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blackynsupremacy · 2 days ago

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MISSING YOU

pairing: smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

summary: your good friend, clark kent, is there for you after you experience a major loss.

contains: fluff, sensitive topics, heavy angst, mention of cancer, mention of death, coping mechanisms, based on true events, crying, self insert, grief, sadness, hugging, a kiss on the cheek, you can imagine this with any comfort character tbh.

a/n: hey, guys! i just want to say thank you all for the love, support, and condolences. it means a lot. this blurb does contain material that has happened to me irl and i’m writing as a way to cope with the recent loss of a family member that i was really close with, so please be kind. fun fact: my grandma actually used to play pac-man dowwwn and win. it was a memory that popped up while people were visiting after she died. if this is a sensitive topic for you, please DO NOT READ! requests are coming in slower than usual, so that’s why they’re closed. btw, fuck cancer.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @oliviaambs @artyandink @dulcescorderitas @ellethespaceunicorn

“thank you so much for coming, martha.” your mother commended with a sad smile as she took the dessert plate from martha kent’s hands who then brings her in for a warm, sympathetic embrace. clark and jonathan stood behind the women before their gaze shifted to the rest of your relatives and friends that were gathered at your grandmother’s house.

“i’m so sorry for your loss, dear.” martha whispered, her hand rubbing your mother’s back in a comforting caress. with a soft “thank you”, her and your mother pulled away from the hug before she’s greeted with hugs and condolences from the rest of the kent family. after she invites them all inside, she holds clark back by the front door.

“if you need to find y/n, she’s upstairs in my mama’s room—she’s been in there for a while. you’re her good friend, clark. perhaps, you can talk to her?” your mother’s pleading brown gaze matched his sincere baby blues. your mother was right after all, ever since you were kids, you and clark had been thick as thieves by hanging out in the loft, studying at the talon, solving the bizarre mysteries of smallville, and so much more, but things started to shift when your grandmother’s cancer had returned. her declining health condition rendered you distracted from your studies and friends as you made as much time as you could help take care of her while she was in hospice care. you spent time and took care of her as she did for you and others for most of your life. it all came crashing down when your aunt and cousin were watching her, assuming she was sleeping before she opened her eyes and took five shallow deep breaths until there was no more left to let go.

it was your responsibility to call the nurse, your hands and voice quivering as you informed her that your grandmother was unresponsive. your heart pounded in your chest, uncertain whether hers had stopped as well. thirty agonizing minutes had passed as your relatives, such as your brother, aunt, and uncle, came to assess the situation. the nurse had arrived, performed the standard procedure, and to your shattering disappointment, officially called the time of your grandmother’s death. it was a gut punch to say the least. all of the emotional and mental preparation couldn’t have really meant that you were ready to see her pass in real time. it couldn’t have meant that you were ready to live life without her. it certainly couldn’t have meant that she wouldn’t see you get married or have a family of your own like she did for your siblings and cousins. you walked out into the dark, windy night and you just screamed as the stream of hot tears ran down your face, your mother promptly came to console your doubled-over body. as you saw the funeral home take your grandmother away in a pristine hearse, that night made you sick to your stomach.

it all happened over the weekend, so you decided to take a few days off from school to process your loss. through small town word of mouth, clark and the rest of your friends heard of the news. lana, chloe, and pete each would send you emails or calls to offer their condolences as their schedules were too getting hectic to visit you in person. your mother, aunt, and uncle had arranged for one day where your other family and loved ones could gather to eat and converse of fond memories concerning your lost loved one at her home. you decided to wander off from the crowd and sneak off to your grandmother’s bedroom, a place of sanctuary that you’ve always known as a child.

clark was concerned for your well-being and he wanted to see you since you haven’t been at school. it hurt him to see you in any type of negative mood. it hurt him to see you so devastated. if clark was anything, he was a good friend— a good friend who wanted to be more, but was too cowardly to say anything. he brushed it off because this wasn’t the place nor the time, that could wait. right now, you needed a friend and he was going to be that. your mother pointed him in the direction of your location before he went on his way. he was a few feet away from the door until his heightened hearing picked up on a sound that resembled a quick, rhythmic "wakka wakka" noise with a somber, descending tone following shortly after.

clark deliberately stepped closer to follow the first sound he heard, pondering what you could possibly be doing in your grandmother’s room at an event like this. the door was cracked open, and he peered through to see that you were sitting on the edge of the bed, engrossed in a light blue cubed-shaped console with a silver joystick on top. your intense focus on the video game you were playing didn’t register his arrival. he glanced at the screen to see that you were playing none other than the iconic arcade classic, ms. pac-man. with a gentle touch, he tapped your shoulder, causing your hand to slip and mess up, resulting in your character to be defeated by the ghosts as you were on your last life.

“ugh, what!? look i just wanna be alo—“ your sentence was cut short when your brown eyes met with his blue ones that were full of the kindness and charm you always knew.

“clark? what—what are you doing here?” you asked, puzzled as you paused the game, not letting the console out of your grip. you didn’t mean to come off as brash as his presence did do you some relief. it’s just been a long week of bereavement for you. the farm boy stuffed his hands in his pockets, a sympathetic smile graced his lips.

“y’know i wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.” your heart flutters at his words as he gestures towards the empty space next to you.

“may i?” he inquired. you nodded and scooted over to give him a good amount of space to sit next to you. before you knew it, he wrapped his arms around you in a amicable embrace.

“i’m so sorry for your loss.” he compassionately uttered into your ear. with one hand still on the console, your other arm reached to reciprocate the hug. the sound of his voice caused you to release a sigh and enough strength to verbally thank him before pulling away, a somber smile etched on your earth-toned face.

“lemme guess, my mom put you up to this, huh?” you quip, clark chuckled as he shook his head.

“partly, yes, but i’ve been wanting to see you and not just to bore you on all of the homework you’ve missed—it seems you’ve been preoccupied as it is.” clark comments, his eyes pointing towards the console in your hand. your eyes follow suit to the same item that you looked at with such sentiment.

“this was grandma’s. i remembered when she used to play this all the time and let me tell you— she was a badass!” at your words, you and clark laugh as you continued to explain how you went to her room to just think about her in solitude. that’s when the memories of her playing the game plagued your mind before you began to snoop through her closet. that’s when you found the familiar blue console of ms. pac-man. you crossed your fingers as you worked to hook it up to her old television. who knew that after a decade and some years, it worked as if it were brand new! from that point, you wanted to play and win the game as you never got to do so as a kid. you watched your grandmother play countless times and she let you give it a go, but you always ended up losing. it would discourage you because you really wanted to impress her, but she would always encourage you to keep going, reminding you that winning isn’t always everything in life.

“god, i wish i could just win this damn thing!” you exasperatedly sigh and sniffle, your thumb ghosting over the red button that would resume the game. clark’s eyes never pulled away from your profile, a few strands of your freshly braided hair fell in front of your face, he gingerly reached to push the braids back behind your ear only to see that your face was stained with tears. he called out your name.

“hey, hey—look at me. do you want to talk? y’know i’m always here to listen.” clark softly affirmed by placing his hand on your shoulder which relaxed under his touch. you turned your head towards him, sniffling as more tears rained down your now blushed cheeks.

“clark—it’s like i’ve seen this coming, but—“ you swallowed. “i can’t believe she’s not here. just six months ago, she was completely healthy. it’s just not fair!” the gut punch returned as her kind face flashed into your mind, the same face that would gaze at you with such content as she watched you grow from a baby to a young woman, even in her ailment. god, how you missed her so. you missed her style, her love, her kisses, her funny nicknames for you, her cooking, her laughter, but most of all, her presence. the reality of saying your final goodbye was biting at you. you sobbed, dropping the console to the floor as your arms found their place around clark’s torso.

not hesitating to wrap his arms around you, he rubbed circles on your back as you nuzzled your face within his signature flannel.

“i’ve got you. it’s going to be okay.” he reassured, cradling you in his embrace, his shirt getting so

he didn’t mind, he was going to be right here whenever you needed him and for that, you loved him immensely for it. in some situations, you always thought of clark as your hero, but even heroes have their limits, and in that moment, all you wanted was a piece of the past. you pulled away from him, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you glanced at the console still in your hands. it was a relic from your grandmother's joy and your youth. although the game was paused, the bright colors of the ms. pac-man screen flickered like a beacon of nostalgia. you pursed your lips, cutting your puffy eyes to clark before clearing your throat to articulate the words.

“do you think—do you think i could still play, clark?” you questioned, your voice still trembling.

your best friend nodded, a gentle smile spreading across his handsome face.

“of course! she would’ve wanted you to play.” he reassured again, patting your shoulder. that was his own special signal of nudging to step into something that you would’ve seen as impossible.

with a deep breath, you picked up the console again, your fingers trembling as you pressed the start button to resume the game. the familiar sounds filled the room, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of your grandmother’s spirit and drive beside you as your hand began to move on the joystick. you were focused, determined to beat her high score, to feel that connection as you felt it all those years ago.

as the ghosts chased your ms. pac-man across the screen, you could almost hear your grandmother's infectious laughter encouraging you, urging you to keep going. you didn’t stop. with a furrowed gaze and a steady hand every single white dot was disappearing into your grasp as you effortlessly dodged the ghosts. each time you consumed a fruit power-up, clark kent was there as your personal cheerleader.

“c’mon, y/n! you can do it!” clark encouraged, his voice an enthusiastic tone as he leaned forward to watch you move the pac-man like clockwork on the television screen. with each dot you devoured, the weight on your heart began to lift, and you found yourself grinning despite the warm tears still lingering in your eyes. finally, with one last maneuver, you cleared the maze of the white dots with no lives lost, the screen flashing in celebration. you had done it! you won the game for the first time in your life. your grandmother had been there for recitals, birthdays, and graduations, but this had to be one of your biggest achievements yet and she wasn’t here to see it happen.

“i—i did it! i really did it!” you exclaimed, laughter bubbling up through your tears. an array of emotions spread through you like they never did before, you couldn’t even describe how it felt in that moment. clark beamed at you, pride shining in his ocean eyes.

“i knew you could. i know that she’s so proud of you.”

overwhelmed with emotion, you turned to him, gratitude swelling within you, so you did the unthinkable, but not the impossible. you leaned in, wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and landed a lingering, tender kiss on his cheek.

“oooh! thank you, thank you, thank you, clark! for everything. you’re the best person a girl could ever wish for.”

it was slow at first, but nonetheless he smiled. to your amusement, the once pale skin of his cheeks were now painted a faint crimson as his gaze was awestruck for a second until you called his name to return him back to earth.

“a-anytime. y’know i’m always here for you.” clark stammered, but you both could tell he was sincere.” his palm reached out as a warm invitation for you to take.

“i have no doubt about that and i’d do the same for you in a heartbeat, clark.” you return the sentiment by taking his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. a sudden warm tingle surged through you, which was strange as you’ve held clark’s hand on other occasions—platonically of course. what was this feeling? you were dealing with so much, it was difficult to even pinpoint it. his tenor voice broke you out of your daze.

“now, let’s go back to your family. i’m sure they need you just as much as you need them.” you nod at his statement. this was going to be hard, but you were grateful to have someone like clark kent in your corner. like the gentleman he was, he carefully tugged you up from your seat on your grandmother’s bed, careful that you wouldn’t stumble.

hand in hand, you walked back into the warmth of your family downstairs, carrying a piece of your grandmother with you, and the strength of your connection with clark lighting the way for the funeral, burial, and whatever dark days may be ahead.

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bonnie-the-butcher · 1 day ago

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Rip Tide | Chapter VIII

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 7.289 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

Silence weighs heavy in the kitchen as Rafe remains there, in the door, looking at you. His smirk widens, a flash of perfectly straight teeth between his swollen lips. – The new chef, huh? You already hired?

Kareem stands, frantically wiping his hands on his apron. – Mr. Cameron, this is—

– I was talking to her. – He takes his time scanning the room, gaze sweeping over the kitchen like he’s searching for something out of place, something to pick apart. When his eyes land on Kareem, there’s a flicker of amusement, barely there before it smooths into something more polished, more calculated. He gives you a slow, easy smile, practiced like the rest of him. – Didn’t know we were hiring new help.

Kareem only barely bites back whatever it was that flashed over his face so violently.

Rafe exhales a short laugh, like he’s humoring him. He moves closer, leaning against the counter like he’s settling in for a show, and pushes at your plate. – So? What's on the menu?

Kareem puts his fork down, fidgeting with his hands. – Lunch’s already in the making. The new hire was just showing off.

Rafe’s eyes flick back to you, trailing down to the plate before drifting back up. – Was she now? – The way he says it makes your skin prickle. Like he’s talking about a trick dog instead of a person. Like the whole thing is some private joke only he’s in on. – Damn, – He whistles, tilting his head. – Guess we’re getting fancy. You go to culinary school or something?

You hold his gaze, forcing your shoulders to stay squared. You don’t know what game he’s playing at, but you’re almost thankful he’s pretending not to know you. – No, sir. Just experience.

– Sir? You serious? – Rafe grins. – I like it. Real respectful. Could use more of that around here.

There’s an edge to it. A warning disguised as praise. You don’t miss the way Kareem stiffens slightly, the way his grip tightens around the fabric of his sleeve. Rafe doesn’t like him. That much is obvious. But more than that—he likes making sure Kareem knows it.

He reaches for the plate without asking, plucking a piece of cornbread from the edge. He takes a slow bite, exaggerating the motion like he’s savoring it, like he’s considering whether or not to spit it out. Then he hums, licking a crumb from his hand.

His eyes gleam as when he meets your gaze. – Not bad.

– Glad it meets your standards. – You say evenly.

His eyes flick back up, a flash of something sharper beneath the surface. – Careful, – he warns, low and amused. – Flattery’ll get you everywhere.

Kareem shifts beside you, his hand landing on your shoulder as if he's trying to tranquilize you. He's shaking. – Mr. Cameron, is there anything we can do for you?

Rafe doesn’t move. Just chews, watching you with the kind of patience that isn’t patience at all. – Yeah. Well, not you. But maybe she can do it. – He takes your fork, scooping up some of your mashed potatoes. – Lamb roast, like the one at the Wreck. Kareem over here always fumbles it, his lamb tastes like beef jerky.

– Mr. Cameron, the supper’s already planned.

– Well, then, un-plan it. – He says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, taking some more chicken and mash from your plate, and chewing slowly. – We have a very special dinner guest coming over and I want that lamb for dinner. So chop chop. Go ahead and buy the things. I wanna see if your new hire really is up to my standards. – He looks back at you, mischief glinting off his eyes. – Right, newbie?

You let your eyes drift back to Kareem, nodding quietly. – I think I can handle a second interview.

– Great! – Rafe’s smile is almost innocent, he chuckles lightly, his shoulder brushing yours. – Off you go, Kareem. She can handle a second interview.

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment. His brows drawn together, eyes overtaken by worry. His lips fall open, but they close again as he reaches for a tote bag on the back door. – I won’t be long.

It's a reassurance, you realize, but as soon as the door closes Rafe starts laughing like a child, covering his mouth as he leans into your side.

– Are you always this charming?

– You know I am, baby. That's what you like about me. – You don’t know what to say. A twinge of discomfort still lingers in your chest after watching Rafe treat poor Kareem, who ranks much higher than you, as if he was nothing. – So… – He pokes at you, eyes wide and intent, and pulls the chair behind you closer with a grin. – You’re officially employed now, huh?

– You could say so.

– You know what that means? – He takes another bite of the chicken and hums, happily. Happier than you’ve ever seen him.

You sit down, and he pulls your chair even closer, his knee brushing yours. – That I don’t have to worry about starving anymore because you saved my ass?

Rafe chuckles, the sound light and careless. He seems so different like this. So different from the guy that was bullying one of his employees not a minute ago. – That too. But mostly, that you’ll have to fulfill all of my cravings, no matter how insane.

His eyes darken as he leans close. You don’t miss the suggestiveness, but you look around, at this giant, pristine kitchen, at the calm surrounding you, at this perfect new job you only have because of Rafe.

You don’t have it in you to be bothered for much longer.

Things never go your way.

You might as well enjoy the smooth sailing while it lasts. – Tell me about these cravings then. I know you like my lamb roast. – He nods, taking the other fork on the counter and handing it to you. – What else do you like?

– Tryna get to know me huh? That's cute.

– Go ahead, Rafe. I’ll make it easy for you: Favorite soup, favorite roast, favorite pastry.

He looks at you, challenge glinting off his eyes. – You’re the professional here, aren’t you? Let’s see if you can guess my taste. Give me your palm reading.

– Palm reading? – You laugh. – I’m a psychic now? Shit, I gotta put that on my resume.

– You’re not gonna put shit in your resume. This is your job now. You ain’t getting fired.

His words are even, level, almost casual. Like he hadn't thought before the words left his mouth. But he is still pressed against you, holding up the fork as an invitation, an attempt to make you feel part of his world.

You take the fork from his hand, twirling it between your fingers as you watch him. His expression changes then. He looks so smug, so sure you’ll get it wrong. But you’re good at this. You've never been good with yourself, but you've always been good at people.

– Alright. Let’s see… – You lean back slightly, crossing one leg over the other. His knee is still brushing yours. – Favorite soup? French Onion.

The smirk on his lips twitches, almost falters. You know you have him.

– Interesting. Why?

– You like rich food. Heavy, but classic. Something you’d get at a steakhouse or some bougie country club dinner with your dad. Here's the thing though, I think, for you it has to be indulgent. Something you could eat for days. It's gotta be tasty.

He nods. – That’s what I'm talking about.

– Cheese too. I bet you put a lot of cheese on your soup. What do you like?

He smiles, leaning so close he's almost glued to your side. – I like a good Gruyere.

– Okay, fancy!

– I'm a man of culture, okay?

– I see it. – You tilt your head, watching his reaction. – That’s my first guess. Am I wrong?

His tongue darts out, running along the edge of his teeth. As if he's thinking about it. – Not bad. Not bad at all, baby.

You grin, triumphant. – Roast is easy. Man like you? Only one option: Prime rib. You like it rare, still bleeding.

His brows lift, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and genuine curiosity.

– You sure about that?

– Oh, I am positive. Lamb is still your number one, but prime rib is a close second. You wouldn’t go for anything too gamey—no pork, no turkey, chicken only if it's fried. – He laughs, the bone of your fried chicken still in his hand. – You like the expensive stuff. The things other people think are only good because they cost a lot, but that are actually better than the rest.

Rafe lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. – You really think you know me, huh?

– Oh, I do.

He’s still grinning, but there’s something sharper in his gaze now, like he’s sizing you up in a way he hadn’t before.

– Alright, psychic. Last one.

You take a beat, tapping the fork against your lip.

– Pastry… You pretend you don’t have a sweet tooth, but you totally do. – His smile sharpens. Rafe licks his lips slowly, his gaze fixed on your mouth. – You’d never admit it, though. So it has to be something subtle. Not over-the-top, nothing too sugary. – You pause for effect, then snap your fingers. – Madame Routledge says... Chocolate croissant.

Rafe stares at you, and for a second, you think you’ve finally missed. But then he lets out a small tsk, shaking his head. – Close.

– Close?

– Chocolate éclair.

Your mouth opens, then closes. That’s—okay, that actually makes perfect sense. – Damn. That was my second guess.

Rafe grins, tilting his head as he leans in just a little closer. – Sure it was. – You narrow your eyes at him, but you’re smiling too. – You’re kind of freaky, you know that? – he mutters, taking another bite of your chicken.

– And you’re easy to read.

His smirk deepens, his knee pressing just a little firmer against yours.

– I’ll let you think that.

– Okay, Bella Swan. What else do I need to guess? – You smirk, teasing him back as your hand grips your cup. You’re not intimidated, but it’s hard to ignore how his presence seems to consume the space around you.

He leans back in his chair, watching you with a new kind of amusement. The food he's eaten entirely, almost licked the plate clean, and even as the plate lies between you two, there’s still an unspoken hunger in the air, only it’s not the kind that comes from a full stomach.

– My favorite drink. What do you think? – He takes your glass and runs his thumb along the rim, gaze never leaving yours. There’s a definite playfulness to his tone, but it’s mixed with a touch of challenge. He’s testing you now.

– It’s hard. – You tilt your head, putting your water down. – Scotch. Or something with vodka, maybe a Moscow Mule if you’re trying to play classy.

– Oh, I see, you think you’ve got me pegged now. – His lips curl up. There’s that cocky smirk again. – I do like a good scotch. But you missed one.

Your brow furrows. – What'd I miss?

Rafe’s eyes gleam with something almost conspiratorial as he leans in, lowering his voice. – Gin. The real gentleman's drink. Never would’ve guessed that, huh?

You blink, surprised yet somehow not. – I'll give you that one. You’re full of surprises.

– I like to keep people guessing. – His voice is low, and there’s something almost predatory about the way he’s watching you.

Before you can respond, he casually throws another challenge your way, his eyes alight with the thrill of the game.

– Alright, let’s go for the ultimate test. You ready?

You laugh lightly, rolling your eyes. – Born ready.

He leans even closer, his lips just barely brushing your ear. – Guilty pleasure.

You pause. He’s looking at you like he’s about to tell you something you’re not supposed to know. You lean in, matching his intensity. – What is it? It's something sweet isn't it?

– Peach pie. – He drops the bomb like it’s the most casual thing in the world, his grin only widening at your confused expression. – I eat the whole damn thing. Never fails. It’s the one thing that can put me in a good mood, no matter what’s going on.

You blink, trying to process it. – Rafe Cameron... peach pie? – You let out a small, incredulous laugh. – You? The ‘I’m so fancy’ guy? Eating peach pie like it's your last meal?

He doesn’t flinch, just smirks. – Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. It’s the filling, sweet, juicy—and the crust? It hits every spot.

You shake your head in disbelief, but you can’t hide your smile. – I guess I see it.

His hand moves, brushing against yours again as his eyes drop to your lips for a moment. – What else do you think you can guess? Maybe... – He trails off, leaning back slightly, a new challenge in his gaze. – ...a favorite movie?

You smirk knowingly. – That’s easy. The one you would say, is The Godfather. Definitely. Eldest son of a legendary man, making the world his own? That's all you, Rafe. – There’s a different glint to his eye now, his smile softens, his eyes round the slightest bit, like one of the walls he's put up just fell to his feet around the both of you. – But that's not your favorite is it? It's cool, but it can get a little boring. Not the sort of thing you re-watch. You like a little feel-good.

– You're getting colder…

– I think... Men in Black?

Rafe laughs. – Nope. – He leans in again, lowering his voice just for you. – Shrek.

You blink at him. – Shrek? – You can’t contain your laughter. It feels so fitting, just the right amount of darkness with a lot of humor. It's Rafe to a T.

He grins wickedly. – What? I like the layers. I’m a complicated guy.

You shake your head, laughing. – Of course you do. You’re a walking contradiction, Rafe.

Rafe leans back in his chair again, that infuriating smugness back on his face. – That’s what makes me interesting.

You narrow your eyes, but your smile says it all. – So, what’s your real secret then? You’ve been dropping little hints, but I think I got you figured out.

He grins, standing up to grab the bottle of scotch. – Not yet, that’s-so-Raven. You still have a lot to learn.

He pours himself a drink, you can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to enjoy the game as much as you are. – You want me to dig deeper? Think you can handle that?

– Oh, I can handle it. – He dawns the drink in one breath, flopping back on the seat right in front of you.

– Give me your hands, traveler. Let's see what’s written in your soul. – He’s laughing as he hands himself over, you can see the smallest of shivers blooming in his arms as you cart a finger through the lines of his right hand. – Favorite color, favorite season, favorite ice cream.

– You’re never gonna guess that. None of that.

– Wanna bet?

– What do I get when I win?

– Don’t jump the gun yet, mr. This-is-my-swamp-Corleone. I have not yet revealed all of my talents. – He raises a brow, licking his lips as his eyes trail down your body.

– I’m hoping you’ll show me the talent I’m thinking about when I win.

– Hilarious.

– I’ll guess you! – He grins. – Best of three, how bout that? Loser drinks with every wrong one.

You can feel the smirk tugging at your lips before you even speak. – Someone’s getting cocky.

– I don’t get cocky. I just know you’re not gonna get it.

– You better not bet a drink then. You’ll be owing me a bottle when I’m done with you.

– Fine then, baby. – His eyes flick to your lips. – A kiss then, loser kisses where the winner says.

– With this lipstick? You’re out of your mind.

– I don’t mind if you leave a mark. I like it. – You can see the gears turning in his head. – C’mon. Is someone gonna chicken out?

– Oh, you’re on, mister. Me first. Your favorite color: Judging by the fact that every shirt I’ve ever seen you wear is blue, and your shoes are blue, and your comforter is blue, and your eyes are blue, this is a really tough one. I’d say, blue.

– What kind of blue?

– So I’m right! – You can’t help the giggle. You’ve always been competitive, and this day has you in such a good mood, it falls from your lips before you can even think.

– No! You gotta guess the shade too!

– What am I, home depot? Nobody’s painting walls here, just accept that I won!

– Okay, okay. Where do I kiss? – You laugh, take back your right hand, and point to the floor. It takes Rafe a minute to follow the line. – You’re absolutely hilarious, y’know that?

– I don’t know why you think I’m joking.

– Where do I kiss you?

– Changing the rules, now, Mr. Cameron? – He doesn’t even answer, just leans closer, a smile bright on his face as he pulls back your shirt to kiss your collarbone. His lips remain there for a moment, brushing against your skin like he’s savoring every second. – Sore loser.

– We’ll see who’s losing next. – He squeezes your nose in his fingers as he pulls back, still smiling. – Go ahead. What’s my favorite season?

– Summer.

– You think I’m that much of a plebe?

– Plebe, really?! – You’re laughing now, and he’s holding both our legs as he pulls his chair closer, until his is less than a foot away from yours. – You are a sociological experience, Rafe.

– Wrong. – You can see the pleasure it gives him to say that. – My knee.

You can’t even help the scoff. – You’re wearing pants.

– I can take them off, if you want. – He's squeezing you know, eyes glinting with something almost possessive.

– That's funny. It's just gonna stain.

– Maybe I want it to stain. – He hums, hooking his right hand under your knees and pulling you closer. – Now, you get down there and kiss me.

You shake your head, laughing, but stay put. He doesn’t wanna play your game, might as well play by your own rules.

So you lean in a little closer, just enough that you can feel his breath hitch against your skin, and pull at the collar of his polo. Your lips land just where his had, on the collarbone, and Rafe chuckles lowly, humming with his hand in your hair, keeping you there until you pull away.

You watch the shape of your lips peek from under the cotton of his shirt, deep red and perfectly contoured. It almost seemed like a tattoo. – Your favorite ice cream now. – His fingers are still tangled in the strands of your hair, warm as anything, but still as a stone. – You are a man of hedonisms. You like it sweet, rich, flavorful. But, you are also very layered.

– Thank you.

– That’s nothing. My guess is something indulgent, that’s sweet but not too sweet. Some different textures, some contrasting flavors. A rocky road, if you will. – He smiles, defeated. And you know you read him like a book. – I told you I was good. If I may go a little deeper?

– Go as deep as you want.

– Your perfect rocky road is the dutch chocolate one, with hazelnuts, and marshmallow bits.

– Marshmallow swirl. – He corrects.

– Damn. – You snap your fingers, earning a laugh out of Rafe. – I’ve gotta give it to you, there is not a single thing in your list that is even remotely dubious. Everything is undeniably great.

– That’s who I am. Perfect all-round

You laugh. – Conceited, much?

– Honest. – He corrects. – Now you.

You’re shaking your head before he even starts. – This is not about me.

– You think you’re that hard to guess?

– You’ll never know, Rafe. I will never tell you. My mama always said, remain a creature of mystery. Otherwise people get bored and fuck off. – Rafe raises a brow. – Yeah, that’s it. That’s her whole philosophy.

– Sounds like a bitch. – You laugh, and he does too. You feel a little lighter. – But lets get into it. I wanna know you too.

– That’s too damn bad.

– That's not fair now, baby. You had an advantage.

– Oh, boo-hoo. – You grin. – Told you I would win.

– I still have to kiss you somewhere else.

You hum, tapping your finger on your chin as you smile. Rafe doesn’t even seem angry, his eyes just glint darkly.

You extend your hand. – As Rodrigo Borgia said to Caterina of Forli: Kiss the ring, bitch.

Rafe’s laughter echoes in your ear, low and rich with something dangerous as he takes your hand, his fingers curling around yours. He leans in, lips inches from your hand, but instead of kissing your hand, he trails his mouth up to your neck.

– Careful, – You murmur, almost smiling as you press your palm to his chest, trying to push him away, but his lips keep moving against your skin.

– You said I had to kiss somewhere else. – He whispers, his voice muffled against your neck as he pulls you closer, his hand sliding to your back, pulling you into his body. His other hand is still entwined in your hair, gently tugging to hold you in place.

You roll your eyes, amused by his persistence. But just as you're about to push him off again, something startles you. His phone, tucked in his pocket, rings—a sharp, sudden sound that cuts through the tension between you two.

Rafe groans, pulling away from your neck, a growl of frustration slipping from his lips. His eyes narrow. – No way, – He mutters, already diving in again.

You stop him. – Could be important.

He glances at the screen, and his irritation becomes palpable, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he stares at the name flashing on the display. It’s his father. You can see it clearly from here.

– It’s him, – Rafe mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply through his nose. The smirk he had on his lips fades slightly, replaced by an edge of annoyance. – Of course it's him.

You can’t help but feel the shift in the energy between you two, but you lean back, giving him space to take the call if he has to. – Go ahead. I should get back to work, my boss is really strict.

He shoots you a glare, but there’s something almost resigned in the way he looks at the phone.

– I don’t have a choice, do I? – He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair before answering the call. His voice is low, almost cold as he speaks into the phone, and you can’t help but notice the way the playful, carefree Rafe fades with each word exchanged.

The call doesn't last long, just a bunch of monotone sounds from Rafe, who sits there, sulking, as you clean up and start chopping vegetables. When he eventually hangs up, there's an unsettling silence from him. Rafe sighs, his hand running over his face in frustration.

– Bastard. – he mutters, more defeated than you’ve ever heard him. He looks at you, his eyes softening, but the playfulness is gone. – Guess you got lucky this time, – He says, the words carrying a weight that wasn’t there before.

– No big deal, I can always beat your ass later.

Rafe leans back in his chair, and stands, coming closer. He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes distant for a moment as he comes up behind you, looking at your work as he leans his chin on your shoulder. – I have to go.

– It's okay. I'll catch up with you later.

He doesn’t seem to hear you. Instead his arms snake around your waist, face burying deeper into your neck.

You look over your shoulder, hoping Kareem is still far.

– Your father's gone, right?

The question stops you cold. The knife in your hand suddenly feeling heavy. – Yeah.

Rafe burrows in a little closer, breathing you in. – Did you ever wish he would drop dead? – A shiver tears through you as he remains there, holding you in that iron grip, as if he was physically grounding himself, as if his father might burst through the doors and try to drag him away.

You think about it, but you don't have to.

The answer is easy enough.

A thousand times.

Every time you walked into a room he was in, he'd sigh, heavy, as if your presence alone made the space uncomfortable. At some point, you stopped wishing you'd die, and transferred over that rage to him.

Whenever he scoffed at you, you prayed for a heart attack.

When he cursed at you, you wished he'd be mugged in the street.

When he grabbed you, when he'd pull you around, your thoughts got more violent. They worsened and worsened until the day he slapped you, and you found yourself laying on the floor, digging your nails into your hands as you thought about the knives you were always sharpening, sitting there in the drawer, completely unwatched.

You fed on that memory for a while. To the point that every time you saw him you were clenching your fists.

But had you meant it? – Yeah. A couple times.

Rafe doesn’t say anything else. He squeezes you one last time, almost as if plucking the feel of your body against his from that moment. You can feel him hanging onto it as he walks away.

His steps echo loud into the house, beyond the threshold you can step through, and you go through the motions almost robotically, cooking and prepping and cleaning as if it was gonna save you from the thought he’d left you with.

Work goes by smoothly, though your mind remains a wasteland. Kareem is quieter, too, after he returns, and he keeps looking back and forth between what he does and the doorway, a strange resentment burning in his eyes. You don’t meddle, your own spirits low after the talk with Rafe.

Lunch goes by in a blur, even without the chaos of lunch rush at a restaurant. You feel yourself drown out the noise around you, diving completely into the work. Your partner makes a couple comments here and there. He checks your roast, tweaks your reduction, analyses your vegetables. His smile is reassuring everytime he turns to you, tasting this dish and the other with the comically tiny spoon he keeps in a special pocket on his apron, and pats your back like a middle aged dad whenever the servants come in to take your trays away.

– You work quick. – He finally comments, finishing the plate you made for him, as Rose and Ward lunch alone in the dining room. – Every time I looked at you you were doing something else.

– You work quiet. – You smile back, and when he widens his eyes, you immediately clarify. – It’s nice! Like working with a zen master. I’ve never cooked for so long without someone screaming at me.

– Working at a restaurant kitchen makes you feel like the world’s gonna end. – He laughs, but his eyes fall back to the plate, suddenly darkening. – I actually used to have nightmares about burning entrees and being late on mains when I still worked at the bar.

You ponder what to say for a moment, clearly caught in a touchy subject. – I can tell you’re sleeping well, now. Your skin is glowing.

Flattery really does go a long way.

Kareem smiles, finishing his food in silence as you clean up, and the two of you don’t really speak much until the dinner prep starts looming closer.

Supper waits for no one, and Kareem snaps back into focus as the time approaches. — He’s methodical, you admire that in him. —So you follow his lead, letting routine take over, movements automatic as you prepare the kitchen. The momentary stillness gives way to the familiar rhythm of preparation—the clatter of knives, the hum of the oven preheating, the weight of expectation settling over you like a second skin.

You take charge of the entrees and the main dish while Kareem handles the sides. The lamb roast is yours to perfect, its success a quiet challenge, a second interview you refuse to fail. You roll up your sleeves, minding the ingredients you laid out, and get to work.

You begin with the prep, sliding the lamb onto the cutting board, fingers tracing the marbled surface, gauging its density, its fat distribution. A perfect cut. You reach for the boning knife, and trim the excess fat—just enough to allow the seasonings to penetrate deeper, not enough to sacrifice flavor. The rendered trimmings will be saved, melted down for later use. Nothing wasted.

Next, the seasoning. Garlic cloves are smashed under the flat of your knife, their oils bursting free, before you mince them into a fine paste. Rosemary leaves are stripped from their stems, crushed between your fingers, the scent sharp and green. You mix them with flaky sea salt and cracked pepper, the coarse grains binding to the moisture of the garlic. The mixture is worked into the lamb with steady hands, pressing into every groove, every fold of muscle, ensuring the flavors seep into the fibers of the meat.

The pan is already waiting, and you’re happy for the freedom of throwing a healthy dollop of butter on the iron without having to watch out for Anthony’s pretentious complaints. The sizzle is loud as you lay the lamb down. The heat grips the surface, searing it to a perfect crust, the scent of browning fat filling the kitchen. You tilt the pan, spooning the bubbling butter over the top, watching it soak into the herbs and garlic, turning the surface deep amber. When every side is sealed, you transfer it to the preheated oven, where the slow heat will coax out the tenderness, the juices locking in beneath the crisp exterior.

Beside you, Kareem dices vegetables with methodical efficiency, the rhythmic tap of his knife grounding like the hum of a monk deep in prayer. You glance over your shoulder, watching as he peels and slices carrots into thin ribbons, tossing them into a pan where melted butter and honey wait to coat them in a glossy sheen. He looks so peaceful, so in his element. It's almost cute. You catch the faintest scent of citrus as he zests an orange, preparing the glaze for the carrots, and there’s a moment where he looks up, meeting your eyes briefly before returning to his task.

Turning back to your own work, you begin assembling the entrees. You lay out fresh slices of crusty baguette, rubbing each piece with raw garlic before topping them with a blend of ricotta and herbs, the creamy spread flecked with chopped basil and thyme. Cherry tomatoes, roasted until blistered and sweet, are gently pressed atop each slice, their juices seeping into the bread. A final drizzle of balsamic reduction finishes the dish, the deep, tangy aroma curling into the already fragrant air of the kitchen.

By the time everything comes together, the kitchen smells like warmth, like the indulgence you and Rafe spoke of, and you find yourself praying this tops every memory of the lamb he had before, just to give you that reassurance. The roast rests, juices settling beneath its crisp, golden crust, while Kareem plates the sides—a creamy potato purée, the glossy, honey-glazed carrots, a crisp asparagus sauté with almonds. Dessert waits to be finished in the background, Kareem’s perfect pie crust resting easy beside the fresh-chopped peaches you left soaking in syrup, soaking up all the flavor until the moment is right.

You step back, wiping your brow, allowing yourself a moment—just one—to take it in. The meal is set, a quiet triumph, and for now, that’s enough.

Kareem slumps down on the chair as the echo of greeting and bickering in the room next door gives way to the hums and awes of enjoyment. – Who knew art could be so tiring, huh? – You say.

He looks up from his hands, an easy smile on his face, and nods. – “it is, perhaps, the price we pay for love, the cost of commitment.” – The hum coaxes a brow raise from you as you wash your hands again.

– Okay, private school. – You laugh, and catch his shoulders shaking slightly as he watches you. – Care to enlighten the country bumpkin here before you?

– It’s a quote by Colin Murray Parkes.

– The actor?

He laughs even louder, delighted with your lack of poshness. – The psychiatrist. Didn’t you have psychology lessons in your school?

– Does the Outer Banks seem like the sort of place that would offer that curriculum?

– Well, no, of course. But you’re not from here, are you?

You gasp:

– Of course I am. – He doesn’t even pretend to hide his shock. – Born and bred in the OBX.

– Seriously, Routledge. Where did you learn to cook like this? Couldn’t have been here. – You let out an incredulous laugh, but the question is so ridiculous you can’t even find it insulting. – I didn't mean it like—

– I know. – You grin. – I learned how to cook because it’s the only luxury I could have, food can be elevated. It's the other things that are hard to come around. Sometimes I forget you tourons don’t read class cues like the islanders. I’m flattered you even considered the possibility of me being a kook.

– I feel like I’ve just been spoken to in tongues. – It's your turn to laugh again, the genuine bewilderment on his face a joke of its own. – Toro? Like bull?

– You’ve been living here for years and nobody taught you the hierarchy? – He shakes his head, earning more laughter from you. – I’m kinda glad. But here it is: OBX 101, brought to you by a Routledge. So the rich folk, inhabitants of the Figure Eight, this lovely little neighborhood we’re currently in, are the Kooks. Golf players, country club goers, the cream of the crop. Now they’re rich, but not rich like you’re rich.

– I’m not rich. – He pouts, and you have to bite back the brow raise.

– Says the man who had advanced psychology in his high school curriculum. You’re private school. Now, that’s not something to be embarrassed about. But, a pogue, the poor people of the island, the ones that live in the Cut, like me, we can tell.

– I think that’s just you. You get a good read on people. How’d you learn that by the way?

– My older brother who hated me kind of poisoned the well for me when it came to friends. I had to get my hands on whatever outsider I could reach.

Kareem’s brows furrow. – He sounds like a piece of shit.

– He used to be. We’re better now. – He seems unbelieving, but you don’t go any further. – Now you never told me where you’re from, but maybe I can guess you.

– I doubt that. – He says, the hum of his voice low and steady.

You tilt your head, and he smiles at you, signing for you to go on. – You’re a Texan, that much is obvious. By the accent, I’d say Dallas. And you’re a farm boy, clearly old money. Blue blood, boarding school bred.

– I’m from Highland Park. Which is, to your credit, in Dallas. – It feels good to be right. – But I’m not posh.

– Never said you were. – He’s the one raising a brow now, but before he can say anything else, the door opens again.

Daniel, one of the servants, stands there, his face almost worried. – Mr. Cameron asked to see the chef. – Kareem swallows thickly, face suddenly void of all the playfulness he’d had just a moment earlier. But Daniel stops him again. – He asked for her.

You stop cold, heart hammering against your ribs. Daniel’s words echo in your head, but you don’t let yourself hesitate. Kareem steps forward, a steadying head wrapping around your arm. – Hey, don’t worry. Look, they probably just wanna compliment you. That lamb, it was great. Don’t worry about it.

– You don’t know that.

– Routledge, – It's almost pleading, the way he says it. A soft lull of a voice brushing against your ears as he tried to tranquilize you. But it doesn’t help. How often did things go well for you? You should’ve known better than to hope.

– I’ll be right back. – You murmur. Kareem tries to argue, but you’ve brushed past him before he can think to say anything else.

The walk to the dining room feels longer than it should, each step pulling tighter at the knot in your stomach. The hall seems to stretch around you as you reach the warm light bleeding in from the cracked door. You push through it, and immediately, the air thickens.

They’re all there.

It’s Rafe who holds your attention first. He’s leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin on his face, self-satisfied. Like he’s been expecting you. Like he’s enjoying this.

Ward sits at the head of the table, relaxed, a glass of wine in hand. Rose is poised beside him, her smile the perfect shade of contempt. Wheezie barely looks up from her phone, and Sarah… Sarah’s expression falls as she sees you, and she looks up from her plate with something can’t quite place.

Then your eyes shift, and you freeze.

At the opposite end of the table, just beside Sarah, sits your brother.

The sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. His expression is cold, unreadable, but the anger simmering beneath the surface is unmistakable. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches.

Your fingers tighten around the towel in your hands.

– Ah, there she is, – Ward's voice cuts through the silence, warm, approving. – When my son told me he had to fire the last cook, I didn’t think he’d go out and find us a new one. I doubted him, but I have to say, I was… pleasantly surprised. That was the best lamb I’ve had in years. Truly remarkable.

The words come out immediately, but no relief fills you as you speak. – Thank you sir. I’m glad you liked it.

– Liked it? Young lady, I loved this dish. I have to give it to Rafe, he’s ordered nothing but this for years, and I never saw the appeal, but, really, it’s fantastic.

Rose cuts in, a sharp drawl that shatters whatever sliver of gladness was building up. – Honey, you don’t need to be pedantic.

– But, I’m not, Rose. Really. Good help is so hard to find these days, especially on short notice. Very few people put their back into their work. And this, this is exactly that. Passion. I can tell you’re good at what you do.

– Thank you sir, really.

He smiles, gesturing toward his plate, then at Rafe, who’s still watching you like he knows something you don’t. – My son’s gonna sleep like a baby tonight. – He chuckles. – Lamb’s his favorite. But I’m sure you know that.

You swallow hard, forcing a nod. – Yes, he did tell me that.

– She used to work at the Wreck. – Rafe hums, his eyes fixed on you, smiling from ear to ear as he swings a glass around. Scotch, by the looks of it. – She was a chef there. Some moron fucked up her order, and I… Well, I couldn’t think of never eating that lamb again.

You feign laughter, as demure as you can make it. – Yes, thank you for that. I really appreciate it.

– You already thanked me, – His grin is sharp, and he averts his eyes for a fraction of a second, gesturing for you to cut him another piece of lamb. You do, thankful for your steady hands and the heavy knife. – in the interview.

His father makes a sound of surprise. – You interviewed her? – He looks at you as you set the plate before Rafe.

– Yes he did. He was very thorough.

Ward seems pleased. – I’ve never seen this side of you, son. I’m glad to see you take an interest in what goes on in this house.

– What can I say? – Rafe looks back at you, signing to the bottle across the table. You don’t know what game he’s playing, but you’re sure it's not meant to be fun for you. – I’m a proactive kind of guy.

Ward hums, taking a long sip of his wine as he watches you pour Rafe another drink. – I’m glad, son. I’m really glad. – You put the bottle back in its place, trying to ignore the gazes burning holes into your skin as you move to your original spot. – And what’s for dessert?

You hesitate only for a moment, wishing you could disappear. – Peach pie. It should be ready in ten minutes.

The reaction is immediate.

Ward smiles, slow and knowing, but before he can say anything, Sarah speaks.

– That’s Rafe’s favorite. – Her tone is cold, almost suspicious.

Your heart stutters, but you keep your face smooth, your voice even. – Really? That’s a coincidence.

John’s voice echoes then, chilling your blood to ice. – Funny, right? It’s my dad’s favorite too. But she knows that. That why she makes it so well.

Ward doesn't miss a beat, even as Rafe turns to glare at your brother. – You two know each other?

John answers for you. – You could say that. – The earth could just split open, and swallow you whole. – Y/n is my baby sister.

– Really? – Ward’s laughter is deep, but somehow not incredulous. – And she’s Rafe’s friend. God, what a small world.

– Looks like it's getting smaller. – John adds. His stare burns into you, hard and unrelenting, like he’s waiting for something.

You don’t let yourself look away first.

Instead, you square your shoulders, holding onto the only thing you can control—the steady rhythm of your breath, the knowledge that you belong here, no matter how much it feels like you don’t.

– Yes. Well, I’ll go check on that pie, and I’ll bring it out soon enough. – You say, voice steady.

Ward nods, pleased. – Good. We’re looking forward to it.

As you turn to leave, Rafe’s voice follows you, low and amused.

– Good job, newbie.

You don’t stop. You don’t react.

But your pulse thunders in your ears all the way back to the kitchen.

Kareem is already there, watching you closely as you step inside. – You okay? – His voice is low, cautious, but the concern is obvious. He nears you as if he’s cornering a wounded animal, warm hands landing on your arms like he’s afraid you’d bolt.

You try to nod, but the motion feels stiff, forced. Your hands are cold, even in the warmth of the kitchen. Kareem notices. He steps forward, brows furrowing as he reaches for your wrist. – You’re pale. Come— C’mere. Sit down for a sec.

Before you can respond, the kitchen door swings open again.

John walks in.

The air turns sharp. Kareem’s hand drops as your brother steps inside, his expression unreadable but heavy with something darker. He doesn’t look at Kareem. Just you.

– You have anything to say? – His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the steel beneath it. – You already lied to me this morning, wanna get it out already?

Your pulse stumbles.

– John, please. I’m working right now.

Kareem straightens beside you, eyes flicking between the two of you. – Sir, you’re not supposed to be here—

– No. – John cuts in, still staring at you. – This doesn’t concern you, okay man? This is family business.

– Don’t talk to my boss like—

– I’ll talk if I fucking want to!

Kareem doesn’t hesitate, his hand resting on your shoulder for a split second before he steps in front of you. – This is not a therapist’s office, sir. She’s working, and you’re not supposed to be back here. So please, leave.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez

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freakbabyy · 2 days ago

Text

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter Three

< chapter two | chapter three | chapter four >

3.004k words

warnings: drama, smitten!eris again, mating bonds

thank you thank you thank YOU for all of the love this has received, the comments, reblogs, and likes <333 i love you guys as much as lucien loves his hair

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Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

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chapter three - the seed

Third POV

Eris Vanserra the entire next day spent his free time with his dagger and a thick piece of wood. Even during meetings, he would take the two items out – nicking his fingers only a few times, yet continued with what he was doing. Anytime someone questioned what he was doing, he either ignored the question or changed the subject. However, after half a day it finally began to take shape and he couldn’t hide it from prying eyes all day – he had to finish after all.

“Is that a flower?” His eldest and most trusted brother, Garreth, questioned. “Is it for your betrothed?”

“Shut up.” Eris responded, working on a petal of it, using his flames to catch the end of it on fire before putting it out – giving it a tinted colour. “Yes.”

“I never knew you were a romantic, dear brother.” His other brother, Marcus, spoke that time – nodding in approval. “If you use the dull side of the knife, you can add details to it.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice, you two.” As he spoke, he took his brothers advice anyway, adding small details to the stem.

“No, because knowing how stubborn you are you’d refuse to ask, even if you needed it desperately.”

“Sometimes I really hate you two.”

“Love you too, brother.” Marcus stood, leaving the room to attend to duties he had most likely, leaving the other two siblings.

“When do you see her again?” Garreth wondered, admiring his brother's newfound hobby.

“Tomorrow, after the meeting. I’m taking her for a walk through the forest, here.”

“Seeing her again so soon? Smitten are we, brother?” Eris didn’t respond right away, and his brothers teasing smile widened. “It’s about time, you deserve to be happy.”

“Agree to disagree.” Was his only response, as he stood up, “We have a meeting with some new advisors in a bit. We’d better get going.”

He left before his brother could say anything more. He let out a sigh,

“Stubborn lovestruck fool.”

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“He what?!” Nesta dropped the book she was holding onto, letting it fall to her lap – page forgotten.

“Did you not hear me?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, getting used to Prythian sayings still.

“No, no I heard you; it just startled me – I didn’t expect it.” Nesta picked her book back up, cursing as she looked for her page, sticking her bookmark in randomly. “When did you-?”

“I was looking out Nyx’s window, overlooking the river, and a figure caught my attention – he appeared out of nowhere before standing in front of the door. He stood for a while I feared he was a criminal.” Y/N laughed a bit, “But then I thought, what criminal shows up in the light? Until Cassian took him inside. Then it clicked when I saw his face turn.”

“Do you think it clicked for him too?”

“I don’t know. He was quiet.”

“That’s out of character for him, actually.” Nesta sipped her tea, settling her book down just as Morrigan strolled in.

“What’re we talking about?” She plopped onto the couch beside Y/N, tucking her feet underneath her. “Boys?”

“Ah, yes!”

“Eris is Y/N’s mate.” Nesta spoke the same time as Y/N, blunt in stating the facts.

“WHAT?” Morrigan sat up straight, her feet falling to the floor, “Since when?!”

“Two days ago.” Y/N answered this time, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt – it was a pale green, a sharp contrast to her dark pants curtesy of Morrigan. She had been supplying Y/N with clothing more common in Prythian, rather than just dresses in Vallahan. “I just spoke it, I’m nervous today.”

“To spend time with him today?”

“Yes. I gift him two carvings last time.”

“I’m sure he likes them, is that what you’re worried about?”

“I don’t know, a feeling.” The girls’ conversation was cut short, a knock happening at the door. “Ah, him?”

Nesta opened the door, settling aside as it was indeed the Autumn high lord. He was dressed casually, a stark difference to his usual attire. A white buttoned shirt with green trousers.

“Good morning,” Eris greeted the room, which was coincidentally full of women he feared. He spoke next just to Y/N. “Are you ready, then?”

“Yes,” She nodded, walking towards him, following him outside the door to go past the townhouse’s wards.

“Ah, don’t be out too late, children!” A voice shouted from the second-floor window,

“Fuck off, Cassian!” Was Eris’ reply before he turned his back to the window, holding out a hand. “Have you winnowed before?”

“Yes, from Vallahan with Morrigan. It is a funny feeling.” Y/N confirmed, taking his large warm hand in her own, ignoring the feeling of electricity going up her arm raising the hair in its wake.

“Oh before we go,” Eris let go to dig in his pocket, producing a beautifully carved wooden lily, “I wanted to follow your custom, to the best of my ability – I’m afraid I don’t know how to carve stone.”

“How did you colour it?” Y/N wondered aloud, inspecting its darkened petals, and even darker stem. It wasn’t paint, or charcoal.

“I carefully burned it,” He demonstrated by holding up his hand, which produced light blue flames, which faded into orange ones, before flickering out. “The hotter the flame the darker the colour, it just takes control to be able to not disintegrate the entire thing... Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Her smile was so wide it looked as if her cheeks hurt, she carefully put it into her pocket on her breast, patting it for safe keeping. “I can’t wait to display on my bed table. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” He stuck his hand out again, as she grasped it – finally winnowing to the middle of the forest, a path he often took his hounds on. “Morrigan said you enjoyed flowers, there are a bunch a bit up the trail.”

Eris took in Y/N, who was taking in the scenery around her. She just now looked up, from bending over at the knees after winnowing. Her face lit up; she twirled slowly looking at everything around her. The different types of trees and leaves, at their many colours, even to the different insects buzzing around.

“What are that?” Y/N wondered aloud, bending down to look at a tiny thing at the base of a tree, nearly covered by the foliage. She carefully poked at it – recoiling at the texture. Eris held in a small laugh,

“That’s a mushroom,” He pulled one out of the ground, and showed her the underneath – which had her touching it, feeling the odd textures. “Do they not have mushrooms where you hail?”

“On plates for eating, not like this.” She turned her head, instead inspecting something on a fallen tree trunk, “What this?”

“That would be an ant,” He watched her in wonder, what else did she not know of? “Do they have any forests where you’re from?”

“No,” She started walking, he sped to catch up to her, “We only have mountains, so high up that not many things grow. I saw grass for the first time when I came here. It feels nice.”

Eris wasn’t sure what to say to that, in truth he felt a little pity – she never climbed trees as a child? She never ran barefoot through a meadow, chased by her siblings as they played a game? Too lost in thought he hadn’t realized she disappeared.

“Y/N?” He spoke, a bit alarmed at where she could have gone and thought the worst. His resolve relaxed when he heard a giggle from above and looked up – she was in the tree. Hanging upside down, her hair hanging below her. “What by the mother are you doing?”

“Hanging around,” She smiled, as he came closer, “It like climbing rocks at home.”

“Be careful, I don’t need you dying on our first date, please.” Eris joked, as she dismounted with ease, landing on her feet – when did she take her shoes off?

“I won’t,” Y/N confirmed, running off to look at something else new, and the more Eris thought she reminded him of his hounds, always so curious to look at something new. “Eris?”

He could get used to hearing his name on her lips.

“Yes?” As he approached, she turned around, and he was appalled. “Where in Prythian did you get that? How did you even pick it up?”

“It was in bushes, friendly like a cat.” In her hands, was an entire fox. It was currently sniffing her hair yet not being hostile.

“Are you a fox-whisperer?” Eris questioned, cautiously walking forward to take a look at it. It didn’t seem injured, rather relaxed if anything. He reached out to lightly pet it, and it didn’t bite him.

“Animals like me,” Y/N smiled, giving it a hug before releasing it back into its bush, waving goodbye.

“Whatever you say, mother-fox.” He held up his hands, watching once more as Y/N returned to the trail before wandering off to the side to look at something, a comfortable silence taking over before the light ahead got closer – the meadow.

“Ah,” Y/N ran forward, hitting the meadow at full speed – her calves being tickled by the wildflowers and tall grass, “It feels funny!”

Eris sat on a raised rock, where he often sat when he needed alone time, enjoying watching Y/N run circles around him, almost dancing in the meadow. When she spotted a new flower she stopped abruptly, bending to look at it, sniffing it, and moving on. It must have been about ten minutes before she finally collapsed beside him, lying flat on her back out of breath.

“Have fun?”

“Yes. Though, it remind me of a word I do not know in your tongue.” She sat up, leaning on her elbows.

“Try to describe it, maybe I know it?”

“I can’t, it’s too...” She seemed to have gotten an idea, she pointed to the bottom of her foot, “Here.”

Eris stayed silent, unknowing what she could mean, until she grasped his foot that was on the rock, crossed on his knee. She began untying his boot, pulling it off with force that almost knocked her over, and then pulled his sock off,

“What by the mother are you doing?”

“Trust!” Was all she said, before pushing his foot off, and as it touched the grass and wildflowers though, he pulled it back up, holding in a laugh – his knee jerk reaction being what she pointed at, “That!”

“My reaction?” She nodded, “It tickled, are you ticklish?”

“Ah! Tick-Lish!” Y/N confirmed, “The meadow is tick-lish.”

“There’s a new word for you, today.” Eris smirked as he pulled his sock and shoe back on, not choosing to go barefoot like she had.

“Well technically my word of day was ‘radish’, but I like tick-lish better.” Eris’ nose scrunched,

“Why radish?”

“I bit into it thinking it was baby apple, not apple. I did not like.”

“I don’t blame you, I don’t either.”

“Tell me more, about you.” Y/N spoke, sitting cross legged across from him, he copied how she was sitting to look at her fully. “What colour do you like?”

“My favourite colour?” He confirmed, she nodded, “I like green. A deep green – almost like moss. What about you? What’s yours?”

“I like... (You can insert your own favourite colour, and what it reminds you of : ) mines light green, like a diluted sage green.)” She thought for a moment, “Do you have siblings?”

“I do; I had six brothers.”

“No sisters? Your poor mother!” Eris laughed at that, his mother had said the exact thing to herself at one point, “I have you beat, though.”

“By the cauldron, how many siblings do you have?”

“Ten,” His eyes widened,

“Your poor mother,” Y/N laughed at that, “Are there any twins or triplets?”

“Ah, three sets of twins. Do you?”

“None, just single babies. I know you’re the youngest, too. I’m the oldest.”

“We are the opposites!”

“We are, though I hear we did the same thing, take care of babies.” Y/N smiled at this,

“Ah, I love babies, they are so cute! Like... Well, I can’t think of anything really cute right now, but it would be really cute!”

“They are, aren’t they?” Eris smiled, thinking of baby Lucien, the last baby he had taken care of. “Want to hear a secret?”

Y/N nodded frantically, scooching closer as if they weren’t alone in the clearing,

“The last baby I took care of, my youngest brother Lucien,”

“Ah! Eyeball!”

“Yes, him, you know how the autumn court is known for its fire powers, yes?”

“Yes, orange leaves like fire, is how I remember.”

“Indeed. Lucien, when he first laughed – let out a glow of light, so bright as if he swallowed faelight. I couldn’t explain it, neither could the one maid I had asked, worried I had messed him up,”

“What was it?”

“Well, come to find out, dearest Lucien and I have different fathers. My mother, had met her mate, and had conceived Lucien as a result.”

“Who is her mate?”

“Oh, no one, just... The High Lord of Day.” The way Y/N’s eyes widened looked painful, as she clasped her mouth with her hands, “That reaction was how I felt when I found out, trust me. My poor mother had to explain it to a fifteen-year-old me, mortified.”

“The lady of autumn... Married to high lord of autumn, but mated to the high lord of day! What happened? Where is she now?”

“Oh, she lives in day with him now, she is now high lady of day. She never really loved my father; their arrangement was purely political. She wasn’t too torn up when he died. Delighted, actually.”

“I would be sad,” Eris looked up, meeting Y/N’s eyes, wide. “If you died, I mean.”

“Oh, I hadn’t meant to bring up... You know. Our political arrangement, not in that light anyway, I really don’t want it in that light anyway – I don’t want to be my father, nor you my mother-” His rambling got cut short, a delicate hand grasping his own,

“I know, Eris.” Y/N smiled encouragingly, “I met your father, once. I was young, apparently, I didn’t like him.”

“When was this?” Eris questioned, completely unaware that this had taken place,

“I was a babe, he made the trip to secure us with Hybern, my older sister, Vidia, told me that at one point he came to say hello to me and my siblings, to show his good-ness to my parents.” She laughed hard at remembering, “Apparently, when he held me, I had not only spit up all over him but also blew-out my diaper. It had gone everywhere, and the more he moved, the more it got worse-”

She couldn’t talk anymore, full on cackling at this point – and Eris had joined her, delighted at the idea of his father covered in not only vomit, but also shit. Literally. When their laughter died down, Eris grasped her hand back, a genuine smile on his face.

“Oh, I think the mother had known what she had done, putting us together.” Y/N looked up from their hands, quickly to his face,

“Put us together?” He paled,

“Oh, I didn’t- shit.” He pulled his hand away, “Cauldron, I had a whole speech planned to tell you, and a picnic, and I wanted to wait awhile until I sprung that on you, but I was too caught up in the moment-”

He was interrupted by Y/N launching herself into him, nearly knocking him off of the rock, securing her hands around his shoulders,

“I knew you felt it too! Though I do like picnics, if that is an option, still.”

“I- you knew too? When?” Eris was at a loss for words,

“I saw you outside Nyx’s window, you were stood at the door – for a while.”

“You saw that!? That’s humiliating! I was so scared to meet you!” Eris groaned, rubbing his hand down his face, as Y/N laughed a bit.

“When did you know?”

“When I saw you singing to Nyx, it was lovely. I was completely entranced by your singing. You’re so caring to Nyx, too.”

“Oh, that is better than standing at a doorway for ten minutes.” Eris groaned again, “Kidding!”

“You aren’t upset? About the bond?”

“Ah, no. I grew up hearing stories of it, how wonderful it is. Even now, with everyone at home with a mate. It is beautiful. What about you? You are high lord; you have a lot to do right now...”

“I am, and I’m ecstatic. Ah, that means very happy. I do have a lot right now, and it might take a while for me to fully be able to devote my time to you, but in the meantime... I’m more than happy to spend my free time with you, my free days wherever you want, here or there.”

“We can go slow; we have all the time.” Y/N concluded, as Eris agreed, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand,

“Though, we shouldn’t announce it yet, to anyone other than who needs to know. I have a lot of enemies at the moment, especially in autumn. I do not wish for them to harm you.”

“I might have told Nesta. And Morrigan.”

“That’s fine, I trust them. They’re good at holding secrets. Plus, I told my brothers last night, they practically pestered me until I told them what I was hiding.”

“Okay, then only Nesta, Morrigan and your brothers?”

“Works for me,” Eris nodded, standing, “It’s been three hours, I should probably get you home, before they come to strangle me. Nesta scares me.”

“Ah, good idea. I promised to put Nyx down for his afternoon nap.”

“I’ll see you next week? For our next afternoon together? Same time?”

“Yes,” Y/N smiled, and Eris smiled back.

Both of them excited for what the future holds, for the first time in forever.

-----

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#acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris acotar #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #eris x reader fluff #the autumn court

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acexsmhking · 2 days ago

Note

a bit more less words than usual :3

Scotty doesn't know

But it's Masky x Reader (any gender you want) bc awe lawd 🤤

𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞

(𝗻.) 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

: ̗̀➛ Masky x FEM!Reader

Summary: Coming back home after days wandering the woods, your beloved boyfriend comes back home. However something seems off.

Warning(s): 18+ content, p n v! sex, oral sex (f! receiving), slight choking, chokehold, porn w/ plot, mentions of drool, small mentions of blood, POC!Reader in mind but no concretewords used

His day had been long, much of the day being spent driving people out of the deeper parts of the woods, and covering any ‘unusual’ markings. He was covered in dirt and sweat, feet aching and mostly likely blistering. Stepping out the car he glanced to the lite kitchen light in the window. It was late, very late. He already knew the reckoning he was going to get from you. It happened everytime. You fretted and worried over him, only slowing down when he was tucked into bed with you.

The door creaked open slowly, obviously in an awful attempt to not wake you. If only that was the case. You had been up for hours, dazing off time to time but standing firm and strong. Shuffling in the house, your heart quivered looking at Tim. He looked haggard, some parts of his jacket or pants torn. Dirt covering him along with suspicious speckles of blood. His face briefly flashed a pang of guilt as you hobbled towards him, eyes droopy with sleep. “ ‘m sorry, baby.” He murmured as you helped him out his jacket, hands brushing off some twigs and leaves.

“You’re fine, let’s just get you cleaned up.” You smiled, tugging him to the shared bedroom. You got the shower going while Tim undressed, you rubbed his shoulders while he took off his shoes. “Are you alright? You look a little..” You tilted your head, his face seemed more deadpanned than usual. His shoulders tensed as he squirmed under your gaze, a frown on his face. He shook his head no, pulling you more to the back room. You indulged him, though a growing suspicion on your mind as he clinged to you in the shower. You helped clean him off as he did the same, though for a while you both just hugged under the water.

Tim readjusted himself often as you both held each other, his face though staying glued to your neck. The hard press of his cock resting firmly against your ass, his hips subtly grinding into you. You flushed at the contact, he had been gone for weeks. Your body ached for him, fingers only able to do so much. You hadn’t fully realized how much you missed certain parts of him. His arm slithered up your body, hand taking firm residence on your neck. Pulling you closer against him. “Tim dear…” You mumbled, one hand holding onto his hips. He made a groan, shaking his head vigorously as it rested on your shoulder.

You raised a brow, eyebrows furrowing before realization dawned on you. “I missed you too.” You chuckled, He hadn’t given Tim control yet. Which you didn’t mind, He was just rather silent about it. “Miss ya too.” He chuckled, lips moving to press a flurry of kisses to your temple. Your clit was aching in need, and you could feel Him only growing harder against you. “Masky darling, let’s not do it in the shower?” Your eyes glanced at Him, His fingers tightened briefly against your neck. “Need you too much, need more space.” You pleaded, turning around to face him. Your arms wrapping around his neck, lips to his cheek as you tempted him.

Of course, He gave into you, as He always did. Though a towel was only half-assedly thrown onto the bed before He had you on it. Laid out, completely at His mercy He was desperate bringing your legs up. Holding them by the fat of their thighs, spreads them as far as He could. Propping yourself up, you smiled while combing your fingers through His hair. It had been so long since He got to have you, or at least it felt like it. Time was hard for Him to tell. His tongue was gently as it licked an experimental stripe up your cunt. Your eyes hooded, hips tilting to encourage Him. He pressed soft kisses to your thighs, her smell absolutely intoxicating Him. Your head lolled back as He kissed her before spreading your lips. His own moving to suckle on your clit, a deep moan escaping His lips.

The vibration caused you to jump a little, giggling as you lazily watched Him. Masky was feverish as He ate you out, elbows keeping your legs spread as His fingers and tongue worked on you. He was sure He could happily die like this, between your legs with that soft and loving look in your eyes. Your toes curled as He switched between sucking and licking you. His fingers teasing your hole before one gradually slipped inside. Just the one thick finger giving you a perfect first fill, it was quick with its thrusts. More and more of your essence coated His chin and lips while feasting on you. His cock was aching hard, beads of precum gathering.

You could vaguely make out the lazy, inattentive thrusts of His hips. His nose pressed firmly against your clit as His tongue joined His finger. “Baby please?” Your hips thrusted up, bumping His head making your intentions clear. He nodded, giving your clit a few more sucks and kisses before He stood up. You loved looking at His body. His muscles were firm and strong, covered in a perfect layer of soft fat. His abdomen toned, but nothing like some gym bro, He looked perfect for His age. Masky lazily stroked His cock, a teasing smirk on His lips watching you. “S’all yours, sweetie.” He snickered, letting your legs fall naturally over Him as He caged you in. One resting on His shoulders while the other rested on His hips.

Your face flushed, a coquettish smile on your lips as you pulled Him in. Your lips met in a sweet and passionate kiss, His tongue still clearly tasting like you as He pushed it into your mouth. You moaned, one arm wrapping around His neck as the other wrapped under His arm to hold His back. His hips were lazy as they thrusted His cock against you, gathering slick coating him. “Missed her so much, doll. Missed you both so much.” He slurred, leaning down onto His elbows as He relaxed into you. “Put it in for me.” He mumbled, looking down between the both of you. You obliged of course, taking the hard cock in your hand as you aligned it with your core.

Both of you noticeably relaxed and tensed as He pushed into you. Biting your bottom lip between your teeth as He bottomed out inside you. Your heels dug into His back, fingers sprawling out. Masky made Himself more comfortable before pulling out just to the tip. He watched as He pushed back into you, smiling at the way she took Him in. Your other arm that was around His neck moving, your hand now firmly on his chest as you felt his body. Oh, how much you missed it. Feeling this hard muscles tensing as his hips snapped into you. Masky wasn’t nearly as docile as Tim, no he was consuming with His movements. Lips brushing against your ears, one hand moving down to your conjoined sex. The rough pad of His thumb drawing fast circles on your clit.

Your toes curled once more, a squeal leaving your lips at His stimulation. The wet noises of your hips meeting only fueling the embarrassment that painted your cheeks. Masky’s mind was completely dizzy as he dug into you, that familiar feeling of you milking his cock driving him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to put load after load into you. Feeling your walls cling to him as his dragged inside you, the pleasure both so much for you. It had been too long since you’d been fucked properly. That coil in your stomach quickly tighten at his relentless movements. And he made no move to slow down, or even try prolonging your quick finish. If anything his movements sped up, two fingers now rubbing your clit as he captured your lips in a kiss.

You held him closer, wanting more of his warmth. His comfort and scent. Both to your body’s now more than dry as you heated up, towel and sheets up your both slightly crumpled. Your orgasm shook you, clit throbbing painfully as your walk clenched him tightly. Trying to stimulate Him for all that he was worth. And He let her, happily indulging in the greed of your cunt as he unloaded into you. His mouth swallowing the pathetic shrill leaving your throat. His bush doing nothing but stimulating your orgasm more as he firmly moved to ground His hips into you. Your body jolted and shivered as you climbed down your high, a string of spit connecting your mouth together as he leaned up.

His grip was domineering as he moved you around, hand tight on your hips while he flipped you over. You groaned while being moved, thighs still tight with tension as He propped you up. His fingers grabbing your hair and pulling you up, your shoulders pressed against his chest. You could feel his cock between your lips, some of his load leaking out of you and back onto Him and the towel. His arms wrapped around your midriff as he pressed kisses to your neck. Masky could be rough, a little forgetful of his own strength. But He always made it up to you.

Especially now as he nibbles your shoulder, hand wondering down to gently rub on your clit. “Love you, Doll.” He sighed contentedly, nuzzling his head against yours. You hummed, your hips grinding against the friction of his fingers and cock. Both hands holding onto His arm wrapped tightly against your midriff. “Love you too, darling.” Your ass pushed against him, back arching. He gave your temple one more kiss before he realigned himself with you. That delicious push back into your wet and slick hole making both your heads spin. A shiver running up your spine as His cock briefly dragged across a now sensational spot.

His hips this time moved slower, his cock reaching deep inside you. You whined, hips jerking as you tried speeding him up. But Masky didn’t listen, instead his thrusts stayed deep and slow. Hips snapping harshly before reeling back. His arm that was wrapped around your stomach now moving to your neck, placing you in a controlled chokehold. Your head spun, the thickness of His arms making you flush. He didn’t squeeze your neck too hard, but just enough that you could feel his strength. His pace sped him ever so slightly as he watched you, eyelids fluttering and distance gaze in your eyes. Two of His fingers pinched your clit between them, rolling their knuckles against it.

Your legs tried clamping, ass pushing harder against him. “Don’t even think about closing those legs, darlin’.” He growled, arm tightening around your throat in correction. You huffed, head falling back against him in submission. Masky rewarded you by speeding up, though a meanness in his movements. Your body felt hot all over, a sheen of sweat beginning to cover both your bodies. Your hips matched His pace, his face pressed against yours.

Everything felt wet and thick between you both, some of the wetness that had leaked down to your ass making a mess further between you both. Sticky cum creating strings between your ass and his hips as he moved into you. The curve of His stomach fitting perfectly against the small of your back. Everything felt so absolutely perfect, your walls seemingly fit him like a glove. Still so molded to him despite days having been passed. This is where He belonged. Oh if only he could take into those woods. So many beautiful places he dreamed of fucking you by. How wonderful you’d smell covered in His cum and scent of the earth.

But Brian and Tim were adamant that he couldn’t, he had to settle for the edge of the woods. Bending you over by a tree to get some sort of thrill. But it was all right, that flutter of your cunt always made it up to Him. One day.. one day he’d kill that thing and fuck you where ever He wanted. “You’d let me do anything to you, baby. Huh?” He teased, arm flexing around your throat as it choked off a moan. Tears brimmed your eyes, his cock stretching you out so full, and His fingers hadn’t become gentler on your clit. “Yes yes! Anything for you!” You exclaimed, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth. His arm making your head even more fuzzy as it occasionally choked you out.

“That’s my girl, such a good girl aren’t you, whore?” You nodded, the nod of your head almost drunk as pleasure seeped into every inch of your body. Tingles all over as that coil gained in the pit of your stomach. One your hands holding onto his hips, nails digging in as if to pull Him even more impossibly closer. The other cradling the back of his head, fingers tightly gripping the soft strands of His hair. A loud slap resounded in the room, followed by a sharp yelp. He cooed at you, snickering at you how your cunt gripped him.

“Aww.. like it when I slap your cunt? She sure does,” His bicep pressing against your throat, shallow gasping sounds coming from you. “Felt how she clenched me. You like it, slut?” The hand on his head moved to dig its nail into his bicep. But he didn’t give up, no He kept you like that for a few more seconds before loosening up just a bit. Sobbed moaned escaped your mouth, incoherent babbles of pleads. You were so close, and he could tell. He could feel you flutter around him, as that slick increased.

He didn’t slow down his movements, but he did angle His hips. Moving to press deeper into you. You moaned, loud and pathetically. He felt too good, so so good. His tip brushing against a spot in you that you were sure your fingers couldn’t have ever reached. It itched that ache in you perfectly. Your body convulsed as your orgasm harshly washed over you. Mind completely blank as your hips frantically grounded against him. Masky kept you upright, his fingers holding your clit in a long press as you rode out your high. Your own triggering His, unloading more of his cum inside you.

You both panted as you held each other. He occasionally kissed your jaw, arm moving from around your neck to rub soft soothing touches on your throat. “Did so good baby, so good.” He praised, gently helping you lay down on the bed. He kissed along your spin, fingers massaging the muscles in your legs and hips to help you relax. Finally, some tension leaving to let you lay down completely. He took the soiled towel from under you, gently wiping off your legs and ass before throwing it in the hamper.

He pulled back the covers before gently laying you down. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Hold on baby, lemme clean up. ‘Mkay?” He asked, tone sweet and loving as he gazed at you. You tiredly nodded, eyelids drooping as sleep called to you. Masky smiled coming back from the bathroom with a warm cloth. Thumb rubbing your cheek as he cradled your sleeping face.

He’d give Tim back some other day once he was satisfied. How could He leave such a cute face right now?

: ̗̀➛ I’m so sorry this took me so long to write anon! I got so many asks and my writers block kicked in! I hope you enjoy this along with the rest of you. Also did any of you notice the shift in the He/Him once it shifted to Masky? Who knows maybe I’ll continue this little detail — Ace

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #masky marble hornets #tim masky #mh masky #creepypasta masky #masky x you #tim wright x reader #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets

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kirbmey · 2 days ago

Text

psycho killer zayne !

💌: this won’t suit everyone, veeeery graphic descriptions of torture, gore, etc. it was inspired by american psycho, so you get an idea. don’t like it? leave, block me, whatever.

the relationship you had with zayne was soft, quiet and intimate. he was such a sweetheart to you, truly.

for example, calling you when he had a break between surgery and surgery, checking on you and asking you the most caring questions with a lovely tender voice.

“honey, how are you? I just got out of the operating room. couldn’t stop thinking about you since I left this morning.” he confessed in a tender manner, holding the phone between his head and shoulder while he took off his surgical gloves, sitting on a random chair in an empty hallway.

you expected his calls, always. pacing around his house impatiently, dressed in his big shirts as you sat by the window, looking at the city lights from above as you two held the conversation in almost whispers.

“you shouldn’t think of me when someone’s life is at risk, silly.” you giggled softly, placing your head in the hand you rested on the windowsill, viewing the streets you always walked next to your lover while holding hands. “I miss you, want you here with me.” you added with a pout taken over your lips.

the line went silent for a second as zayne started to come up with ways to excuse the reason why he wouldn’t make it home for tonight. “my dear, I miss you too, more than you can imagine. but I have to cover my colleague for the night, I won’t make it home today.” you were the silent one now, feeling the sadness you were too familiar with creep to your heart.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you.” he stated after waiting for a response that never came, fidgeting with the discarded glove as he expected your sweet voice to reassure him from the other side of the line.

you shut your eyes in an attempt to make the tears roaming around your eyes disappear. “it’s fine, don’t worry. don’t forget to rest a bit and eat, please?” he hummed as a response to your request, keeping up the conversation until he has to leave, saying goodbye with a warm ‘I love you’ to which you replied the classic ‘I love you too’.

you would never know, but he was doing this for you, to protect you.

protect you from the zayne you had no relationship with at all, the one you never met. and will never meet.

you see, zayne’s always been a calm guy, so put together and collected. he always knew how to handle any complex situation, any angry patient, any of your tantrums complaining about not spending enough time together.

you thought you’ve already met the unleashed zayne when he fucked you for the first time, distancing from the caring one you loved. how he pounded into your cervix so fast, how he slapped across your face after spitting on your mouth, how he spoke those mean words in such a condescending manner, as if he was making you a favor. you loved this zayne as well.

that was all the mean he could get to you, when he felt like fucking you instead of making love to you. and you never worried too much about it either, he didn’t mean those words, he wasn’t like that.

your zayne wasn’t like that.

the zayne stalking behind a woman your exact age to push a cloth over her mouth and put her to sleep so he could lock her in a filthy basement was like that.

he doesn’t know why or when those thoughts started to mess up with his mind, but he got off to them. the image of women crying in fear, begging for their lives as blood covered their oh so beautiful breasts was better than any porn video online.

and hey, he’s been doing this for a while now, even before you two met. but his little sweet angel only made it worse, because now you were the one he imagined crying and begging, covered in blood. and he was scared as he didn’t want to hurt you like that, in a permanent way. not in a kinky way, in a deathly way.

he wished he could kill you again, again and again, and then make you come back to life to kill you once more. he wanted to take care of you in the tenderest way possible and wanted to kill you in the filthiest way possible too.

so he started to murder more often, and he got crueler each time. the latest victim in front of him, oh poor soul, was going to be a witness to the zayne you’ll never know.

the girl in front of his broad figure stood naked with both her wrists tied to the ceiling with the roughest rope ever made, making the soft skin brake into small droplets of blood.

zayne fucking loved blood.

she stir awake, her eyes adjusting to the white light as her heartbeat raced faster each passing second, screaming for help and squirming around to try and break free form the restraints.

“my fucking god, why you whores always react the same way?” he spoke calmly as he approached her shaky form, grabbing a fistful of her hair to then slap her, not even close as the kind of slaps he gave you, making the girl shut up instantly as she started crying and apologizing.

zayne couldn’t care less about what she had to say, towering over her and fixated on the red liquid decorating her soft skin.

he had to touch it. smell it. taste it.

so he did, he leaned into her smaller frame, making her take a few steps back as he grabbed her arm to lick down on it, grunting when the metallic flavor covered his tongue. he got hard immediately.

he tasted it. now he needed to fuck into it.

“see? you can be silent for a while.” he chuckled lowly as he wiped the remains from his lips, turning around to grab a small cart hiding in the shadows and pull it in front of her, standing behind it. “but I’m afraid it won’t last—”

when she saw the contents of the silver platter on top of it she started crying and screaming once more. come on, it wasn’t so bad, was it?

his favorite scalpel with his name craved into the side, a sharp knife, a few nails next to a rusty hammer, a gun (boring) and a wrench.

lord, she didn’t even see the bat and machete in the lower shelf of the cart. how unconsiderate.

“I always let everyone choose, is the least I can do.” he clarified as he cleaned each of the tools before him with a cloth, pink with flowers. a gift you gave him; he carried a piece of you everywhere. “but don’t worry, dead or alive, you’ll test them all.”

after a little bit of pushing, yelling and cursing she chose the gun (he had to get rid of it, everyone chose the goddamn gun). he laughed wholeheartedly at her choice as he grabbed it and loaded it with a singular bullet.

he pushed the cart away to stand closer to her, filling her mouth with said cloth when her yelling got to his nerves. he always washed it after each job as he did with all of his tools, don’t worry. through and through a real and hygienic professional.

zayne traces the curve of her body with the head of the gun, palming himself through his briefs as he leaned down to whisper to her ear. “you think I’m gonna shoot you in the head and call it a day? after all the effort it took me to bring you here? no, no.” the gun stoped its travel, pointing at her tummy, caressing her bellybutton with it as he rubbed himself against his palm.

he held her head down to make her watch how he pressed the trigger, the bullet going trough her stomach. blood everywhere. now the fun part.

his white shirt was splashed with it, as his face, his hands, don’t even bother to think of how the wall behind her looked. everywhere he looked at, there was blood, red, warm blood.

zayne dropped the gun to the floor, grabbing her hips to bring her decaying body closer to him. he pulled the now bloody cloth out of her mouth before dropping it to the puddle next to the weapon, licking and kissing her crimson lips like a starving dog.

grunts and moans filled the four concrete walls as he rubbed his leaking tip against the hole in her tummy, tugging at the base as the foreskin feared to push a bit too much inside of said hole.

he didn’t even care about the now dead body in front of him, too busy breeding the wound after mere seconds. it was always like that, hard to get and fast to finish.

the other tools were used too, don’t worry. he had the time of his life that night.

and when he came back home to you, late at night when you were already fast asleep, after he burnt her and all of the possible evidence as he always did, he took a steamy shower, whistling full of joy, smiling at the dry blood converting the transparent water into that shade of pink you loved to then disappear down the drain.

you’d wake up shortly after with his dark and soft locks tickling your naked thighs as he nibbled at your clit and humped the mattress, offering you the best head he’d ever given to you. ever.

squirt all over his expensive sheets, over and over. so fucking wet, squelchy. warm, he needed more.

the sunlight met your lord knows what number orgasm, his jaw numb from all the effort and his mind cloudy because of the lack of sleep. “I love you, I love you.” he mumbled as he traced kisses from your thighs to your mouth, letting you taste the sweet nectar he got from you.

you’d ask him what’s gotten into him, he’d tell you he loves you once again.

your soft, quiet and intimate zayne loved you and wanted to take care of you.

the other zayne wanted to fucking kill you, stab you and beat you to death <3

let’s hope you never never ever meet him !

💌: yes i love patrick bateman and gore, I’m just a girl >_<

#lads headcanons #lads smut #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lnds zayne smut #love and deepspace zayne smut #lnds zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne smut #zayne x you

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kamotecue · 2 days ago

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an unexpected encounter ۶ৎ l. freigang

summary: in which you found your soulmate, in an unexpected way. lohmann!reader

pairing: laura freigang x lohmann!reader

soulmates, can either be romantically or platonically. it was proven that seventy percent of the world were born with soulmates, either a platonic one or a romantic one. the thirty percent, or the latter wasn’t born with a soulmate tattoo, or it had disappeared as their soulmate had already departed from this world before they’ve ever got to meet them.

you’d be able to tell through the tattoo that was marked on your skin, mainly located at the wrist. whether it was designed with a heart, signifying a romantic one—or an arrow, for a platonic one. yet your soulmate tattoo had been linked with a heart, a small football tattoo signaling your soulmate’s tattoo.

it was something that caught sydney, your younger sister off guard, football was kind of her thing, while you were more interested in the fine arts, film and photography, painting and lastly music. which is why you’ve opened your own art exhibit, in bad honnef — germany. and not to mention, you’ve released popular albums with your band, the midnight rebels.

but the current train of thoughts you had, was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. it was sydney, your younger sister.

“hallo, liebe schwester? (hello, dear sister?)” you said, waiting for a reply.

“ich habe angerufen, um zu erfahren, ob sie noch verfügbar sind, um heutd abend am spiel teilzunehmen? (i called to see if you were still available to attend the game tonight?)” sydney’s voice rang from the other end, as you hummed. it was the quarter-final game, between frankfurt and bayern munich.

“natürlich würde ich es um nichts in der welt verpassen wollen. (of course, i wouldn’t miss it for the world)” you replied, just like how sydney always supported you on your hobbies, the art exhibit that her club & national teammates have visited — you had always supported her in football, always watching the matches online, when you weren’t able to be there in person, as you were busy with the tours.

“und vielleicht kannst du dann meine nationalen teamkollegen kennenlernen, die dich schon lange kennenlernen wollten. (and maybe then you can get to know my national teammates who have wanted to get to know you for a long time.)” her words had caught you off guard, why is that?

“hast du es ihnen erzählt? dass ich das geheime mitglied von... (did you tell them? that i’m the secret member of…)” sydney had interrupted as you let out a deep sigh.

“nein, ich habe ihnen nicht gesagt, dass du das maskierte mitglied der mitternachtsrebellen bist. (no, i didn’t tell them you’re the masked member of the midnight rebels.)” her reply was swift, as she continued, “she waren in deiner kunstausstellung, erinnerst du dich? mit der unterkunft, die sie hatten, haben sie den eigentümer nie getroffen. (they’ve been to your art exhibit, remember? with the accommodation they’ve received, they never met the owner.)”

ah, the art exhibit — it was something you’ve established after finishing university in the states, a full academic scholarship to ucla for your fine arts degree, majoring in photography & painting and drawing.

it just so happens that ucla is where you ended up meeting the rest of your bandmates, the midnight rebels. so, whenever the band (it started out as a university band, the contract signing happened after a video had blew up) had a performance, you’d show up in a mask.

it was because, you were never one for the spotlight. being the introvert that you are, striking up a conversation, must less singing on stage, was nerve-wrecking.

“ich hatte noch keine zeit dazu, sie wissen ja, wie mein manager ist. (i haven’t had time to do that yet, you know what my manager is like.)” every since that breaking record deal, the signing of your band — your manager has been up your arse about recording more songs, keeping up with this masked image (even though you were thankful for it).

“ja, ich weiß. aber ich fürchte, wir müssen das gespräch beenden, der trainer sagt, wir sollen uns jetzt konzentrieren. (yes, i know. but i’m afraid we have to end the conversation, the coach says we should concentrate now.)” sydney mumbled as you bid goodbye, — perhaps in a rush to get ready for tonight.

the match was a little bit packed, as you could ever imagine. afterall, it was a game between the two top teams of the league. you took a seat at the family and friends section, like you usually do whenever you attend a match. however, your gaze was quickly torn to your wrist, as you felt the hot, stinging sensation — your soulmate is nearby.

the game started with both teams showing their tactical discipline. bayern, the team your sister plays on, controlled possession, trying to break through frankfurt’s compact defensive setup. the opposing team, on the other hand, looked dangerous on the counter, using their speed on the flanks to stretch bayern’s backline.

it was then in the 79th minute, caro simon had accidentally put the ball into her own net, giving frankfurt a 1-0 lead, it was the moment you felt your heart drop. but bayern, however refused to back down, eager to score an equalizer, and little did they know, it came true. damnjanović scored a dramatic equalizer sending the game into extra time.

once the extra time had started, it was then bayern showed championship mentality, their energy levels running high. viggósdóttir did a header from a well delivered set piece. sooner, tanikawa weaved past the defenders before rifling in a stunning shot to make it 3-1. with frankfurt desperately trying to fight back, damnjanović struck again completing bayern’s statement, with a 4-1 victory.

the game ended with cheers from the home fans, as you softly clapped knowing how much this game meant to your sister. as the game ended, you went closer to the field, watching how the teams talked with their fans, rotating around the field — you however, ignored the sensation on your wrist.

“wie hat ihnen das spiel gefallen? (how did you like the game?)” your eyes followed the voice, only to see the colors of the opposing team.

“es war nervenaufreibend. (it was nerve-wrecking.)” you simply said, turning your eyes away from the jersey, to look at the person’s eyes — only for both of you to look at each other shocked, the stinging pain that you’ve gotten from the soulmate tattoo had stopped, and you knew what that meant.

“du bist es. (it’s you)”

you tore your eyes away, as sydney came — a tired yet joyful expression wore her face, her eyes had curiosity as she looked at you, and laura her national teammate.

“ich sehe, du hast meine schwester laura kennengelernt. (i see you’ve met my sister, laura.)” laura, who you’ve now learned the name of, her eyes widened at your sister’s words.

“die besitzerin der kunstaustellung? (the owner of the art exhibition?)” she had said, as you responded.

“ja, genau. (yes, exactly.)” you said, looking between the two teammates, as sydney furrowed her eyebrows.

“nist du okay? du siehst aus, als hättest du einen geist gesehen. (are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.)” sydney said, as she looked at your face, a bit pale you were.

“ich glaube ich habe meine seelenverwandte gefunden. (i think i’ve met my soulmate.)” you mumbled underneath your breath, as laura’s eyes widened at the words — while, sydney looked so confused.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #gerwnt x reader #laura freigang x reader #dfb frauen x reader

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mono-dot-jpeg · 5 hours ago

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focus and study - viktor

summary; in which viktor gives you a proper incentive to study hard and even helps you relieve some stress

genre/extra tags; small one shot, modern college au, smut, fluff, half baked smut, established relationship, this could be considered a prequel to my jayvik reader smut, viktor and reader were together first and jayce joined in not long after, OR jayce thought they were dating already and viktor reader thought too hard about the relationship, silly shit at the end, jayvik freak agenda, OOC viktor????, open ended

word count; 1.1k

[nsfw] [gender neutral reader]

[warnings; sex toys, dom! vik my beloved, written by a sex neutral asexual, orgasm denial/edging, overstimulation?, voyeurism?, implied dacryphyilia, degradation???, vik call you a slut, whore, dumbification?? idk how to spell that one how fitting, riding, slight oral, a small step up from mean viktor compared to my other fic]

a/n; umm... no notes. written in January, finished for valentines. this world will never give me viktor league for valentines. this is so half baked. im so sorry viktor nation.

studying was the worst. at least for you. you, who usually had a good sense of confidence when it came to your classes, felt like screaming into the void with every curse you knew.

nothing just seemed to be clicking in your mind. no matter how many times you went over it yourself, how you asked the teacher, how you asked some classmates. nothing worked.

but then viktor had this genius idea.

"hah... viktor.. i don't- i don't kn-know.." you gasped between words as you feel how sticky your lower half has become as you sat at your desk. you've never been more thankful to only afford a cheap chair because you just know that any leather seat would have you riding on it like it's viktor's own dick. "i don't know- the- the answer-! ngh!" your body trembles as the stupid hot red dildo stuck in you vibrated gently. it was enough to feel but not enough to satisfy. it wasn't even big enough to hit any good spots, too.

"dear.. you can do better than this. i don't date a dumb whore.. do i?" he said sitting on your bed as he fiddled and twisted with the setting on your vibrator. his smirk is subtle every time he gains a whine out of you when he turns the settings higher or lower.

you shook your head, intensely disagreeing with him as you try to hold back from touching yourself. "n-no.. i'm not dumb.." you whined into your hand that did nothing to cover your moans.

"we have 5 more questions, pretty. can you do them for me?" he asked. you can hear him stand up, and you see his figure at your vanity mirror as he approaches you. you can see how hard he is with his pants tightening by his dick. "i'd be very happy if i could give you a reward."

you look at your written notes, but everything seems to blur and mesh together. you shift in your seat, and the vibrator just grazes your sweet spot. you crumble and whine loudly at the absolute lack of satisfaction you just felt. so close but so far. you don't even realize you're crying.

"is my poor love too much of a dumb slut to handle some math assignments? you can't even think, right? you can't even answer my questions anymore.." he said, his hand resting on your cheek as he turns you to face him. "what will i ever do with you?" he turns the settings higher, leaving your legs twitching and shaking for more.

"v-viktor.. please.." you cried out. "i want- want you so b-badly.." you can't help your hand traveling down to your heated area to start touching yourself for any sense of satisfaction. but viktor stops you from doing too much.

"now, now, what did i say about touching yourself? i should teach you how to behave properly. i'd say i could fuck you stupid but that wouldn't be so right for this scenario, would it?"

you start getting desperate, your hands grip at his pants tugging at them and looking up at him with glazed eyes for a chance to have him in you. "v-vik- ah.. please.." your body is only turned to him now, your face covered in tears as the vibrator is only grazing and brushing at your sweet spot.

"my pretty dumb slut, is that what you are now?" he asked, holding your face by your chin. his thumb rubs at your tears. "you listen to me so well, and yet you can't even finish reviewing your notes as i told you to." he shook his head in feign disappointment before moving back to the bed. you follow him, your bodily fluids drip down your legs in a way that makes you feel so pathetic, but you don't even care at this point. you need him so bad.

"please- viktor- i want to- i want-" you can't even speak right. not when he's unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. you almost drool at the sight of him.

"you should be good enough to not cum until i tell you, yes?" you nodded eagerly at his words. "look at you, you're drooling over me." he commented, but most of your sense is thrown out the window as you start licking at his dick. your warm mouth starts to suck and hollow your cheeks as you blow him. you can see how much he enjoys it, but he stops you from doing too much. he grabs a condom to put on, and your body shivers in excitement.

you both move to a more comfortable position, resting fully on the bed rather than on the edge of it. he takes the vibrator out of you, leaving you whining from the emptiness. "no whining, dear." he said as he sat on the bed, pants tossed to the side, boxers somewhere on the floor, and his white button-up open and loose. "ride." he gives the one command, and you go for it. you keep it careful so as not to disturb his hurt leg too much.

you line yourself with his cock and slowly sink, moaning at him filling you so well. you start riding not long after once you get used to the feeling of him. but you're so close to cumming due to the vibrator simply torturing you earlier that your body shivers and shakes from you holding back. "let- let me cum, v-viktor!" you gasp between pumps. his hands on your hips guide the pace.

"you couldn't even answer 5 questions for your notes. are you sure you're not my dumb slut? you can't even think about anything but my cock, right now? nothing but my pretty whore."

"please, please, please!" you repeated, your eyes unfocused and blown out as your mind draws blanks. "wanna cum! please!"

"you're asking so nicely. perhaps you're not that dumb." he hummed. "you can cum now, dear." he purred before holding your face to his, to kiss you stupid. you instinctively respond to his kisses and the last thrust that hits your sweet spot, leaving you to moan his name out. "that wasn't a great plan, but we learned a lot, didn't we?" you would be mad at him for being so composed and calm this whole time if you weren't so fuzzy brained right now. he slowly guides you to pull out and tosses the condom in the nearby trash bin. you move slowly and lean down to finish him off.

"you don't have to do that, dear."

your response is muffled, and you don't even pull away. you refuse to leave your man unsatisfied, but his next words have you pausing, "jayce can do that for you. isn't that right, jayce?" you pause to look over at the door and see a heaving jayce with a hard rock cock stuffed in his pants and a guilty puppy look on his warm face.

#league of legends x reader #viktor x reader #league of legends viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #lol viktor #league of legends viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #arcane x reader #lol arcane

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thediaryofawimpysim · 1 day ago

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dear diary,

my therapist told me it’d be a good idea to start keeping a journal and i keep seeing these junk journals everywhere so i figured— why not make it a little more fun?

it’s official. i’ve just left home for the first time and moved into my new dorm at the university of britechester. obviously, i’m scared. but it’s also so exciting to think about all the possibilities ahead of me. i’m thinking i want to major in art history but who knows how i’ll feel once i get started with the courses.

luckily, i don’t have a roommate. i knew i’d need my personal space and living in a dorm was already going to be enough of an adjustment. hopefully i’ll get along with the rest of the people in the dorm. maybe i could even make a friend or two? :’)

i moved around so much in high school that i feel like i never really got to establish a solid group of friends. i'd love to finally do that here. people always say that you find yourself in college and i really hope they're right.

S.H.

#i love a good junk journal and thought it'd be fun to make a diary sort of thing because of my username lol #i'm thinking this will be a mix of junk journal entries and regular screenshots #like maybe her journal entries are from her perspective and the screenshots are more third person #idk! we'll see where i go with it #simblr #sims 4 cc #sims cc #ts4 simblr #the sims #the sims 4 #sims builds #sims 4 builds #sims gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #junkjournal

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lostinwildflowers · 12 hours ago

Note

Hiii can I request number 28 with Levi? Tysm! 😁

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: 28. “Sharing a bed with you sounds like a silly story trope, doesn’t it?”

Word Count: 395 -> THE CLOSEST I'VE GOTTEN TO 400 YET!

Warnings: just fluff, Levi being awkward LOL

A/N: Hello my dear, thank you for joining in on my event! I hope you have a very wonderful Valentine's Day and enjoy this snippet of Levi! - Birch<3

You didn't know how to approach being at Wall Sina with Levi and Erwin on business. You were so used to being out, beyond the walls, that being trapped in the middle of society made you antsy.

To top it off, there were only two rooms available for the three of you. You and Levi knew better than to ask Erwin to share, he would be busy trying to get everything ready for your meetings in the morning.

So, you had to share a room with Levi. Harmless, right? That is until the two of you are staring at the small room with one bed in the middle of it.

You could feel Levi tense beside you as his silvery gaze took in the small bed. Neither of you seems to move or breathe for a couple of seconds until the silence is too much for you to bear.

“Sharing a bed with you sounds like a silly story trope, doesn’t it?” the words come rushing out of your mouth before you can stop them, the want to ease the discomfort overriding the logic in your mind.

Levi is quiet and then asks, "Is that one of the things you read about in your books?" There is no malice in his words; it is just a simple question. He doesn't wait long for you to answer, instead choosing to move forward and place his few items on the table opposite to the bed.

Your mouth had fallen open in slight shock, both at the clumsiness of your words and the grace Levi seemed to be giving you. You shake your head to focus as you reply slightly clipped, "Only in passing."

You motion to the bed and gush out, "You can take the bed, you'll need it more than I will. I can just take the chair in the corner." Levi stops his ministrations, turning to face you.

There's a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he murmurs lowly, "We can take turns. Get some rest now, I'll go see what Erwin is up to."

He doesn't give any room for discussion this time, choosing to duck his head down and silently leave the room. A breath you didn't know you had been holding slides through your lips, and all you can do is watch him leave, your heart pounding in your chest.

#Birch's 2025 Valentine's Day Event #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #attack on titan #aot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n

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rollofthed1ce · 3 days ago

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Project O.A.D. : #2 Hollyberry

Unlike the rest of the ancients, Hollyberry is the best option… kinda. You most likely met them in a tavern or in some public. Taking note at how Holleyberry takes more interest talking with you than anyone else. And when you started to stay at the palace… she actually wasn’t that different. She usually just hugs you, brings you to events, and other stuff. All she really wanted from you… was you… just you.

Hollyberry allows you to do what you want around her kingdom. Letting you walk around and talk to others. But there were a few rules you had to follow: one being the fact you can’t leave her kingdom ever. Their will always be some kind of security it make sure you don’t leave. But besides that, life is basically the same.

This also relates to work as well. If you have a job withing the kingdom then she (begrudgingly) allows you to work there. Tho do or prepare to spend your time with her when you get back to the palace. If you’re not outside or not doing much, Hollyberry will spend the rest of her time with you unless you or her have something to do. But if no one is around then Hollyberry will be a lot more touchy and talkative. By that I mean she’ll just cuddle with you or stick very close to you, and she will actually tell stories that can range from well known to personal ones.

Although she is sounds like a good option to be with. There is a problem, juice. If she is drunk, she’s basically a clingy, protective, emotional mama bear. She will not leave you alone when drunk, spouting random nonsense as she death hugs you like a child holding onto a plushy. Spouting nonsense into your ears. Will also express her true feelings. How she wants you, how much you mean to her, how you complete her.

Although her family may disagree at first, slowly they got use to you now being apart of the family. Some more than others. Some of Hollyberry’s family will be attended to you, seeming more obsessed over you then Hollyberry herself. Tho it’s still better than others.

If you escape, which is possible, different things may happen. one being a hunting even for adventurers to find you. But if they can’t find you, Hollyberry will get impatient and then team up with the red dragon. Hope you’re ready to play a game of hide and seek. Cause when you hide, she seeks.

When she does find you…

“Y/N! Thank the witches your alright. How foolish of you to run away like that. To think of leaven your home? Oh, you look so unhappy. I’m sorry my dear, what happened that makes you this upset?…..”

“I know you may not like your new home. And wish to see your old friends and family. But even still…. Please don’t get cross. All I wish is for your love.”

——————————

Hostility : <40% - tho she can get a bit violent, she is still the safest and post passive to.

Speed : mid - her shield seems to give her a slight boost.

Damage : unknown - the damage varies dramatically. Can’t make heads or tails.

Intelligence : low - is either the second or the least intelligent of everyone.

Danger : 7

Extra: Holleyberry can rely on her allies, friend, and family to get what she wants sometimes. Hollyberry is a Paladin (surprisingly). if she’s drunk when capturing Y/N, RUN.

#yandere cookie run #yandere Hollyberry #hollyberry crk #yandere crk x reader

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 days ago

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Hello Mousie ✨

I read your (extremely adorable and wholesome) headcanons about SVE spouses reacting to holding there newborn for the first time and I would like to request the RSV spouses and there reactions as well if that's okay ⁠✿

I hope you had happy holidays and don't forget to take care of yourself (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Heyyyy, dear anon! Thank you so much for your ask and kind words, glad you like my headcanons, hehe 😊

About that previous ask... I misunderstood anon a bit and made a reaction only for the first child 😅 (they asked for first and second), but since you specified only the firstborn here, I'll make reaction only for one child, like in previous ask. Hope that's ok!

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With a big smile and little droplets in his eyes, Ian greeted his little one. But no sooner had he said anything than the baby started to cry (wanted to eat) and poor Ian panicked and tried to calm the baby (in vain), which made him cry too. Farmer came to his rescue. "I'm already letting you and the baby down, aren't I?" Yoba, Ian, it's not like that at all. He would be more confident with his baby the next day.

Honestly, June would never have thought he would become a family man with his past lifestyle, but taking his precious child in his arms for the first time, the pianist felt such immense happiness that it overwhelmed him all over. There it was, his place, his home, his loved ones, and his little son/daughter.

Bryle was cautious at first, as he had not held babies before, and was a little afraid that he was holding his baby in the wrong way somehow. Even after the preparations for the baby's arrival, he was somehow worried. But all worries were lifted like a hand when the little bundle in his arms started moving and agooing. Whoa, he's a father. He can't believe it, he's a daddy!

"Honey, look, look, look! Our son/daughter grabbed my finger! Already so strong, right, little one?" Without stopping laughing, Jeric played with the baby as he grabbed his father's finger with his little hand. He held the baby in his arms for another half hour or so until the baby started crying because he wanted to eat.

"This is my son/daughter and I love him/her!" Everyone in the Ridgeside Village and Pelican Town already knows what a proud father Sean is and that his baby is beautiful and look how cute he/she is, as the young father marched down the street with his child in his arms and beloved partner by his side. Well what can you do - he's so happy he'll be talking about it everywhere.

Jio stood as still as a statue, listening to the quiet breathing of his and Farmer's baby, whom he held in the arms for the first time since their long-awaited arrival into their family. A smile spread across the elf's face, so rare a sight that usually only Farmer caught, and he cradled the little body more tightly in his arms. "Welcome, little one. We've been waiting for you."

"Hey, shh, shh, shhhh. It's okay, don't cry, daddy is here." It may have taken longer to lull the child to sleep, but still Philip was able to soothe the baby who started crying immediately in his father's arms. Even after the cries stopped, he continued to gently rock his son/daughter while looking at his kid. "See, you're doing great. You're going to be a great dad," and Philip's doubts were finally dispelled.

"Hello, little one. I'm your mum, Farmer and I have been waiting for you for so long." For the first time Kiarra took her beautiful baby in her arms while Farmer lay back and rested, watching with a smile as Kiarra continued to talk with the baby. At first the graphic designer was afraid that she would make some mistakes while holding her child, but after taking them for the first time, she held them confidently, close to her, and didn't want to let her precious little one go.

"I don't deserve you. It's too good, I don't deserve both of you," went through the mind of a crying Anton as he sat on the sofa with a laughing baby in his arms and Farmer sitting next to him. As if reading his mind, Farmer hugged their husband, causing Anton to cry even harder. "You and our baby... I'm sorry, I still don't believe in my own happiness." He made a vow to himself to be the best father to his baby boy/girl.

Farmer had been insistent on not letting any of the Amethyne family and their servants anywhere near the baby. Not that they had anything against their in-laws, no, it was just that they wanted to let their partner Zayne hold the child first. And the young head of the family, eyes wet with tears, smiled broadly as he called his and Farmer's baby by the name they both had already chosen. His son/daughter, how beautiful they are, and how much they look like Farmer!

The baby got tired and started crying loudly, so Shiro began to gently rock the little one, humming the song. Once the baby was asleep, the veteran put them back in the crib, watching them sleep, surrounded by the toys that he and Farmer had made, for another minute. A few droplets fell from his eyes on some of the plush toys as Shiro couldn't hold back the tears of happiness, but he moved a little further away so as not to wake the baby with his growing cries.

"Oh, our baby is smiling! Honey, get the camera, our son/daughter is laughing!" Kenneth and his partner decided to capture all the 'firsts' that are associated with their baby. The first baby holding - and Kenneth caught their first laugh (already!), which they managed to capture on the video camera. Kenneth's face, slightly wet with tears of happiness, was also caught on film.

Poor Blair was crying so much that her mom and Farmer even had to calm her down. She accidentally woke the baby with her sobbing, who also wanted to cry, but the young fisherwoman quickly pulled herself together and rocked the baby to sleep. Blair didn't want to wake her baby, just... Holding her little one and surrounded by her family she felt a whole tsunami of emotions that she couldn't control.

When Corine was asked to hand the baby over to another person (not Farmer), she squeezed the baby a little tighter, giving others a slightly wary look. To which her father Ezikel laughed, because Helen, his wife, also behaved a bit careful and protective when she took little Corine in her arms for the first time. He knows for a fact that her daughter and her partner will be the best parents in the world.

If Corine is just a little bit overprotective mother, Faye is not a little bit at all. The waitress has held her baby boy/girl in her arms like the most fragile and precious treasure, not letting even her closest friends get near her and child. Only she and her partner can hold the baby, the rest of us - shoo! She'll be a little longer in 'super protective mum' mode, but she'll be a little calmer.

Paulo rocked her baby gently, lulling them to sleep so the child wouldn't cry. The military doctor's smile hadn't crept off all day, and her gaze, full of tenderness and adoration, was directed back and forth to her adorable baby that she was holding for the first time, and to her beloved partner who was with her every minute of this special day. "I think the baby is asleep now. He's/She's definitely got your eyes, darling."

"My little baby, at last we meet! How adorable you are!" Irene finds it a little hard to contain her emotions of joy, but she and Farmer have been waiting with anticipation for the baby's arrival into their little family. At everything the baby does, the Amethyne family's cook shrieks with happiness and wants to capture everything on camera. She will die of cuteness when she hears her baby's laughter.

In one breath, Alissa spells out that she will be the best mother to the baby, that she and Farmer will protect and love their precious little one while her baby sniffles quietly in her arms. Well, in general Alissa was crying so hard that you could not make out much of her words because of her tears, but oh well, she's just so glad that her and Farmer's baby is healthy and happy.

Maddie usually denies that she cries when someone catches her with tears on her cheeks, but right now she doesn't care at all what others think. Her beautiful baby, who she and Farmer have been eagerly awaiting, is quietly sleeping in her arms. The son/daughter is so beautiful, she has become a mother, she can't believe it, Maddie still can't believe her own happiness.

"Oh, this screaming little thing is my screaming little thing." Daia though joking, but for her, this is one of the most exciting and long awaited moments. Having dedicated almost her entire life to serving Lady Belinda, she thought she would never know a normal life and family happiness. Until Farmer showed up in the Valley, and now Daia is holding her and her partner's baby, promising to be the best mom ever.

At first Flor was speechless. She stared at the baby in her arms for a minute and tried to say something, but just can't for some reason. And as soon as Farmer became worried that something was wrong with their wife, Flor began to cry and whimper quietly. But it's from happiness, it's just that she's been so overwhelmed with emotion: so much excitement and worries, preparation, and now this moment has come - their long-awaited baby. She's happy, honestly, just overwhelmed.

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