#i wobbled and wavered

[lilac-melody]

Acting like an idiot with coworkers is actually very fun

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕖𝕟: 𝔸 ℕ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, reader gets cornered on an elevator by a random man, rafe flashes his gun, threats, physical violence against the guy, mirror sex, wall sex, dirty talk, kissing, unprotected p in v, angst, fingering, spanking, praise, finger sucking, cum tasting, rough sex, cream pie, older!rafe

📖 I got the idea for this story after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s Christmas Special! ♥️ The premise is a popstar!reader who wants the attention of her handsome bodyguard, who seemingly has one interest: keeping her safe.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The stage is shining, the crowd alive with holiday cheer as you belt out the final notes of A Nonsense Christmas. The applause roars around you, their energy washing over you like a wave.

You smile, waving to the audience, but your gaze quickly floats over to the stage's edge as it has been all night… as it had been for weeks when you closed out the final song.

There he is. Rafe Cameron.

He stands tall, commanding, calm, and professional in a suit. His piercing gaze sweeps the room, assessing every face and every movement for threats, but never to you.

You poured every ounce of charm into that performance, thinking it might be enough to catch his eye. A wink here, a playful smile there, all subtle gestures to draw his attention—yet, nothing. His stoic expression doesn’t budge. His demeanor’s like trying to melt a glacier with a single match.

By the time the show’s over, the emptiness gnaws at you. The Netflix special had been perfect, yet you could only focus on how Rafe never even cracked a smile. None of the jokes landed… Not a single song was heard, it seemed. It was like he was listening to white noise.

The wrap party’s filled with people from the industry and familiar celebrity guests from the special. Your manager taps you on the shoulder throughout the night, making it impossible to get away: candid interviews, photos for the press, people vying for a moment of your time.

You float through the crowd in a Bob Mackie dress, dodging your manager as you see her walking toward you again. You smooth out the satin and fluff your hair nervously, searching for him. There he is. Your heart flutters as your eyes match his; your red dress shifts with each step, hugging every curve just right. Compliments come in every direction, yet your focus is drawn to the beautiful man at the bar…

He’s the definition of composure, sipping his water and scanning the room. Since the show, he’s popped a single button at the top of his white button-down shirt. Even that subtlety, just a taste of his tanned skin, sends butterflies swirling in your stomach. He glances away, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

Your heart beats faster, knees wobbling in your sky-high heels—a wavering you didn't even have during your performance. Your feet click along the marble floor, each step fueled by courage and desperation. The sound draws his eye to you.

"Hi," you say gently, feeling the heat of embarrassment pool in your cheeks as his jaw flexes. His nostrils flare as he draws a deep breath, looking almost annoyed.

Rafe looks down, his blue eyes locking on yours briefly, making your stomach fall. Your eyes widen, realizing that you don’t even think he’s ever truly done that before—constantly looking through you, around you, at your person, but never into your eyes.

“Ms. l/n,” he greets you, his tone polite but detached. The moment of attention you had has faded and gone.

"Call me y/n," I say, trying to bridge the chasm between you, craving that brief moment you had when his eyes were on you again.

He gives you a slight nod as he glances into the crowd. “What can I do for you?"

"Have a drink with me?" You ask fast, surprised that he even wanted to know, given his body language.

His lips press into two thin lines. “I’m working,” he replies, firm but not unkind. "It was a great show, y/n. You should enjoy the party. I'll be close by if you need me."

You bite your lips, eyes fluttering as he dismisses you before your gaze falls to the floor. The reaction was a cold slap to the face.

“Have a good night,” you whisper fast, giving him a small smile as your pride tatters. You turn around on your heels, your embarrassment weighing heavily on your chest as you push through the crowd, knowing you’re never quite out of his sight, needing to be far enough away that he doesn’t realize how deeply that cut.

By the party's end, you’re exhausted and mentally drained. Reaching for your coat, you head out into the night with your team and Rafe.

It’s a short walk, only a block from the venue to the hotel. Snow falls from the dim, sparkling in the streetlights as it dances to the ground below. You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself tight, trying to keep warm, feeling the heat of Rafe’s gaze on you still, just a few feet behind you.

You look over your shoulder, matching his eyes. He doesn’t flinch; his smile doesn’t brighten like yours when you see him. He looks away, turning his attention toward the busy street, surveying the scene as always. You scrunch your nose as heat burns behind your eyes, mortified that you’re letting yourself get so hurt by someone who couldn’t care less about you.

The hotel lobby is still except for the soft hum of Christmas music pouring from the piano. You walk quickly, your head down, desperate to be unaided; the sting of Rafe’s rejection, still piercing.

If he doesn’t want anything to do with me… I want to be alone. It’s clearly what you want. Isn’t it? You seethe as you walk a little faster, wanting to put space between you and everyone else.

“Miss. l/n,” you hear Rafe’s voice echo through the lobby as he moves a little quicker. You step inside the elevator, pressing the close button as your team closes in; Rafe shoves past the lot of them with a horrified look as the elevator door glides shut, closing you off from the rest.

You were so focused on getting yourself alone that you barely noticed the man who followed you in. It wasn't until the doors shut that you heard him shift next to you, looking down at you with a smile.

"Oh, shit… You're y/n, right?" The man asks, his voice far too casual.

"Mhmm," you hum, giving him a small, cautious smile as your hands start to sweat, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight.

"You're even prettier in person," he croons as he steps closer.

“Thanks-”

"How about a drink? Just you and me?"

You cross one leg over the other, stepping to the side as your eyes stay locked on the metal door in front of you. "No, thank you,” you respond as confidently as possible.

He smirks and chuckles darkly, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he turns toward you. "Oh, don't be shy, honey. I saw your concert at Madison Square Garden. I know what kind of woman you are," he mumbles—his breath, warm on your neck. The creep’s thick cologne radiates off his designer suit. He rests his hand on your lower back, drawing you in as the elevator dings.

The door glides open, but Rafe’s already pushing through, his broad chest heaving from sprinting up the stairs.

He looks at you, catching the worry in your eyes, nodding, letting you know you’ll be okay. His eyes lock onto the man, his stare dark and dangerous. “She’s not interested,” Rafe says, his presence lethal as he steps inside, placing himself between you and the stranger as he quickly ushers you out.

Rafe hangs back, stepping toe to toe with the businessman, whose eyes widen. The man chuckles nervously as he raises his trembling hands in mock surrender. “Just making conversation-”

“Don’t,” Rafe growls, his tone cutting with no room for argument as he slams his fist against the “hold” button, locking the door open.

“Hey, man. I don't want any trouble,” the guy croaks.

“This your floor?” Rafe asks. The man shakes his head ‘no’ fast. A smirk tugs on Rafe’s lips as he steps even closer, sweeping his black suit jacket to the side, showing off the handle of his gun, making the blood drain from your face and the man’s. The guy’s eyes lock on Rafe’s weapon, and he stumbles back, grabbing onto the handrail to keep from falling, looking up at your bodyguard in horror. “I asked you a fuckin’ question, bitch,” Rafe voice bellows, making the man cower in fear.

“No… Jesus. Calm the fuck down. I told you I’m not. Alright?” He rambles as he reaches around Rafe, going for the hold button. Rafe grabs the man’s suit jacket, slamming him back, his head ricocheting off the wall.

“Nah, you didn’t say shit. If I catch you on this floor. I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Understand?” The guy nods, but Rafe bangs him against the wall again. “Use your fuckin’ words, man. I’m sure you had plenty to say to her. Ain’t that right?” He asks as he steps even closer, getting in his face. The guy shuts his eyes, turning his cheek in fear.

“I understand,” he mumbles weakly.

Rafe shoves him into the elevator, smacking the hold button before grabbing your hand.

You look over your shoulder, watching the man scramble to the front of the elevator, pushing his finger repeatedly against the buttons.

Rafe’s hand tightens in yours, pulling you past your room and moving deeper into the hall. “You’re coming with me.”

Rafe reaches into his back pocket as his eyes dart around, pulling out his key card. His face, a storm of emotions.

He leads you inside, shutting the door quick before twisting and latching multiple locks. Rafe turns around, his fingers gliding through his hair nervously, pushing it back while his eyes flicker around the room.

“Why am I here?” You ask feebly.

"Because it's safer," he says shortly. “You’re safer with me. You know that!” Rafe raises his voice, quickly pushing out a deep, slow breath as he sees you flinch. “You’re—fuck. I’m sorry. You’re safer with me. Alright?” He walks past you, pulling a bottle of scotch from the wet bar.

Rafe pops off the top, mumbling in annoyance as he pours a drink. His hand trembles, making the glass click against each other. “Drink?” He asks, his voice dry and hoarse, tossing back one before you can respond, draining another in the tumbler as you give him a soft ‘yes.’ He mutters something again in frustration as he pours yours.

“What?” You ask curiously as you step closer.

”I said, ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’” He asks annoyedly as his eyes shift to yours, keeping your focus longer than two seconds.

"Why do you care, Rafe?” You counter before you can even think it through.

His jaw clenches, and he clutches the glasses in his big hands. His grip is so hard you’re waiting for it to pop.

“What do you mean, ‘why do I care?’” He asks, his eyes tightening in disbelief. “It’s my goddamn job to care. Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“It’s your job to keep me safe. It’s not your job to care about me ‘cause if it was, you’d be fuckin’ awful at in.”

"You don’t think I care?” He asks as he steps face to face with you, making your heart race.

“No. I don’t,” you stand firm.

“Do you think I don’t notice you, princess? ‘Cause I fuckin’ do,” he snaps. “Y/n, you’re all I see—every damn second of the day. But I can’t let myself think about you that way. Not when it’s my job to protect you. Not when it’s my job to keep you safe!”

"Why not?" You challenge, your voice shattering with emotion as you look up at him.

“Because if I let myself feel… if I let myself want you the way I do, I'll lose focus. And if I lose focus, you get hurt. And that's somethin’ I can't live with."

"Rafe…” You whisper, seeing the emotion all over his face.

"I see you, sweetheart," he says, his voice cracking. "Every time you smile, sing, and look at me with those eyes like I'm the only one in the room. Do you know how hard it is to pretend I don't feel it? To pretend I don't—"

You close the space between the two of you, stealing the words off his tongue, your lips pressing against his in a passionate kiss. He stands there for a moment, completely frozen, as your hands wrap around the back of his neck. You gasp against his lips as his arms comes around you, yanking your body into his, returning your kiss with a fire that takes the air out of your lungs.

Before you can get your feet underneath you, your back hits the wall—Rafe’s wet kisses stippling over your collarbone, trailing up your neck as his big hands squeeze and caress your curves.

“Rafe,” you moan as you pull him closer, his rich cologne mixing with his crisp drink on his breath, numbing your tongue and making your head spin. “I need you,” you whimper.

“You need me?” He groans hungrily like it’s all he’s ever wanted to hear.

”Please…” You whisper needily. “Do you need me-”

“Yes. Fuck… Of course, I need you,” he rasps as your hand presses against his stiff cock; his bulge is throbbing in his dress pants. He paws for the bottom of your dress, lifting it hastily to get at you.

You moan for him, melting into his touches as his fingers press against your soaked panties. He smiles against your lips between panting breaths, pushing your thong to the side. Your head falls against the wall as his fingers trace your slick folds, drenching his digits—your tongue swirling with his.

“I need you so fuckin’ bad,” he sighs as his fingers draw away; the man quickly fights himself out of his suit jacket as you pinch the zipper of your dress—the two of you stealing kisses as you strip bare.

Rafe dives for your lips again, his rough, ringed hands finding your cheeks, pulling your face to his as he walks you back to his bed.

Before you can reach it, he spins you around, pulling your back to his chest as you reach for a breath. His face nuzzles into your neck, his five-o’clock shadow scratching roughly against your soft skin as he peers out, admiring you in the floor-length mirror.

Your body heats up under his gaze as you watch his hands trace your figure through the glass. His gold watch catches the light as he twists his hand, his fingers disappearing between your thighs, making your head fall back on his broad chest.

Rafe’s rough fingers brush through your soaked pussy as he kisses along your neck, teeth scraping over the shell of your ear. “You don’t think I see you?” He asks, his voice husky and low, sending chills down your spine. “You don’t think I see how fuckin’ perfect you are, princess?” He groans as his other hand cups your tit, kneading your skin as you moan for him.

Rafe licks a line up the column of your neck, biting your skin, marking you with his teeth, making you whimper—your cunt throbbing with need.

He swirls his fingers over your puffy clit, pulling out moan after moan from your pillowy lips, your legs shaky and weak from his touch. “You don’t think I look at you and imagine what you look like when you cum?” He asks, the corners of his lips curling upwards at his words. “You don’t think I don’t think about how beautiful you’d look taking my dick, baby?” Rafe lifts his hand, turning your face so your lips find him again. “Never thought you’d be this wet, y/n. All for me…”

“All for you,” you echo through a breathy sigh as your lips brush over the top of his.

“I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to take care of you,” he mumbles as he pushes two thick fingers in your soaked cunt, pumping them a few times as you grab his forearm for support, nails clawing into his skin. “Bend over for me, pretty.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper.

Rafe sucks off your bottom lip before pulling back, guiding you to bend over in front of the mirror. You rest your hand on the edge, watching as he takes his fingers between his lips, sucking your taste off, letting his eyes roll back as his other hand squeezes your hip.

His hand falls lower, his lip bitten as he grabs his cock in his fist, gliding through your drenched slit before sinking in with a rough thrust. Your wide eyes match his before they roll back—Rafe’s fat cock stretching you wide.

He takes his time, letting you adjust to his size. His biceps flex as he pulls you as close as he can get, making you shudder and whine; your manicured fingers wrap around the mirror’s frame so hard your knuckles ghost white.

"Fuck, baby," he breathes.

Rafe’s toned hips pull back before he shoves them forward, eyes locked on your body, watching the way your breasts bounce with each thrust.

Your messy pussy wets his balls, dripping ever so slightly onto the hardwood floor. “Goddamn, baby,” Rafe hums, seeing it too, the two of you listening to the sounds of your slick cunt squelch as his thrusts crescendo.

“Feels so good,” you whine, arching your back, body clenching as his throbbing tip hits your g-spot again and again.

”Feels good? Fuck, princess. You like that?” He asks as his arm snakes around your hip, fingers finding your clit, swirling fast. Rafe shifts a little nearer, pushing you closer to the glass, your warm breath fogging up the mirror with each panting breath.

”I’m close…” You whine, making him groan. He pistons his hips into you, fingers dancing on your clit as your body comes undone, pussy pulsing around his thick length as he pounds you through your orgasm.

Rafe doesn’t stop fucking you through it, grabbing your shoulders, pulling you back, coaching you to bounce your ass back on his cock; your warm wet pussy meeting him thrust for thrust.

Rafe tugs you back to his heaving chest, pounding into you from behind as his strong arm wraps around your throat, the other dressing around your waist, holding you tight.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers against your neck with his eyes locked on you. “Wanna watch my pretty girl get off on my cock again.”

Your eyes roll back at his filthy words, teeth driving into his bicep, dampening your cries of pleasure; heavy eyes locked on his as you cum again. Rafe’s climax claims him as well, squeezing you tight as you ride out your pleasure together.

You gasp as he pulls out far too fast, the two of you looking in the mirror as his throbbing cock pulses between your thighs. You whimper as Rafe’s thick load drips out of your fluttering hole, landing his dick. “Look at that, huh?” He rasps before shoving himself in again, making your eyes pinch shut. “You’re even prettier when I drippin’ out of you, princess.”

He kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment as you giggle dizzily. “Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh in bliss, letting your body relax in his.

“Yeah? Felt good, baby?” He mumbles before kissing you tenderly.

“So fucking good,” you whisper.

The two of you walk to the shower—Rafe’s hand never leaving yours. He lifts you onto the counter as the water warms, slotting himself between your thighs, tilting into the counter as he smiles sweetly at you.

Your eyes rest on his… The most beautiful blue, and unlike before, his attention never leaves. You cup his cheeks in your hands, brushing his stubble gently before you move in for a kiss.

Rafe pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, breathing softly with you. “Princess…” He hums, his voice soft and serious.

“Yes, baby…”

Rafe smiles as that name leaves your lips, taking a laborious breath before continuing. “I’ll keep you safe in public, no matter what… That’s my job.”

”I know,” you whisper.

“I’ll do everything I’ve gotta do... But in private, we can take care of each other. That’s what I can offer you. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. And I’m hoping you’ll say ‘yes’.”

A slow smile spreads on your lips, the pressure lifting off your chest. “I guess I can live with that,” you whisper as your heart races with excitement. “But I’m warnin’ you, I’m needy. You might have to deal with me demanding your attention all the time,” you tease. Rafe chuckles warmly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you to the counter's edge.

“Sweetheart, you have my attention. Every second. Of every day. Whether you think I’m watchin’ or not…” You lift your chin up, meeting his lips, feeling him smile against yours. “But, I’m lookin’ forward to moments like this the most.”

[zyafics]

SHOTGUN WEDDING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing – Rival!Rafe x Biker!Maybank!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe are nothing but casual. But when he suddenly has the idea to get married, you agree after some convincing.

Content — 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, blowjob, and banter.

Word Count — 2.2K

"Let's get married."

"What?" You say breathlessly, lifting yourself by the elbows and turning to face Rafe. You don't know if you heard him correctly.

"I said let's get married," Rafe repeats in a lower octave, pushing away the prickling feeling beneath his skin—a consequence of your reaction to his vulnerable declaration.

There it is again. Clear as day. You hadn't misheard him the first time, and the dawning strike of realization causes your heart to skip several beats. But you still don't acknowledge it. Blinking, you're trying to decipher whether this is some cruel trick. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Annoyance flickers through his hard features and you purse your lips, not wanting to provoke him further by providing a sharp-witted comment. Your mind is spinning—partially from all the orgasms Rafe pulled from you, but also from the proposition.

Marriage. Does he understand the absoluteness of that proposal?

You suspect he doesn't. "You're delirious," you brush it off with a casual laugh, wanting to admonish any potential embarrassment that may arise in him and to move forward. "Let's just forget about it."

"I don't want to forget about it." Rafe grits through clenched teeth. Your reaction is the complete opposite of what he'd imagined to happen. Sure, you weren't the type to jump for joy, but goddamn, you couldn't give him something? "You still haven't given me an answer."

"You don't want a real answer."

"I'm clearly asking for one."

"It's just the post-sex haze."

"It's called post-nut clarity," he rectifies, "And my mind is perfectly clear."

You're giving him exits, to pretend to forget about it and act as if it never happened, but Rafe takes none of them. He doesn't want to drop it, so, finally, you ask. "Why?"

A heavy beat passes before Rafe shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant when all he can hear is the thrumming of his own heart. "I like being inside of you," he reasons, before meeting the unimpressed look on your face, and adds. "You make me laugh."

You scoff. "Yeah, so do small children falling over. Get off of me," you shove him off, pulling to the ledge of the bed where your wobbly legs find balance on Rafe's hardwood floor. Not knowing how to process this change in affairs, you go search for your clothes instead.

Rafe watches as you scramble around the room, a reflexive habit of yours whenever you feel uncomfortable. His agitation flares, his jaw locks, and with a narrowed gaze that follows your every move, he pulls to a sitting position and rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

"Goddammit. Stop looking for your shit and look at me," Rafe commands, his voice bleeds with a tinge of desperation, forcing you to halt your recovery search to face him. Exposed. Utterly naked. But instead of Rafe making some sexual innuendo about your body, his eyes remain on your face. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because we've only been fucking," you list, using your manicured fingers to count out all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. "You call me whenever you want a hookup. We're never not arguing, and I swear, sometimes, you don't even like me."

"I like you just fine," Rafe shrugs a careless shoulder, but the conviction behind his tone wavers. "And all the other reasons are bullshit. So, what? If we get married, we can fuck and fight anytime we want."

"That's faulty logic," you retort and he rolls his eyes. "Plus, it's not the basis for a strong marriage. I'm giving you an out; you're not thinking straight, Cameron."

"I'm thinking just fine."

"You sure?" You take a step closer, about to raise three fingers in the air, and ask him to relay the count, when Rafe inclines forward to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling you in. You let out a little yelp of surprise, slotting between his spread legs.

He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, his thumb running absent patterns across your sensitive skin. With a low voice, Rafe asks solemnly, "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Have you not been listening?"

"Those aren't good reasons," he affirms, causing you to huff.

"Only you would tell a woman their reasons aren't good enough," you muse, drifting your hand to the nape of his neck. You tilt your head to the side. "What classifies as a bad reason?"

A beat passes before he answers. "You don't like me."

After he says that, Rafe holds his breath, his eyes searching your face to see any minuscule change in your features only to discover none. Your hand locates his chin, caressing the hard definition of his jaw. "That's not true."

Rafe exhales. "Then, it's settled."

"No, it's not settled."

He groans, tipping his head back, enough for you to see the grand column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs over your infuriating buffers. It's amusing, and for a brief moment, you envision a future where you get to do this forever. "Do you not want to get married?"

"I never said that."

"So, you don't want to get married to me?"

"Rafe," you sigh, and he returns his gaze. You're referring to him by his first name, instead of the adorned Cameron, and his skin tightens at whatever you plan to say next. "You're a Kook. I'm a Pogue. We're barely in a relationship, and I doubt your parents would approve of this."

"Fuck what they'd say," he admits, with the relentless urgency behind his voice. He means it. "I want to. Since when do you care about what other people think?"

"Since I'm going to be entering into said family."

You say it with such dolefulness, that it sounds like you already accepted his proposal. Already imagined a future with him. The corner of Rafe's mouth lifts; he just needs to do one more thing to convince you.

Rafe hoists you onto his lap to straddle him, your ankles on either side of his waist, as your naked core rubs against the side of his cock, the sensation quickly hardening his erection.

Expecting him to lift you onto his tip, Rafe surprises you by swiping his fingers through your wet folds, causing a small whimper to rise from the back of your throat. "Listen to me," Rafe rasps, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone before lowering to your breasts, while the tip of his fingers toys with your entrance. "You've given me your reasons why it won't work, I'm going to give you my reasons why it will."

"I'm not going to change my mind,"

"You sure?" Rafe grins, teasing your slit. Your walls clench around the nothingness, desperately needing to be filled, and it causes you to bounce up and down, rubbing yourself against Rafe's hardened cock. Your hands land on his shoulders for steadiness, and that's when he begins to pump you.

"I think we look good together," Rafe lists with a grunt, feeling your pussy rub against his length. Desire pools inside of Rafe, his cock throbbing, but he concentrates on the task at hand, adding another digit. "You're the only person that keeps me on my toes—fuck," he groans, and you smirk.

Your slickness covers Rafe's cock, but you don't sink down on it. "Are you sure you're going to win this?" You murmur against the shell of Rafe's ear, planting feather-light kisses along the edge of his jaw. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, needing to gather himself before he slides in his ringed finger—the cold singlet grazing your heat, making you gasp and stop your movements.

Rafe holds your hips, while his fingers fully thrust inside of you with such vigor and performance, that a rich moan rips from your lips. He concludes his final reason: "And I get to fuck this every single night."

His darkened eyes lift to meet your hooded ones. His fingers work a steady but increasing rhythm inside of you, the coil of familiar pleasure twisting your gut. "Look at how pretty you are coming undone by me. Don't you want this forever?"

"Shut–shut up, Rafe," you whimper, your hands reaching for his arm between your legs, attempting to slow down the pace as your sensitivity is plowed into overdrive. Rafe snatches your wrists into one hand, dragging them away. "Too much."

Your legs attempt to close around him, but his large frame prevents such a thing. Rafe grins at the look of pleasure blooming on your face, the unsteadiness of your breaths alongside your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he fastens his strokes.

Whimpers and moans escape you in rising increments, and Rafe kisses your mouth, swallowing all that noise and desperation and need. "Say yes," he murmurs against your tingly lips.

"N–no," you refuse, still holding an ounce of restraint.

But Rafe simply laughs. His fingers slow its assault, leaving your mind a completely boggled mess. Nothing but the sensation of your orgasm on the near horizon resides, hooked completely on fulfilling your own pleasure, that you can't think of anything else to do but whine.

He looks back at you, sincerity capturing his face. " I like you, Maybank. It'll be fun to make it official."

"I—" You can barely comprehend a single word he's saying, the fizzling of your orgasm dissipating as you desperately try to wield it back in. "I can't think right now," you whimper, lowering yourself to give him a needy kiss, "Make me come first."

He doesn't need another reason before he reenters you, his thumb circling your clit and massaging it as his fingers thrusts in and out. Sounds of wetness echo throughout the quiet room, and when Rafe leans forward to add another mark—biting a sensitive spot on your neck—you unravel with a loud cry, tipping your head onto Rafe's shoulder.

Rafe guides you through your intense orgasm, your walls clenching around him so hard, they barely can move. Slowing his thrusts until it completely fade away, when Rafe pulls out, he presses his slick-covered fingers on the dip of your bottom lip, forcing them apart to lick clean. And when you do, he pulls you back in to seal it with a kiss.

Your chest rises and falls heavily as your eyes close for a moment of respite. Rafe's gaze, however, never strays from your face—patient and waiting.

This is such a bad idea. The whole premise of a Cameron-Maybank marriage could potentially knock the earth off its axis. You're from two different worlds and carry different viewpoints, but there's something fun, exciting, and fulfilling in being with Rafe. It can't be just because he gives you one of the best orgasms of your life.

You know JJ would hate this. He barely tolerates the idea of your hookup with Rafe as it is, and out of everyone, you value most of your brother's opinion. But, for once, you can't seem to find it in yourself to care.

"Fuck," you announce, reopening your eyes and meeting his stare. "Fuck it. Let's do it."

Rafe's lips pull to a genuine smile. "Yeah?"

You nod. "It'll be fun."

He grabs your hand, "Let's go."

"Right now?"

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already?"

"You think I back down from a challenge?"

"It isn't the first time."

You slap his shoulder and Rafe laughs. He moves his hand to your hips again, lifting you off when you stop him. "Wait," you say, looking between you, at the red and swollen cock that hasn't gotten its release. "I have to do something before we leave."

You sink to the floor on your knees, still between his legs, as your thumb rubs the pearly beads of precum over the tip, causing Rafe to groan. He was so focused on your pleasure and making you agree to his outrageous proposal, that he didn't get a chance to relieve himself. You want to help.

After all, isn't that the first step to marriage?

Taking him into your mouth and tasting your slick rub all over him, you hollow your cheeks as you begin to suck. Rafe moans from the contact your lips made with his length, your hand wrapping around the base to steadily pump him alongside the suction.

It feels like absolute heaven. His hands thread through your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock, and making you gag on the girth. This made you retreat, just slightly, to glare up at him. "Don't do that."

Wanting desperate release, Rafe's willing to listen to about anything. "Yes, ma'am."

When you return to sucking him off, Rafe makes sure not to push you further on his dick without prior approval, so you can take him appropriately. At least that means he'll listen to you in the marriage. As you steadily increase your pumps, and your jaw aches from the stretch, you feel Rafe's cock twitch.

"Come on, baby, come for me," you command, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Not even a moment later, he comes inside your mouth, spilling to the back of your throat, and you swallow up every lick of his hot cum.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb, and Rafe assists in pulling you back to your feet. Giving him a kiss, you grin. "Good boy. Now, let's go."

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[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.

[thebibliosphere]

There are a lot of things I'm sad about in my life. You don't get to go through the kind of medical trauma I've been through and come out unscathed on the other side.

But one thing I'm really bitter about is that I can't remember my wedding anymore. The pernicious anemia took it from me and wiped my brain clean. Except it's not clean, not really. I remember it in patches. Like red wine stains on a white rug that have never quite lifted out no matter how hard you try.

I look at the pictures on my bookcase, and they feel like remembering a story someone else has told me. There's a young woman in a white dress wearing my face, and she looks happy. I'm happy for her. But you can see the strain around her eyes, too. The pain she's hiding because no one with authority believes her when she says her body doesn't feel right. That something is Wrong.

They won't believe her for another decade. They won't believe her until it's almost too late, and it's that lateness that will rob her of her memories and turn them into a wavering rainbow suspended in the fine haze of watery sunlight that occasionally surfaces through the blanks.

There's one memory that's real, though. Solid. It's not my vows. It's not my father walking me down the aisle. (Though those are there, just hazy and dream-like). It's our first dance.

It's the lights dimming around the room as the staff cleared the floor, causing the fishbowls full of white roses and LED lights on the tables to wobble like pools of moonlight against dark paneled walls.

It's the band inviting us out onto the floor and us giggling because we know what's coming next, and no one else does. It's the twang of a banjo reverberating around the room through the speakers, followed by the dulcet tones of Kermit the Frog wondering why there are so many songs about rainbows.

It's us waltzing around the enclosed circle of light, singing to each other out of tune and grinning like idiots as everyone around us starts to laugh.

It's everyone joining in on the song because it's the Muppets, and everyone knows the words. It's 100+ people singing the Rainbow Connection, some laughing, some a bit tearful, because it's bringing back memories. Because it's making a new one.

It's looking up at my new husband through the brain fog and all the pain in my body and thinking, "I want to remember this moment forever."

I don't know what entity was out there listening to me at that moment and chose to grant that wish. I don't know why this is the one memory that stuck while everything else in my brain got decimated into scattered, fragmented snapshots. But I'm so, so thankful it is.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ candy paint, l. norris. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: lando norris is a lot of things: 100% honest is not one of them. good thing you're around to make sure he owns his weaknesses.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lando fic everyone cheer!! finding my footing writing lando's personality (dry asf) but I'll get there lmao day three of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, the max mentioned is fewtrell not verstappen, oral (male receiving)protected sex, neither reader nor lando can shut the fuck up.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lando norris x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

"You're kidding, right?" you said into the phone, your voice laced with a hint of skepticism. The rain pattered against the window of your apartment, matching the rhythm of your thoughts. You had just returned from a week-long work trip and were looking forward to a quiet evening in.

Lando's voice was as persistent as the rain outside. "Come on, mate. It's been too long. You know I can't wait." His tone was a blend of playful and demanding, the kind that usually made your heart flutter. But this time, you had to draw a line.

"Lando, seriously," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "What about your little bet with Max?" The mention of Max's name brought a mischievous glint to your eye. You knew how much he hated losing, especially to his friends.

Lando chuckled, the sound echoing through the line. "I wasn't sticking to the bet anyway. I've got to see you." His voice grew husky with desire, the kind of voice that made your knees wobble and your resolve waver. "I'll come to you."

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you considered his plea. The thought of seeing Lando sent a warm shiver down your spine. You could almost feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his breath hot on your neck. "Fine," you relented. "But if you want to come over, I'm telling Max you caved."

"You wouldn't," Lando said with mock horror, and you could almost hear his grin.

"Oh, I absolutely would," you replied, the challenge in your voice unmistakable. "You're the one begging to see me, remember?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Lando sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, whatever. I'll be there in twenty."

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door opening and closing was like music to your ears. You felt the heat of Lando's presence before you even saw him. He was soaking wet from the rain outside, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. "You look like a drowned rat," you said, standing up from the couch where you had been scrolling through your phone.

"Charming," Lando shot back with a smirk, shaking his wet hair like a dog and spraying droplets across the floor. He stepped closer to you, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the freshness of rain. "But it's worth it if it means I get to see this gorgeous face." He leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully pushed him away. "What, no greeting for the man who braved the storm to see you?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Take off your clothes before you drench the whole place," you said, stepping aside. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the defined abdomen and muscular arms that had your knees growing weaker by the second. You made no effort to hide your eyes sweeping over his form as you bit your bottom lip.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving a puddle by the door. "Better?" he asked, a glint in his eye as he moved closer.

"Marginally," you replied, trying to keep your cool. But when Lando's hands reached for your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace, you melted against him. His touch was like a warm blanket on a cold night, comforting and revitalizing all at once.

You kissed with an intensity that spoke of weeks of pent-up longing, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, and you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. "You're going to be the end of me," he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away just enough to whisper, "You're the one who couldn't wait." You stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. With a swift motion, you straddled him, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs. Lando's hands roamed up your legs, his thumbs teasing the hem, hinting at what was to come.

Your round brown eyes searched his emerald ones, a silent question lingering between you two. "You sure you're ready to lose?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant patter of rain.

Lando's grin was all the answer you needed. "Love, I'd do anything to taste you right now." His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts, and with a quick pull, they were around your ankles. He groaned as he felt the heat of your bare skin against his.

You giggled, a sound that was music to his ears, and leaned back, placing your hands on his shoulders. "Well, you're in luck," you said, your voice dripping with seduction. "Because I'm feeling quite generous."

Without breaking eye contact, Lando reached for the waistband of his sweats pulling it down with a slow, deliberate movement. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but gasp. He was always so beautifully aroused, so ready for you. You slid your hand over it, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open again. "Don't tease me," he warned, his voice strained.

"Who's teasing?" you said, your smile wicked. You kneeled off the couch, your soft dark curls brushing against his chest, and took him in your mouth. Lando's grip tightened on the couch cushions, his body arching off the cushions with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Your mouth was warm and wet, moving over him with the kind of expertise that only came from knowing someone's body intimately. You took him deep, your tongue swirling around the head before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. You knew every inch of him, every spot that made him squirm, and every spot that made him beg.

You felt a rush of power, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you watched Lando's reaction. You loved the way he lost control around you, the way his cocky exterior crumbled to reveal the desperate need beneath. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper each time, until you felt his thighs tense and his hips jerk upwards.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your movements. "I can't wait anymore." He pulled you off him, his eyes dark with need. "Get on top," he said, his voice a gruff command.

Your heart raced as you straddled him, your own desire matching his. You watched as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieving a condom he casually slid over his length. Then you felt him at your entrance, his fingers eagerly pushing your panties to the side, and with a little wiggle, you sank down, enveloping him in your warmth. Lando's eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, a sweet ache that you had missed.

You found your rhythm quickly, your bodies moving together as if you had been practicing this dance your whole life. Lando's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips as you rode him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons of pressure as you rose and fell. Each time you took him in, you felt like you were claiming a piece of him, a piece that was yours and yours alone.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a testament to your passion. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against Lando's chest, and whispered, "Couldn't even go two weeks, could you?" Your voice was teasing, but it held an underlying satisfaction. You knew you had the power to make him break his bet.

"Fuck the bet," Lando groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "You're all I need." His words were punctuated by his hips bucking upwards, pushing into you with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. The room grew hotter, the scent of your desire mixing with the dampness from the rain outside.

Your movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling in the air. The couch creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion. You felt yourself getting closer, your inner muscles tightening around him. Lando's grip on your hips grew firmer, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Come for me," he urged, his eyes burning into yours. "Let go, baby."

You threw your head back, your dark curls bouncing off your shoulders as you picked up your pace. The sensations grew more intense, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Lando's hands moved from your hips to your breasts, his hands squeezing at the bouncing flesh before leaning down to bring his mouth to the peaks. You gasped, the pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your voice a little raspy. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar coil tightening in your belly. You leaned into him, your movements becoming erratic as you chased the feeling.

Lando could feel you tightening around him, your breath coming in short gasps. He knew you were close, and it was his undoing. He thrust upwards, his own release building. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes meeting yours, silently pleading for you to let go.

With a cry, you did. Your orgasm washed over you, making your body convulse. You felt him swell inside you, his own climax following closely behind. You held onto each other tightly, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony until the waves of pleasure subsided.

For a moment, you stayed just like that, panting and sweaty, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, Lando leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips that spoke of affection and satisfaction. He pulled out of you with a soft groan, and you felt a twinge of loss. But the warmth of his body remained, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that made your skin prickle. You leaned into the embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. This was your thing, your little slice of heaven, left uncomplicated despite your close friendship.

You lay there for a while, your bodies entwined and your breaths slowing. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, lulling you into a state of post-coital bliss. It was moments like these that made the world seem to stop spinning, where the only thing that mattered was the warmth of each other's skin and the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

You leaned back and looked into his green eyes, the corners of your mouth curling up in a knowing smile. "So," you began, "Are you going to man up and text Max now, or should I?"

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch cushion. "You're enjoying this way too much," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

"I like seeing you squirm," you replied, your voice light and playful. You reached for your phone on the coffee table, your eyes gleaming with mischief. You knew Lando was competitive to a fault and losing was not something he took kindly to, especially not when it came to something as serious as a bet with Max.

Lando's eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you type away, his arms still around your waist. "Don't be too detailed," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly.

You glanced up at him, your smile widening. "Oh, I won't," you said sweetly, sending the text. "But he's going to know you didn't last five minutes."

Lando's eyes shot open. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," you said with a laugh, the sound like a melody in the quiet room. "And you know what?"

He tugged on your hair gently, bringing you closer. "What?"

"It was worth it," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "Every single second."

You kissed him softly, your tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Lando's eyes closed, savoring the moment, his arms tightening around you. He knew you were right, that the thrill of being with you was worth any bet.

[hyukascampfire]

VELVET FUZZ ､ა h.k

it’s strange that you find a teary-eyed, pink-nosed man outside your house while coming home on christmas eve. even stranger that he’s got antlers sprouting up from his head. ˒ ´-ྀི

⚞ ᪖ ˒ 𐔌 🪡 ᩙ ꒱ ･ 5.4k

𝓟airings ˒ reindeer hybrid!hueningkai x reader

𝑔 ; smut ˒ fluff

𝓦arnings ˒ soft dom!reader, hand job, kai cums on his belly, quiet sub!kai, usual hybrid stuff like scenting and all that, pretty sweet all the way through, dry humping, jealous kai a little bit?, he’s clingy, happy trail mention (mmm), i really don’t know if i’m missing anything cause i’m writing this at 5am >.< lmk!

✎୭ ashlynn's note thabk you to the lovely anon that requested this one! OH MY GOSH. this one was not meant to be super long, and i felt awkward writing fluff at first (not my strong suit, but i sorta strengthened that muscle here!) but i grew so attached to this kai by the end!! how do we feel?

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Dazed and sad-eyed, there’s a man on your porch. 

With your keys still jingling against each other, you freeze. Your feet ache in your work heels, and your shirt collar is irritating your neck. It’s already bad enough that you’d worked a full shift Christmas eve, but coming home to this? Today is never going to end. 

Maybe you should be worried that there’s a man hanging around outside your home, but to be quite frank... You’re more concerned with the very odd, very realistic antlers that seem to just... sprout up from his brownish tangle of hair. It looks incredibly heavy, just to be set on a headband. 

“Can I help you with something?” you say, taking measured steps toward your front door. You’d already slipped once on your way out from the office today—crashlanding now, when you’ve made it most of the way, would be a shame. A thick, pristine layer of snow fluff sits pretty over the grass, thicker toward the edges of the concrete path up to your house where you’d shoveled it off. 

He perks up, turning to you with a pink button nose and round eyes. 

The look on his face tugs at your heart. Frantic and fidgety—maybe he’s gotten lost? It’s just neighborhood here, though. No matter how he might’ve gotten lost, it shouldn’t be that hard to find his way around. Not to the degree that he’d be looking at you like you’ve come to save him as he is now. 

Tall and lanky, he opens his mouth to say something a few times, but nothing comes out. Despite his frost-bitten nose and the snow dusting his hair and shoulders, he doesn’t shiver. You’ve only just came from your heater-blasted car, and your bones have already started to chatter. That’s the second strange thing you note about him. 

“Are you okay?” you say, voice going gentler. “Do you need help?” The chill on the surface of your skin begins to seep deeper. You cross your arms and tuck your fingers between the space between them and your body to conserve your own heat. 

When he opens his mouth, the words finally fall out in a surge like blizzard. He was having a hard time getting them out before, but once he gets one out, they all come tumbling out after it. “They left me behind!” he says. His voice is pretty, even as it wavers. “They left—and they can’t... make any stops! I can’t believe they forgot me,” he says. Toward the end, his voice breaks. 

Tugging your scarf up over your nose, you say, “Who? Who left you?” It muffles into the red cashmere. “Slow down. I want to help.” 

Obviously, he’s been left behind by his friends as some sort of mean-spirited prank. It doesn’t seem like they’re good friends, either, if they have him panicked like this. He really believes they’re just going to leave him here. You frown at the funny aching in your chest. For whatever reason, one you decide not to delve into, that irks you. Taking in his wobbling lip and screwed up face, it makes you angry—it makes you want to make sure he’s alright.  

You make split-second decision, looking at the state of him. He doesn’t seem dangerous. Actually, not one ounce of you believes that he could be. Maybe it could be a clever act, tugging on the heart strings of young women to take advantage of them. You’ve heard of plenty of that. But, you’re grown and have your own intuition. “Do you want to come inside? You look frozen.” 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you say, ushering him in with a hand gesture. “Let’s get inside. Warm up.” 

Following you inside, his tall and nervous figure trails. You kick off your heels and peel your work attire off piece by piece by the door, shedding until you’re just in your skirt and blouse. The skin everywhere but your legs, where you have a pair of thick tights pulled on, prickles in the heater’s embrace. Your scalp sighs in tandem with you as you let your hair down. 

Once you’re ten pounds lighter and comfier, you turn to him. He’s watching you with curious, sparkling eyes. 

“What’s your name?” you say. “And why did your friends leave you?” 

Continuing to watch you as you push past him and into your home, he sniffles and says, “They’re not my friends. They don’t like me; they think I’m useless. They did it on purpose—I know it. They left me here on purpose, and I can’t get back until next year!”  

Whatever he means by not being able to get back until next year, you’ve got not even an inkling. “What’s your name?” you repeat. 

“Kai,” he answers, eyes low. 

In his hair, there’s a twitching. You frown. “Here, do you want me to take that? It looks heavy,” you say, offering your hands out in a gesture up at his antler-headpiece-costume-thing. “I can hold on to it for you.” 

Shooting you a strange look, he says, “Take them? They’re my antlers.” 

The two of you blink at each other for a moment, both lost for wildly different reasons, it seems.  

“I mean, yes, I know they’re yours. I’ll give them back; I promise,” you say. “But while you’re here, we can put them on the counter or something. Y’know, just ‘cause it looks heavy.” 

Wiping at a teary cheek, says, “You can’t take them off.” 

Reaching up to his head, Kai tugs at one of those thick antlers. It doesn’t come off. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you don’t know what to say. Laugh? You’ve never seen anybody secure a headpiece so well to their head. He’s really serious about this costume. “Can I touch?” you ask. 

Jutting his lips out in a why not? sort of frown, he nods. 

With an investigative hand, you reach up over his head. The antlers aren’t so tall—maybe a few good inches on his head. Smooth fuzz meets the pads of your fingers. You run them up the grooves and ridges, all solid and made soft with the velvet of genuine antlers. You pause.  

Kai’s eyes linger on you. His voice is light and airy as he says, “You can tug on them, if you want. It doesn’t hurt.” 

You don’t even ask him why it might hurt if you tug. Like this, running your fingers over the unnervingly realistic length of it, a seedling of something unbelievable plants. Wrapping your hand around it to tug, you water that seed. 

It doesn’t budge. In fact, it’s so solid against his head that it can’t be anything but grown from it. 

“See?” he hums, unperturbed with your exploring hands. 

You don’t answer him. Not when, from his fluff of hair, you spot something even harder to explain away. Ears. Your mouth falls open as you take on into a gentle hand, running your thumb over it. It’s soft, warm, and real under your touch. It twitches, moving like attached to a living thing, too. Reeling, you step back. 

“You’re—how did you do that?” you say. “Make it like that?” 

Sweet face twisting into a puzzled frown, he says, “What do you mean? They’re my antlers and my ears. Every reindeer has them.” 

Taking another step back, you shake your head and narrow your eyes down on him. “No... No, I mean make them feel real.” At the edges of your fingertips, the echoes of warmth linger. You think and think, and what you come to believe... 

You begin to believe something absurd.  

“They are real,” he tells you.  

Letting that materialize inside of you for a moment, you say something stupid. “You’re a reindeer. The other reindeer left you.” 

Cheeks a rosy pink, he nods dutifully, despite that being what he was telling you this whole time. “They don’t like me. It... was my first Christmas, and I’m new, and they all...” Making himself sad all over again, his shoulders droop heavy. 

For the defeat and abandoned twist to his glossy eyes, you believe him. Maybe that makes you stupid, or maybe gullible. But you believe him, and so does your heart. It aches at the look on his face. Mending those steps you’d taken away from him for fear, you inch closer to him and take his face in your hands. His cheeks are plush against your skin. Over his nose and cheeks are a spackling of dusty freckles, and his eyes are shiny and hold bare trust for you even as you touch him. Innocent trust, though he’s lost and vulnerable, and you’d only just met. 

You can’t mistreat that trust. You won’t. He’s a stranger in your home, and this is absolutely not where you thought you’d be, coming home on Christmas eve. But your intuition speaks once more to you, and you willingly follow. Or, perhaps it’s not intuition speak to you. Maybe it’s those big, twinkling brown eyes, and the tears brimming in them. 

It’s just you living here, anyway. No roommates, hardly any friends over... You’d told yourself you’ll start putting yourself out there—to get a boyfriend to make the walls of your home a less isolating sight. But it was always later. I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it next week, I’ll do it next year... You never really made good on that aspiration. Instead, you fill those gaps with soul-sucking hours at the office. 

“When will they come back?” you ask. “Would you like to stay here until they come back?” 

Wringing his fingers out, he nods. He stands there all reserved and meek, still so hurt, but his big eyes sparkle like he holds the Christmas sky in them. With emotion. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay. You can stay here.” 

Perhaps you don’t have anything for him. No male clothes, especially none that will fit his frame, no extra bedroom or bed, and hardly enough groceries. But, what you do have, it’ll be enough. Just until they realize they’ve left him behind and come back to retrieve him. 

You could hardly leave him out there the way you found him. 

༄ 

Blinking your eyes open, you focus your bleary eyes on the broad figure in your doorway. 

For the entirety of the night, Kai trails you. His eyes roam over your home, and his nose twitches as he takes in the scent of it. Into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, into the living room to click on the T.V., you hardly were able to get into your room alone to tug off your work clothes. When you stepped out in something comfier, he was hovering around by the door and perked up as you emerged.  

He didn’t talk much as you winded down, either. When you’d first seen him outside, he was a frantic, rambling, fat-teared mess. He’s gotten quieter, just acclimating to the place. You ask him if he’s comfortable a few times and offer him snacks, but... well, the situation is strange. You’re both a little thrown off.  

Eventually, you fluffed up the couch and made it nice with thick pillows and fur blankets for him. Usually, you’d unplug the tree before beg, even on Christmas night. You left it lit up for him. 

Kai, stood in your doorway, tries to muster up what he wants to say. He shifts, antsy. 

Your limbs and brain are still heavy with sleep as you say, “What’s wrong, baby?” It’d only been a good... thirty minutes since you left him to sleep on the couch. Drained to the bone by your day’s work, you knocked out pretty much as soon as your skin hit the sheets. 

“I’m sorry...” he mumbles, silhouette meek in the doorway, where the dim light of the tree illuminates the edges of him. “I... This is the first time I’ve slept anywhere but the North Pole. I’ve never slept alone.” 

If letting him stay in your home was already insane, then letting him sleep in your bed was even more so. Scooting lazily over on the bed, you pat the empty space it frees. Who cares? You know what it is to be lonely. “Wanna sleep in here?” you say, lips slow and lethargic. 

“Can I?” he says. The steps he takes toward you are hesitant.  

You tug the blankets back over your shoulders and hum. “Mhm...” 

The bare side of your mattress dips beneath his weight. He shifts around and tries to get comfortable, shifting around until his antlers don’t scrape the headboard and he’s settled. 

Body heat beside you, or just to sleep beside somebody... you haven’t had that in a long time. Everything feels both thrown for a loop and more familiar. 

“Do you miss it?” you ask. It’s a stupid question; of course he does. 

Drooping lashes fluttering down onto his cheeks while he blinks and looks around, uncertain where to rest his gaze, he nods in answer. His shag of hair brushes over his cheeks, dangling as he lets his head rest on a pillow. “Yeah. It’s so different here.” 

Tracing his features, the curve of his cheek made soft and glowy in the clear, wintry moonlight, the rest of his face in shadow, the strain of an old ex’s shirt you’d given him to change into around his shoulders, and his eyes. They’re not so nervous, now. They digest you and your figure, just as he’d digested the rest of your home. You’re sure it is strange—getting left behind in a place so far from home. If it were, you might be the same. Worse, actually. 

It’s good you found him. People treat the things they don’t understand awfully. None would believe him—they’d slam doors in his face or worse. You’re still not entirely settled on the reality of it, anyway. 

“Maybe I can show you what this part of the world is like,” you mumble, relenting to the heaviness in your eyes. “Before they come and get you.” 

He doesn’t answer. You’re not sure if he reacted at all; all you see is the black of your eyelids and the wispy tendrils of sleep beckoning you. 

You sleep warmer on Christmas night than you have in a long time. Sometimes, you think you wake up to the weight of a hand on the curve of your pajama-clad hip, or maybe the puffs of sleep-ridden breath in your neck. In the center of your chest, your heart glows and flutters when his sleepy fingers skim over the bare skin of your waist where sleep had ridden it up. You don’t say anything—you don’t have the heart to. 

He feels nice up against your back, anyway.  

༄ 

Christmas comes and goes. Nobody comes to collect Kai. Strangely, selfishly, you’re happy for it. 

No different from the first day, he trails you everywhere. The only difference is that he doesn’t look so shaken. He’s gotten used to you and the home. When you get up in the mornings to leave for work, he complains and rambles about, what if they come while you’re gone? and that he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. You think he doesn’t want to leave—you hope he doesn’t, at least. 

Coming home to someone waiting for you, who greets you with a slow smile as you kick off your shoes... You’ve gotten used to it. Things don’t feel so hollow, and your life doesn’t feel like a husk of what a life should be anymore. Rather than returning to a house that echoes your lone sounds back to you, you return to a home. The house has begun to smell like him, musky and coveting  

You really hope they don’t come back to get him. It feels awful to admit to yourself, but to pretend that it’s anything else would be dishonest. If they had any intentions to, they would’ve by now anyway. 

“Which?” you say, holding a glittering skirt and a silvery, ruffled one in front of you. “I think the silver one makes more sense for New Year’s.” 

Kai sits on your bed. For some reason, his shoulders sag. “I don’t understand,” he says, toying with the fabric of the sweats you’d bought him. “Why can’t you have fun here? With me?” 

You place the red one over yourself again, and then the silver one, and furrow your brows. Preoccupied by images of your outfit with either, you throw your words over your shoulder. “Just wanna see some friends, Kai. I won’t be out for too long. I’d bring you, but... I don’t think you’d like it.” 

The silver one it is. It’ll go nice with the baby tee. Discarding the other in a pool on the floor, you collect the pieces of your outfit into your arm to change. 

When you turn to head into the bathroom, Kai looks utterly dejected. He watches you, brows furrowed and he’s worrying his lip. 

“Kai, baby,” you say. “It’s okay. I’ll go just until midnight, and then I’ll be back here with you.” 

Staring at you for a few minutes more, his face sours. His hair, a gentle fall of loose curls, moves with a shaking of his head. “It’s not...” he starts, but some thought he has deters him. “Never mind. I’ll just take a nap.” 

Before heading into the bathroom, you run your fingers through his hair and scratch a bit just behind his ear. He leans into it, pushing his head into your hand with utmost care to not snag you with a branchy antler. “Sounds good,” you say. “I promise it won’t be that long. I pinky swear it.” 

Nose crinkling, he asks you, “Pinky swear?” 

You offer him your pinky. “Give me your pinky. I’ll show you.” 

When he does, you intertwine them to solidify your promise. “I pinky promise that I’ll be home soon, and celebrate the rest of New Years with you.” You press your thumbs together. “Now it’s a real promise. Okay?” 

He nods and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Truthfully, it’s not that you want to go out that bad. You’d honestly rather be back here when it strikes twelve. But your friends insist that you go out. It’s been half a year since you’ve put yourself out there like this—you understand why they do. 

Clicking the door closed behind you, you begin to drop your home clothes off to exchange them for a new, glittering skin. You reemerge from the bathroom a creature of the night. Your eyes glitter as you blink, and your skirt is a true, daring New Year's length, and you wear the print of your nipples against your little shirt like an accessory, and you smooth your hands down the slip of soft belly between the waist band of your skirt and the hem of your tee. His eyes find each and every one of those things. 

“There’s snacks for you, and I’ll bring you home something to eat. You’ll be good here for a bit?” you say, wobbling on one kitten heel as you tug the other on. 

“Yeah,” he says, falling flat. “I’ll be good.” 

Fluffing your hair, you try and let his grumpiness roll off your shoulders. He gets like this when you leave. In just a few days, he’d grown so utterly attached to you that only the few hours away have him ruffled. You know he depends on you because you’re the only person and thing that he knows here, but... you don’t think they’re coming back to get him. Not this year, at least. And you can’t be home all day, so you need him to get used to functioning at home by himself. 

Letting your voice into something both reprimanding and playful, you look at him through your lashes and say, “See you later, Kai.” 

His eyes burn holes through you as you go. 

༄ 

Pink-cheeked with liquid bliss heavy in your veins, you step from the nippy air and into the embrace of home. You’re not drunk enough to stumble or slur; you’d left that back at the bar. Still, you feel the buzzing like static between your thoughts. 

Your heels and toes riot as you slip your feet from your heels. Should’ve brought a backup option... Kitten heels usually would’ve been enough to save your feet, but you were standing all night. You’re worn down to the bone.  

Tucking your hair back out of your face, you blink heavily through a scan of the living room and kitchen. Usually, Kai’s right here at the door waiting for you. Today, he does not. 

You frown. “Kai?” you say, projecting your voice. 

He’s not on the couch, nor in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom as you investigate. You begin to be worried, until you find him in the same place you’d left him. 

Except, now, he’s a tangle of blankets. You can’t see him. With your blanket wrapped up so tight over him, he’s just a mound on the bed. Strewn across the floor and over the bed and around him, there are a number of your clothes. Clothes that hadn’t been there when you’d left earlier. 

He shifts. Before you even say anything, he knows you’re here. He’s got some good hearing, you’ve found. And smell. 

“I’m home,” you announce, pulling the blankets off him. “You sleeping?” 

As you peel back the covers, he sits up. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are drowsy. Rather than scooting over to let you slip into bed with him, or smiling to see that you’ve gotten home, his nose twitches and he tugs his lips back in a smear of disgust. 

“What’s wrong?” you say. “Sorry for waking you up...” Gesturing around at the mess, you add, “What’s all this? My clothes are everywhere...” 

“Why do you smell like that?” he says. 

You flounder. It’s the snappiest you’ve ever heard him. “Oh...” you say, smoothing the tangles in your hair. “I... was dancing a bunch.” 

Eyes sharp and negative, he says, “No. You smell weird. I don’t like it. Like other people. You don’t smell... Like you.” 

“I don’t know...” You shrug a dismissive shoulder. “Maybe you’re smelling my friends. Does it bother you? I’ll go take a quick shower.” 

“You promised that you’d be here soon,” Kai says. When you reach an arm up to soothe his sleep-tangled hair, he avoids it with a dip. “You smell awful. Like... you don’t smell sweet, you smell like a man.” 

Still stung, you let your arm drop. It’s well past twelve. You’d broken your promise. Wincing, you sift through the memories of the night. You think maybe the closest you got to a man was a playful kiss with a friend to welcome the new year. You supposed you’d also hung around him the whole night... 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say. It’s a bare apology; you offer him no excuses.  

Kai, shoulders stiff, does not loosen up. Emotion brims in his eyes like liquid frost. “Why am I not good enough? Why do you like him more than me?” 

You go to answer him, but you’re not sure how to. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you’d slipped up your times, but breaking his trust was. He’d been left behind by the only thing he’s ever known, and now that he’s settled here, he thinks you’ll do just the same to him. The twitching of his lips does a terrible number on your chest.  

“Kai.” You whittle your voice into something breathy and gentle. “I’m not gonna leave you. You can stay here forever, even if they don’t come back.” You know he’s begun to realize that maybe they won’t be bringing him back home, as you have. Still in your itching skirt and smeared in a thick, going-out layer of makeup, you dip your knees into your side of the bed. “Forever. Maybe I break small promises, and I’m sorry, but I won’t break that one.” 

How had he carved the shape of himself into your heart so fast? So well? 

“I don’t want to go back there,” he says, colored thick with conviction and sullied memories. “I never want to go back there.” 

Like the weight of the world on your shoulders, your body longs to crumple under it. You lay your hair on the pillow and beckon him down, too. “Then, don’t...” you mumble. “Stay here. Forever.” You repeat the word like mantra, so that maybe he’ll let it seep into his bones and patch up the wounds left there. 

He curls up over your back, pressing his mouth into your shoulder. You’d thought the first night would be the only that he joined you in your bed, but you’ve got a tender heart. He runs warm-blooded as a creature of the snow, and you run cold. He’s a good heat source. 

That’s your excuse, anyway.  

Like all the other nights of the week he’d been here, he takes your hip in a hand and slips the other under your neck like a pillow.  

This night is the same; until his breaths quicken behind you. His frame goes rigid once more, a solid wall at your back and a big hand pinning your hip to the bed. He presses his nose to the exposed length of your neck, puffs of hot and angry breaths fanning out here and there. Like he’s caught a scent. 

“Kai?” you say into the dark of your room. It’s half a laugh, half real question. 

Your lungs stutter when the drags of his nose turn to drags of his cheek, and he’s pressing himself harder into you. That’s when you feel it: the rock-solid hardness of his cock against your ass. 

“I don’t like it,” he whines, wrapping you in him. His scent. “I don’t like that smell. Can’t sleep...” 

You have a decision to make: to go brush him off and sleep as though it were nothing, or to address the barely-there grind of his hardness against you. 

Like all of your other decisions, the one you land on is the absurd one. You push your ass back into him. He gasps, a sucking in of air, against your neck, and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He brings you back into his hips as they grow more daring. 

“Missed you so bad...” he says, sliding that one hand on your hip down so that his forearm presses into your belly. He uses that as leverage to grind against you, instead. “Missed your smell... None of your clothes smelled like you... N’ your blankets started smelling like me, too. Why did you stay away for so long? You promised. Promised...” A shuddered breath prickles the hair on your neck. “Promised, and now you smell like someone else. I hate it.” 

“Baby,” you say, reaching a hand up over your shoulder to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry. Wanna make it better? Want me to help you?” 

He whines from the chest, sitting up quick to look at you. His pupils are wide, and you know just by the look of him how much it’s been bothering him. 

“Scoot back,” you say. Your belly does a wild crash. If you were to tell yourself two weeks ago where you are now... You would’ve laughed in your face. 

Eyes glazed over and his cheeks a dusty sort of pink, he does so until his back is at the headboard. He moves with a clumsy excitement. 

You tug your skirt down your legs, kicking it off your ankles so that you can crawl over to him better. In your neck, your pulse flutters wildly. He watches you approach, and then tug his sweats down. His cock pops right out, long and pretty pink at the tip and weeping glistening tears. He hadn’t even been wearing boxers. Kai’s squeak when you brush your fingers just up the underside of it and then take it in your fist is sweet. 

“Poor baby,” you say, knitting your brows together and looking up at him through your lashes. “You waited all day for me, just for me to come home smelling like somebody else... You did so good, I think you deserve to feel good.” 

His lips glisten with his wet tongue. When he fully takes in the sight of you, face-to-face with his cock, a shudder shakes him. “I wanna...” 

Pushing his shirt up to reveal the softness of his belly, you say, “Wanna what, Kai?” You press sweet open-mouthed kisses up the dainty trail of hair just under his belly button, and then you scatter a few extra like glistening presents over his hip bones and abdomen. His chest jumps and falls with each. 

“Feel good,” he says. His length does a twitch, as if just the thought of you helping him like that was just like touch.  

You press the final kisses up his length, from the base of his cock up until your lips meld against his cockhead, right over the wet tip. Savoring the salty musk of his precum, you say, “You’re such a sweet boy. M’ sorry I made you feel bad. Want me to smell like you? Would that make you feel better?” 

He opens his mouth to say yes; you see it in his eyes. Your lips wrapping around the hot pink of his tip ruins his plans. The way he twitches his lips and shifts goes right to the hotness between your own thighs. Encouraged, and truly wanting to make up for how you’d treated him today, you release his tip and smear the mess down his length with a few pumps. As soon as each slide is slick and obscene, you turn from languid pumps to purposeful flicks of your wrist. 

Kai bucks his hips up into your fist and lolls his head back, eyes screwed shut. The digging of his teeth into his plush bottom lip is what draws your eye most, though.  

“It’s okay to make sounds if you feel good, baby,” you coo, kissing over his chest and neck. “You don’t have to be quiet around me.” You adjust your grip and change the angle of your slick jerks until one has a sound catching in his throat and a hand of his flying up to curl around your wrist. “Like that?” you ask. It’s not taunting—it’s a genuine wonder. 

It takes him a few moments, adam’s apple bobbing, but he pants a little for you finally. He nods frantically. “The....There,” he grits out. 

So, you continue to fuck him on your fist. Sometimes you stop just to collect the slow, oozing white droplets that he can’t help but produce, and sometimes you reach your fingers up to brush the hair out of his eyes to better see his glassy eyes and red cheeks. The sounds really are obscene; your ears burn red just hearing them. Your cunt throbs at it, too. 

“Feels... please—” he gets out, rustling against the headboard harder and bringing his hips up to meet your fist half way. “M’ so—happy to be here. Love you—love you! Gonna cum, can I cum? Please?” 

Stomach doing wild flips at the cracking in his voice and the tightening of his soft belly, you loosen up your strokes and try to help him toward it. “Of course. Cum, baby. Go ahead. Feels good?” 

Your wrist aches once his jaw goes tight, the muscles there twitching in the moonlight, and he spills his seed in white, sticky spurts all over his belly. His fingers go tight around your wrist when you continue to jerk his cock even as he cums, working him well through it and urging him to spurt a few more stray shots on himself with wild jerks of his hips. He heaves whines and his cock throbs beneath your fist, pretty face screwed up tight. 

“There we go,” you coo, admiring the scene of him, covered in his own seed and his bangs damp. You’re sure you smell entirely of him, now, with his mess wet and nasty over your palm.  

A parade of sweet thank you’s spill from his lips once he finds his mind again, breathy and full. You just press your cheek into his chest, feeling every frantic thump of his heart against you. Perhaps it’s a bit sappy, but all you can think to say is:  

“I’m happy you’re here, too, Kai.” 

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note TJIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SUB IDOL AHHH. kinda nervous. can you tell? i’m not sure why, i love that shit. it’s just how the dice have rolled hehe.

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[candy69gurl]

𝐇𝐘𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄- HOW YOU MET THEM

WARNING: mentions of violence (Toji and Sukuna), flulff SYNOPSIS: Introductory post of my HYBRID JJK VERSE NOTE: Upcoming- Mating season (smut)

ᯓ★ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎- BAT HYBRID

THUD

You jolt up from bed, heart racing, as the sound pierces the silence of the night. Throwing off the covers, you leap out of bed, curiosity mingled with concern driving you to investigate. Creeping to the window, you cautiously peek outside, squinting into the darkness.

There, sprawled on the ground below, lies a figure, human in form but distinctly different. Your breath catches in your throat as you discern the shape of black wings and pointed ears against the dim moonlight. With a rush of adrenaline, you dash downstairs, your mind racing with questions and apprehension.

Approaching the fallen being, you notice the unmistakable mark of fear etched on his face, accentuated by the ominous black mark on his nose. "Hey?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper.

Startled, the creature turns to face you, his eyes wide with a mixture of fright and pain. His deep, resonant voice trembles as he speaks, "Please… help me. My wings… I think they're broken."

Your initial shock gives way to empathy as you realize the gravity of his plight. "Are you… a vampire?" you inquire, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

He shakes his head slowly, strands of black hair falling across his pale, gaunt face. "No," he replies, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I am half-human, half-bat."

With a surge of determination, you extend a helping hand, offering to assist him to his feet. As he rises, you catch a clearer glimpse of his features - his ebony hair tied back in two distinctive edges, his pallid complexion, and the weary, haunted look in his baggy eyes.

Without hesitation, you guide him back inside your home, the weight of his brokenness heavy on your shoulders. As you lead him inside, you vow to help this mysterious being, to mend his shattered wings and perhaps, in doing so, to heal the wounds of his troubled soul.

You carefully bandage his broken wings, but upon closer inspection, you realize the damage is more severe than initially thought. With a heavy heart, you express your concern, "They don't look too good… I suppose you can't fly for a while."

He meets your gaze with pleading eyes, a silent plea for compassion. "Can I stay with you until then?" he asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You pause, contemplating the implications of inviting this enigmatic being into your life. After a moment of reflection, you reply, "Fine… you can stay. It will take time for you to adjust with me."

A mixture of relief and gratitude wash over him as he pulls you into a heartfelt embrace, craving the warmth of connection. You can't help but smile at his earnestness, understanding the yearning for companionship hidden beneath his otherworldly exterior.

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 & 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔- CAT HYBRIDS

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of chattering coming from your kitchen. Groggy and confused, you sit up in bed.

Something is definitely wrong.

You wobble on unsteady legs as you make your way to the kitchen to find out what’s causing the noise.

The kitchen light is off, but you can hear some rustling sounds. You flip on the light switch, and the noise stops. As your eyes adjust to the brightness, you see them—two large cat-human hybrids, one white and one black, wrestling on the floor.

Their eyes immediately meet yours. Milk is spilled all over the floor, adding to the chaos.

Their gazes lock onto yours as spilled milk creates chaos on the floor.

You're stunned, unable to move. The black one gestures at the white one and accuses, "It's all his fault," his voice smooth as velvet. He leans towards the white one, nudging him gently with his muzzle, provoking a growl from the white hybrid. In the dimly lit room, his eyes shine brightly, though slightly smaller than the white one, he carries a similar aura of power. His tail wags eagerly, tapping the floor with excitement.

The white one pushes his muzzle away with a paw, his white-pinkish ears constantly twitching; the action is gentle, the two clearly having a good relationship despite the light teasing, "No, this is Suguru's fault."

Confused and overwhelmed, you blurt out, "Get out of my house!"

They both give you pleading looks. The black one speaks again, "W-We just wanted some milk... We were hungry, and... your windows were unlocked... Please, can we stay here for a few days? We have nowhere else to go."

Exasperated, you sigh. "Fine, but only one of you can stay. I can't take care of both."

They cling to each other, pleading desperately. "Please, we can't be apart."

Rubbing your forehead, you relent. "Okay, but no causing trouble. Both of you can stay."

Instantly, they pounce on you, showering you with joyful licks as they express their gratitude.

ᯓ★ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀- TIGER HYBRID

"Come out of that cave for god's sake," you call out, waiting for the creature to emerge so you can snap a good picture. You've always enjoyed photographing animals, so when you heard about the new tiger-human hybrid at the zoo, you were eager to capture it on film. Choosing the evening when the area is deserted, you head to the enclosure, hoping for uninterrupted photography.

"Oh... Oh, I see it," you mutter, attempting to zoom in with your camera. A glimpse of pink hair catches your eye, but it's not clear. Then disaster strikes. Your camera slips from your grasp, and in your attempt to catch it, you lose your balance and tumble into the cage.

As you hit the ground, the tigers in the cage swarm around you. Panic sets in as you realize there's no one nearby to help. You curse your own recklessness as the tigers prepare to attack. But then, the pink-haired hybrid steps forward, his voice deep and commanding.

"Brave of you to jump into the tiger's cage," he remarks. The other tigers seem to cower in his presence. He kneels down to your level, his tongue darting out, saliva glistening.

"Finally, a good meal," he says, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Desperately, you plead for mercy. "P-please, let me go. I'll do anything."

He chuckles darkly which sounds more like a roar. "Anything, you say? Hmm... Then get me out of this cage," he demands. Fear grips you as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"H-how... I don't..." you stammer, but he interrupts, seizing your throat with a deadly grip.

"Then be my meal," he growls.

Frantically, you agree to help. "F-fine... I'll help," you manage to choke out, hoping it's enough to spare your life.

With the hybrid's grip loosening slightly, you scramble to gather your wits. Your mind races as you try to devise a plan to fulfill his demand.

How can I possibly get him out of this cage? you think, panic rising like bile in your throat.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you. The gate! If I can somehow open the gate... With newfound determination, you manage to croak out, "I need... the keys... to open the gate."

The hybrid regards you with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Keys, huh? You expect me to believe that?" he snarls.

You nod frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes, yes! The keys! They're... they're with the zookeeper. I am thinking of a way. Just let go off me!"

The hybrid eyes you warily, then releases his grip on your throat. "Fine," he grumbles. "But make one wrong move, and I'll finish what I started."

As you struggle to come up with a plan to escape the dangerous situation you've found yourself in, you spot movement outside the enclosure. With a surge of hope, you see a zoo staff member approaching. Frantically, you wave and call out for help.

The staff member's eyes widen in shock as they spot you inside the cage. "What on earth are you doing in there?" they exclaim, hurrying over to the gate.

You quickly concoct a story, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "Someone locked me in here! I'm the vet, and I was checking on the hybrid when the gate closed behind me. Please, hurry and bring the keys!"

The staff member looks hesitant, clearly taken aback by the situation, but they nod and rush off to retrieve the keys.

Meanwhile, the hybrid eyes you with suspicion, his predatory instincts on high alert.

"Just make him faint when he brings the key. Don't hurt him, okay?" you plead, hoping to appeal to his sense of self-preservation.

"Why should I listen to you?" he roars, his patience wearing thin.

"Because I'm helping you escape," you reason, desperation creeping into your voice.

Grumbling, the hybrid reluctantly agrees, his gaze never leaving the approaching staff member.

When the staff member returns with the keys, the hybrid pounces without hesitation, pinning the unsuspecting individual to the ground. A deafening roar echoes through the enclosure, and the staff member faints from sheer terror.

Quickly, you snatch the keys from the fallen staff member's hand and unlock the gate. The hybrid bounds out of the cage, his powerful form moving with grace and speed.

As you both make your escape, the other tigers seem almost relieved to see you go, as if they're eager for the chaos to end.

Once you're safely outside the enclosure, you lock the gate behind you and return the keys to the unconscious staff member's hand. Then, under the cover of darkness, you and the hybrid make your way out of the zoo.

But just when you think you're in the clear, the hybrid pounces on you once again, a hungry gleam in his eyes. "Time for my dinner, don't you think?" he growls.

"W-wait! You told me you wouldn't hurt me! I helped you escape!" you cry out, tears welling in your eyes.

He licks your cheek with a smirk. "Well, when Sukuna is hungry, he eats anything that's in front of him."

You try to wriggle free from his grasp, but his paw-like hand holds you firmly in place. "Please... I have food at home. Don't eat me! I'm not tasty!" you plead desperately.

"Do you have meat at your home?" he asks, his tone surprisingly calm.

You nod frantically, hoping beyond hope that he'll spare you.

"Fine. I'll follow you to your home. But if you're lying, I'll eat you right there," he warns, his gaze unwavering.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you lead him to your home, each step heavier than the last. When you arrive, you quickly retrieve some meat from your fridge and offer it to him.

He seems content for the moment, but then he declares, "Very well. This is my new home."

You try to protest, but he cuts you off with a dismissive snort. "As long as you don't tell anybody I'm here, everything will be fine. You know what will happen if you do."

ᯓ★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎- BLACK PANTHER HYBRID

Sweat drips down your forehead as you run through the dense woods, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear the loud growls and snarls of the tiger getting closer and closer. The adrenaline rushes through your veins as you trip over a fallen log. You hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of you. You look up to see the tiger bearing down on you, its yellow eyes full of hunger.

As your fear intensifies, you can't help but think how you ended up in this situation. Why did you decide to take the shortcut through the woods instead of sticking to the paved streets? Now you're about to become a meal for a wild beast. Your mind races through all the things you could've done differently, the choices that led you here. If only you had taken a different route, your life might be different now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, preparing yourself to face your fate but soon enough an unexpected event unfolds. A massive, black form leaps onto the tiger, sending it tumbling away. The two animals engage in a furious battle, the sound of snapping teeth and growls deafening.

Your body aches and your feet throb, the injury bleeding profusely. The adrenaline is quickly waning, and you can feel your consciousness beginning to slip away. You try to run, but your body won't cooperate. The throbbing in your head intensifies, and the world starts to fade to black.

As your eyelids fall shut, you're left with the knowledge that your life hangs in the balance, an unwitting pawn in this primal struggle. The two animals continue their violent dance, oblivious to the fact that the prize they both seek is barely clinging to life mere feet away. Your breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps as blackness engulfs you, consuming your senses, and you slip into the abyss of unconsciousness.

You stir and slowly awaken in a pitch-black space. Your injured foot tingling, and you realize that a warm, rough tongue is lapping at your wound. With your heart pounding and your eyes adapting to the low light, you leap up in surprise to see a big, hybrid figure standing in front of you. Part panther, part man, his muscular form is a testament to its feline heritage. His deep green eyes pierce into you, holding an air of mystery. A scar etches a jagged line along the right side of his mouth, giving his face a dangerous edge.

Despite his menacing demeanour, there is tenderness in the way he looks at you. With a deep, velvety voice, he replies, "I don't eat humans, so don't be afraid."

Your voice trembles as you ask, "W-why did you save me?"

He responds with a casual air, "Ah, that tiger was a menace, always trying to feed on humans. Thought I'd teach him a good lesson." A flick of his panther-like tongue gently traces your cheek, as if silently asking for your trust.

Overwhelmed by the turn of events, you manage to stammer, "Can I go home now?" His face softens, and it's clear that he's reluctant to let you go. He's developed a connection with you, but yea he has to let you go so he eventually nods with a heavy heart.

"Fine, you don't look too good to go by your own. Your foot is injured, and other animals can hurt you." He looks at you with concern, his green eyes fixed on your bleedings. "I will help you return home."

With an unspoken bond formed between the two of you, he gently lifts you onto his back, using his strong, muscular arms to support you. The warmth of his body offers comfort, and you can't help but feel safe and protected, even as you're carried through the still-dangerous woods. He moves with the agility of a panther, his steps sure and confident.

His panther-like ears twitch with each new sound, alert to any potential dangers. He dashes through the woods at a breakneck speed, your directions guiding him towards the safety of your home. Your heart races in your chest as you cling tightly to his neck, grateful for his strength and protection.

The journey seems to go by in a blur, the whirlwind of events leaving you shaken. But, with every passing second, the comforting thought of returning to familiar surroundings grows stronger. The sight of your home, drawing nearer, brings a sense of relief, and you can't help but let out a breath you'

His panther-like ears twitch with each new sound, alert to any potential dangers. He dashes through the woods at a breakneck speed, your directions guiding him towards the safety of your home. Your heart races in your chest as you cling tightly to his neck, grateful for his strength and protection.

The journey seems to go by in a blur, the whirlwind of events leaving you shaken. But, with every passing second, the comforting thought of returning to familiar surroundings grows stronger. The sight of your home, drawing nearer, brings a sense of relief, and you can't help but let out a breath you' have been holding. You slide off his back onto the pavement, the familiar crunch of gravel underfoot a stark contrast to the softness of the woods. You turn to face your savior, words of gratitude tumbling from your lips.

The first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow over the landscape. Your savior begins to turn away, the time for him to leave drawing near. Panic wells up inside you, and without thinking, you reach out and cling to him. The thought of him departing too much to bear. Your voice quivers as you plead, "Please, don't leave. Can you stay with me for a few days?"

He regards you with a mixture of surprise and concern, his green eyes holding a wealth of emotions. "I can't," he responds but your pleading eyes seem to have an effect on him, and after a moment of hesitation, he relents slightly, "All right, just for a day. After that, I'll have to return to my place."

His agreement brings a wave of relief, and you cling to him for a moment longer before stepping back, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you," you breathe, leading the way inside your home..

Little did he know, the decision he made to spend a day at your house would change everything. As the hours pass and the day turns into night, the sense of comfort and safety he provides begins to weave its way into your heart. You find yourself growing increasingly reluctant to let him go, his presence now a much-needed source of calm amidst the chaos of your life.

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐆- BEAR HYBRID

As you walk down the street, the cold winds bite at your skin, creating an eerie atmosphere. Suddenly, you notice several men trailing behind you. Panic sets in, and you break into a sprint, ducking into an empty alleyway. But as you reach the end of the alley, you realize there's no way out. They've surrounded you.

Alone and terrified, you feel like your luck has run out. But then, a noise startles everyone. Heavy footsteps echo in the alley, and all heads turn. A massive creature lumbers toward you, sending the men into a frenzy. "A bear!" they cry, scrambling to escape over the alley walls. Left behind, you remember a tale about playing dead to evade a bear's wrath. With trembling body, you collapse to the ground, feigning unconsciousness.

As the creature draws closer, it speaks in a human voice, catching you off guard. "Either you're playing dumb or you think I am," it remarks, its features coming into focus. It's a peculiar sight – a man with an average build, sporting short black hair styled longer on top, dark eyes, and a thin mustache. But atop his head are unmistakable brown bear-like ears, and his stature is massive, resembling that of a human-bear hybrid.

Confusion swirls in your mind. Could such a creature exist? Before you can ponder further, he chuckles and remarks, "You owe me a jar of honey."

Bewildered, you sit up, daring to ask, "What are you?"

His response is gentle, "A bear hybrid, I suppose."

You speak again, "I.. don't have any honey with me."

"Too bad," he replies with a smirk, "You seem like honey to me." Fear still grips you, but he reassures, "Don't worry, I won't eat you... yet." His mischievous grin sends shivers down your spine. Uncertain of what to make of this bizarre encounter, you cautiously accept his offer to escort you home.

Despite your initial trepidation, you find yourself trusting him, if only because he saved you from a perilous situation. And so, with this creature by your side, you embark on the journey home, your mind buzzing with questions and disbelief.

As you reach your home, his presence is somehow comforting. "My honey... dear?..." he murmurs softly, and you fidget with your fingers, trying to find an answer. "I don't have it. I will have to buy and then..."

Before you can complete your sentence, he leans in, cupping your cheeks, his lips find yours. Your eyes widen in shock at his sudden, electrifying kiss. It sends a shiver down your spine, grounded by his arrogant proclamation.

"Mhm, you are sweeter than honey," he whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet I'm gonna stay with you until my one jar is complete."

You stutter, taken aback by the unanticipated intimacy. "U-until what's complete?" You question, still trying to fully process the bizarre encounter.

The bear-man, now seemingly confident in his claim, swaggers into your home as if he owns the place. You follow hesitantly, lingering at the door.

"Until I get one jar of honey," he clarifies, sitting down on the couch, "But I bet it won't take long. Just the sight of you alone is sweet enough." His voice drips with innuendo, and you blush furiously, unsure how to respond.

"Y-you can't just barge into someone's home," you stammer.

"My apologies, but the circumstances call for it," he responds nonchalantly.

You are stunned by his boldness, yet you cannot overlook the fact that he saved you from those men. Maybe it's the thrill of this wild encounter, but you can't deny that he's charming. "I-I.. I don't know," you reply, unsure of whether you're ready to have your world turned upside down by this enigmatic creature.

ᯓ★ 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈, 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈, 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 & 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄- BUNNY HYBRIDS

"This white one, this black one, this brown one, and this grey one... YEYYYY!" you exclaimed in pure delight as you gazed upon the adorable human-bunny hybrids in front of you. Their fluffy ears twitched, their small tails twitched, and their eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"I WANT ALL OF THEM!" you declared, unable to contain your excitement. But your parents, standing nearby, didn't seem as enthusiastic about the idea of bringing home four new additions to the family.

"Y/N, choose only two," they urged, trying to reason with you.

But you weren't having it. You wanted all of those charming creatures, each with their unique color and personality. "No, I WANT ALL OF THEM!" you insisted, jumping up and down and throwing a small tantrum.

"All four will be trouble," one of your parents sighed, exchanging a knowing look with the other. "I don't think your kid is going to listen," the latter chuckled.

ᯓ★ 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈, 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 & 𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐄 - DOG HYBRIDS

Before you were born, three special beings were already part of your family: Hiromi, Nanami, and Kusakabe. They're dogs mixed with humans, each with their own unique qualities. Hiromi is the oldest and wisest, Nanami is gentle but strong, and Kusakabe is full of energy and happiness.

In one word- they're family. They were already part of the family long before you arrived. When you were born, they were already there, part of the household. When they first saw you, they felt a strong connection with you, even though you're a bit different from them.

ᯓ★ 𝐌𝐀𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎- SNAKE HYBRID (NAG)

"Big News! The nag broke free from the lab! If you spot it, call this number: 69696969696969."

You switch off the TV, muttering, "Why can't they keep a better eye on animals? They don't deserve this. But I wanna see what it looks like" You head to the kitchen for some food. Suddenly, you hear a hissing noise. "I need to clear my mind. I'm even hearing snake sounds," you smile to yourself, and then you freeze. "Wait... hissing sound?" You turn around to see a huge snake with a human-like upper body and a snake-like lower half—typically mythological character like.

You find yourself in the midst of a gripping situation. The room feels charged with tension as you stand face to face with the escaped nag. Its presence is both captivating and terrifying.

The nag towers over you, its imposing figure a stark contrast against the mundane surroundings of your home. Its upper body bears a resemblance to that of a human, but its lower half is unmistakably serpentine, coiled and ready to strike.

Its face, marked with intricate patchwork patterns, holds an otherworldly allure. Its eyes, one a deep, mysterious blue and the other a haunting shade of gray, seem to pierce through your very soul.

Long strands of grayish-blue hair cascade down its back, swaying with each subtle movement. They are neatly sectioned into three thick strands, each tied off at the end, adding to the creature's enigmatic appearance.

As it grins, you can't help but notice its fangs—two of them, each as large as a snake's, gleaming ominously in the dim light of the room.

But perhaps the most chilling sight is its tail, which coils around your body with a vice-like grip, constricting your every movement and leaving you gasping for air.

In this moment, fear and disbelief course through you as you realize the gravity of the situation. You are face to face with a creature straight out of myth and legend, and it has you firmly in its grasp.

You try to scream, but the nag's grip around your waist is too tight, choking off the sound. You can feel your breathing becoming labored, your chest constricted, the nag's tail seemingly tightening with each panicked attempt to draw in air.

Your heart races as you wait for the jagged teeth to sink into your flesh, but instead of biting, the nag's forked tongue darts out licking your teary cheek. The contrast between anticipating excruciating pain and gentle caress makes your blood run cold.

Your whimpers fade as you gaze into the creature's heterochromia eyes. "Hooman~" Its voice is like the rustling of autumn leaves, soft yet unsettling. "Not gonna hurt you if you don't hurt me."

A look of confusion crosses your face as he releases you, still gripped by confusion as to why a creature capable of such destruction is harming you not. "You escaped from the lab, right?" you ask tentatively.

The nag lets out a small pout, "They treated me very bad..." Tears begin to stream down its patchwork face, and you're left wondering if the display is genuine or nothing more than an act. "I want to be taken care of... Do I not deserve it?"

You find yourself grappling with your own emotions, the nag's pleading expression tugging at your heartstrings. You're still scared of it but somehow, you can't seem to resist its charms. Biting your lip in indecision, you finally reply, "I will tell them to take care of you in a good way. You should return there."

He shakes his head vehemently as his tail coils even tighter around you this time, almost comforting. "No... Not gonna go there AGAIN!" he protests, his voice laced with desperation. "Please... You look like a good hooman... Please take care of mee~" It presses its face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. The nag's cold touch adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

"Are you sure... you can stay with me?" you ask, mindful of the consequences but feeling a strange kinship forming. The nag's face lights up, and you can see how desperately it wants this. "Yes... yes, please."

Given the situation, you sigh and agree to the nag's request. You realize that it's not going to leave you alone anyway. Plus, it's not like having a nag as a house pet is an everyday occurrence.

ᯓ★ 𝐀𝐎𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎- GORILLA HYBRID

As the sun shone down on the lush greenery of the picnic area, innocent you sat with your family, enjoying a delightful family picnic. Amidst the laughter and chatter, you decided to indulge in one of your favorite snacks - bananas. Grabbing one from the fruit basket, you eagerly peeled it open and devoured it in no time, savoring its sweet flavor.

Bananas Bananas Bananas, I LOVE BANANAS

But one banana was not enough to satisfy your craving, and you reached for another. As you peeled it open, a sudden poke on your shoulder startled you. Whipping around, you found nobody there. Shrugging off the odd sensation, you turned back to your banana, only to find it mysteriously missing, leaving only the peel in your hand.

Confused and slightly unnerved, you grabbed another banana from the basket, determined to enjoy it without any interruptions. Yet, once again, a poke on your shoulder disrupted your moment, and when you looked back, the banana was gone, just like before.

Frustration mounting, you stood up and scanned the surroundings, searching for the prankster responsible for the disappearing bananas. Your eyes fell upon a figure giggling mischievously nearby.

"You did it!" you accused, rushing towards the person, but it darted away with surprising agility, effortlessly climbing up a nearby tree.

In your attempt to follow, you ended up stumbling and falling, landing with a painful thud. As you winced in pain, the laughter ceased, replaced by a sense of guilt. The figure descended from the tree and approached you cautiously.

"Sorry," he muttered, extending a hand to help you up. Looking up, you found yourself face-to-face with an unusual sight - a hybrid creature with a big body and chest like a gorilla but the face and features of a human. Despite his intimidating physique, he seemed of your age.

"You could have asked me," you scolded, rubbing your sore limbs.

He hung his head in apology once more, explaining that he couldn't resist the opportunity to play a harmless prank.

As you talked, you realized that despite his unusual appearance, you felt a strange connection with him. He was just like you, craving friendship and acceptance.

When it was time to leave, you hesitated, not wanting to part ways with your newfound friend. Gathering your courage, you introduced him to your parents, who were taken aback by the sight of the hybrid creature.

"That's not a human," they exclaimed, exchanging worried glances.

But as you pleaded with them to let your new friend come home with you, they relented, touched by your earnestness and compassion.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader This is the last part before the epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise honey, remember?” You nod, but your eyes stay glued to the windshield, tracking the raindrops sliding on and off the glass. “Hey,” he reaches for your hand, pulling it into his grasp, “it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m with you.” You repeat the mantra, the one you repeat in the shower, in bed, in the living room. I’m safe. I’m with you. 

He wants to look away from the road so badly long enough to see your eyes, really see them. It’s how he knows where you are, if you’re there, or here, or somewhere else. Just in case, he reminds you. “The kids are with Gaz and Cami. Soap is sleeping in the guest room. They’re all together, and they’re safe.” You nod again, but answer as a robot.

“They’re safe.” He can’t do it. He pulls the car over and you turn in alarm, watching as he steps around to the passenger side door and pulls it wide, dropping to his knee.

“Look at me-“

“You’re getting wet!” You sputter, grabbing at his jacket, but he stills you.

“Look at me, mama.” Your eyes are full of tears, and he cups your cheek. “Where are you?” Your lip wobbles.

“That room.” He pries your fingers open and places your palm over his chest.

“What’s that?”

“Your heart.”

“Your heart, sweet girl. It’s yours. Count them for me.” You shake your head, clenching your eyes shut, and he squeezes your knee. “Deep breath. Count them.”

“O-one, two, thr-we, four…” he does it with you, quietly, supporting, but not coaching. Not leading. You have to do it, you have to bring yourself back. “F-ive… five, six, seven, eight, nine…” each beat steadies your voice until you’re sitting a little straighter, breathing a little deeper.

“There she is. There’s my girl.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, “that’s it.”

“Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” you reach twenty five, and then give him a nod. He is thoroughly soaked now, but who cares. It’s not even close to what matters.

“Where are you?” He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here, with you.” You meet his gaze, clear and focused, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“You could have told me.”

“Not as fun, mama, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking around, smiling. It’s the same room he brought you to years ago. The room where he put the ring on your finger, the room you told him you’d spend the rest of your life, his life, together. The curtains are the same, the decor, even the bedspread.

“Si,” your voice wavers, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

You're surprisingly not nervous at all, though he's not that shocked. You have a few tattoos, medium sized, black and grey like his. No sleeves or anything that extensive, but you picked up a small collection during your travels. 

"Wait... are you serious?" You squeak, eyeing the chair and then the guy sitting beside it, Mark, the same guy that's done almost all of Simon's work. Simon's still not sure how he convinced him to come out here and do this, but he suspects the sentimental piece of this occasion had a lot to do with it. "What... what is it?" Simon glances at him, and then nods, holding his breath as he pulls the stencil out of the binder to lay it flat in front of you. 

It's a ring. Black and grey to match your other tattoos, but the same shape, band, everything, as the one you lost. Except- 

The stone frames three constellations. Orion, Phoenix and... "Lyra." You whisper, tracing the line work. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Orpheus and Eurydice." 

"Everyone says it's a tragedy, y'know? That he failed. But those people have never felt the way I feel about you." His throat is unbearably tight, and he swallows to keep it together. "They don't know how I'd go to hell to bring you home, they don't know how desperate I'd be to look back and and make sure you're still there with me," he breathes deep through his nose, chasing away the tidal wave rising in his chest. Mark, thankfully, has decided to pretend to be busy with something else. "They don't know how I'd let myself be ripped apart just to see you again. To spend eternity with you." 

"Simon..." 

"You don't have to do it," he rushes out, squeezing your hand, "just say so, and we'll leave. I won't be mad." You reach for him, tugging him close by his wrist and standing up on your tiptoes, trying to bury your face in his neck, seeking you safe space. 

"I love you. I love... I love you." He brushes your tears away. "I want it. Yes, of course. I want it." 

"You sure?" You cast one last look at the drawing, and nod. 

"Eternity with you." He smiles. 

"Eternity." 

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn’t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[lay-z]

battered and bruised | 1/3

Synopsis: Captain Price won't tolerate you risking your life on a mission again.

Pairing: alpha!Captain John Price x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse; comfort fic; humour; blood and injury; morphine/medical drug usage; fraternising; teammates/friends to lovers; dub-con; sexual/suggestive content; a/b/o dynamics; cussing; fluff (Some of these apply to upcoming parts!)

Word count: 2.2k

🖤 masterlist

Location: Hereford/UK | TF-141 HQ Date: Friday, 24/01/2025 Time: 00:37 a.m.

A door is flung open and then you’re harshly pushed and shoved, nearly sending you stumbling and crashing in your heavy boots before you barely catch yourself on the edge of a sturdy table, head spinning as your eyelids blink rapidly. 

Your sight is somewhat blurry, dust and eyeblack smudging your vision, white-speckled stars dancing and flickering in the corners of your eyes in the semi-darkness of what must be some vacant, random briefing room. 

The door slams shut behind you with more force than necessary, making the surrounding windows tremble in their frames, and then the room is filled with thick, accumulating tension as you feel Captain Price’s piercing glare on the back of your skull, his tangy scent surrounding the space, making you bristle like an animal caught in a trap. 

His voice is sharp and jagged, a combat knife slicing through heavy silence when he snaps at you: “You wanna explain that little stunt you pulled earlier, Sergeant?” 

“Oi–!” You huff, rolling your aching shoulders underneath your heavy tac gear as you turn to face him on wobbly knees; swiftly pulling your black balaclava off in one smooth motion and taking a greedy breath while tucking the fabric into an empty pocket of your cargo pants; revealing your dishevelled hair along with a thin, bleeding cut on your right cheekbone. 

“We finished the mission successfully, innit?” You counter briskly like the bloody smartass you are, though you usually never dare to adopt a tone like this with Price, not even in the privacy of twosomeness, and you gulp a gasp of air, eyes widening as you realize your mistake. 

This isn't John, your packmate and friend, but Price, your alpha superior. 

Price’s steel blue eyes darken another shade as he steps forward with a grim frown, tilting his head slightly, the look almost murderous. He stops in front of you, tips of your chunky boots touching now, before he grabs your chin with his gloved hand, lifting your bruised face up towards him. 

“You almost got yourself bloody killed, you goddamn fool!” He snarls, eyes scanning over the cut on your cheek before he lets go of you roughly. “You weren’t supposed to get that close; do you understand me? Never!” 

You tut, scrunching your nose in a small snarl like a disobedient pup baring its baby teeth at his rough manhandling, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes while your supple omega skin pounds and burns around the cut, irritated and raw. 

“Sir, I took those fuckers out efficiently, giving you and Gaz the necessary time to take out the main target–” you explain, trying to stay calm though your voice keeps wavering, “Call me a fool all you want, but you know I’m right, Captain.” 

Price growls at you as you continue to talk back to him; eyes hardening and turning to a shade of navy blue while his jaw clenches so tightly, you’re surprised it didn’t break yet. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down as his alpha pheromones turn too heady and aggressive, causing your gut to clench and your throat to tighten as you hold back a submissive whine. 

“That wasn’t part of the bloody plan, and you know it, Sergeant! Shouldn’t you be better at following orders by now? Ya could’ve gotten yourself–” He stops mid-sentence, his buff chest deflates with a rushed exhale, lids narrowing and zeroing in on the gnarly cut and bruises on your face once more. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath and the roughness in his voice makes you shiver in your boots before he reaches up with both hands to cup your face this time, gentler and tenderly; thick thumb lightly brushing away coagulated blood, making you wince and flinch, and melt simultaneously. 

“That needs to be taken care of, dove,” he says much quieter, his anger now replaced with worry as his frown softens and the wrinkle between his brows smoothens out. 

A tingling sensation spreads over your face, making it feel hot beneath his touch, like someone tugging on your hair so tightly, your skin is pulled taut while the tips of daggers are wrenched into your eye sockets, prodding at your brain and scraping inside your skull. The sudden pain makes you dizzy and sway.  

Time slows down for you, crawling along like thick tar, though, it merely takes seconds. 

With fluttering lashes, your eyes flicker up to stare blankly at his ruggedly handsome, dirty face; pain and adrenaline lowering your inhibitions and qualms, all reason melting from your brain and running out of your ears in an instant as you catch another whiff of his alpha scent. 

Cold bones covered in rich dark chocolate, wrapped in ripe tobacco leaves and presented to you. 

“Sergeant?” 

Swallowing down a mouthful of foamy saliva, your black pupils dilate as your wide doe-eyes flit down to stare at his lips as John speaks up again, and in a moment of weakness, your omega instincts manage to slither from your grasp despite the strong suppressants you take religiously and you reach out to clutch and curl your gloved fingers into the front of his tac vest to pull him to your level for a rash, first kiss. 

John freezes the second your soft lips connect with his; initial clumsiness balanced by raw fervency make his chest rumble with a pleased growl, and he finds himself kissing you back for a second, fingers carding through your hair and cupping the back of your neck, applying some pressure; sighing as he finally gets that ardently longing taste of you before his brain screeches to a halt; duty and regulations forcing him to act and contain his alpha nature, to be the reasonable one again. 

He pulls back with a sharp curse, lips smacking and stealing another peck before a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He breathes harshly, uncurling his mammoth hands from you reluctantly before stepping backwards, running a hand through his short, brown hair in frustration. “Bloody Christ, Sergeant,” he huffs, “–you’re not... We’re not supposed to–What are we doing here, huh?” 

The feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him melting on your tongue like hard candy, bursting on your tastebuds, and his beard scratching your sensitive skin, was enough to distract you from the throbbing pain and fuzziness in your head momentarily, though now it’s hitting you again full force. 

Inhaling a sharp breath through clenched teeth, your eyes widen as you stammer for an answer: “I–I–I’m–” you stutter, heart now hammering in your throat as your ears start ringing. “I’m sorry! I–I don’t know–ah!” 

You wince as you pinch the bridge of your nose harshly, and John can merely stare and watch you struggle to speak while his heartrate increases, strong muscle slamming into his ribcage underneath his layers of gear and clothing; both thoughts and emotions all over the place uncharacteristically after you’d kissed him without so much than a friendly premonition. 

Then, he steps forward again, pushing your hips back against the sturdy table behind you, large hands grasping the front of your tac vest more desperate than he’d like to admit. “You’re sorry?” He repeats in disbelief. “You kiss your superior just like that and you’re bloody sorry, Sergeant?” 

“Y-Yes, sir. I–ah... Fuck,” you curse and groan, squeezing your eyes shut as the splitting headache worsens; barely registering the way John has grabbed you by the shoulders now. “Please–” you whine, unable to keep the pathetic sound concealed this time while you reach out to get a hold of his strong forearms, finding purchase against the table as you lean back.  

As soon as your soft whine is torn from your delicate throat, alarm bells go off inside the Captain’s head as he ignores the pleasant shudder running down his spine and focuses on the need to protect and take care of you blossoming behind his ribcage instead.  

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes filled with worry as he witnesses you practically falling apart in front of him and not knowing why is driving him mad already. “Jesus, you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now, dove.”  

Wrapping an arm tightly around your waist despite the bulky gear covering both your bodies, John pulls your smaller frame as close as he can get you; securing you against him. “Let me help you, okay? I’m taking you to the medbay. Just breathe for me and calm down. We can’t risk you getting sick–” 

You feel even weaker in the knees now, but you manage to loop your arms around his neck somehow while you take eager little sniffs of his calming scent at this proximity, and as soon as John notices you trying to seek out his comfort, he swiftly unzips his combat jacket and tugs at the tight collar of his compression shirt to expose more of his scent to you, mumbling to himself. “Damn it, honey, why is my life never easy with you?”  

A pleasant tingle runs down the length of his spine when the tip of your nose grazes along the curve of his neck cutely, narrowly missing his sensitive scent gland as you breathe in his scent, and John’s jaw clenches while his mind short-circuits at the featherlight contact. He should be able to resist it, being an experienced SAS Captain and all that, but he’s slowly realizing how powerless he is when you’re all submissive and vulnerable for him like this. 

“Hit my head... pretty badly when–when I grappled and–an' took out that ah... one bloke,” you explain in a muttered murmur while John hums affirmingly and starts leading you out of the briefing room, down the long hallway towards the nearest elevator, making you lean heavily against him with his arm curled around your waist below your vest. His jaw is clenched tightly, his face set in a frown once more as he tries to keep his simmering anger at bay. 

Given the chance, he’d rip that fellow apart with his bare hands. 

Pulled away from his violent thoughts, his attention shifts again when the bright fluorescent lights along the ceiling crackle and switch on automatically, filling the eerie silence inside the building at this hour, and causing you to groan pitifully as you squeeze your eyes shut immediately. “Ouch... Please, make them stop!” You mewl before twisting and turning your face to bury into his shoulder for protection like a lost, helpless kitten, and John feels something else stir in his chest, something heavy and warm that slows him down. 

“You hit your head, and you didn’t tell anyone?” He hisses, though it’s lacking harshness, and he gently pushes his hand into your hair, along the side of your head until his fingers shield over your temple as he tries to block out some of the light. “Fuck me, Sergeant, you’re too bloody stubborn, ya muppet.” 

He’s never truly witnessed you acting like an omega; always too guarded, too stoic and professional; constantly drugged up with military issued suppressants and scent blockers while the knowledge about that has always sort of peeved your alpha teammates, including John himself, leaving them worried and itching to order having you to throw them away recklessly, make you go natural, knowing each of them would more than willingly take care of you. 

Almost subconsciously, John leans in and sniffs your hair; catching a slight whiff of your scent, though it’s still heavily suppressed, and he swallows down the rumble in his chest, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as he thinks back on that kiss. “And we’re gonna have a long discussion about that kiss, too, when you stop being so bloody delirious.” 

With another breathy whine of pain, you practically curl into his side, holding on tightly despite his cussing and scolding; despite him being your superior. “Don’t cuss at me,” you whimper, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as he keeps guiding you towards the elevator that will take you down to the medbay. “I’m sorry... for the kiss, John.” 

John croons lowly in his chest as you apologize, trying to soothe your pain and distress. He hates that he can’t smell you, which means he can’t read you properly; it's like trying to read the most interesting novella through a veil. And he hates your apology, too, not wanting to hear it.  

He huffs sharply as he adjusts his grip around your waist, stopping in front of the closed elevator doors before pushing the button for it with his free hand. “Don’t talk back to me, you little brat.” John straightens and grumbles half-heartedly, trying to keep his professional demeanour up here out in the open around HQ, though the smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when your soft snicker reaches his ears. 

The elevator doors open with the faintest gust of wind, and he catches another whiff of your scent, though– 

His heart drops into a pit as he freezes, pupils dilating instantly.  

A bouquet of wildflowers, resting on a pile of fresh white linens, surrounded by an assortment of candied fruits; succulent, soft, and utterly saccharine.  

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Hiii could you please write a shanks x f reader who is virgin/not experienced? Thanks you💖

of course i can, guillotine-enjoyer! this is my comeback into the op fandom after a little bit of hiatus, so, i hope you like this filth mwuah mwuah

🍒a lil' hands-on session!

synopsis: seeing your incompetence, the captain of your ship offers to teach you some lessons. after all, experience is the best teacher, is it not? pairing: f!reader x shanks [implied age gap.] wc: 1.3k cw: nsfw includes: dirty talking, teasing, pet names (angel, sweetheart, pretty, baby and such), guided masturbation(f!), fingering, soft!dom shanks. NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN CAUSE I LOVE ME ONE (1) GOOD DILF! MDNI. m.list

"really?" and you knew that your captain wasn't trying to be an ass, knew that he was just curious — albeit, a little too curious.

it was hard not to allow a blush to creep up your cheeks when you repeated for the nth time, "no."

"you've not done anything?" shanks repeated, a certain gleam in his eyes at the way you squirmed under his casual scrutiny.

"no." hands folding across your chest, you slumped back in your seat as if to escape his heated gaze, "and what's it to you if i have or haven't?"

"nothing." the older man laughed, chasing the action with another sip from bottle full of alcohol. wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he shrugged, "it's just a bit weird."

you know what else was weird? this.

tucked away to one dark corner while the rest of the crew danced and sung around in a random party while discussing your virginity with your goddamn captain definitely wasn't on your bingo-card this lifetime, but here you were. weird, right?

"seriously?" you found a soft pout across your lips, looking at the man who's body was half-audacity and half-alcohol, "it's not weird. you're like a bajillion years old, so, it'll be weird if you didn't have any experience." you shrugged, bringing your own bottle of alcohol to your lips, "'m still young. i've got time."

"hm?" shanks cocked an eyebrow, experienced hands setting his bottle down on the wooden, creaking table. "i'm how old?"

warmth crawled up your face and you repeated slowly, "a... bajillion?"

shanks laughed at the slight waver in your voice, taking in your suddenly scarlet appearance, "did i scare young, little you?"

"no." you sipped the liquid again, trying to soothe your weirdly-parched throat with the volatile liquid, "don't flatter yourself. 's just the... alcohol."

"the alcohol's got you looking as red as a cherry, pretty?" and you nodded, scrunching your nose in retort, "it has. mind your own business, shanks."

you're not quite sure which part of "mind your own business" meant sitting on shanks' bed in shanks' room as he peered down at you far too late in the night.

the bridge of his nose was flushed red, eyes drooping down as he licked his lips.

"what do you know?" there was a slight slur in his speech, the kind that excited you when combined with the way his slow gaze drifted against your hot body.

"n-nothing." your thighs clenched shut, lips wobbling under his thick inspection.

"nothing at all?" and you swear you saw the slightest curl across his devilish lips at your small nod.

shanks dipped his face downwards, his skin smelling of cheap booze and bad decisions as he dragged his index across the soft slope of your cheek. his gaze held steady against yours, "do you want me to teach you?"

at your soft nod, shanks trailed the same hand down your cheeks to your collarbones. his eyes stayed on you, never once wavering. "have you ever done things... yourself?"

you shook your head, finding more confidence in your actions rather than your jelly-like words. and this time, he gave you a careful, cashmere smile, "want me to teach you?"

next you knew, shanks was nudging open your thighs, dragging your slick-soaked panties to the side far too easily. his hot breath fanned across your inner thigh, and your essence beaded out at his inspection.

you brought your thighs together, trying yet again to escape his filthy, filthy gaze, but he held your thighs apart with the same skilled hands. never once looking up at you, he breathed out, "don't run away, pretty."

his adept hand dragged yours down to your heat, guiding your thumb to swipe across the throbbing, neglected clit. the pad of your thumb collected the sweet nectar, and you shuddered at the soft touch.

shanks pulled his hand back to himself, looking at you transfixed as you experimentally swiped against the nub again, and then yet again. moments passed and you found a comfortable rhythm to coax an orgasm out of yourself.

as the touches become more natural, the circles grew sloppy against your sopping, desperate pussy. your back arched, the sensation building up in the pit of your stomach so fucking deliciously. your jaw slacked open, inaudible moans brewing in the back of your throat.

and at your actions, shanks groaned.

bringing up a steady hand up to your throat, he clasped your soft skin under his harsh palm. as shanks pressed down on your neck, your finger stuttered against your heat with the lack of air, "s-shanks."

"put your fingers inside."

your eyes widened, words twisting at his request, "i-inside?"

shanks nodded, bringing his own hand to play against your swollen nub with easy, calculated strokes. your back arched at the foreign touch, his fingers were so much rougher, so better experienced.

you slipped in a finger, followed by another. curling your digits against the velvet, you shivered at the way your gummy walls responded to the intrusion.

shanks was unyielding in his touches, never once leaving the swollen, fluttering clit and letting you breathe. no. he pressed down on your clit, fingers strumming against your heat.

the heat pooled out of your cunt, dripping down to his bed obscenely as your eyes rolled back. your hips rutted against your own palm, the friction drawing out pornographic mewls out of your wobbling, wet lips, "'m go-gonna cum. oh fuck—"

his swipes grew sloppy, no longer shapes or words but rather just primal, raw actions to make you come undone. you clenched your eyes shut, your back arching into the mattress at the way his and your touches made you combust and burn up from within. your stomach tightened, head growing lighter with each second, "—fu-fuck, fuck, fuck— ngh shanks-!"

"look at me." a gruff voice forced you back into reality. your captain hissed, a delirious look in his eyes to match yours, "fucking look at me as you cum."

"sh-shanks." your voice wavered, your fingers pistoning in and out of your addictive cunt as your body broke itself inwards. face flushed, hair growing matted against your skin, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lips, mewling out, "ngh— f-fuck, fuck it feels s'good."

"it does right?" shanks pressed forward, dipping his face against the crook of your neck. his stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and his breath stuttered out a falsetto as your muscles spasmed against your own hand.

shanks raised his face, locking his gaze against yours, "feel good, right?"

you nodded, already delirious and half-gone past mad, "i-it does. so, so s'good aah fu—"

one more drivel into your pathetic, fluttering pussy and you came undone with a needy moan of your captain's name, "s-shanks. i-fuck oh my god, ohmygo—"

"that's it." shanks cooed, his eyes burning up the lewd image of your flooding, sensitive folds against his hands, "that's it, baby. let it all out."

words barely coherent, your body spluttered and shivered until it steadied against the same head-board shanks had perched you against.

when you caught your breath, you met your captain's hungry gaze. a strong grip brought your limp hand to your lips, and shanks hummed wordlessly to suck off the remnants of honeydew splattered against your own digits.

wobbling, unsteady, you pushed the two fingers past your lips and sucked on them. your cheeks hollowed, eyes doe-like as you stared at your captain.

the older man snuck in a quick breath, huffing out a soft laugh at your antics, "you're a quick learner, aren't ya?"

you hummed against your skin, nodding so innocently as you let go with a pop! you licked your lips, staring up at the man, "got anything else to teach me?"

shanks laughed, the sound reverberating and setting your pleading cunt alight with need. the captain brought a steady hand to your flushed, warm cheeks, "think ya can handle it, angel?"

"uh huh." daringly, without ever once breaking the eye-contact, you caressed your hand against the obvious bulge in his pants, "not to mention, you're such a good teacher, cap'n."

"alright then." something in his gaze hardened, some unmasked desire ready to guide shanks to become your god, "on your fucking knees for me, sweetheart."

a/n: op fandom, i return with more filth! eat up well🤭 (okay, don't tell anyone but i'm trying to answer all asks asap. no promises though, okay?? so incase you sent one, hold on tight.) m.list

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Hi rae!!! I have a confession to make... i have notifs on for your blog because I love your work sm!

As for JT thoughts, well...

I simply think dropping to your knees and nuzzling your face into Jason's bulge and whining for it would make his heart thud hard in his chest. Especially if you grabbed and kneaded at his thighs to keep him close.

Waterworks

18+ MDNI; You are so right, nonnie. This gave me an idea, and I ran with it soooo, uh, surprise dacryphilia blurb? Happy kinktober? ~800 words

Jason hadn't meant to ignore you. He was just tired, and it really was taking all of his focus to pick through the case files in his hands.

He hadn't meant to tune out your voice calling for him. Not the first time, not the second time, and definitely not the third.

He can't say he's not pleased with the outcome, though.

How could he not be? You'd dropped yourself between his thighs, eyes pleading and trying to keep your lips from wobbling, "Did I do something to make you angry," You had asked, voice wavering.

It made his brain short-circuit, the way tears started to prick at your eyes. It shouldn't have made his head go cloudy and his fingers twitch, but you've always looked so pretty when you cry.

It's half out of surprise, and half out of a desire to see the wet tracks down your face that he only manages a "what," in response.

"You've been ignoring me all day," You nearly whimper, and his cock jumps at the sound.

Instinctively, he moves to close his legs, to hide the evidence of how much he likes the sight of your tears threatening to spill over.

It only makes your eyes go wider and your fingers dig into his thighs, "You are mad. You're mad at me."

Your words come out in a choked accusation, and he really should be worried about why you think he's angry, but he's having a hard time thinking straight when you pull your lower lip between your teeth to stop it from shaking, and your tears finally start to fall.

He exhales in one low breath, his hand coming up to cup your face and catch the first of your tears on his thumb, "Doll, no. I'm not mad."

You sniffle, eyes darting down to avoid the weight of his gaze. He knows his pupils must be blown wide, that his face must be a little too sharp, but he doesn't soften his features.

He takes the moment you look away to lick your tears off his thumb, savoring the taste.

"You are," you whine and hide your face between his thighs, nuzzling the fabric of his clothes, "you haven't talked to me all day."

Jason's breath catches, and his heart nearly skips a beat, but he finds himself almost annoyed that he can't see your face anymore.

He should stroke your hair. Should comfort you and whisper soothing words. He won't.

He threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck instead, and pulls your head back, intent on seeing the streaks of tears down your face, "I was busy."

"Too busy for me," you ask weakly, eyes finally meeting his again.

He shouldn't say it. Shouldn't hurt you. But your eyes are so glassy, your breathing shaky, and the slight pout set on your lips drives him to say, "yeah."

It's pure satisfaction, to hear the whimper that leaves your throat, to see your tears fall faster as you immediately drop your gaze again.

He groans, desperate and needy as he ducks his head to kiss you.

It surprises you, he can tell by the way you stiffen, then melt into the kiss. Jason doesn't hesitate to grab your hips and haul you into his lap, setting you against the stiffening tent in his pants.

That surprises you, too. He likes the noise you make because of it, drinks it down with the taste of salt on your mouth.

He only pulls away when your lips are swollen and your breathing is shallow. He almost enjoys the dazed look in your eyes as much as the pretty tears stained on your skin.

He uses the moment to guide your hips back and forth, slow and steady, and only a glimpse of what he really wants from you.

"I'm sorry, doll," he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw and brushing away the last of the streaks on your cheeks. He'd really like to lick them away, but he'd hate to push you too much.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he soothes, punctuating each word with a gentle roll of his hips against yours, "let me make it up to you?"

He grins at your hesitant nod, and decides then and there to see how else he can make you cry. To discover if your tears are just as sweet and pretty when you're squirming against the sheets, hazy and blissed from each release he's pulled from you.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as his fingers slip beneath the fabric of your clothes, brushing his fingers over your skin eagerly.

He devours the way your eyes flutter closed, the way your eyelashes clump together, still wet and heavy from your crying, "This what you wanted? Just some attention?"

You keep your eyes closed, and only offer half a nod as you follow the way his hips rock into yours.

Jason can't help but smile at the sight, only a little disappointed at how quickly your tears have dried up once you've gotten his attention.

It doesn't really matter, though. You're already chasing the feel of his hand on your skin, and he's sure he can draw the kind of pleasure from you that'll make tears fall from your eyes.

When he does, he doubts you'll even notice if he follows the lines running down your face with his tongue.

[parfaitblogs]

september rain ❀ s. reid x reader

in which lightning and thunder is a little less scary with spencer reid. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: fluff (comfort) tags: thunderstorm. established relationship. word count: 1k a/n: we r going into storm season in aus. obviously that means obligatory spencer reid fanfic?? sry this is me headcanoning that you have a fear of storms :/ if you don't just pretend. this is sooo simple and not revolutionary LOL hope u enjoy anyways!! as always talk to me if u did!!

You were ninety-nine percent sure the creaking your ears were picking up came from the window frames bending from the sheer force of the wind. And you were mostly certain that the prickle on your skin was from an unexpected leak in the ceiling after a tree had fallen into the building. Not your imagination. 

Neither could be true. For the windows were not bending even slightly, and there is no tree tall enough to have fallen through the apartment above you. 

That didn't really soothe your fear.

You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, a silent film playing — Nosferatu, ironically so — that you weren't really paying attention to. Your eyes were instead fixated on the only source of light the room had — a warm glowing lamp in the corner by the bookcase adorning too many books to count. 

Spencer was not home yet. 

He was on his way. You knew that much. The first crack of thunder had ripped through the sky and you were calling him almost immediately. Then... hanging up by the first ring, feeling pathetic for calling your — very busy — boyfriend, just because you were scared.

He had called you back immediately, and because he knew you so well, he was asking if you needed him home because of the storm. Your heart had swelled, and you had mumbled a thousand yes's into the phone, until he was promising he'd be on his way as soon as he finished the case report he was working on. 

Despite the slight comfort him being on his way brought you, you were still shaking, your heart was still thumping uncomfortably in your chest, and your knuckles were still white from your petulant clutching of the blanket around you. 

You could only faintly hear the click of the front door lock over the deafening rain, but you turned regardless, eyes softening at the sight of your boyfriend entering the apartment. His hair stuck to his forehead; clothes to his body. He was soaking wet, but you were standing on wobbly legs and heading towards him for solace regardless. 

He placed his messenger bag down by the door, opting to deal with the damp leather later. His eyebrows had furrowed when you had opened your arms. 

"I'm drenched," he said, side stepping away from your attempt of a hug. "You do not want to hug me right now, honey."

"I do," you protested, voice wavering from the tightness in your throat. 

"Let me go dry off, then you can hug me forever and never let me go, okay?" he offered instead, watching you come to terms with his idea, and nod your head. 

So, he did just that. Allowing you to follow him around like a lost puppy the entire time, blanket dragging along the flooring of your apartment as you kept it wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

You sat in the middle of your bed, watching him almost too carefully as he picked out his towel from your ensuite, starting with drying his hair in a way that had your face scrunching up.

When he caught the look, he asked, "What?" in a sort of amused, laughing way.

"You're ruining your curls," you said.

"The rain already ruined them," he replied. "I'll fix them when the storm passes and I can shower."

"This is why I hate storms."

"Because it ruins my hair?"

"No, but that's definitely going on the list," you huffed, folding your arms across your chest — he laughed at that. "You literally can't do anything! You can't shower, you can't cook, the power goes out, it's loud, you can't go outside because what if you get struck by lightning? And also the rain. Which is cold, by the way... where are you going?"

"To get clothes," he explained, then being completely unsurprised by the fact that you were leaving your safe haven atop the bed to trail after him. "I was coming back."

"Two seconds is all it takes for a storm to take me out," you said. "Then you'll feel really bad."

"The storm is not going to take you out," he replied within a sigh, peeling his wet button up off his body. 

"It could."

"The main cause of death during storms is drowning. The apartment is not flooded. Neither is the street," he was almost nurturing with his tone, unfazed by your locked in stare on the towel he was drying his body with — you weren't really staring at him, simply zoning out on whatever was in front of you as he spoke. "The second is debris flying from the wind, which is nowhere near harsh enough for anything to be flying around. Let alone at this height. The third is a lightning strike, which is impossible when you're indoors because this building has lightning protection."

He spent the time he took debunking all the possible death scenarios to finish drying himself off and changing, and by the time he had stopped speaking he was standing in front of you. Still seemingly unconvinced due to your inner anxieties, your face was painted with a disagreeing frown, that his shoulders slumped at the sight of. 

"They're still scary," you mumbled, and he nodded his head, arms looping around your body and pulling you into him. His skin was still cold, but it was a welcome comfort nonetheless. 

"I know they are," he decided to say, instead of attempting to deny all your worries with logic again. The two of you stood there, in your closet, for minutes. His hand found your hair, entangling within it, chin resting on your shoulder. With his face buried into the crook of your neck, he mumbled, "There's ice cream in the freezer. Movie?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, so he broke the hug with a step back, lips tugging into a smile at the now less worried expression on your face. 

"But we have to eat with wooden spoons," you said as he led you out, hand clasped firmly in yours for your own peace of mind. 

"Why?"

"Metal attracts lightning," you mumbled, watching his shoulders shake with more laughter. 

"No, honey, it doesn't. That's a myth," he said.

"Whatever."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[clockwayswrites]

Minx Part 2

Minx is a placeholder name, maybe Part 1, Masterpost CW: references to drug use, allusions to past torture, grabbing

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

Danny blinked up at the ceiling, avoiding Jason’s gaze. “So the John thing may be a cover story?”

“Fuck’n—” Jason clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to work out the urge to punch someone. It wouldn’t do any good with no target to punch. Jason had kept an eye on Danny, best as he could without being invasive, and the other seemed clean of Gotham’s shit. “What are you messed up in Danny? Is it someone’s business? Did you see something you shouldn’t on the job? Hear something?”

“No— I mean, yeah I’ve heard things, but nothing to do with this. This is,” Danny’s hand moved to cover up the mark, as if hiding it would make the problem go away. “This is just some shit from my past catching up with me. It’s nothing you need to worry about, Boss, it’s not Gotham business.”

Jason held back a growl, pushed it back into his chest. “Did it happen in Gotham?”

“No, it happened down in sunny Florida— of course it happened in Gotham.”

“Then it’s fucking Gotham business.”

“Yeah, fuck it is, you stay away from it,” Danny snapped with a smile like a bear trap. He got up and grabbed his shirt with a waver. “Dealt with it anyway. It’s done and—”

Danny froze as Jason reached out to grab his arm.

“Danny—”

“You let go of me, Hood. I don’t care who the fuck you are, you do not grab me like this. No one grabs me like this.”

Jason slowly, carefully, lowered his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to fall over but I shouldn’t have stopped you like that.”

“You fuck’n shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Jason soothed. He wasn’t good at soothing, not any more, but he would try if it would stop Danny walking out of there injured like that. “Just sit back down and let me treat the wound. I’ll stop asking questions.”

Danny sized him up, eyes sharp with the perfect winged liner. Then he sighed and sat back down.

“Thank you,” Jason murmured as he rummaged around in the well stocked first aid kit for something to treat burn wounds. “How bad is the pain.”

Danny shrugged. He had his chin on his hand and was purposefully not looking at Jason.

Guess he was still in the dog house then.

“This will help the topical pain, but I know burns hurt deep. I’d like to give you something. Have you been drinking tonight?”

“You found me outside a pub,” Danny answered dryly.

“Doesn’t mean you were drinking, Danny, I know you know how to fake it.”

Danny sighed and tilted his head to glance up at Jason. He looked tired now, like the glamor had finally worn off with the stroke of midnight.

“Yeah, I was drinking. Helps with the pain and I knew I could take those shits drunk off my fake tits.”

“Bet you could,” Jason said, allowing himself a little smirk behind his helmet. He’s seen Danny play pool before and it was a thing of wounder. “Okay, we’ll do an IV then, rehydrate you and get some pain medication in your system in one go.”

“IV?” Danny repeated, his voice small.

“It won’t hurt, I can put them in smoothly,” Jason said as he started to work on treating the wound.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re real gently like,” there was a wobble under Danny’s bravado and twang, “but I’m not much fond of needles.”

“I’ll be here. I won’t leave you alone with it in.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah, gonna hold me the whole night so I don’t panic?”

“If that’s what will help,” Jason answered without hesitation. He could feel Danny watching him, judging him for that statement, but Jason just kept carefully working on the wound.

“Don’t be stupid, you can’t wear your helmet the whole night,” Danny said as if that would be the catch.

“Then I’ll take it off before I hold you the whole night so that you don’t panic.”

“Will you?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?”

Jason smoothed on the last of the gel.

“Yeah… okay,” Danny said with a tired sigh. “Okay, let’s try the IV.”

-

Jason sat with his back against the arm of the couch and the pillow propped there. One leg was against the back cushion and the other on the ground still. Danny, make-up washed off and dressed in a set Tim sized sweats, was tucked back against Jason’s chest.

It was easier to sit that way than take Danny staring at his face covered only in a domino and black hair spray on the white streak.

Jason gently ran an alcohol wipe over the inside of Danny’s arm.

And froze.

“Not what you think.” Danny’s voice sounded small and far away. “Hood, breathe.”

Jason sucked an unsteady breath. “What?”

“I said it’s not what you think. I’m not using. I was… sickly, when I was a teen. It’s— that’s why I don’t like IVs and needles and stuff.”

“Promise?”

“And cross my heart,” Danny said, going through the motion. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

Jason barked out a laugh that was still a little too sharp. “Yeah and I was a Boy Scout.”

“I don’t you, you do a lot of community service,” Danny said, draping his head back over Jason’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I work with different birds than eagles.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up.

Jason liked it better when he could see Danny’s pale freckles.

“Eagle Scouts are the highest level of Boy Scouts,” Jason explained.

“Why the fuck do you even know that?”

“I know a lot of shit,” Jason said.

Danny flinched at the pinch of the needle, but Jason had a good grip on Danny’s arm and was able to get the IV in fully. Jason soothed his thumb over it after he taped the IV down.

“There you are.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Jason promised. “I’m right here.”

[lost-in-lamentation]

he never imagined he'd show anyone this side of himself. but when it's you, he can't help but show you everything.

a/n: starting the side character writing off with a bang! this is part two of the first sign of affection.

content: what do the side characters do when they want to show you they appreciate you?

warnings: once again, if physical touch isn't your thing, neither is this post. also, solomon is a sad boi.

diavolo; he falls asleep around you.

the future king of devildom takes everything in stride. from RAD problems to royal affairs, diavolo has it all covered. but sometimes, even the ruler himself finds himself on the panicked side. he begins to seek you out when he finds himself standing on anxiety's edge; your presence relaxes him to the point where he can't fight off the tiredness that clings. as the papers get signed, diavolo's eyes start to droop, and he doesn't notice the way you shift yourself closer to catch him. he falls asleep on your shoulder before he knows it, and you allow him to rest as long as he needs.

later, when he stirs and lifts his head to look at you, you quickly coax it back to where it was, sending his heart racing. "go back to sleep, you need it."

"... thank you." diavolo relishes in the way your hand combs through his hair, taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

═  ˎˊ˗

barbatos; he fiddles with your hands.

as diavolo's right hand man, barbatos barely ever has a second to spare. so when he extends you an invite to come and have a tea tasting session with him, you absolutely cannot decline. throughout the day, he hands you flavours upon flavours of tea, each time never failing to ask if you'd like to take some of the leaves back home for yourself. the two of you eventually sit in a comfortable silence, fingertips brushing when you reach for the tea pot at the same time. without a word, barbatos slips his gloves off and reaches for your hands, beginning to idly play with your fingers.

your eyes widen in surprise, but you allow him to continue. "you... you okay?"

barbatos doesn't take his eyes away from your hands. "please, indulge me for just a moment," he says softly, placing his palm on top of yours.

═  ˎˊ˗

simeon; he plays with your hair.

simeon is often a man of few words. after all, he can never get his d.d.d. to work when he wants to call or even text you. so instead, he goes the old-fashioned way and comes knocking on your door instead. his heart skips a beat when you usher him in, and time flies by without much effort. the two of you sit pressed into each other's sides, and simeon takes his chance when he notices how your head bobs up and down sleepily. his hand reaches up and begins to tenderly card his hand through your hair, chuckling at the wobbly grin you began making.

"that feels nice," you murmur, settling even further into his side.

simeon lightly nuzzles his face on the top of your head in return. "i'm glad."

═  ˎˊ˗

solomon; he cries in front of you.

for someone to have lived as long as solomon, emotions begin to blend together. he's long forgotten where the line between sadness and anger lies, and it shows when the sorcerer smiles at a situation that calls for a frown. you recall the story he told you long ago, remembering the way his expression wavered as he recounted his memories. you stand by his side now in silence; his voice falters as he tries to say anything to you. in response, you turn his face towards you, telling him to do what he has never done in front of anyone.

you bring him closer, wrapping your arms around him. "stop holding back. you're safe with me."

"safe with you," solomon whispers back. the dam breaks, and in your presence, solomon allows tears to fall for the first time in centuries.

a/n: i love cat, if you couldn't tell.