#just trying to give price the hug he needs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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battlekidx2 · 9 months ago

Text

Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?”

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor.

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has.

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price.

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top.

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface.

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before.

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #the show must go on #hello rosie #charlie #netflix #Alastor is such a fascinating character #he has the potential to really challenge Charlie's views of redemption #By either showing her when someone is too far gone #because he doubled down on his original plans #or actually accepting that he's changing #and finding “redemption”#thus proving that anyone can change #even a sadistic prideful overlord

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chamomiletealeaf · 8 months ago

Note

how do you think the cod boys would react to you being on your period…. like i feel like a lot of those mfs wouldn’t let it stop shit … 😳🥰

Tbh I'm not into period sex or anything like that, but I think they wouldn't mind. I think Johnny would be the most into it though.

warnings: period, period sex, suggestive comments, mostly fluff

Johnny wouldn't mind the blood, as long as he gets to fuck you and make you feel good. He'd actually initiate it.

"You feelin' alright love?" He asks.

"Mm ok. Why?" You ask.

"Just curious. You cramping at all?" He asks, almost hopefully.

"No? Not really. A little achey, but, not too bad." You respond, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to what he's getting to.

He makes a dissatisfied grunt and pouts.

"What's going on? You want me to be in pain?" You laugh confusedly.

"No no not at all bonnie. I just- know what helps soothe the cramps best." He smirks and you roll your eyes catching on after a second.

"I mean, now that you bring it up, I am feeling a little something." You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his neck smiling.

Gaz would be the sweetest, Price right up there with him. He would definitely love to lay on top of you like a weighted blanket giving you kisses and feeding you snacks. If your cramps got really bad, he would shyly suggest sex, only as a last resort.

"Honeyyyy" You sniffle, gripping onto his shoulder with him lying on top of you every time you get a pang of pain in your lower half.

"I know, I'm sorry sweetheart." Gaz coos, pecking your neck with little kisses while on top of you, his arms squeezing you tight.

"Hurts Gaz." You whimper.

"The meds aren't working hun? not the heating pad? nothing?" He asks.

You shake your head teary eyed.

Gaz takes a second to think and he gets noticeably shy, avoiding your eyes.

"Well, uh- I mean- there's another thing we could try. If you're comfortable of course." He mumbles.

"What is it?" You ask, desperate for any sort of relief.

"Well, uh-" He laughs shyly. "I heard that, well- I mean we could try having sex maybe- heard it can help with cramps. Only if you want." He stutters out quickly and you smile.

"Do you want to?" You ask, loving how cute he looks while embarrassed.

"I wouldn't be opposed no. Think it's worth a try- maybe?" He says, ducking his head into your neck, too shy to look you in the eyes after such a suggestion.

You lift his face up from your neck and kiss him.

"Help me get these off yeah?" You say, smile forming on his face.

Price would be just as sweet as Gaz, but more controlling, meaning he wouldn't let you lift a finger even to use the bathroom. Uh-uh, he's carrying you everywhere.

You accidentally bleed on his sheets and he wakes up not seeing you in the bed. He gets up, not noticing the stain at first until you walk back in with a wet warm towel.

"Oh. Sorry. I wasn't supposed to wake you. Just- go back to sleep." You tell him, embarrassed and panicked look on your face.

"What are you doing sweetheart?" Price asks, sitting up in the bed. It was pretty early, sun just rising so you both could see without the lights on.

"I- nothing just go back to sleep." You say, walking closer to the bed and pulling the sheets over the spot you stained his white bedsheets.

Price grabs the sheets and pulls them back, confused as to why you were so jittery and what you were covering.

When he pulls them back he sees a big red stain right where you were laying. You must have bled so heavily right through your pad/tampon that it woke you up. You look down at the warm towel you had embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"Oh sweetheart.." He coos at you as he moves to stand up out the bedd, walking over towards you.

"I'm sorry John I'll clean it up. Just go back to sleep." You say, tears forming in your eyes from the overwhelming amount of hormones taking over your emotions.

"Honey come here." Price whispers, pulling you into a hug. "It's ok sweetheart no need to cry. C'mon let's get you in the shower hm? You want a bath maybe so you don't have to stand love?" He asks, rubbing your back while you cry to soothe you.

"But- the sheets." You sniffle into his chest.

"Love I don't give a bloody damn about the sheets. I'll take care of them while you just rest yourself now hm? Now answer the question, bath or shower?" He says, lifting your chin to look at him with his pointer finger and thumb.

"Shower, standing helps. Don't wanna sit in bloody water either." You say while Price wipes your tears.

"Ok sweetheart. I got you." He says, then picks you up bridal style.

"John I'm gonna get blood on you!" You squeal panicked.

"Oh hush- I don't care. You think I'm afraid of gettin' a little bit of blood on me?" He jokes reassuringly as he walks you to the bathroom.

He places you on the counter as he starts the shower.

"C'mon, give me those clothes darling. I'll wash them and the sheets. You'll have your favorite pajamas waiting for you when you're done. Just relax now hm?"

You strip in front of him and he lets his eyes wander. You look so beautiful even when you're miserable.

You hand him your clothes and he pulls you to him to kiss your forehead.

"And listen, if the shower doesn't help, I know another way to take all those icky feelings away." He smirks and you laugh.

"There we go. That's what I wanna see. Don't ever wanna see you feel bad baby."

Simon would be quiet, but always following you around right by your side just in case you need something. He's by your side more usual on your period, silently knowing what you're going through, so he makes sure he's always there and will do anything you ask immediately.

"Siiii" You whine.

He's immediately sitting up next to you on the couch to tend to you.

"Could you get me some tea please? Can't move." You look up pouting at him and how could he say no.

"Of course sweetheart." He says and immediately gets up.

He comes back in a few minutes with your tea to find you curled up in a blanket. He sets the tea down and quietly sits next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Hey you ok lovie?" He asks and you stay silent, as if it hurts to even speak.

"Hey. What do you need baby?" He asks while brushing your hair from your eyes.

You turn into his chest and close your eyes.

"You wanna take a nap? I'll stay right here with you." He says and you shake your head.

"No? Ok hun. What do you want then? Can't give you what you need if you don't tell me sweetheart."

"Hurts." Is all you say, and you shift in his lap right on his cock and he grunts a little.

You look up at him with wide eyes hoping he'll get what you're saying.

"I know love, I know." He says. "You need me to rub your back? Show me where it hurts bun'."

You grab his hand and move his hands to your sore breasts.

"Aw they sore?" He gently squeezes and kneads your tits with one hand and you whine.

"Yeah. That feels good." You say, whimpering when he squeezes too hard.

"You need more love? Need me to fuck the cramps away?" He coos and you nod.

"Ok bun', let's get you on your back hm? All you gotta do is relax alright?"

You nod your head and close your eyes, letting Simon give you what you need.

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wild-jackalope · 1 month ago

Text

Don’t speak! I know just what you’re saying, so please stop explaining, don’t tell me ‘cause it hurts!

pairing :: Best friend!Yuji x reader, older brother!Choso x reader (secondary)

warning :: modern au, pining, one-sided love, angst, love triangle, friends to lovers, smut, some dubcon (reader is intoxicated), fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, low-key toxic at times hehe.

note :: everyone thank Gwen Stefani’s song for inspiring this fic 🙏 strap in cos this is long and angsty.

“And who’re you showing off those legs to?” Maki asked, utter judgement filling her gaze as she swept over the outfit you’d chosen.

“You don’t like?” You asked, suddenly embarrassed of the miniskirt you’d decided to try on.

“You look fine, Maki is just judgmental.” Nobara waved her off, offering a supportive thumbs up to you.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Maki continued.

“No one, this is for me.” You huffed, sure of your answer. Despite it not being the entire the truth.

“Choso, Itadori’s older brother.”

“Nobara!” You gaped.

“Seriously?” Maki’s face scrunched, eyeing you with double the previous amount of judgement. “Hasn’t he known you since you were little?”

“Well, yes —but I’m not little anymore. I’m grown.” You gazed at yourself in the change room mirror. “I want him to see that.” From the reflection, you could see Maki give Nobara a sidelong look, one that the short haired girl avoided.

Had you said something foolish? Blood rushed to your cheeks and you slipped back into the change room, closing the curtain in a quick swish. You unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to your feet and pile at the floor.

You were grown. You could see it in your body, in the plumpness around your thighs and in the breasts that were cupped by a bra. You weren’t the little girl clinging to Choso’s leg crying because of a scraped knee anymore. You were older now, you had matured in so many ways and you wanted him to see that. You placed on your clothes and scooped up the miniskirt.

If asked, Nobara would describe your feelings for Choso as a little crush, some fleeting fancy that had come with knowing him for so long. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but fleeting was far from correct. Each time his calm, tired eyes softened at the sight of you, your stomach flittered with butterflies. Whenever he greeted you with a tight hug, you went as soft as a melting marshmallow in his embrace and when he complimented you, telling you he was so proud of you everything crumbled, every judgment you had of yourself dissipated into utter nothingness. The feelings you had for him were seeded since you were a toddler and had since grown into a loyal love.

So, you paid for the miniskirt, uncaring of the price.

The next stop in your shopping trip was the food court, the three of you girls needing a rest and refill after depleting your collective energies shopping and discussing whatever relevant drama Nobara spilled.

“Do you need a ride home?” Nobara asked, taking a break from sipping up her boba.

“Choso’s picking me up.” You murmured, a subtle excitement tugging up the corner of your lips.

“Why?” Her brow lifted slyly and she smiled at you.

“My family is away for a little bit, so I’m staying at the Itadori’s for a week until they get back.” It wasn’t uncommon, you’d often been tossed to your next door neighbours like an orphan during childhood. However now, it was a choice from you. You didn’t need to stay at their’s. You were an adult, you could look after yourself. “Yuji wanted me to stay over.” You added. The reason why you said yes being able to spend a whole week with Choso conveniently kept from your mouth.

“What I don’t understand is why you aren’t fawning over him.” Maki stated, stabbing her glossy chicken with her fork, then biting it.

Nobara’s eyes slid over to Maki, wide at her statement. She didn’t speak though, silently sipping at her boba tea.

“Yuji?” You blinked.

“He’s pretty much the same as Choso, isn’t he?” Maki continued, chewing her meal.

You laughed. “Yuji isn’t anything like Cho, they’re completely different.” You shook your head. “Besides, I’ve grown up with Yuji, he’s like my brother.”

Nobara seemed to cringe at the notion, but still she remained silent. Maki too, continued to eat without making another comment towards the two brothers.

It wasn’t until they said their goodbyes to you, that Yuji was brought up again.

You’d left your hug with Nobara, then reached for Maki. As usual, she wrapped her arms around you with her unusual strength that could’ve left you bruised if the embrace wasn’t so brief.

“Say hello to Itadori for us.” She muttered. Now, if it weren’t for the simple action of Nobara elbowing Maki’s side, you would have responded with a chipper ‘sure!’ But as the caramel haired girl eyed Maki with a stiff annoyance, swiftly aiming for her side you suddenly felt left out, like the third wheel of some information they both knew and had not informed you of. Maki simply rolled her eyes at Nobara, uncaring.

“Uhm, okay, sure.” Your smile weakened and you waved at the two.

Behind you, Choso parked the Itadori family car in the pickup section. A car you could recognise anywhere, especially considering it had been fairly scratched up after Yuji’s father had lended it to his brother, Sukuna, who returned the car after three days of God knows what.

You slipped inside, letting the odd interaction with your friends leave you as you left them. You were far too excited to see Choso to let it linger anyway.

As you turned to see the dark haired man, he was already leaning over to bring you into a hug. His masculine scent filled your lungs like cigarette smoke and twice as addictive as nicotine, you wanted more the second he pulled away.

However, as Choso’s let go of you, he reached for your seatbelt, pulling it over you and for a millisecond, his brown eyes lifted from where the seatbelt strapped your body to your own eyes. His face so close, you could practically taste his lips. The gesture utterly melted your insides to hot lava.

“How was shopping?” He asked, returning to the wheel and starting the car.

“So good.” You sighed, still high off his close proximity. Conveniently, the branded shopping bag hiding your new miniskirt sat on your lap. “I got some nice things for myself.” You added.

“Do you need any money?” He asked, eyes floating to you for a moment, before returning to the road. A delightful shiver slipped up your spine at his glance, and you couldn’t help the grin that reached you.

“No, Cho, you know I’ve got my own money to pay for things.” You were grown, after all.

He shrugged, cracking a kind smile. “Alright, I get it. Don’t be afraid to ask, though.”

God, he was so perfect. You wanted nothing more than for him stop the car so you could smother him with hugs and kisses. “You spoil me too much, Cho. What if I asked you for a hundred?”

He shrugged, the simple movement very telling that he would give it to you, without a second thought. “You know I can’t say no to you.”

So so perfect. Maybe if he did stop the car so you could smother him, you’d ride him too, just to make him feel as spoiled as you did. You let the dirty thought linger, probably longer than you should’ve.

“We’re excited to have you over for the week, Yuji actually cleaned his room for you.” He huffed, amused, at the thought.

“Did he?” Why couldn’t you share a bed with him? You were so tired of waking up in the middle of the night halfway off the bed with Yuji’s sprawled limbs all over you— even worse, waking up to Yuji hugging you (borderline snuffing you) with all his weight.

“Mhm, he’s always so excited to see you.” A knowing smile presented itself on Choso’s lips, and you suddenly felt left out of some knowledge again. It left a bad taste in your mouth for the rest of the car ride.

Once home, Choso opened the front door for you and you were met with an unusually empty, quiet home.

“Yuji’s probably in his room, you should say hi to him.” Choso instructed, moving to the nearby kitchen and dropping the car keys on the table.

As familiarly as your own home, you strolled through the corridor. “Yuuuji.” You sung, pushing into his room.

As the door creaked open, you were met with Yuji midway through putting his shirt on. He paused just before it looped over his head, giving you a view of his toned back. Notably, his pants were spotted with a superhero logo and the shirt he had finally let fall over his body was large and baggy.

“Are you seriously getting into your pyjamas already?” You asked, full of judgement.

“It’s five pm!” Yuji retorted. “Also knock, you could’ve seen my dick.”

“Gross, and I could say the same for you.” There had been countless times Yuji had walked in on you changing, he could likely piece together what your naked body looked like with all the occasions he’s seen various clothes off you. The idea barely bothered you. You trusted Yuji after all. Trusted that when he saw you naked, he just saw you, not your body.

Technically, it wasn’t anything he’s not seen before. During the early days of your childhood the two of you would run around butt naked causing all sorts of havoc, chasing one another with water guns during hot summer afternoons or avoiding bath time together annoyingly late. Puberty might’ve changed your body, but it hadn’t changed your thoughts towards Yuji.

However, you wouldn’t be quick to take your clothes off in front of him now. “I’ll get changed too.” You uttered, opening his bedroom door wider.

He groaned, leaving with a heavy walk. “This is my bedroom, y’know.”

“Not this week.” You grinned, shutting the door before he could come up with a snarky retort.

To say Yuji was just a brother to you, or your friend wouldn’t quite do him justice. Best friend didn’t really fit him either. He was all of it, altogether. The guy who’d answer your one AM phone calls when you couldn’t sleep, the guy who knew exactly how to massage the stress out of your shoulders, the guy to hold you when you cried over spilt milk— he was your guy. Your man.

You weren’t completely ignorant to the idea of dating Yuji, so many people had told you you’d make the perfect couple over the years, it was only natural that you’d consider the possibility. The beautiful moments you shared with him over the years seemed to become muddied in your mind whenever you thought of him romantically. Your stomach would flip uncomfortably at the idea of kissing him. The times you held hands innocently darkened as you considered what if we did that as boyfriend and girlfriend? So you placed the thoughts inside a jar, sealed it shut and threw it into the basement of your brain.

After pulling your pyjamas out from your stay over backpack and put them on, you called to Yuji from inside his room. “You can come back in.”

He did so, entering back into his room and flopping onto his bed. You joined him on his bed, letting yourself freely fall on top of him.

“What’s for dinner?” You asked.

He had no reaction, just the small breath that escaped him at the comfortable weight of you. “Choso ordered some pizza.”

“Movie tonight?” You continued, too lazy to formulate a proper question. Yuji would know what you meant, anyway, he always did.

“Are you finally gonna watch Human Earth Worm three with me?” He asked, head lifting to watch your face contort in disgust.

“Fuck that.” He laughed, shifting you on his stomach at his chuckle.

“Please? It’s seriously good, I’m telling you.” He whined, clear grin still on his face.

“I don’t care man, can’t we watch something nice?” You considered Choso, he’d be there right next to you on the couch, watching. “Something romantic?”

“That’s the thing! It is a romance, if you look closely it’s about the love between the monster and the protagonist.”

On second thought, maybe a horror would give you the chance to cuddle up next to Choso (as corny as it was). “Fine, we can watch it. Just stop yapping about it like such a fanboy.” You smacked a hand over his mouth, muffling the laugh that left him.

Just as quickly as you shut him up, you pulled your hand back as his slimy warm tongue swished against your palm.

“Gross Yuji!” You wiped the saliva on his shirt, hitting his shoulder. You raise your hand again in preparation to give Yuji’s chest another clean whack! However your plans are swiftly thwarted when Yuji grabbed your wrist, rolling you over with his body weight until he was above you.

You yelped, laughing as he smothered your body into the now messy sheets. He had you pinned face forward against the bed, legs kept down by his knees and your arms held back by the strength you’d grown to hate due to it giving Yuji a complete monopoly over your body in wrestling. You squirmed roughly, tugging at his grip. The attempt at freedom worsened your situation, as Yuji just laid flat on your back.

“Get off!” You laughed, choking on the oxygen that Yuji’s weight wheezed from your lungs. Harder now, you squirmed; flailing your arms, kicking your legs, rocking your hips.

“Don’t move like that—” Not a joke, you could hear it in his voice. It was a quick plea, that was followed by a harsh suck in of air through his teeth.

And for a split second, that jar you’d thrown into the dark corners of your mind loosened and you wondered what would it be like to have sex with your best friend? He’d be the type of guy who’d like to take you from behind, surely. Before the lid could completely pop off, Choso’s voice echoed from down the hall, an announcement that the pizza had arrived.

In a flash, the pink haired boy gave you one last shove into the bed, pushing himself off in a quick dash to the front door. You scoffed loudly, immediately attempting to catch up to him in a scrambled hurry, abruptly sliding into a wall at your departing balance.

Pizza and a movie was a usual treat in the Itadori home whenever you came to visit, it was probably why Yuji was so keen on having you over when he found out your parents wouldn’t be home (that, and he really hated the idea of leaving you alone in an empty home for an entire week).

With the hot food served, the three of you planted yourselves on the couch, Yuji eagerly recapping the last two movies in the Earthworm franchise before pressing play on the third instalment.

Having only worked up enough courage by the time the movie had reached its halfway mark to enact you nefarious plan to cuddle with Choso, you’d shuffled on the couch, coming close enough to have your thighs connecting.

Delicately, as if you touched him without the grace of a fairy he might not notice you and pull away, you laid your head on Choso’s shoulder. You must’ve succeeded in your sneaky efforts, because Choso didn’t blink, nor tense, instead he lifted an arm and casually wrapped it around you.

Beside you, sour eyes narrowed at the sight.

He knew, oh how he knew. Yuji was slapped in the face with your pining over his brother since he was a toddler. Even at such a young age, he could tell there was something in your eyes— a glimmer of pure affection— when you looked at Choso that simply wasn’t there when you looked at him. He initially hoped thought you would grow out of the crush, but he just watched it grow. He watched you grow into a gorgeous person, watched himself fall further and further in love with you and watched you watch Choso. Not him.

The too-familiar feeling of covetousness bubbled in Yuji’s stomach, bringing forward the storm that was his feelings for you and tormenting him. I’m back Yuji! Gleefully yelled his jealousy. I’m back and oh, I dunno, this time I might just make you tear your brother apart! Why not? Gotta get that girl sometime, you know, can’t keep fucking your hand thinking of her forever!

He could practically hear your heart dance for his brother even over the screaming gore on screen.

He was only tortured by the sight for another half an hour, completely minuscule compared to the years worth of moments like these. Like a blessing, Choso finally lifted himself from the couch to clean up everyone’s plates.

“What’d you do today?” Yuji asked, quick to distract you from the disappointment of Choso leaving.

“I went shopping with Nobara and Maki, they say hi by the way.” You utter, eyes following Choso to the kitchen.

“Did you give her some money?” Yuji asked, raising his voice to reach the man in the kitchen.

“Guys please, I don’t need money I’ve got my own.” You assured. Were they really so generous, or did they just think you were dirt poor?

“That’s what she said to me when I tried.” Choso shrugged, offering a smile to you. “It made me feel like a proud older brother.”

A thick pause filled the room before you truely processed what Choso had said. “For me?” You questioned, jaw falling somewhat slack.

“Mhm, like my little sister is finally able to take care of herself.” He added, rubbing pure salt into your icy wound.

“Oh.” Was all that managed to fall from your lips.

Yuji eyed you carefully, mouth suddenly sewn shut. His stomach filled with a heat that was not entirely unpleasant.

At first, a queazy glow flushed your cheeks, then the feeling of your ka-thunking! heart falling into your ass hit next. Beside you, Yuji watching your transformation into a heartbroken thing right before his carefully observant eyes.

Had you really been so delusional? That wasn’t it. That didn’t fit right. After everything, all the moments shared. After cuddling with him while watching a horror movie, he couldn’t have just seen you as a pathetic little sibling. Had you truely hyped yourself up to be this mature, romanticised woman and Choso only saw you as the little girl that clung to his knee, crying?

Yuji could practically see the thoughts flash over your eyes as you sat in a tranced— stunned silence. His lips parted to save you from being buried too deep within yourself but you beat him to it.

“I’m going to go for a walk.” You uttered, zombielike.

You’d left the house before either boys could offer to go with you, or utter a quick concern as to why you were craving a walk so late in the evening.

Nostalgia. It spilled like water, filling each crevice of your mind. You couldn’t help it, you had already begun reliving each memory with Choso, overthinking, overanalysing.

'Cho look! I drew something' you'd waddle over to him, holding a crinkled piece of paper scribbled with bright neons.

'Oh wow, is this for me?' He asked, a praising hand resting on your head and sliding down your hair.

'Yup!' You beamed. He'd take the paper you offered and held it with such kind care, never folding it and keeping it near his chest. Even now, you could recall the way he always held your childish offerings with such care.

Despite growing up beside Choso, you weren't his little sister. You weren't even apart of his family. Not really.

'Fight me Yuji!' You'd rile up the peach haired boy like he was a dog too much. Pinching and poking him until he'd finally pounce on you, play fighting until someone burst into tears (you, you were always the first to tap out with teary eyes). 'Ow Yuji! That hurt!'

And he'd be there, a hand resting on your head and swiping the frizzed hair from your puffy, wet face. 'I know it hurts, are you okay?'

Christ. He was ten years older than you, there was no way you were even on his radar! It didn't matter your body had bloomed, you really were still the little girl clinging to his knee, crying. Weren't you? You were, you were finally sure, now.

As you inhaled the fresh night, a subtle scent of rain in the air, you consider what to do with the loving feeling that had seeded its roots into you over two decades. You couldn't find an answer, until the love appeared behind you.

A large coat weighed over your shoulders, planted by Choso who now walked beside you. "You'll get a cold being out here in your pyjamas."

His little hints of affection had become recontextualized in your mind, now instead of thinking he had some buried fancy for you, you could see yourself in his eyes, someone young and needing care. Rocks piled in your stomach and weakly, you thanked him. Even the soft gaze he held you in differed. It was some kind of nostalgia that creased his eyes kindly, a memory of you at a younger age playing behind his eyelids, maybe.

The rocks now piled up to your heart, burying it between pointy— jagged stones. Each silent step the two of you took thickened the awkward sorrow looming over you, until finally, Choso spoke.

"Yuji's been so excited to have you over, you know, he really likes you." He couldn't have picked a worse time to take up the role of matchmaker for the two of you. The implication hadn't seemed to reach you.

“I like you.” You finally freed the words, the piling stones now reaching your throat. It took a confused beat until Choso cleared his throat with a light chuckle and responded.

“I like you, too.” His hand came to rest atop your head, giving you a kind stroke, like he always did, before returning it to his pocket.

But you don’t. The words threatened to spill from your quivering lip. Not like I do.

"Let's head inside." Your short walk had taken you around a loop, now you stood outside the house but you weren't ready to be embraced by the homely warmth yet, you needed to think more.

"I'll be there in a sec." You kindly evaded his attempt to bring you back inside. His warm expression seemed to falter with confusion, but ultimately, he let you go, walking inside without you.

You exhaled, taking a wobbly seat above the road gutter. Little sister. The words haunted you. I like you, but no, I'm not attracted to you, I could never be! You're my little sis after all! Another exasperated sigh left you. Even your faulty confession couldn't lift the weight compressing your chest. You couldn't wait to rip off your bra, although you doubted it would elevate the internal ache.

The rejection wouldn't have been so crushing if you weren't so into him, which anyone could've assumed, but really, you were into him. Your type in men was basically shaped around Choso, having pined for him from such a young age.

Despite attempting to date during high school and the years following, you just couldn't. No man could ever really pull you from your crush, so you were never in relationships long.

But what now? You had the confirmation you'd never be with him, should you date again? Move on with a quick rebound? Go to the club and try hooking up? God you wish you could cry and just hurry up with the grieving process but you were too numb to be misty.

Taking you from the hurricane of your thoughts, steps crunched behind you, but still, you weren't done thinking just yet.

"It's okay, Cho, I'll come back inside in a moment I just—" But it was Yuji standing in the silhouette you thought belonged to Choso. "Oh, sorry." You muttered.

He joined you, sitting atop the gutter. “What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You sighed, face falling into the palms of your hand.

“I’m glad.” You could hardly see ‘glad’ on his face, it was stone, unwavering.

“What?” What exactly was he glad of?

"You finally know how he feels about you."

"Yuji—" Utter mortification. If you'd considered the idea of Yuji knowing about your little crush for a moment longer, you'd likely think huh, I guess he would've known this whole time. He's my best friend after all. But you didn’t have time to think about it, flushing hot blood to your cheeks.

“—Now you can get over this stupid obsession with him.”

Now, finally, the tears could start to form. Yuji's cruelty broke the dam that was your numbness. You stood, him tensing over your quick movement. “Stupid ob—? ugh! You—” A reasonable sentence caught in your throat and you were only able to wave an angry finger at him. Did he really see your feelings that way? Thought that Choso liking you back was such an absurdity? That it was an obsession? You suddenly wondered, if Choso came face to face with your love for him, would he think it was stupid, too?

Yuji swallowed, silently sticking by his rude statement.

“I wouldn’t love him—someone if I didn’t think I could be loved back.” Your voice crumbled. The slight crack tugged painfully at Yuji’s heart and despite the regret that washed over his mind like a cold tsunami, he wasn’t able to utter an apology.

Before the tears burning your eyes could spill, you turned on your heel and began walking inside his home. “Wait—”

“Just let me be, Yuji.”

He’d only left you alone for about an hour.

You'd decided to hide away in his room, after all.

Creaking his door open, Yuji's head peaked through the crack. His eyes fell on you cradling a pillow on his bed, your back to him. Guilt clawed at his gut to know he was the reason you were so upset (truthfully he wasn't, but he sure as hell pushed you over the edge).

Maybe, maybe if he finally told you how he felt about you, you'd understand why he acted so cruelly. What Yuji had conveniently forgotten to consider was the sheer amount of emotions that had currently resided inside you. Another confession? Well, you might just die of a heart attack!

“We should talk—”

“I don’t want to talk, ass.” You picked up the pillow slightly wet with tears and tossed it at him. You weren’t furious with him at least, that was a good sign.

“Look, the thing is, I—”

“No! Get out Yuji—”

“But! Just wait, I have something I need to say.”

"Don't speak!" you held your hands over your ears, kicking another stray pillow at him.

He held his hands up, surrendering himself and his voice to your demands but quickly, he peeped. "Can I at least sleep?"

"Fine." You shuffled across the bed, burying yourself into your usual side and flicking the covers over your head.

With the careful ease of a predator stalking its prey through the long grass, you felt Yuji's hands and knees crater into the bed as he slowly approached his rightful spot beside you. The warmth you developed under the sheet blew away as he lifted them, fitting under the covers with you.

He shifted, finding a comfortable spot on his back staring up at the ceiling. Five minutes went by and the skin on his palms began to itch, the muscles on the back of his neck tightened.

He shifted again, an attempt to reach real comfort. After five minutes of staring at a wall his mouth went dry and his toes curled in irritation.

Again, he shifted, this time, turning to face the back of your head. You let an annoyed puff free whilst his movement crinkled the sheets loudly, one he didn't seem to hear. Five minutes passed and he remained still, but his palms itched, his neck remained tight, his mouth was still dry and his feet were beginning to cramp.

You remained in a tense, motionless lay, eyes unknowingly shut tightly, begging sleep to take you far, far away from your body.

The covers softly crinkled again, but Yuji hadn't moved. You realised the sound was his arm moving as he pressed a light hand to your back, a silent ask. Will we cuddle tonight, or are you still mad? The question soon turned into a bribe as his palm pressed into the stressed muscles in your back.

You allowed him to work his apology into your skin, thumb tracing the muscles beneath your shoulder blades back and forth, creating a relieving rhythmic pattern. I'm sorry.

He continued grinding his palms against the soft tendons of your back. I'm sorry I was such a dick.

Sliding lower, he pressed into the thin muscles of your lower back. It's because I'm in love with you.

But when his hand began to lose motivation and slip from you at your unforgiveness, you sighed, reaching to pull his hand over you. You forgave him, kinda. He grasped your tummy, pulling you into his chest and his glowing warmth.

Friends cuddle all the time, okay? It's pretty normal. Thank you very much.

You could feel his breath pat the side of your neck and his hand occasionally twitch whilst holding you. It was normal, Yuji's always had a slight twitch in his fingers whenever you felt him hold you.

“If you had a boyfriend, would we still do this?” His low words rumbled from his chest into your tender back.

"I thought you agreed to no talking." You responded.

"Sorry." A deafening silence followed his swift apology that basically begged you to answer his question.

"If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't need this."

Again, his hand twitched.

"And if you had a girlfriend, you wouldn't need it either." It was true, and fair. Friends who cuddle only do it because they need a substitute partner, right? "G'night, Yuji."

"Night."

You weren't sure you had fallen completely asleep by the time you awoke, because when you checked your phone, you were face with the time being eleven PM. Fuck, you'd really had an early night. No wonder you hadn't slept long. Your throat ached to be soothed with cold water, prompting you to get up and poor yourself a glass.

You left the warmth of Yuji's arms, immediately regretting your decision to quench your midnight thirst. Lazily, you searched the floor for Yuji's red hoodie and placed it on.

The kitchen light illuminated your pathway to the tap and you wondered if Choso had accidentally left it on before going to bed, but you were greeted with him when you entered the kitchen.

"Oh, hey." Your voice came out in a groggy crack.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked.

"Just thirsty."

Choso eyed you, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. You looked so cute drowning in his brother’s jumper, it warmed his heart and cheeks. “Good to see you and Yuji finally got together.”

The excitement in his words stabbed at your chest and you could feel yourself plummet into sadness again.

“I was starting to worry that you two had a fight.”

“You’re wrong.” You attempted to state the words with a strong intent, however a quiver ripped the will from you. “I don't like him, Choso.” Your burning eyes threatened your already raw cheeks. “It’s you.” You hiccuped. “Please don't think I love someone else.”

In a swift rush, Choso had reached you, bending to catch your eyes. His hands hugged your arms gently. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, softly mumbling your name. "I'm so sorry I didn't know—"

He wiped away the salty drops that pooled in the corner of your eyes, his upturned expression guiltily taking in your devastated shake.

“It’s you, I love you.” You uttered again, chanting the statement that hung around your heart.

He pulled you into his chest, cradling your head in a solid embrace that lasted until your shaky breaths subsided. You pulled away from him, noticeable tear stains watering his clothes.

He took a deep, regretful inhale and you knew the words he was going to utter. “I've always thought of you as—"

“I know. It’s so obvious.” You stated in a huff, almost laughing at yourself for having thought otherwise.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“Choso,” you finally looked into his eyes, finding a sorrow lacing his dark browns, but still, his gaze was so soft, affectionately taking you in. It made your heart clench. “Does me telling you I love you, make you happy? Even a little bit?”

A beat rung out as he considered your question. “It does. Thank you.”

“Choso, will you kiss me, please?” His brows furrowed further and his lips parted to utter a polite no, but you begged again. “Please. Just so I know what it feels like.”

And Lord knows he couldn’t say no to you.

Both his large hands came to cup around your cheeks, his thumbs lightly pressing into the sides of your mouth. He dipped his head down as he angled your jaw. His lips were just as soft as you imagined they'd be and the way he kissed you with such sweet sensitivity was heavenly. Your heart stung with the melancholy of it all.

He broke away, lidded eyes solemnly staring at your tear bleached cheeks. His expression filled with utter guilt, completely ashamed he was the one making you feel this way. He pressed another, deeper kiss to your lips. As if begging that his lips would heal you, despite knowing deep down they’d likely make you yearn for him more.

The pity became too much to bear, so you let yourself fall away from his kiss. A sweet smack sounding at your lips separating.

His hands lingered until you began to speak. "Thank you, Choso, I..." You had nothing else to say.

"You should head back to bed, I'll... see you tomorrow."

He left you with those weak words filled with regret. You could practically feel the sickly feeling in his stomach as he walked to his room, metaphorical tail between his legs and head hanging low in shame.

What would did it feel like to kiss you? His little sister? Expect you weren't his little sister, you weren't apart of his family and most importantly; You were grown. You could go and do whatever the hell you wanted. So you did. To the only place that would accept a broken hearted girl with a fierce desire to get drunk. You were going put that damn miniskirt to use.

Yuji somewhat realised you were absent from his bed when he heard the front door of his house shut. You went to the bathroom, probably. Although, the longer he waited, the more he thought about it and laid there without your weight, the less asleep he really was.

When an hour passed and you still weren't back in his arms, he finally sat up and checked the time. Midnight. He first wandered the house in search of you, checking the bathroom, kitchen, lounge. You weren't there.

His heart hadn't dropped as much as you would expect it had, it merely ached because in truth, Yuji had a feeling he knew where you had gone. Checking your phone's location only confirmed his theory.

However that guilty ache developed into an aggravated disappointment during the drive to you.

His expression was scrunched with frustration by the time he reached the club, having spent $15 dollars just to enter and find you. He pushed past wobbly, half naked bodies, searching for your hair, your skin, hell he even tried to smell you over the stench of artificial smoke and spilled fireballs.

He found you tucked away in a corner, surrounded by smoothly dancing drunks, you fit perfectly into the moving crowd, having the alcohol serging your veins lull you into a swooning dance. Despite easily falling into the sea of people, to Yuji you were outstanding.

The peach haired boy became keenly aware of you in your perfectly blissful state; the flickering neons shining against your glistening skin, the way your lashes fluttered at the brightness and how your lips remained parted, puffing hot air and occasionally sipping at the almost empty glass in your hand. Wide eyed, Yuji soaked the image into the deepest part of his mind, remaining unblinking until his eyes began to burn with smoke.

Yuji had gone completely stiff against the grinding bodies and despite your inebriated condition, you had turned towards the intense aura piercing you. As though the moment passed in slow motion, the two of your eyes locked past the haze and lights. You had come to a halt, hand going weak around the glass of alcohol.

Unaware of their space, another body bumped into you, sending you stumbling forward and into another group of people who rejected to support you. You’d gone dizzy now, reaching the peak of blackout and it sent waves of disorientation over your eyes.

Now by your side, Yuji had taken you into him, holding you with a firm almost too-tight grip. His fingers cratered into the skimpy outfit you threw together before leaving, grabbing at your plush waist. You sighed against his steady, hard person. Your hand was empty now, no longer clutching your drink but being rested over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, cmon.” And despite the room thudding with music you heard his words with a calm clarity.

You came to outside the club, cool air kissing your bare legs and face. Your arms, however, were protected by a large red hoodie. You closed your eyes at the sudden vertigo, unable to remember how exactly you’d left the dance floor.

“Did you take something in there?” Yuji asked, you turned to see him sitting beside you, a wide eyed serious stare drowning his beautiful features.

You were mad at him, you quickly remembered. “No.” You brooded, leaning away from him and averting your eyes.

He sighed, relieved to see some emotion seep through your glossy eyed, dazed drunkenness. “Why are you here? And by yourself, Jesus, do you know how stupid—”

“Why are you here.” You returned, slurred venom drooling your tone.

“To make sure you’re safe, and bring you home.” He squeezed your shoulders and you realised he'd had his arms around you the entire time.

Hotness pooled around your eyelids and you slowly blinked away the wetness. “I wan’ to keep dancing.” You tried to shoulder his arms off you, failing miserably when he held you tighter.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded, searching for your eyes.

“I don’ wanna talk about it.” You murmured, the searing tears now falling from your eyes and to the concrete floor you stared at.

Yuji exhaled quickly, the sight of your glistening tears sucking the air from his lungs. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? It was rude.”

“’s not that, Yuji.” You gave into his hold, letting him pull you into his warmth and smell. “He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even see me that way. I was so stupid.”

His heart ached to see your wet, bruised eyes, the raccoon ringlets of mascara, the smear of lipstick.

“Am I ugly? Why doesn’t he like me?” The way you looked at him, your eyes wounded, pleading, inarticulate, it made his heart lurch.

He hugged you, so tightly that the bones in your back groaned.

"Stop it Yuji," You sobbed, weak hand swatting his back. He continued to hold you. "You're makin' me feel worse." You hiccuped violently, chest surging and pulling.

"Don't think about him, it's not worth it, he's not worth it. He's— Fuck." He was trying to find a tone, an adult rhythm of speech, and failing. Your shivering and sobbing had regressed him.

“Just—Jus' take me home, Yu.”

And he did, but not to his home, to yours. Empty, with nobody but the two of you.

You remember slipping, but not making any contact with the hard floor. Yuji had held you close, his arm basically attached to you, being the pillar of your nonexistent balance.

You were now in the bathroom, bright lights yelling at your hazy eyes.

“You should shower, sober up.” Yuji hoisted you up by your hips and placed you on the bathroom sink, giving his side a much needed break from supporting you.

“No.” You leaned back, lazy eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

“C’mon, please stop being like this.”

“Help me then.” You threw him a bone, letting into his ask of you.

He exhaled, relieved. “Okay, fine.” Delicately his fingers pinched your skin tight shirt, hesitating to lift. You raised your arms lazily, giving him the consent he was looking for. The shirt slowly rose over your hips, tummy then chest. Yuji let it fall to the corner of the bathroom. His eyes avoided your boobs, like he would be cursed if he copped a look. Instead he intensely glared at your face.

“S’okay, you can look.” You murmured. Yuji shook his head in disagreement, but his eyes betrayed him, glancing at your cupped tits. You huffed a laugh at his weak will. Truthfully you enjoyed the attention. You hated that you enjoyed it.

“Sorry.” He took a step back and breathed. “Look, for what it’s worth, I think you looked pretty. The skirt is cute.” You hadn’t known you craved that compliment until it filled your aching heart with flushing blood.

“Jus’ take it off.” You slurred. He did so slowly, shaken hands unbuttoning then unzipping the skirt, slipping the short garment off with ease. This time, he didn’t even hide his gaze as he stared at your underwear. He swallowed, jaw tensing.

“Can you take the rest off?” He asked, a little desperately.

“No.” You droned.

“Then I guess you’re showering in your underwear.” He finished, freeing himself from responsibility. You groaned.

He gazed at your lidded eyes intensely, trying to gauge your soberness, were you just playing with him? Were you really that drunk? You hated the silence, you wanted more from him.

“So do you like me or what?” You prodded his heart. You knew the answer. You supposed you always knew. You just never wanted to hear it until now.

“Yes. I do.” He swallowed thickly. It made him nervous when he could feel his heart beating in his ears, and wrists, as well as in his chest.

“Don’t believe you.” You muttered, swatting his arm pathetically. It was a dangerous game you were playing, insinuating you couldn’t dare to imagine someone— anyone— him— having feelings for you.

"Believe it." He warned, playfulness evading his intention.

"No." More, you wanted to tease more out of him like a comb knotting straight hair.

His hands grasped at your nude sides and he kissed you. Harsh and desperate, he was proving a point. Through your fluttering eyes you could see his were screwed shut in angered focus. He was making out with your mouth, licking up the remnants of alcohol on your tongue and teeth. Compared to his brother, Yuji was sure and feverent. He wanted you, so desperately.

He seemed like the one with the stupid obsession now.

"Shower."

You allowed his order, adding your own. “Stay. I might fall.”

Stepping into the hot water substantially dinted your drunkenness, bringing a hot clarity to your mind. The running water falling down your skull was a constant tapping reminder that this was happening, or it was going to happen.

You could see Yuji's form through the fogged glass, his back turned from the shower. You wondered briefly, was it out of respect for your naked body that he turned away from you, or maybe, was it for his own sanity?

The steamed water cleaned your face of ruined makeup and the sticky club residue. Your ears still held a slight ring, amplified by the silence surrounding the tapping of water.

When you stepped out Yuji was there to wrap you up in the towel with a turned head. Useless, really. You thought. It'll be gone soon.

In a slow walk, he accompanied you to your bedroom, a silent knowing thickening the air between you. Darkness ate up your view up him, but you could feel the tension permeate off of his body.

“Y’gonna fuck me, Yu?” You asked, staring up at him with dazed eyes.

“Yeah, I am.” His words were hugged by a breathlessness. A shortness of breath that hadn’t stemmed from his lungs, but from his heart.

You both needed it. You needed to be desired, to be wanted, to be loved and Yuji needed to finally take you, feel you, show you how much he loved you.

Again his hands found you, the first points of contact on your still wet body. Next, his lips, hunting your pulse until he reached your mouth. With his unseemly strength supporting you, he dipped you into the bed, his weight following you, pushing you further into the mattress.

You could feel is thick, strong hands on you, feeling, exploring, pulling with helpless desire but no real strength. Multitasking between your lips and feeling for the hem of the towel, unwrapping it from your body.

He stayed for a moment, bringing space between you, staring at you as if he'd never seen you before. Your breasts heaved rapidly. Your face, all flushed and blazed with lust.

"I'm gonna make you feel good." He said, struggling not to pant as he spoke. That would not sound good. That would sound weak, unsure.

Your heart was not breaking anymore. It seemed rather to broil in your chest, melt. You were afraid the heat from your heart might soon destroy your sanity in fire.

And he was so gentle, not tugging or pulling but caressing you with a consideration that was almost prissy. Fingers rolling down your damp tummy, hesitating just before your hip bone.

You spread your legs, inviting him to your aching middle. The offer knocked the air from his lungs and he knew only your taste could allow him to breathe again.

Like you were his salvation, Yuji kneeled at the end of your bed, his face pressed up against your longing, breathing in your scent. His hot exhales patted your sex, dragging you into a moment of utter desire and need.

His breath came closer, until the thick humidity closed and he pressed a wet kiss to your clit. The melodic sigh of ease lifting from your mouth tugged on Yuji's already stiff dick, making him suddenly aware of his own arousal. That was for later, for now, he was starving.

He pressed another moving kiss to your bundle of nerves, adding a smooth swipe of his tongue. Another symphony played from you and he drowned himself in your cunt, playing with you like an instrument. His wet, sucking pampering your leaking sex.

The intensity ripped a twitch from your hips but Yuji caught your thighs before you could jut away.

You leaked such a bitter sweetness, it was too perfect. Food would never taste the same now that he'd had you in his mouth. Live, squirming and moaning so beautifully. When your hand came up to rake though his messy hair, he fell deeper into your cunt.

His make-out with your sex had fallen into the perfect rhythm, sending clean jolts of pleasure throughout your body, you hadn't needed to concentrate or hold your breath to be forced up the hill of your orgasm, Yuji was walking you up with utter ease.

His tongue only occasionally dipped to your chasm to drink up the slick leaking from you, but as he dipped past a single ring of your insides, a selfish desire to feel more arose.

He shifted and you felt a warm pressure circle your chasm. Your cunt was already sucking in the two thick fingers he offered you. He slipped in further, sliding along your tickling nerves, massaging you closer and closer to a release.

The tips of his fingers curled into you, working in perfect time with his mouth until you tensed in preparation around him. Another slight suck and roll over your clit had you cumming on his fingers.

You cursed loudly, a lovingly weak moan of his name leaving you.

The way your walls fluttered around his fingers had his dick jutting painfully in his pants. Now he could finally fuck you.

His weight returned over you, coming back to his rightful place above your naked body. He shed two layers, his jumper and the shirt underneath it. Not because he was feeling hot or sweaty, but because he wanted you to see his tight body and throb. Force into you a sexual attraction and utterly crush your notions of friendship.

It might've been the way he made you cum on his tongue, or the way he took your wrist and made you slide a shaky hand over his abs and chest, maybe it was the way his eyes drooled obsession when he looked at you—perhaps it was a lusted blend of everything— but you could feel the sickening flutter of love butterflies develop in your stomach.

His hand next arrived at the rim of his pants, freeing his erection from the tight confines of his pants. You hardly shied from the sight.

Nothing you haven't seen before, right? Well, the way his blood fat length leaked beads of precum that belonged inside you from his flushed, burning tip was certainly a sight you'd never seen before. He let your eyes linger. It was all for you, all because of you.

He only spared a glance to line himself against your cunt, he cared more to see the way your face would twist to be filled by him.

"Yu— oh fffuck." You weren't sure what kind of rejection would've left your mouth before you felt Yuji enter you, but you were glad it never reached your lips.

Sliding into you was like sliding into some exquisite oil. The white that flashed over his eyes at the sheer— everything— of you blurred his vision for brief moment. He blinked it away quickly, needing to see the way you threw your head back in pleasure.

His size filled you perfectly, reaching each sensitive crevice inside your mushy tunnel, you only wanted more. Yuji sat inside you for a beat, needing a break from the feeling of you sliding around him. He wasn't sure if it was his or your heart he could feel thumping between his legs. The break was short-lived when you began moving your hips in pleading.

He moved with you, using you, but letting you use him as well. The only sounds were the wet sonances of your sex and breathing; his heavy and horse, yours quick and light.

You wondered, if Choso could see you being fucked soft by his brother, would he still say 'good to see you an Yuji got together'? as if Yuji could sense your thoughts by the way your cunt fluttered around him, his fingers dug craters into your side and he spoke.

“You— shit— you thinkin’ about him?” He asked in a thin carping voice, sneering into your neck.

Your lips stayed zipped, unable to lie nor tell the truth.

“He couldn’t— hng— fucken' love you like this.” To stress his statement, Yuji rolled his hip deep into you, pressing a bruising kiss to your cervix. Your hands smacked over his shoulders, clawing his back.

"I know— oh fuck! Yu." Despair in your words, but Yuji worked to fuck it out of you, suckling hickies to your neck.

"I told you I'd make you—hahh— feel good. You feel good, baby?" He wasn't sure where the pet name came from but the moment it rolled off his tongue he knew he'd never use your name again.

His words regressed you into a submissive, panting mess. "Mhm, hngh! yes, Yu." You didn't mean to sound so ravaged and pleased, but your tone made Yuji's eager dick expand more inside you, becoming girthier with blood.

His rhythm finally dissolved into an excited bucking and from it Yuji drunk up your little gasps like a starved man. "You know I love you, yeah? My girl."

You could only nod, unable to even babble a response.

"Say it, hng— say you love me back."

"L-Love you, Yu."

And oh God, your words go straight to his cock, hurling him into a driven frenzy of mushing thrusts that glide right over your g-spot.

He can feel your cunt tighten in preparation, drawing a guttural moan from his stomach. He knew you were going to cum. It was like knowing him all these years had let him memorise your body, inside and out.

"Let me hear it, baby." He cooed softly.

Like an enraptured fizzing firework, your orgasm rolled over you. It bubbled loaded moans up your throat. You cunt fluttered around him, sucking him up, begging him to fill you with his cum. You jump at his sharp canines sinking down into the flushed skin of your neck and he shivered when he feels your nails dig into the sides of his neck.

He couldn't hold himself back anymore, barrelling over the edge as you clamped around him. His cock punctured your cervix in three strong half-way thrusts, leaving kisses of cum across your insides.

You both fucked your fleeting orgasms out on each other, you with rolling hips and Yuji with messy, unfocused thrusts that prodded against your walls mercilessly.

Even when you both came to a panting halt, Yuji still twitched hard and thick inside you.

"You're mine, now." He couldn't even conceal his absent breath. "You're my girl, yeah? M'gonna love you like this forever."

Aside from the proof in the territorial marks decorating your skin, or your gummy cunt being soaked from his cum, you already knew in your heart you were his.

But as his hips drew out in a slide you assumed would mean his exit, then pushed back in, making a circle of frothy cum and slick form around his cock you knew you weren't going to make it out alive without those words tattooed on your tongue.

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lovifie · 9 months ago

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Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending.

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack.

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door.

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men.

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night.

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.”

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since.

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone.

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression.

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them.

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice.

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so.

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit.

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you.

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering.

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's.

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked.

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips.

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water.

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them.

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder.

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well.

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back.

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap?

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth.

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open.

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.”

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth.

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique.

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.”

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.”

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile.

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

Taglist:@pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline @shadowtfpcod @infpt-zylith @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3

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luvsupa · 3 months ago

Text

001 | WORK OF ART

tags: sugardaddy!nanami x fem!reader, smut, public sex-ish, toys used, age gap (nanamis late 30s and readers early/ mid 20s), petnames, nanami is in love with reader and her art, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: UHMM GUYS THANK U SOSO MUCH FOR 600 FOLLOWERS?! EEKKK ILY GUYSSS 🤍🤍

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!

the convention center quickly fills up at eight o’clock as hundreds and hundreds of rich people eagerly gather to see and purchase the artworks displayed by you and your fellow artists.

you’re already over the fact that it’s art display season, as obnoxious rich patrons approach your work only to mock it and its price. your coordinator has repeatedly stated that your specific artwork isn’t as eye-catching as the others in your group.

“your art can only sell for one thousand, and that’s pushing it,” your coordinator once said.

one thousand is quite a lot of money, but everyone else’s pieces are selling for five thousand and more! their bland artwork compared to yours shouldn’t be sold for that much—now i’m just sounding jealous.

all the artists stand at their assigned sections in front of their artwork as the paid guests slowly walk in, drawn to whatever catches their attention. you glance at your friend beside you as she wishes you good luck.

the room is brightly lit with led lights, giving it a clean and modern feel. soft, instrumental music plays over the speakers, barely audible over the hum of conversations. waiters weave through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne that clink as guests accept them.

you stand awkwardly, already expecting the nasty glares at your canvas. this year, you went for an erotic art piece titled “a woman’s high.” the painting depicts a woman in an abstract way, in the moment of climax, as a blurred-out male figure gives her oral sex, with the focus solely on the female.

“don’t you think this is quite… inappropriate for an art exhibition?” the middle-aged woman clung to her husband’s arm, both looking disgusted at your erotic painting. she leaned in to read the card with your name, pricing, and title, her brows raising in amusement.

“hah! one thousand for this? oh dear, this is a mockery to all the other talented artists here,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. the snobby rich couple found it hilarious, unable to control their laughter. “even i wouldn’t keep it if it were free!” she said as they walked away, still laughing as they moved on to the next pieces.

you stood there, their words stinging more than any you’d heard before. nearly five months spent on your painting, and this is how they treated you. damn that couple.

“your talent for oil painting is incredible,” a deep, husky voice said. you looked up to see a tall, middle-aged man with golden blonde hair slicked back, a few strands hanging in front of his beautifully sculpted face. he was looking at you—and complimenting your art?

you rarely got this stunned at one of your exhibitions, but wow. you shamelessly scanned his figure, muscles bulging from his white button-up shirt, a few buttons undone to show his toned chest. his black dress pants hugged his muscled thighs, and you gulped hard, eyes moving back to his-

“nanami! how great it is to finally see you!” your main coordinator appeared, twirling her hair awhile bombarding him with questions.

“there’s something i want to show you, but it requires us being alone,” she giggled, rubbing his arm up and down. you stood there awkwardly, not wanting to listen to their flirtatious conversation.

“i’m afraid i’ll pass. i’m more intrigued by this beautiful art.” he turned to look at you, making your eyes widen. no one had ever been this persistent about wanting to see your artwork. it made you feel giddy inside.

“oh nanami, this artist needs a lot of practice. i mean, look at the painting!” she pointed out, trying to embarrass you in front of this fine man.

“i wasn’t referring to the painting.”

oh.

“s-sir?” she stammered, both of you shocked at his words. he thinks i’m beautiful? he was very slick with that.

“and her skills are beyond amazing. the way she captures the perfect moment of the woman’s orgasm and highlights her expression—there’s no need for more practice,” he said, silencing your coordinator as he praised the parts of your art that he loved. you were still in shock at what had just occurred.

“however, there is one flaw about this,” nanami stated, and your smile slightly dropped. you were ready for him to treat you the same way everyone else had. your coordinator found an opportunity to bully you and your art even more.

“pfft, finally. i’ve noticed a lot wrong with her art—”

“the price,” he cut her off, pulling out a chequebook from his pocket and beginning to write. “how much?” you both gasped at his boldness.

“i-i…” you stuttered, at a loss for words for the first time, while your coordinator fumed. he chuckled at your reaction as he continued writing, then ripped the paper to hand it to you.

“i’d like for you to come see me later, beautiful,” he said, his smooth words leaving you hypnotized. and with that, he walked away as your coordinator followed him, trying to get his attention.

you stared down at the paper, your jaw dropping at the amount he was giving you.

10,000 dollars

holy fuck.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as the art exhibition continued on all night, you left your painting unattended- searching everywhere throughout the museum to find the mysterious man, nanami. hell, you even had to beg your annoying coordinator for his whereabouts. finally, she gave in.

“he’s going to his car, something about a gift for me!” she exclaimed. you didn’t buy it for a second, but you headed towards the elevator, stepping in to pressing‘P’ as the button illuminated. the doors closed, and the elevator descended to the parking lot.

the button stopped glowing as the doors opened, revealing the eerie parking lot filled with cars on every level. you walked out, your heels clicking against the cold concrete as you quickly rushed to see where he could be.

“are you following me?”

you stopped where you were, hearing his deep voice. you turned around to see his beautiful smirk plastered on his lips, holding his black jacket on his shoulder. fuck, he’s so hot.

“i just wanted to thank you so much for purchasing my art,” you nervously said as he eyed you down. you squeezed your thighs tight as the tension thickened.

“come with me,” he said, smiling as he formed a sinful idea in his mind. he honestly couldn’t control himself, thinking about how delicious you looked in your black mini skirt and white button-up shirt similar to his own.

cute, he thinks.

you wasted no time, immediately picking up your steps as he strode down the long parking lot to his car. finally, his car came into view—a luxurious sports car you’d only seen in movies and tv shows. how rich is he?

he unlocks the driver's door as you stand in front of his car, listening to the muffled chatter and honks of the city coming to life at night. from the corner of your eye, you see him pull out a box as he shuts the door, catching your attention.

"i want you to put this on," he says, walking closer and towering over you as he hands you the box. you carefully read it, and your jaw drops for the second time that night.

bluetooth vibrator.

"i-i can't, i have to be talking to people this whole night," you stammer, attempting to hand the box back, but he doesn't take it.

"that's the whole point, sweetheart. live a little- have fun." he coos, bringing his hands to cup your face, caressing it. "you always seem so serious. let me show you how to enjoy yourself." for the first time your body betrays you as you start feeling aroused by him.

shamelessly, you bring one of your free hands to pull his neck lower to your level, smashing him into a heated kiss. he smirks into the kiss as you suck harshly on his lips, smudging your lipstick onto his. nanami places you against the hood of his luxurious sports car as the box slips from your hand, making a loud thud on the ground.

"eager, aren't we?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension and desire.

nanami parts your thighs with his knee, allowing you to grind on him. your hips move rhythmically as you whimper into the kiss, growing wetter by the second.

he snakes his hand down to your thighs, moving his knee, eliciting a needy whimper from you. wanting more. he replaces his knee with his thick fingers, easily reaching your clothed cunt through your short skirt. he rubs your leaky slit through your panties, and you moan into the kiss. he pulls away, chuckling at how quickly you became this wet.

"such a good girl," he teases, his tone both patronizing and seductive.

you look up at him with needy eyes, craving more of his touch—more of him. you need him.

“i’ll see you inside,” he says, pecking your lips and sliding his hand away from your heat. he walks away, wiping the smudged lipstick off his mouth, leaving you sprawled out on the hood of his car. how can he leave you like this? you’re contemplating on whether you should continue on or leave- oh fuck it.

“w-wait, i’ll put it on,” you say, rising from the hood of the car and wobbling towards him as you quickly pick up the box. he chuckles, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“my sweet girl, i knew you’d give in,” he says, turning around to see you almost losing your balance. he holds you steady as you start unboxing the toy, wanting nothing more than a good release from him.

you stare at the oddly shaped vibrator, confused about how to put it on.

nanami grabs the pink toy from your hand as he kneels to the ground. “may i?” he asks, wanting to insert it for you. you eagerly nod as he bunches up your skirt to your waist, and you stare down at him, watching his every move like a hawk.

he places a soft kiss on your clothed clit, making you nearly fall over. nanami swiftly tugs down your panties, and you step out of them as he rises from the ground, standing tall as he shoves your wet panties into his pocket. how nasty he is.

“geez, you’re soaking,” he points out, swiping two of his fingers along your slit and watching your arousal coat his digits. he brings the toy to your hole, aligning it with the tip before slowly inserting it. you hiss at the stretch of the toy within your velvety walls, the girth painfully good as you bite your lip hard, clenching rapidly around the silicone toy.

you whimper as he positions the other half of the toy against your achy clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to ensure it’s perfectly aligned with your sensitive nub. he’s determined to see you crumble.

nanami smooths down your skirt, pulling it back into place so no one can see the lewd things happening between you two. he retrieves his phone from his pocket and connects to the app, pressing the power button. your knees buckle as the vibrator springs to life, the dual stimulation nearly making you roll your eyes back at the slow, teasing intensity.

“you did so good, baby,” he coos, his praise making you hum in pleasure as he steadies your balance, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head. he increases the intensity, and broken moans slip from your lips. he finds your reactions amusing as he guides you back to the elevator, pressing the button and standing behind you, holding you in place.

“y-you clicked the wrong f-floor,” you manage to gasp, breathless. he chuckles darkly behind you, making your skin crawl. your eyes shoot up in horror as you realize he’s selected the floor where all the guests enter to get to the museum.

“oh, did I? silly me,” he says, a smirk evident in his voice. as the elevator doors open, you’re met with a small group of guests, including the middle-aged couple who had mocked you earlier. you feel a fleeting sense of relief as he finally turns off the vibrator, but the situation remains unbearably tense.

the elevator is packed with guests, and you’re pressed intimately close to nanami. the heat of his body against yours only heightens your need, as you’re unconsciously grinding against his bulge, desperate for release.

“nanami, i didn’t realize you were with her,” the familiar woman says, clinging to her husband. the bitch who flat out insulted me..

“mhm, yes, i am,” nanami replies smoothly, his hand slipping lower to discreetly control the vibrator. “have you seen her work? i think everyone should join. she’s got a beautiful speech prepared, don’t you?” he adds, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing smile. heads turn in your direction, intrigued by the fact that nanami kento is involved.

“oh, yes, i suppose i’ll prepare something as well—mmf,” you try to stifle a moan as nanami cranks the vibrator to its fullest intensity. you squeeze your thighs tightly, fighting to keep your arousal from dripping down your thighs.

“and what will it be about?” a businessman in the elevator asks curiously. you can barely focus on anything except the overwhelming pleasure of the vibrator thrusting in and out at a relentless pace, your poor clit being ruthlessly stimulated.

“haven’t—hahhh—i haven’t f-finished,” you stammer, casting a pleading look at nanami, desperate for the torture to end. he only smiles in response, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

ding!

you’ve never been so eager for the elevator’s arrival. the guests say their goodbyes, but just as nanami tries to guide you out, you stop him, hitting a random button.

“what happened to speaking to everyone the whole night, hmm?” he says, his voice dripping with mockery as he gazes down at your dazed expression.

“fuck them,” you mutter, reaching up to kiss him, but he pulls away, eliciting a pout from you.

“such a dirty mouth—do you expect me to kiss you?” he says, bringing a hand to your face. you melt into his touch as he slowly brings his thumb to your mouth, smudging your lipstick. he rests his thumb on your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, looking sultry into his hazel eyes.

you take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and slightly bobbing your head as if giving a messy blowjob. nanami watches, his blood rushing to his growing bulge as he takes in your bratty attitude.

you release his thumb with a slight pop, leaving it glistening with your saliva. nanami, shocked by your filthy display, grabs your face and crashes his lips onto yours. this kiss is hungrier, more eager than the last.

ding!

the elevator’s arrival chimes, and the doors start to open. your coordinator, her face a mask of horror, sees you two and screams in shock. she’s so upset that storms off. the doors quickly close, leaving you and nanami in the privacy of the elevator.

you chuckle at her reaction. “i have to get back, nanami,” you say, your hands roaming his chest, a whimper escaping as you remember the toy still buried deep inside you.

“you’re really gonna leave me like this?” he growls, referring to his raging hard-on. you chuckle, feeling a thrill at his reaction. “hmm, you can still toy with me the entire night,” you purr.

nanami reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a business card, his name and phone number neatly printed. “call me when you’re ready to leave. i’m not done with you,” he promises, making you feel excited for what he has planned.

you give him a quick peck on the lips and press the ‘open’ button on the elevator. just as you’re about to step out, you feel a sharp sting on your ass cheek. you hear him hum behind you.

oh how he’s going to cause so much trouble..

#nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento x you #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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dumbbitchgalore · 5 months ago

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Part 4: Old man!Price wants his birdie to fly away 🕊

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

John sighs softly as he walks out of the door with the final box filled with his belongings.

Parking your car in the driveway, you walk out of it and approach the front door as you spot John. You cross your arms and sigh softly.

"Done moving out, Captain?" You ask, void of any emotion.

John groans as he hears the formality in your voice, "Birdie-"

You put you hand up to cut him off, "Don't. Don't you dare call me that. It's fucking poison coming out of your mouth."

He frowns at your harsh scowl and releasing reasoning with you is no longer an option as you walk past him and open the door to your once shared home.

This is what he wished as the desired outcome of his actions. For you to kick his arse and finally be free of the bastard that he is. A broke, old man like him didn't need to clip a birdie's wings just for his sake.

But somewhere within his conscious, John was beginning to feel a sense of loneliness, guilt and longing. His actions where for his birdie's freedom. But was there truly no other motive towards his selfish actions?

John was beginning to slowly become an after thought to you as you were getting ready for a night out.

You stand in front of the mirror situated on the bedroom wall as you admire yourself. However, in the corner of your eye John's non-existant silhouette lingered behind you. Closing your eyes, you feel his arms wrap around you as you lean into his ghost. His scent begins to waft around you, engulfing you an a hazy trance.

John, John, John

Shaking your head left and right, you shoo his spirit away from your presence. You brush the wrinkles out of your outfit before walking out of the front door.

Unlocking the car, you sit in the driver's seat turning the ignition on. Headlight on, you drive out. Breathing in and out, playing ever single possible scenario as to how this night will unhold.

Regaining the lost confidence attributed to John's heinous actions, you sike yourself up through the whole car ride.

Coming to a halt in front of the pub, you spot him waiting for you near the front door. Smiling softly at the scene, you notice him shivering as the winter breeze bumps against him, prickling his skin. You find humour in the lack of a jacket, possibly to impress you with a visual of his body as he always tried to back during your engagement with Price which you actively ingored.

But now you decide to take in the sight, drinking in his physique along with his tattoo and his stupid mohawk that you used to depised, but now it's style began to grow on you.

Looking at yourself in the sun visor mirrow, you fix any imperfections you find in yourself before stepping out of the car and walking to him.

Giving him a soft smile, you hug him before stepping back and chuckling nervously.

"Sorry, haven't done this in a while" You say sheepishly, rubbing your upper him.

He smirks at your shyness, kissing your cheek. "Let me take the reins then, Bonnie?"

You nod at the scotsman's comment, leaning into his touch as he ushers you inside of the pub.

On the other side of the street, there he was. A witness to the scene which took place in front of him. John stands there idly, trying his best to let his birdie fly away and start the creation of a new nest.

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grabattheseballsss · 7 months ago

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Ass or tits post but they barely answer the question

NSFW text !!!

Btw if yawll have any headcannon ideas do send them in pls !!! Smooches !!

John price

this is absurd, to think you would ask him such a disrespectful question, I mean if you weren’t dating this is a huge HR violation, plus he won’t just pick like you’re some object he gets to use to his pleasure (thighs and fupas)

Simon Riley

Ass…. No wait he likes tits

Actually he likes ass… but maybe more so the thighs… nah nah it’s just ass … actually here, go wear these outfits and come back to me, I need to make my mind up for sure, you know, for research purposes.

John McTavish

Couldn’t choose, had to go run a few laps to clear his brain

Came back and just held your shoulders and said

“Yes”

You’d be confused and ask him the question again and he’d just look at you with sad eyes and whimper out

“Please don’t make me chose”

Kyle Garrick

Tits, absolutely tits, this man has a thing for milfs, my darlings with big or small tits, if he sees you in a blouse or a tank top that shows your cleavage, he’s running the nearest bathroom to relieve himself.

You had to go undercover on a mission once, having to dress up as a server at a strip club, you needed to have ears on the inside, and he had to save all the footage he was watching… for safety purposes of course, what if he didn’t notice a very illegal bad thing happen to you on his 89th rewatch ?!

Rodolfo parra

Tits, but also into necks, he also loves your back, and the curve of your hips, and how your rolls show when he has you in a weird position, and he loves watching you change or slip into your everyday clothes, how some tights fabrics tug at your pretty plush skin, he loves it when you lay your feet on his lap, silently asking him to rub them for you, watching you stretch, watching you walk, how you interact with others …

Wait sorry what was the question ?

Alejandro Vargas

This whore…. Ass.

He’d slap your ass ever time you’re walking by, if you’re leaning on a counter, on your phone, he would stand behind you and slap your ass bongos, laughing and kissing your temple as you try to smack him.

If he sees you sleeping on your side he will crawl lower and cuddle your ass, it’s just such a nice cushion :(

One time the team all went out for drinks after a successful mission, and you changed into a white tank top, low cut bell bottom jeans and Rudy handed you a cowboy hat as a joke, but all Alejandro could think about is which bathroom is the closest for him to take you.

Also steals your panties after every quickie

Valeria

See….. here’s the thing, Valeria loves one thing, and that thing is seeing you all submissive and ready for her to take, she loves sitting in a meeting with some dealers, her legs spread, you by her feet, hugging onto the lower part of her legs, humping on her dirty boot, your tits pressed against her knee as your clothed pussy rubs in messy motions as you try to get some sort of release, she loves holding a gun to your head, asking you to only make eye contact with her, in a room filled with judging eyes.

She needs everyone to know what’s hers, and what would happen if they even dared to speak of what’s hers.

König

Listen, I see könig as a little weirdo, a lil freaky boy. When he’s infatuated with someone, he won’t be able to find a single flaw in them, seeing your skirt riding up at bit too high that shows your ass that’s covered in opaque stockings, and if there’s a little rip in those stockings, even if the rip is like, down near your ankle, he’s gonna pop a boner.

If you’re a fashion girly that likes to show their body off oh baby he’s buying you anything you want if you just give him a show, tops that barely hide your nipples, about 90% of your tits out on display, one slip and you’ll be flashing him.

Seeing you in his clothes, seeing his hoodie bunched up around around waist as you hold it up a bit, fixing your pants, oh he’s going to jump that hoodie later.

Horangi

Tits, or so he thought, he’s always found your chest gorgeous, what he wouldn’t give to be able to suck on your nipples day and night, that is until you were sparring one time, you had him in a chokehold… with your thoughts pressed against his neck, his head resting on your lap as you look down at him, animalistic fire in them as you grin down at him, all he could think about was how your eyes gazed down on his, how the pressure of your thick thighs pressed against his neck felt like heaven, like the pain in his neck was cured (it wasn’t)

After the sparring match he just had to collect his thoughts, he needed you to be on top of him, preferably with your crotch right on top of his face with your soft sweaty thighs caging him in .

Laswell

This lady……… she’s the hard dom price wishes he was.

She’s so calm and collected on the outside, at her work everyone sees her as this no nonsense lady who refuses to listen to some old fart tell her what she can and can’t do, she’ll always do what’s right

And so when her pretty girl, in a gorgeous dress she got for you, comes to her job, holding a tiny bag filled with her lunch, hair done, makeup looking flawless, and a bright smile that makes her coworkers envy her.

She loves her sweet girl that’s too innocent to notice how promiscuous she looks in that form fitting dress, how her tits press together when she hands her the bag, Kate would simply thank you, kissing you briefly before giving your bum a smack as she tells you to get back home and get ready for her tonight

What? The woman is stressed at work and her girl comes in looking like a goddess in a tight dress, plus it’s not like any of her coworkers blame her.

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sunsetsimon · 1 year ago

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simon 'ghost' riley x reader

mentions of ptsd, abuse, torture, touch aversion, nightmares

always remember, you are loved and cared for. reach out if you need help, i am always here to provide resources. you are not alone, do not go through this alone.

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

☼ jealousy. it wasn't a feeling that simon felt often, and not in the ways most people experienced it, he could care less about any materialistic items. his jealousy would stir in his stomach when he saw people doing to them - normal things. a hug goodbye, holding hands, it was all foreign to him.

he's used to a playful punch from soap or a pat on the shoulder from price, but he never initiates. when you first get together, he's uncomfortable with physical affection and will often unintentionally shut you down. your hand will reach for his but he doesn't move, not even noticing you attempting to touch him. he won't hug you before he leaves, only giving a nod and heading out.

he knows it hurts you but it's hard.

slowly he works on it, giving a loving squeeze and reaching for your hand, but it's a long process before it becomes an unconscious habit.

☼ simon doesn't sleep much to begin with, but when it gets bad, he starts to have nightmares almost every night. they're intense, seeming to last forever, as if he'd lived days in the dream. his sleepy mumbling will turn into physical reactions, his body starting to twitch, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turn white. gasping awake he shoots up, his hand immediately on his gun and ready for combat. he's sweaty, heart beating so fast it seemed like it'd jump out of his chest.

"you okay, si?" you whisper from beside him, snapping him back to reality. simon takes a deep breath, setting his pistol back down on the nightstand, unable to speak. immediately you recognize it was another nightmare, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his back. his head drops into his hands, needing to take time to relearn what his reality is; he's home, he's with you.

but fuck, why doesn't it feel that way then? why is he haunted every time he closes his eyes?

"'m so tired," he mumbles, fighting back tears of frustration and pain, trying not to question what he did to deserve this hell he calls his own mind.

"i know si... i wish i could take it all away," you attempt to comfort him, but know that nothing you do could help him right now, he just needs time. he gives your arm a pat before standing up, leaving to take time for himself. you hear his footsteps trail down the stairs and a door open, simon deciding to retreat to the garage for the next few hours until he feels okay again.

☼ he wouldn’t ever tell you what actually happened to him, just making vague comments here and there when the opportunity arises. he's scared to talk about it, not wanting to remember anything or try to process it.

your soft fingers trail along the pale scars littered across his skin, wondering what must've happened to him, all the pain he's been through. you stop at a small one on his left wrist, "how'd you get this one?"

"my dad was a piece of shit," and he leaves it at that. you don't push any further, accepting the curt answer with a nod. you softly kiss the scar, beautiful eyes flickering to his. it's things like this that slowly heal him, and instead of thinking of the pain that came with each scar, he thinks of your lips kissing each one as if that'd make it all better. you make it all better.

#im so sad i love him so much #also on my period so feeling even worse #.wbm #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #angst

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writingroom21 · 6 months ago

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The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (Practice safe sex), cream pie, slapping, chocking, squirting, use of daddy

Wc: 5.3K

Chapter 3: Guess we're both broken

Waking up the next morning, you tossed over to the otherside, noticing the sheets were cold. Peaking through sleep coated eyes you realize that Rafe is gone. Sitting Up you look around the room, his shirt and shorts gone as well. Not surprised that he was gone, a sinking feeling is in your chest, he used you. Once again you are left knowing that you shouldn’t have thought anything else. Should have known him being on his best behavior recently was just another ploy to sleep with you, knowing that he won.

The rest of the day was spent moping around Tannyhill, grateful that you didn’t need to see him. Sarah being the only person you see when she stops by to get some of her things before running off again to stir up trouble. The day was so uneventful that you even decided to go to your parents cookout. Which turned out as awful as you expected it to go.

Reaching your childhood home you can see your neighbors scattered around the lawn. You notice your dad on the grill talking to one of the other dad, most likely talking about what rub or glaze he used this time. Walking around you greeted a few people who stopped you to ask how work is going. “That Cameron boy is causing you any trouble is he?” If only you knew, you thought. “No he’s not. They are all really respectful to me.” In hindsight it wasn’t a lie, they have been really nice making you feel welcomed. If the past two nights hadn’t happened you wouldn’t be so apprehensive to say it, but they did happen.

Everything seemed to be going well until you reached your mom. She was talking to some of her friends when she saw you walking their way. “Well if it isn’t my precious little angel. Hardly recognize you since we never see you.” She chuckles, trying to mask the insult with laughter. Taking a deep breath you give her a hug. “I know, I’m sorry. Been trying to visit but it’s been hectic.” Saying hi to the rest of the group was met with few words, some of them not replying at all. “How much work can it really be? The young one is practically an adult herself.” Your mom has a way of making everything you do seem insignificant or an inconvenience to her, your job being one of them.

“You’d be surprised. Wheeze is a saint but she does give me a run for my money. I should go say hi to dad before he feels left out.” With that you walked off to greet your dad. The rest of the night was a never ending cycle of your parents making small jabs at you. Making you and the rest of the party uncomfortable every time they spoke. The cherry on the cake was when they pulled off to the side just as you were about to leave. “Sweetie, we need to ask you something and before you start getting mad you need to agree to hear us out.” Your dad says sitting on the couch looking at you, your mom next to him nodding along to his words. “Okay.”

“So you see we really need to fix up the house. You know how bad the AC is, you would have better luck keeping the fridge door open then that thing working.” Oh god you can already see where this is going, eyes rolling waiting for them to ask you for money. “Don’t roll your eyes at us, we are your parents.” Your mother scolded. “Anyway.” your dad continues. “We don’t have the money to get it fixed. The mortgage is barely even being covered as it is, we just need you to spot us some money. Just enough to get us going.” Taking a deep breath and cooling your nerves. “How much?” you ask.

“4,000.” Your eyes widen at the price, that's a whole month's worth of pay, let alone you don’t have that on you right now due to helping them out. “4,000? You need me to give you 4,000 dollars? By when?” The questions shootout at them. “Yes 4,000 and we need it now preferably.” So that’s why they invited you today, not because they miss you like they claim but because they need money. “I don’t have that kind of money on me or in my account.” “What do you mean you don’t have that money? What’s the point of working for some kooks if they don’t pay you well.” Your dad scoffs turning and looking at your mom. “What did I tell you? I told you she wouldn’t help us.”

This really can’t be happening right now. You have been working since you were 14 to contribute to the bills, every paycheck going straight into their hands. “I have been helping you. I’ve been helping you for the past six years with every bill in this house.” “We never asked you to do that.” Your mother rebuttals, taking another sip from the glass of wine in her hand. “Yes you have!.” you exclaim. “You are literally asking me for 4,000 dollars as we speak. Every time you ask me for money I hand it over without making a fuss, but this I can’t do. I have my own expenses, you know.”

“What expenses? All of a sudden you live in a fancy mansion and you’re too good to help out your parents.” Your dad’s words hurt you. You have tried to be their perfect daughter your whole life. The perfect grade, the scholarship, then declining the scholarship because they begged you not to go. Every life choice you’ve made has been to cater them and their wants. “Yes, dad, my expenses. I have my own car that I pay for by myself, a car loan as well, I even have to buy my own groceries. Then on top of that I send the both of you practically all of my paychecks. I’ve been scraping by trying to make it all work, why can’t the two of you just realize I can’t do this.” Your pleas fall onto deaf ears as they both get up from the couch. “If you aren’t willing to help us then there’s nothing left to talk about. You know where the door is.”

Watching as the walk away tears threaten to spill from your eyes. The drive back to Tannyhill seemed longer than it usually did. The conversation played on repeat throughout the whole drive. Parking your car you rush to the front door, all you want to do is lay in your bed and cry. Tears are already falling from your eyes as you close the front door. “Well what do we have here, country club? This that nanny you keep hiding from me?” You recognize the voice, you’ve seen and heard him around Tanny when Rose or Ward is gone. Barry is his name you think not really caring to find out you just walk down the hall. “Not much of a talker I see.”

“Leave her alone.” Rafe’s voice makes your ears perk up. Even though every muscle in your body is telling you to keep walking and not to look at him, you cave. Eyes meeting he can see the tears in them. “You okay, sunny?” You can’t do this right now, can’t get caught up in him just for him to leave once again. Without saying a word you brush past him, bounding up the stairs to the second floor. But before you can slam your bedroom door you can hear Barry talk. “The fuck you do to her?”

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

The next morning you had yourself locked in your room just thinking. First about your parents and then about Rafe, then your parents and Rafe once again. It was torture having to sit in the room replaying ever interaction to see where things went wrong. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you about the Rafe situation but it might for your parents.

Looking at the clock by the bed you see that it's almost one in the afternoon. Deciding that you can’t sit her a mope for the rest of your life, you get up and get ready. Ward had given you a membership to the country club when you first started, he thought it would be better since you can accompany Wheezie when she goes. A nice relaxing day at the club, eating the fancy food is just what you needed.

It didn’t take long to get there or to find a seat by the pool, most of the people are on the golf course anyway. The only people by the pool are the wives that have kids and the teens who were there for the lifeguard. Stripping from clothes you are left in the red bikini you wore, you put on some sunscreen before laying down on the lounge chair soaking up the rays.

The sun feels nice against your skin, the heat relaxing your tense muscles finally being given a break. After about thirty minutes you flip over allowing your back to tan, not wanting to be uneven. The sound of kids laughing and the busy club lull you into a peaceful mind. So what if your parents are upset? You have done more than enough to help them out over the years, you can’t keep digging them out of their messes. Who even knows where most of the money you send them goes, it’s definitely not toward the house.

So what if Rafe is a dick who just uses girls and dumps them to the side? You can’t control who he is and clearly he just wanted to hookup nothing more. All that you can do now is just keep to yourself, it’s better to protect your peace then being his new play thing. Then why does it hurt? Shaking off the thoughts you notice how hot you started to get.

The sun is beating down on you, sweat forming on your skin causing you to stick to the chair. Getting up you head into the pool, the cold warmer cooling you off as you float. You didn’t know this but a few feet away on the dining patio sat Rafe with Topper and Kelce. Rafe was half listening while the two boys talked about something he didn’t care about. His mind kept bringing back the picture of your crying face from last night.

As soon as Barry left he went straight to your room but the door was locked. He sat there for a second and heard nothing from the otherside of the door, assuming you went to bed he left for his room. When he woke up this morning it was all that he could think of, seeing you like that hurt him. You looked like he did after his dad made him feel less of, the thought of you feeling like that made his blood boil. But showing you he cared shows that he needs you, that he actually cares for, that’s not who he is.

No Rafe is the type of guy that fucks everything in his life up, dropped out of school, is a failure to his dad and in relationships. That's what he’s good at, you’ll see it eventually so why even try? Looking out to the course, he can see the pool from here, looking at all the bodies laying around. The red swimsuit draws his eyes down your body, recognizing you as you walk out the pool. The water drips down your stomach, down your legs, but the droplet in between your breasts has him staring.

Rafe isn’t the only one staring, the few teen boys are staring, then there’s the lifeguard. Rafe remembers him from school and doesn’t like the fact he’s staring at you. He watches as you dry yourself off, putting the shirt and shirt you wore back on. Looking as you gather your things and escape his view as you leave, the boys gather his attention. “Dude are you even listening?” His eyes move back to them “Yeah.”

You make your way through the halls, carding through your memory to remember how to get to the dining. As you walk, members of the club look at you, judging you for the way your shirt has wet spots from your swimsuit and hair. You decide to sit at the bar not wanting to deal with anyone today. “How can I help you m’lady.” You put the menu down to meet JJ’s gaze. “Oh my god! Jayj hi.” You squeal, catching the attention of patrons including Rafe.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Joining the darkside has really changed you.” He looks around before leaning a bit closer. “How is it on the other side? Miss us already?” He teases. “Of course I miss all of you.” You playful push his shoulder, JJ raises his hands up in surrender before resting his body weight on the bar counter arms next to yours. Rafe stares in shock at the scene playing in front of him. You, his girl, flirting with fucking Maybank of all people.

He sees JJ push a piece of hair behind your hair and you giggle. The chair scraping against the floor alerted the boys, he didn’t even realize he was even up and walking over to the two of you. “Where are you going?” Kelce calls out to him. “I’ll be right back.” As he gets closer he can hear your conversation more clearly. “You should come to the bonfire this week. I’ll make it worth your time.” JJ flirts, Rafe coming up right behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Looking over your shoulder you can see the look of anger on his face and the smirk painted on JJ's face.

“Sunny! I didn’t know you were going to be here. Maybank why don’t you run along and get me another drink.” He says with a condescending tone, glaring at the blonde boy. “Rafe.” You say as a warning, already seeing how this is going to end. “What? I’m just asking the help to do his job. Right Maybank?” “I was actually helping out this beautiful customer. Ain’t that right baby?” JJ remarks getting closer to you. The look on Rafe’s face could probably kill JJ if he tried hard enough.

Rafe leans against the counter, his body facing you. “You really slumming it around with this loser? You like being around trash?” His comment made you see red. How fucking dare he? You knew he kinda took the kook and pogue thing seriously but to call them trash. It’s like he forgets that you are also a pogue, that if it wasn’t for his father you would still be living on the cut with the rest of them. Which is true, he doesn't see you as a pogue or the help.

To him you’re a kook, you belong with them, with him. “Yes I do. Now this trash is going to take itself out like the “help” do.” You say quoting help as a reminder that you also are the help. “I’ll see you around Jayj.” You tell the blonde looking at you with worried eyes before storming off. “Yeah see ya.” He calls out looking at Rafe for a moment. “Man I knew you were dumb but god damn. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen you do.” He laughs and walks away to go serve other customers. Rafe knows he’s right, potentially just fucked up whatever the two of you had before it actually really started. More than he has already done by ignoring you for the past day and a half.

He makes his way back to the table, the guys watching as he takes out a wad of cash and throwing it on the table. “I gotta go.” He exclaims, rushing to try and catch you before you have the chance to fully leave. Racing out of the building he sees you in the distance looking for your car. Jogging he catches up to you grabbing your arm and yanking you back to him. “Let go of of me!” You yell at him turning and pushing his chest hard. “No! Come one just talk to me.” He exclaims fighting you to make you stay and hear him out. “Are you kidding me? Talk it out? You just insulted me and my friend.” “No I insulted him. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You scoff pulling your arm free from his grip. “So calling him trash just because he’s a pogue doesn’t insult me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m also a pogue. I came from the cut just like he does. Does that shit actually really mean something to you? Are you that fucking stupid?” Rafe’s been called stupid many times in his life, from Ward, his sisters, hell even Rose has called him stupid. He knows that he makes things difficult and not many people like him. But hearing you call him stupid fills him with more rage then seeing Maybank think he can have his girl. “Hey don’t you fucking dare. Say whatever every the fuck you want but I ain’t stupid you fucking hear me.”

He grips your cheeks, pinching them together. “Don’t you ever call be stupid again got it?” You should be scared, you’ve seen his temper before, seen him throw shit around the house or get into a fight with people at parties. You don’t know what to do being on the receiving end of his anger, then his words ring in your ear making you angry all over again. That ache in your pants is ignored as you wrench your head out of his hand. “I don’t know what your problem is but if you put your hands on me again you’ll regret it. You think just because everyone else is scared of you that I will be too? News flash buddy I’m not.” “Don’t call me buddy.” His voice was weaker than it was when he was yelling.

“You don’t get it.” He states turning away from you and letting you go. “You’re right I don’t. You don’t talk to me for two days completely ignoring me after you got what you wanted. Then when I’m catching up with a friend you come in guns blazing as if the world is about to end. What’s wro-“ “He was touching and flirting with you.” He cuts off your rant, stunning you into silence. “So what if he was?” Rafe’s eyes darken hearing you defend him, telling him you actually enjoyed the attention that you were getting from another guy. “So what?” He laughs differently from his normal one, darker than what you are used to.

“You really think I want some other guy touching you? Do you fuck him too?” “You’re jealous?” You meant it as a statement but it came out more like a question. “Yeah I’m jealous. All those guys in there would give up all their money just to get a chance with you. You don’t know them like I do, they would jump at the chance to get with a beautiful girl.” This is the third time he’s insinuated you are beautiful in some way. “Well maybe I should give them a shot. You obviously” His lips crash to yours, not allowing you to finish. This is different from the other kisses you’ve shared, more intense. He’s trying to tell you he’s scared of losing you, a crazy thought considering you aren’t even his.

How can he feel so strongly for you than he already did? It’s no secret that he’s always had a thing for you but this is different. The thought of you leaving him for another person actually terrifies him. Everyone has left him and he can’t stand the thought of you being another person who walks away. You try fighting him again but all efforts die when his tongue makes its way into your mouth. Rafe has this effect on you that you can’t explain.

There was always this soft spot for him but now that the lines have muddled together it’s hard to separate your feelings. Arms wrap around his shoulder pulling the two of you closer to each other, bodies pressed together. He pulls away from you for a second allowing the two of you to catch your breaths. “Get in the car. I’ll meet you back at the house.” Fully pulling away you straighten out your clothes that got a little skewed from making out. He goes to walk to his truck, you stop him. “You can’t just get upset like that and make a scene. If this thing between us is going to work you have to talk to me, okay?” Eyes softening looking at your expression he takes a step forward placing a kiss on your forehead. “Okay.” With that he walks away leaving you standing in the middle of the parking lot wondering what the hell just happened.

The both of you race back to Tanny, Rafe’s truck behind your car. Reaching the house, you make your way inside waiting for him to get here, you lost him at a red light on the way over. You go to the kitchen to get water, the sound of the front door opens, Rafe’s footsteps echoing through the hall. “You think you can just go around and flirt with people?” He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, white polo stretching around his biceps. “I thought we talk-” “No I’m not done.” He enters the room, staring at your body with dark eyes. “Strip.”

The grip on the water bottle tightens. “What?” Rafe is now in front of you, taking the water from your hands, whipping the stray drop on your lips. His thumb gently pulls your bottom lip before releasing it. “Strip and get on your knees. I need to teach you a lesson, I don’t like people thinking they can have what’s mine.” You look at him before following the instructions, staring up at him as he unbuttons his pants to take his dick out.

“Open.” You do without a second thought. “Good girl.” He mumbles, forcing himself in and setting a brutal pace. You have to catch yourself on his thighs just so you don’t fall, his hand holding you in place. Hips thrusting into you, your throat gladly accepts the intrusion, gargling on his length. Tears pooling on your bottom lashes, spilling down your cheeks, making Rafe go harder on you. “Look at you. A mess of spit and tears for my cock. Think maybank can do this for you?”

He’s still on about what happened at the club, to tell the truth you were too. His jealousy causes mixed emotions in you. On one instance you like seeing how possessive he was for you, on the other he resorts to insults to get his way. You give him a rough suck, eyes meeting his. “Fuck.” Rafe pulls out, yanking you up and bending you over the kitchen island. His body covering yours as he lines himself up, you're so wet that you aren’t worried about the pain. You were sure that he would fit, no preparation needed. “Told you I would bend you over and fuck the shit out of you.”

With that he slammed into you, moaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He halts when he’s ball deep, giving you a moment to gather yourself, only a moment. His thrust pushes you further into the island, sure enough to leave marks on your hip tomorrow morning. You don’t even care, he feels too good, the feeling of him stretching you is overwhelming. Whimpers keep leaving your mouth. Rafe grabs your arms, using them as leverage to fuck you harder as he keeps them pinned behind you back by one hand.

“Harder.” You moan out. Your body tingling from all the pleasure he’s giving you, your peak creeping around the corner embarrassingly fast. “Yeah? My little slut wants me to fuck her faster?” The degradation goes straight to your clit, walls fluttering around his length. He goes harder for a few minutes before pulling out, a whine of protest leaving you. “You don’t get to cum yet.” Rafe’s hot breath in your ear, his body heat leaving you too.

He turns you around and hoists you onto the island, spreading your legs to step in between them. Left hand going to guide himself back into you, gliding across your fold to get you hip and bring you closer to the edge. In this angle he hits you deep, pushing against your cervix with each thrust.

Wrapping a hand around your neck, he squeezes lightly just enough to have your mind all fuzzy. You roll your eyes back grasping onto his bicep, manicured nails digging into his flesh leaving crest shaped marks. Rafe hisses at the sensation enjoying the flash of pain radiating in his arm. He starts fucking you hard, pounding into you having his dick spear into your g-spot. His unoccupied hand takes hold of your hair, pulling you till your foreheads are pressed together. His watch digging into the back of your neck, chested firmly pressed to each other, sharing each breath.

“Squeezing my dick so fucking good baby. Can you hear how bad your pussy needs it?” Rafe moans out. You can, you’re so wet that every time he fucks into you squelching fills the room. You open your mouth but a particular thrust makes you moan instead. The hand in your hair retracts, your head leaning back slightly, it comes down on your cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to really hurt but enough to have pain heat your face. You moan liking the feeling of the smack, mostly just enjoying the fact that he lost himself to the point of causing a bit of pain.

“You like me hitting you baby?” When you moan he smacks you again, annoyed that you won’t speak. “Use your words.” Rafe’s hand cupping your jaw staring at your fucked out expression, the hand around your neck tightens as his pace increases. You’re wetness mixing with his pre-cum leaking out of you, making a mess between you two. “I like it sir.” It comes out more like a breath but it counts. “My good little girl. You gonna cum for me? Hmm cum for daddy.” The new nickname was the nail in the coffin, the tightness in your belly finally snapping.

This feeling was a new thought. It was so intense and it didn’t feel like an orgasim that you’ve had before. Your walls squeeze rage so tight that it pushes him out of you, your release gushing out getting everything wet. “Did you just fucking squirt?” Rafe pushes his dick back in, fucking you harder than before. “Such a dirty fucking slut, squirting and getting everything wet.” Moans keep getting pulled from you, pouring out into his mouth as he sloppily kisses you. “Oh fu-fuck… I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it.” “Inside please.”

If telling him to cum inside you didn’t make him cum, it was the please that did it. Rafe ruts into you, hips stuttering as he fills you with each squirt of him cum. The warm feeling making you moan and flutter against him. He rides out both of your highs, hips finally stopping when they met yours, keeping you plugged. He want to stay there, wants to just feel you, wrapping his arms around your body. He’s enjoying knowing you are stuffed full of him, that his cum is so deep that it's forced out around him. Pulling out slowly you both hiss, you at the feeling of him spilling from you, and him as he’s fixated watching it come out.

Kissing you for a moment, Rafe pulls away walking to the sink, wetting a rag before going back to clean you up. The touch is so gentle that it barely hurts. He helps you put your clothes back on dragging the both of you over to the living room. He throws himself down on the couch taking you along with him, pulling you closer . “What happened last night.” You hand playing with his shirt stops. “Huh?” Moving your head to his shoulder you look him in the eyes. “You were crying last night. What happened?”

“Oh” Trying to shift away from him, being blocked by his arms tightening keeping you in place. “It was just some fight with my parents. It’s nothing.” “It is something, it made you cry.” You wish he would stop trying to pry, it’s not as if he cares. Honestly you expected him to flee once your clothes were back on. Pulling you to the couch was unexpected but asking you to talk about your parents was too much. Too personal. The lines of friendship and having feelings are already getting muddled as it is, this would just push it further.

“Hey.” It’s soft, lips brushing my forehead before he places a kiss there. “You said we have to communicate, right? Talk to me.” With a sigh you tell him everything. How since you were barely able to work you gave them all your money last night. “They expected me to just hand over 4,000 dollars like it’s nothing. Then when I finally put my foot down I’m a disappointment. Nothing I do anymore is right.” Rafe’s hand rubs your arms trying to soothe you.

“You aren’t a disappointment. If they can’t handle the fact you have your own life then fuck them.” You slap his chest lightly. “I’m serious. You’ve done more than enough for them, if they can’t see that then it’s their loss." A moment of silence, his words soaking in as you both lay there. “Thank you. I” You don’t know what else to say, fingers tracing shapes along his chest.

“I know what you’re feeling. My dad um he always lets me know how much of a fuck up I am. I know what it’s like to be a disappointment, you don’t even come close.” The confession felt foreign on his tongue. Rafe never opened up to anyone about his feelings, anytime he tried he was met with a “man up” or “this is how a man handles things”, he’s scared of what you will say. He feels you slip from his arms, closing his eyes not wanting to see you leave him alone, trying to calm the burning behind his eyelids.

“I don’t think you’re a failure.” Blue eye’s open to meet yours, there’s a hint of vulnerability from what you can see. You lean down pecking his lips, pulling away to get a better look of him. “You’re more than what he sees. It’s a shame he doesn’t take the time to notice.” It was your turn to leave him without words. He’s searching your eyes, your face, for any sign that you were lying. That you were pitying him after he devolved a hidden secret. He knows you’ve heard his Dad yell at him but this is different.

He can put on a mask after talking to Ward when he has to see you. This time he tore the mask off, wanting you to see him without the facade. “I don’t think that about you.” “Huh?” You respond with confusion filling your face. “I don’t think that you’re trash. You are probably the best thing to come out of Outer Banks.” He’s not lying or at least you don’t think he is. The look in his eyes tells you that he actually means it so you smile down at him. “The best thing huh.” You tease. “Don’t push it.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outer banks smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction

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xvysarene · 7 months ago

Text

𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You left me to drown.” Words: ~2.2k Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, Suggestive (mild)

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

The sky was awash with streaks of crimson and gold bleeding into the indigo expanse, signaling the impending dusk.

You stopped beside the colossal sea stack, admiring the breathtaking view. Waves crashed against the weathered rocks with gentle tranquility, a stark contrast to the turmoil within your heart.

“Are you done running?” a whispered voice carried away by the salty breeze.

Voice that you hadn’t heard for almost a year.

You couldn’t help the wry chuckle escaping your lips. “Last time I remember, I was the one waking up to an empty bed after a night of giving myself to you.”

Your skin involuntarily tingled with the residual sensation of his touch. His lips, warm and insistent, had traced a map of pleasure across your skin, exploring every curve and contour with a thoroughness that left you breathless and wanting more.

Months-long restrained emotion bubbled up to the surface. “Thomas couldn't find you, your aunt couldn't find you, even your bodyguard couldn't find you. So pray tell Rafayel, are you done running?”

Even in the fading light, you could see him taken aback by the hostility dripping from your words.

“I thought you would be happy to see me after all of this time.”

Exasperatedly you turned towards him, finding him standing several steps away from you.

He looked the same, if not even more handsome, and you hated that it made the fury inside your heart momentarily dim.

All-white button-up and trousers hugged his figure, one he knew that you loved as if it was a tactic to unravel you. He was a blank canvas in the explosion of colours surrounding you both.

“No notes, no messages, all I'm left with is a ridiculously priced ring adorning my finger.” You rubbed the now empty ring finger, still feeling the phantom weight of the gemstone.

He didn’t miss the gesture. “Did you not like the ring? Is that why you threw it away to the depth of the sea?”

“Is that all you can say after walking out of my life?” Your voice rising, annoyed at his nonchalance.

Annoyed at the absurdity of this situation like you hadn’t seen each other for months.

His brows furrowed at the accusation. “I did not walk out of your life, didn’t you receive the stuff I sent you?”

If he was referring to the plethora of stuff stacked inside a box under your bed collecting dust, then yes you did receive them.

You had attempted to decipher the meaning behind the items he sent each month, desperately trying to connect them with his whereabouts, but to no avail.

Even with the resources and connections Thomas had, Rafayel seemed to be always one step ahead, not leaving any breadcrumbs of where he might have gone next.

“You are present in all of my paintings; you remain a constant in my thoughts,” he continued when you remained silent.

Since his departure, new paintings arrived biweekly or monthly at Mo Art Studio, each delivery serving as a soothing balm for Thomas's weary soul.

It wasn't until his manager pointed out certain colour choices and what you had always considered random lines and patterns that you began to notice elements of yourself in his paintings; the shade of your irises, the main lines on your palms, the arch of your eyebrows watching his antics.

You gritted your teeth. “Provide a reasonable explanation for your lack of verbal communication.”

He tore away from your gaze, suddenly looking timid, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit of his whenever he felt nervous. “I embark on a self-discovery,” he began.

“I needed some time for internal reflection. It allows me to really dive deep into my thoughts and emotions without any external distractions—just let me explain first,” he said rapidly before you could chide him on thinking that you were a distraction.

Honestly, you couldn’t even voice out any response as that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“I've been overly reliant on you, and limiting our communication forced me to depend on my own. I want to be someone you can rely on instead; someone you can lean and depend on.”

“What about that woman, then?” you blurted out, the question heavy on the tip of your tongue ever since you had first come across the article.

It had been seven months and two weeks since his absence when you stumbled upon the article.

Normally, you weren't particularly tuned into the fashion industry, but somehow the news from Nexusburg had found its way onto your daily curated feed.

You had vaguely recognised the designer’s striking face and figure. Your attention, however, zoomed in on those unmistakable tendrils of dusky purple hair, despite most of his head being obscured by the dark tint of the limousine’s window.

“I commissioned her to create… something of great significance.” You sensed ambiguity lacing his words. “You know how reporters constantly fabricate stories that lack truth.”

“Do they, really? Lack of truth?”

Rafayel approached you with hesitant steps, fearing you might slip away from his advance.

“You left me to drown, Rafayel.” The words pierced through him like shards of glass. “Drowning in ‘what if’s’, drowning in my insecurity.”

As he drew near, he took in the multitude of emotions playing across your face: hurt, confusion, anger.

“You were gone for eight months. Eight months! Did you believe that merely slipping a ring onto my finger would make me feel better for your absence?”

The anger drained your body of energy as you sank onto the rock behind. Jagged edges kept you painfully aware that this was reality, not a mere figment of your imagination.

“I'm sorry,” he pleaded.

“You're selfish, Rafayel,” your voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You know my insecurity gets the best of me at times, and yet you didn't even stop to think for once on how I would feel…this is not the first time.”

You could see the moment realisation began to flicker in his bluish-pink eyes.

When Rafayel hired a new female bodyguard and began spending a significant amount of time with her, it left you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t until his own bodyguard confronted him in front of you, chastising him for neglecting your feelings and the lack of communication as she noticed your distress, that you finally felt at ease with their relationship. You understood their brother-sister dynamics.

But this time, days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months since you last saw him. Doubts began to plague your mind.

“It was nothing like that,” he protested. “Nexusburg was my last stop. I had thought of returning as soon as the designer finished her work.”

The article's prominently highlighted phrase 'SECRET ROMANCE' had stirred your restless heart to its breaking point that day.

You recalled standing atop the very sea stack towering behind you, witnessing the light glinting off the ring as you cast it into the unforgiving waves below.

"You went on a journey of self-discovery, but it seems like you've forgotten why you needed it in the first place.”

Rafayel's heart constricted with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel that way, I—I thought you would understand.”

Then, he retrieved something from his pocket, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“How…?!”

The marquise-cut lilac tanzanite glimmered with a captivating hue, casting a hypnotic light against the backdrop of twilight skies. Delicate accents of soft pink pearls surrounded the gemstone, lending a gentle touch to the intricate design.

It still managed to steal your breath away, its beauty as enchanting as ever.

“I specifically requested the bijoutier to blend my crushed scales into the band. It brings me comfort knowing that you’re safe, and knowing that you think of me whenever you touch it.”

He traced his finger along the smooth surface of the gemstone, the memory of him quietly placing the ring while you slept was as clear as yesterday in his mind.

The outline of your figure etched against the soft glow of dawn. Vivid shade of pinkish-red blemishes against your skin, evidence of the intense night shared between the two of you.

“It motivates me to finish my journey, so I can return to your embrace as soon as possible… Until you threw it away and I thought of the worst.”

You gazed at him in disbelief as he unveiled that the ring held far greater significance than you had ever imagined.

Who would have thought that he could charm the ring that way? Everything slowly made sense why he had immediately called you repeatedly moments after you threw the ring.

Then there was Aunt Talia rushing towards you, tousled and wide-eyed, far from her normally immaculate appearance as you made your way back down.

Barefooted, as if she had rushed out of her nearby house in a hurry.

He returned just two days after you had discarded the ring. When calls were left unanswered, he enlisted Thomas and his bodyguard.

You had threatened to call the police on Thomas when he couldn’t stop appearing in front of your front door. His bodyguard, the only one with a working mind it seemed, nodded in understanding and promptly ushered Thomas away from your doorstep.

“The ring reminds me of you,” longing laced your voice.

As you glanced down at the beauty, the sparkling gemstone and pearls seemed to reflect his hair and eye colour. Its elaborate design mirrored his complexity; intricate and beautiful yet multifaceted.

“And here I thought that you didn’t like the pearls I handpicked… I knew that it was too good to be true when the oysters were being friendlier than usual.”

Pale skin crimsoned as he snapped his mouth shut. His flow of thoughts always seemed to have a mind of their own, escaping from his mouth before he could rein them in.

It was frustrating how you still found it endearing, even at times like this. Perhaps the lover you knew hadn’t changed much after all.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, “Rafayel, you can't just waltz into my life again as if nothing happened.”

“I know I messed up, Y/N,” he admitted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “But I couldn’t stand away any longer.”

Despite your anger towards his actions, you couldn't deny how much you had missed him too.

He inched closer, giving you plenty of time to move away, however, you remained rooted to the spot.

Familiar strands of dusky purple hair, the very ones you had passionately tangled your fingers in as he ravished you the last time, just within arm's reach now.

A hand reached out, moving away your salty-breeze ruffled hair from covering your face.

“Why did you choose to see me again at last?”

Aunt Talia had invited you for a high tea, weeks after Rafayel's persistent attempts to see you finally ceased. Deep down, you knew that this was another attempt made by him.

But you remembered how the older woman had opened her doors whenever the insecurity became too strong during his absence, and it felt disrespectful to sever ties just because you weren't ready to face her nephew.

“Rafayel is coming,” Aunt Talia calmly said moments earlier.

The clink of her cup meeting the saucer caused you to jerk, tea sloshing around your rose-adorned cup dangerously.

“You’re free to leave anytime, I’m not going to force you to meet him.”

Looking up, you found orchid-coloured eyes boring into yours.

“Just keep in mind that he will never stop searching for you. Yes, he’s selfish, but you know how us, Lemurians, are,” she sighed then, “ We're relentless when it comes to protecting what we cherish. And you, my dear, hold a special place in his heart.”

“I needed to understand why you did what you did, why you left without a word,” you finally admitted.

Regret flickered his eyes. “I should have been more considerate.”

As his long fingers traced the curve of your jaw, your breath hitched. It had been too long since you felt his caress against your skin, and you found yourself longing for more.

Laboured breaths and dilated pupils told you that his body had reacted similarly. Finding the mutual desire in your eyes, he closed the gap between you without any word.

Lips collided in a fervent kiss. Fueled by a mix of pent-up pain and yearning. Each brush of his lips against yours was a plea for forgiveness, a desperate attempt to mend the fractures in your relationship.

Bodies molded together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle long overdue for completion. There was an insatiable hunger for each other that needed to be satisfied.

“I will wait for you, whenever you're ready to accept me again in your life,” he murmured gently as his lips parted from yours.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in those bright orbs you loved so much, and felt a tug at your heart. Silently, he took your hand and slid the ring back onto your finger, to its rightful place.

The same lips that you had just kissed earlier were now on top of the lilac gemstone.

“Keep this so I know that you’re safe, and whenever you’re ready—” Artist's palms cradled your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle, witnessing your beauty wearing the veil I've designed just for you."

As the light faded on the horizon, you realised that perhaps this love was worth fighting for, even if it meant navigating through the perilous waters of forgiveness and redemption.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x you #light angst #comfort #suggestive

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thegnomelord · 6 months ago

Note

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

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