses? The fear of being overtaken by our troops day after day?”
Your stomach churns. He is not wrong. Life in the village had been dim since childhood, filled with fear and hour after hour of work to keep everyone alive. Your eyes roam down to the mark on your wrist- there since birth. A constant reminder of what could be lost, day after day. It would be lovely to not have to worry. 
He runs his fingers down your collarbone, softly cradling your throat. His eyes look down at you again, almost pitying. “You would want for nothing here, with me. My lands are vast.” He guides you to the window, overlooking a grand garden, filled with bright flowers and winding paths. Beyond the gate lie miles and miles of meadowland, thick with heather and deer grazing. “My stores are full. You would wear the prettiest gowns, have maids to serve your every whim.”
It is dizzying, the thought of it. He loops an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, peering down at you with that slightly unsettling look. He is a faerie lord, based on his estate. You can taste the magic surrounding him, heavy in the air. But there is also a sharp, almost devastating sense of allure. It all sounds too good to be true. 
But gods, you want to say yes. The few faerie brides who made their way back to the village always spoke of full plates and lives of luxury, wanting for nothing. That could be yours, could it not?
So when he presses his lips to your hand, eyes hazy with desire, you know your answer.
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Request: hellooo! could you please write one where dean and sam are having their usual arguments but the sister is so sick of their shit, tried to tell them to get a grip and they come to their senses. but then flash forward the boys are ACTUALLY fighting, like throwing punches, and she gets caught by one of them? thanks, love your work!! <3
A/N: Hiiiiii!!! Thank you so much. I love this request and I hope I wrote it in a way you were imagining. If not, send me another request! As always requests are open. You can request anything you want, even if it’s something I’ve already written. Thanks everyone!!
Sam and Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader
I stood at the edge of the living room, eyes fixed on the familiar scene unfolding in front of me. Dean’s voice was as sharp as ever, cutting through the thick air of tension. The words were bitter, like venom spilling out of his mouth, each sentence more loaded than the last.
“Sam, you don’t get it. We don’t have the luxury of time. People are dying out there!”
I watched Sam, his jaw clenched, his posture rigid with barely contained fury. He leaned forward, hands planted firmly on the table between them. “You’re acting like we’re invincible, Dean! Like we don’t need a plan—like we can’t think through this!”
The frustration in Sam’s voice echoed in my chest like a drumbeat. But the thing that had finally snapped my restraint wasn’t their words—it was the way their anger was bleeding into everything. Every argument. Every conversation. It was relentless, a storm that never seemed to stop. I had been trying to hold onto whatever semblance of peace I could, but today… today I couldn’t take it anymore.
I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, that familiar surge of adrenaline clawing up my spine as I paced around the room, eyes darting from one brother to the other. My hands trembled by my sides, but it wasn’t just from the anger. It was the heartbreak—the exhaustion.
It had been happening for weeks. Every day, every single fight felt like it was tearing us apart. The same stupid arguments. The same stubbornness. And it wasn’t even about the monsters anymore. It was about us. The Winchesters. Our family.
And I was sick of it.
“Enough.” My voice cut through their bickering like a knife. The room froze in an instant.
Dean’s eyes snapped to me, that familiar scowl on his face as he straightened up from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “Y/N, don’t—”
“No,” I interrupted, my voice shaking, but this time with raw emotion. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. You two are tearing me apart.” I stepped forward, my chest tight with the weight of what I was about to say. “Every time you fight, it’s hurting everyone around you. Do you even see that? Do you realize what it’s doing to me?”
Dean’s expression faltered for a split second, but it was gone just as quickly, his jaw setting again, like a wall coming down. Sam, too, was silent, his eyes fixed on me, but I could see the flicker of guilt in his gaze.
I felt the tears pricking behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. “I’m your sister, goddamn it. And every time you fight, it feels like I’m invisible. Like I’m just the collateral damage. It’s not just your war anymore, okay? It’s all of ours. But I’m the one stuck in the middle, cleaning up the mess. And I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.”
My voice cracked with the last words, the weight of the admission crashing over me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding in until it all came pouring out. The years of trying to keep things together. The endless struggles. But this—this constant fighting, the endless cycle of hate and misunderstanding—was the last straw.
Sam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, I turned and stormed out of the room, unable to look at either of them. I couldn’t. I needed to get away. The walls were closing in. I ran to my room and I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the hallway. The cool, dim light of my room offered no comfort. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my hands. The tears I had been fighting for so long finally broke free, each one a painful reminder of how far we’d fallen.
I wasn’t sure how long I had been lying there, the muffled voices of my brothers drifting from the living room, distant and eventually fading into silence. For a moment, I allowed myself to hope they’d finally come to their senses. The tension in the air lifted, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief. I rolled over, searching for something to occupy my mind, anything to fill the quiet space between the cracks of everything left unsaid.
It felt peaceful—finally.
And then it didn’t.
A thud. A grunt. A crash. The unmistakable sounds of a fight.
My heart dropped. I knew what it was. It wasn’t the first time.
I shot out of bed, adrenaline surging through me. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as I sprinted down the hallway. Every step felt like it was dragging me deeper into the chaos that had consumed our family. I didn’t care if I was still raw from the argument. I didn’t care if my own heart was shattered.
I pushed through the door, eyes wide, breath ragged. Dean and Sam were on the floor, fists flying, faces twisted in rage.
"Stop!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and desperate.
But they didn’t stop. They didn’t even look up. Sam’s fist connect with Dean’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. And then Dean retaliated, throwing his own punch, and for a split second, I watched in horror as they both swung at each other, neither one holding back.
“No! Stop! Please, stop!” My voice cracked as I rushed forward, desperate to break it up, but I wasn’t fast enough.
They continued to swing, and this time one of their fists caught me by accident. The world around me seemed to slow down in that moment. The knuckles collided with the side of my face, and everything went black for an instant. I felt my body hit the floor with a sickening thud, the sharp pain in my head drowning out everything else.
Blood filled my mouth, and I could taste the metallic tang of it. I gasped for air, but it felt like the room was spinning. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. My body was too heavy, too overwhelmed with pain.
Tears stung my eyes as I lay on the floor, blood dripping from my lips. I couldn’t believe it—couldn’t understand how we’d gotten to this point. How we—we—had let things get so bad.
“Y/N!” Dean’s voice shattered through the haze. He dropped down next to me, panic overtaking his features. “Shit… kid, don’t move. Don’t move, okay? You’re gonna need stitches.”
But I couldn’t hear him. My mind was clouded, my vision fading. I choked back another sob, my hands instinctively reaching up to touch the fresh wound on my face. The pain was blinding. I felt myself shaking violently, my body not able to handle the weight of it all—the physical pain, the emotional pain, the betrayal of it all.
“Why?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. I turned my head to look at them, but my vision was swimming with tears. “Why do you keep doing this? You’re brothers. You’re supposed to protect each other. Look at me! Look at what you’ve done to me!”
Dean looked as if he had been slapped, his face pale and guilt-ridden, his lips trembling with words he couldn’t form. Sam, who had been hovering in the background, now moved forward slowly, his hands trembling as he knelt beside me.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said quietly, his voice cracked with emotion. He reached for my hand, but I yanked it away.
“I don’t want your apology!” I screamed through the blood in my mouth, the words raw and painful. “I don’t want anything from you right now. I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Sam looked like he was about to say something, but I was already staggering to my feet, my vision still blurry, my head spinning.
“No, you’re not helping!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix myself.” And with that, I rushed toward the bathroom, my legs unsteady beneath me, my heart pounding with each step.
I slammed the door behind me, locking it before either of them could follow. I couldn’t let them fix it. Not yet. Not when they were still at war with each other. I had to do it myself.
I grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the supplies. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I wasn’t sure I could even see straight through the tears and dizziness that clouded my vision, but I couldn’t stop. I had to fix it. I had to fix myself.
I dug the needle from the kit, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold onto it. not even registering the pain as I pressed it into my skin. I was too dizzy to see straight, too lost in my pain to think clearly. The needle jabbed into my skin, but the agony of it was nothing compared to the emotional ache. My hands were shaking uncontrollably now, the stitches coming out uneven and jagged. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the wound, couldn’t tell where I was supposed to stitch, but I pushed through the agony anyway, my body wracked with sobs. Every breath felt like it was going to tear me apart.
“Y/N, open the door,” I heard Dean’s voice from the other side, pleading. “Please. Please, we’re so sorry.”
“I don’t care!” I screamed through the door, the words strangled by tears. “You should’ve cared before! You should’ve seen what this was doing to me! To all of us!” You whimpered before slammed your hand down on the bathroom sink. “Our fucking family!”
The sobs wracked my body, my chest tightening with every breath. The blood dripped steadily from my lip, staining my shirt and the bathroom counter. I felt myself getting weaker by the second.
“We’re so sorry. Please let us help,” Sam’s voice came through the door, soft, desperate. “Let us help you, bug.” His voice was quiet, gentle, and broken.
“I don’t want your help!” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I wanted you to stop fighting! I wanted you to care about me. About us.”
But the pain was too much. The dizziness too overwhelming. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I still fought, pressing the needle into my skin.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Both of them rushed in, their faces stricken with horror at the sight of me, hunched over the sink, blood staining the bathroom floor. Dean moved toward me, but I pulled away, backing into the corner.
“I told you,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice ragged with exhaustion, “I don’t want your help.” The words felt like sandpaper scraping against my throat. Maybe I was scared. Scared of how much this had gotten out of control. Scared of how much I’d let it tear me apart.
Dean’s expression twisted in anguish, and for a moment, I saw it. The guilt. The understanding that this was bigger than a typical fight. That I wasn’t just angry—I was devastated.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, the movement quick, but careful. His eyes locked on mine, full of regret, the weight of it pressing down on us both. He reached for me slowly, his hand hovering near my face. "We didn’t mean for it to get this bad, Y/N. We just…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as if the words were too difficult to say. "We didn’t know how to stop."
I felt the tears coming again, but this time, it was different. They weren’t angry, not fiery and sharp like before. This was something quieter, deeper. The rage had burned itself out, leaving only aching sorrow in its wake.
“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a broken breath, “But… you can’t fix it with more pain.” My chest tightened with each word, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a storm I couldn’t outrun.
Sam’s face crumpled at my words, and I saw his jaw tighten as he stepped forward, his eyes darting from my blood-streaked face to the needle still clenched tightly in my hand. His hands shook as he reached for it, and when his fingers brushed against mine, I flinched, my body wracked with a fresh wave of pain.
“Y/N, please.” His voice broke through my haze of pain, gentle but firm. "Let me do it.”
I felt the sting of the needle being pried from my hand. For a moment, I wanted to pull it back, to insist I could finish it myself, but then I saw Sam’s face. The look of terror in his eyes. He knew me. He knew I didn’t do this. I didn’t stitch myself up—they always did that for me. Always. The realization hit him hard, the understanding that I had reached a point where I couldn’t rely on them, not even when things got this bad. And it was that look of pain in his eyes, that unspoken hurt, that made everything feel even worse.
Sam grimaced when he saw the uneven, jagged stitches I’d attempted—some parts too tight, others barely holding together. The pain from them was unbearable, but it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at me. It was the fact that I had been forced to do this alone. That I couldn’t trust them to see the full extent of what I was feeling.
He exhaled sharply and immediately set to work, pulling the needle through my skin with slow, meticulous care. My body tensed in response, and I couldn’t help but whimper as the needle pierced me again. The pain was excruciating, a deep, fiery throb that seemed to echo in every bone, every muscle.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Sam murmured, his voice so soothing it felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve got you.” But the words didn’t make the pain go away.
I felt every movement of the needle, every tug of the thread, and the sheer agony of it made my whole body quake. It was like he was stitching up my heart with every pull, each stitch a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The tears kept coming, hot and bitter, spilling down my cheeks without my permission.
Dean moved in closer, his hand brushing my hair out of my face, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. His fingers were gentle as they touched me—like he was scared I might shatter under his touch. I was shattering though, all around the edges.
“I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured, his voice low and raw, barely audible above the pounding in my head. “We never should’ve let it get this far. I didn’t see what we were doing to you, Y/N. We didn’t see how bad it was.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold onto the last shred of control I had left. The pain from the stitches was bad—so bad—but what hurt more was hearing the pain in his voice. Dean wasn’t supposed to sound like this. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who fixed things. But now? Now, he was just as broken as I was.
“It’s not just the fights,” I whispered between sobs, my voice tight with the effort of speaking through the agony. “It’s everything. It’s how we’ve been falling apart for so long, and you didn’t even see it.”
Sam’s hands were steady, but his expression was pained, and I could see the way his jaw clenched as he worked, each stitch a slow promise that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. But it didn’t stop the pain. The physical pain, the emotional pain. It didn’t stop me from feeling like I was drowning in it.
Dean leaned closer, his breath soft against my ear. “We’re here now, Y/N. We’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna fix us.”
I could feel his words, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe them. I wasn’t sure if any of us could ever fix what was broken. Not completely.
But Sam’s careful hands were still stitching, and Dean was still here, his hand resting on my shoulder now, providing the smallest bit of comfort as I cried. The pain from the stitches was blinding, but somehow, through it, I could hear them. They were here. They were trying.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said again, his voice breaking. He was almost finished now, his hands trembling slightly as he worked the last stitch into place. “We didn’t see how much we were hurting you. But we will fix this. I swear. You’re not alone in this.”
The last stitch pulled tight, and the pain that followed was sharp, but brief. I let out a sob, my body trembling from the aftermath of it. Sam gently pressed a bandage to the wound, his hands now much more careful, but still steady.
Dean’s voice came again, quieter now, more vulnerable. “We see it now, kid. Everything is better when we’re in this together. We’re a team and we have to stay that way.”
And that—just that—felt like it was enough, for now.
Later, I sat on the couch, the bandage tight across my side. Sam was beside me, and Dean was sitting on the other side, his hand resting on the back of the couch as if to remind me he was there. We weren’t talking much. There was nothing really to say. Not yet. But somehow, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating as it used to. It was a quiet that was filled with understanding—the beginning of healing.
I leaned back into the couch, my head resting on the cushion. I wasn’t fixed. We weren’t fixed. But we were trying. And that was enough for tonight.
We were family. Even if we had to rebuild, piece by piece. We would make it through this. Together.
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arannellahowlett · 15 hours ago
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Bruised and Bloody
Note: Who is ready for some Simon Riley angst? I fear he's vastly ooc...my apologies. Part 2 if people like it?
Warnings: angst, mentions of past abuse, Simon Riley hating himself
Summary: Y/N Riley wakes up alone in bed and wondering where her husband is, he's having a rough night and needs some reassurance.
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Simon Riley was a complicated man, with a complicated past and most of it was unpleasant. During the day it was easy to keep the memories at bay, he kept himself busy, either on missions, training or with his wife Y/N. Nighttime was the worst. It was during the night that he often found himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling for hours on end as his memories poured, from missions gone bad, all the way back to his childhood. And they were vivid, so much so that he swore he could touch, feel and smell what was happening. There was a sadness which as the night wore on would turn into anger and sometimes fear. It was particularly bad on the nights immediately after returning from assignments. Tonight was one of those nights.
Y/N rolled over in her sleep, reaching for him to cuddle into his side, she was cold, and he was a furnace…except he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed was cold. She blinked rapidly, clearing the fog from her brain and letting her eyes focus and looking at the clock, just after 3 am.  Sure enough, he was gone, and she knew exactly where he would be. She swung her legs out of the bed, pulled on the pair of socks she had thrown on the floor before bed and grabbed Simon’s hoodie from the bottom of the bed, putting it on, it was so big that it covered her knees. Quietly, she made her way downstairs, bypassing the living room and heading directly for their basement. Before she even reached the stairs, she could hear him grunting and the rapid thumping of his fists violently attacking the punching bag he had set up ages ago.
As Y/N made it halfway down the stairs she could see he was sweating, Y/N could see it dripping off his bare back. She could tell he’d been down here for hours just by how exhausted he looked. She could also see that he hadn’t wrapped his hands first, something she’d begged him to do repeatedly. He often said that he was a broken man, a cold-hearted one, all Y/N saw though was a man who needed to be comforted and loved, and she was more than happy to provide it.
Y/N watched him for a few minutes, he had no idea that she was there, completely lost in his desire to beat the absolute hell out of the punching bag. If he was just down here working, Y/N would think it was hot, the mix of strikes, jabs and everything else he is doing, the sight of him without a shirt alone would do her in…But Simon was clearly having a bad night, the sounds of his hands hitting the leather getting louder and more rapid. Y/N had to get him to stop before he hurt himself.
Y/N sighed quietly, knowing better than to startle him. That had happened once and only once, and it had not been pretty. She stayed back by the stairs before finally speaking up, just loud enough that she knew he would hear her.
“Simon? Come back to bed. Please?” She watched Simon freeze in place, his breathing heavy and ragged, fist remaining in the air as he’d been mid-punch, Y/N could already tell that his knuckles were going to be bruised from the relentless abuse Simon had inflicted. He took a deep breath before turning his head to look at Y/N with a look that could only be a mixture of anger, exhaustion and a hint of fear. He didn’t say a word but lowered his hand.
 Y/N took his pause as permission to creep forward, moving slowly towards him before wrapping her arms around him from behind. “You okay?” She asked, her hands resting on his stomach. She felt the muscles tense under her touch, but he didn’t protest or remove them. Y/N’s warmth was comforting against his back. A light in his darkness.
He didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to let silence pass between them before finally answering. “No,” he admitted, his voice lower and hoarser than it usually was. Y/N squeezed him gently, he was being honest tonight, that was a good sign.
“Okay. What can I do to help?” she asked softly. Normally, Simon would say there wasn’t anything she could do, that he was fine, and he was just blowing off steam.
Tonight however, Simon leaned back into Y/N’s embrace, his shoulders relaxing under her touch and he let out a sigh, his exhausted seeping into his voice. “I…don’t know. “He started. “I just need…” He trailed off, he didn’t know how to put into words what he needed, he wasn’t used to expressing when he needed something/ His tough exterior hid his feelings well but in the rare moments like tonight he would allow the cracks in his armor show, but only for Y/N.
Y/N could feel the weight of his emotions, the struggle of a man who had spent most of his life burying his trauma and pain under a normally stoic demeanor. It had always been hard for him to open to people, here right now in the early hours of the morning he was letting his guard slip. He continued to lean against Y/N, seeking comfort in her embrace and craving the connection and comfort that only she could provide him.
Without letting go of him, Y/N maneuvered herself around him so that she was facing him. Slowly she traced her fingers up to his stomach, to his chest and finally rested them on his shoulders, or as well as she could, considering how small she was compared to his 6’4 frame.
 Simon’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his eyes distant and unfocused. In her new position, Y/N could read his face more clearly, his brows were furrowed, and his lips were in a thin line, his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t move away though, instead he leaned into her touch, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out and hold her but held himself back. Y/N trailed one hand down his right arm, all the way until she reached his hand, gently lifting it to inspect the damage.
 She tsked as she saw the angry cracks, blood and bruising of his knuckles. Caressing them gently she looked up at him sadly. “Baby, I really wish you’d at least wrap your hands…”
Simon watched her with careful eyes, wincing slightly as her fingers ran over the sore spots. He knew he’d done this to himself, again, continuing his self-destructive pattern that they both knew so well.
“I know,” He mumbled, his voice sounding raw and gruff. “I just…needed to feel something, anything, just something I could control.” He tried to pull his hand back, not wanting her to see the true extent of the damage he’d caused to himself.
Y/N shook her head. “Please don’t hide from me Simon.”
She watched as his jaw clenched, resignation and frustration clear on his face. He knew she was the last person he should hide from, but the fear of opening and being vulnerable, even to his wife, made him want to make a quick retreat. However, he allowed her to continue inspecting his hand, rough and callused, his hands were a testament to his military career and the battles fought both on and off the battlefield.
Y/N brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles gently before letting go and reaching for his left. She sighed when she saw that he had left his wedding ring on, if his knuckles were anymore swollen, she would have been concerned that it would have to be cut off. She caressed his left hand the same way she had done the right, before kissing it and leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers moving to play in his short brown hair.
“I wish you trusted me enough to come to me on nights like this Simon, I can help. I know it’s hard and you’re stubborn, but I love you.” She said softly to him.
Simon shook his head. “I trust you,” He whispered, a slight crack in his voice. “I just…I can’t lay this all on you Sunshine. I won’t burden you.”
Y/N smiled softly at him. “It’s not a burden Si, I’m your wife, for better or for worse.”
Simon’s eyes met hers, conflict and pain fading from his gaze. Y/N always understood and accepted him, which only made him love her more, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt for putting her through his often turbulent moods. His large hands moved to her hips, holding her close as if he was scared, she’d disappear. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.” His jaw was tense and his grip on her hips tightened, seeking some kind of reassurance from her. The vulnerability in his eye betrayed the usual façade of strength that he wore as a second skin.
Y/N gripped his arms, staring directly into his shining eyes. “You aren’t going to hurt me, and you certainly aren’t going to lose me. You are stuck with me Simon Riley, in this lifetime and all others.” She promised softly.
Simon was never the sentimental type, but her words struck a chord deep within him. He pulled her closer, his large arms wrapping around her waist tightly as he buried his face in her neck taking a shaky breath and surrounding himself with her warmth like a safe haven. She could barely hear it but she froze when he heard him whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”
Her heart broke a little, it wasn’t the first time that he’d said it, but it was the first time she was letting him know that she heard it. “Simon, I want you to listen to me and listen good yeah?” I moved one hand to card through his hair. “You deserve the world, you deserve to be loved, you deserve to be happy. I don’t care what your bastard of a father told you when you were a kid.”
She watched him close his eyes. “But I’m broken love.” He murmured. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve seen…You should be running for the hills.”
Y/N sighed sadly, tugging on his hand and leading him to the bench along the wall. “Sit, you’re too tall for me to do this standing.”
He did as she asked, his body was too tired and aching after his latest mission and now having beat the hell out of the punching bag for hours. Once he was seated, Y/N moved to stand between his thighs, resting her hands on his shoulders. Simon looked up at her, just waiting.
“You are not broken Simon, a little rough around the edges, but not broken.” I murmured. “I will always want you Simon, please never doubt that. You have seen terrible things and gone through so much bad shit. But you’ve also spent your entire life trying to help people. You have saved thousands of lives and get no thanks for it. That takes an incredibly special kind of person.”
Y/N could see him readying himself to argue so she cut him off. “You are my everything Simon, I would be lost without you, and I will spend every day making sure that you know it.”
Simon’s features softened and he reached up to pull her hands off his shoulders so that he could hold them. He had spent so long believing that he didn’t deserve to be loved, but Y/N’s unwavering devotion was a constant in his life now, even after 5 years together it surprised him. His grip tightened, his calloused fingers intertwined with her much smaller and softer one, he pulled her close so that he could embrace her fully.
 “Damn it, I really don’t deserve you, Sunshine.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotions.
 Y/N rolled her eyes and snorted.  “I believe was just went over this, you do, and I will not accept that you don’t, you stubborn man. I can be stubborn too you know.”
Simon let out a soft chuckle. He knew her too well and her stubbornness when it came to him was unyielding. He leaned his forehead against her stomach, a deep sigh escaping him. “If only the world knew how stubborn my wife is.”
She smiled down at him, with one hand moving to his hair. “I have to be to be able to handle you.”
Simon’s eyes closed as he leaned against her, simply enjoying the closeness. He opened them again when she tugged on his hair gently. “Come on Si, let’s go to bed.”
He was exhausted and released the grip he had around her waist, and with a tired smile he nodded, letting her pull him up before he took her hand and led her up the basement stairs before taking the next set of stairs to the bedroom. The walk was slow and silent, Simon’s body was weary, his usual confident stride replaced with a sluggish pace. Once in the bedroom he lowered himself slowly onto the bed, groaning as he did.
Y/N watched carefully, his normally sharp and alert gaze was weighed down by physical and mental fatigue. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with movement. His gaze turned to hers and he patted the spot beside him. “Come on love,”
Y/N slid under the covers with him, immediately settling into his arms, head on his chest, his wrapped around her back. She started drawing small patterns on his chest with her finger. “Si?”
He turned his head to look at her in the darkness, just barely making out the shape of her. “Yes love?” he asked with a squeeze of his arm.
“I love you.”
She felt Simon immediately relax. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned just enough to press a gentle kiss onto her lips. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than you could ever imagine.”
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grimmweepers · 15 hours ago
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— ★ contents: dottore x gn!reader. DARK CONTENT AHEAD. DUBCON. degradation. humiliation. masturbation (dottore). boot licking. his shoe on your head. dom/sub dynamics. yandere themes. light choking. no sex. reader has no dialogue. just mean mean dottore. 0.8k. | MDNI. 18+ ONLY | masterlist
( inspired by this art )
Your mother always told you to be careful of the choices you made in life.
“The world is not as kind as you are,” she’d say, thumbing your cheek as though the action itself could shield you from everything cruel.
She would've never approved of leaving home to work for someone like Dottore. Stories of the Harbingers were infamous enough to bleed across their nation's borders and there was no doubt that beneath the surface lay tales far worse than what meets the eye. 
Yet there was no stopping you. Not when he dangled promises in front of you like a forbidden fruit too sweet to resist. “Imagine what you could accomplish under me,” he’d said as if he wasn’t going to trample all your rights in the future.
And you, foolish and full of ambition, had leaped at the chance.
If your mother could see you now…
The thought lingered like a bitter aftertaste as you knelt on the cold, sterile floor of his laboratory. Your cheek pressed against the smooth leather of Dottore’s boot and the weight of it on your head sent a sliver of shame down your spine. 
“You left everything behind to be here,” he mused as he adjusted the angle of his foot. “Tell me, was it worth it?”
You wanted to say no. To scream it, actually. But you felt like you were choking on the consequences of your own choices and worse yet, the humiliation didn’t feel as humiliating as it should’ve been. That part was worrying. 
He tilted his head at you, “Not so talkative now, are we?” His gloved hand reached down, tracing along your jaw before sliding back to clutch his own arousal.
“Pathetic,” he sneered. The toe of his boot nudged your chin, forcing your head upward. “Look at me when I speak to you.”
The intensity of his crimson eyes burned into you, setting fire to whatever shreds of dignity you had left. You wondered what your mother would think if she saw you reduced to this. 
“You’ve been testing my patience lately,” he continued, almost conversationally, as if he weren’t holding you down with his foot. “But I think you like being punished. Isn’t that right?”
“I—” you stammered, but his boot pressed down, silencing you. But even as shame curled in your stomach, you hated the spark of heat that flickered beneath it. 
“Don’t speak,” he ordered. “I’m not interested in excuses.”
“You’ll write to your mother eventually, won’t you?” he mocked you with a grin. “What will you tell her? That you’ve found your purpose? That you’ve devoted yourself to something... meaningful?” A deep hum of pleasure escaped his lips as he palmed his growing bulge, relishing in the poor sight of you.
Within a second, he answered for you first. “Ah, no. That’s not quite right. You haven’t accomplished anything yet...” Dottore chuckled. “But you could. All it takes is for you to follow my lead which, frankly, you’ve been failing at.” 
“W—” He cut off your protest before it could even form.
The pressure increased. “I said don’t speak,” he snapped. “If you want to prove yourself, use that tongue for something worthwhile.”
He lifted his boot slightly, the toe brushing against your lips. Hesitant, you let your tongue dart out, licking at the leather. A small string of saliva ran down your chin, but you didn’t stop. You lapped at the boot like your life depended on it, the bitterness of the polish staining your tongue.
Above you, Dottore hummed again as his hand slid to his belt, the sound of his unbuckling loud in the silence of the room. He began to stroke himself through the confines, where it was twitching terribly as if your tongue was on the real thing. “See…” He groaned softly, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock through the fabric. “Obediency suits you.”
A heavy knot coiled deep inside you, warring with something far more sinister that made the area between your legs clench and ache.
The boot slowly withdrew, leaving your lips tingling. As Dottore suddenly crouched down, his gloved hand gripped your chin to examine your flushed face. His touch was deceptively warm, a stark difference from the icy daggers in his glare. 
“You’ll do more for me, won’t you?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. It felt familiar to your mother's touch, only this time the hand that held you came from everything she tried to protect you from.
Since the memory of his prior reprimands kept you silent, you remembered to nod your answer this time.
“Good,” he gave you a type of smile that made your gut churn. Your breath quickened as his hand slid lower, his fingers wrapping lightly around your throat. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Good,” he repeated. His grin widened as he saw the conflict in your eyes—the shame, the desire, the submission.
“Now strip,” he demanded, leaving no room for argument. “And get on the examination table.” 
If your mother could see you now, she’d weep for the person you’d become. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could weep with her.
You had chosen this.
And now, you were his to be studied under his ever watchful eye, molded into something you shouldn’t admit you craved.
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divider: @/adornedwithlight
I HOPE ITS OK TO TAG YOU IK IVE BEEN TEASING YOU ABOUT IT FOR SOME TIME @unriding >:)
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