#paint fumes got me

[kawhh]

hey so i have a little thought i wanted to share bc it’s eating me alive.

anyways, camgirl reader who quinny finds one night while she’s on live and his obsession starts there. it’s gradual tbh, it just starts with finding your instagram and gifting more and then when he finds out you like hockey he’s following your personal instagram from his personal instagram and he’s sliding in your dms bc he’s absolutely 100% gonna make it to a stream to show every single dude who watches you that he’s the one you’re giving yourself too

The fact that we know Q is always on his phone really does make this even more of a thought problem. He's so quick to like everything on instagram, there's a 100% guarantee he'd just stumble across the live feed.

He wouldn't think of it much when he first finds you, outside of spending a few minutes watching you. He'd get pulled away by a text, an email, another notification. But he finds himself coming back. Once a week, a few times a week, every single night.

He just can't get you out of his head. The way you trail your hands down your body, the way you speak. The way your eyes roll back in your head. The little whimpers you let out when you hit the right spot.

He's enamored by how you act. How you deal with people, how you react. How you obey. How happy you are to be told what to do, how you do everything without hesitation.

There's a problem though. You're doing it for other people. You're having private shows, you're talking to other people. You're letting other people dictate how you get off. It's not right. It should only be him.

They're timing it wrong, they're not giving you what you need to get off. They aren't being rough enough or they're being too rough with you. They don't care about you like he does. They're just looking to get off. He's not.

He needs your attention focused on him. He needs you to pay attention to him. He needs you to only need him. If he supports you, you won't need them. Won't need to do anything for them. You can focus on him.

He has the money to throw around. It's nothing for him, even if it wasn't being spent on you. He can see how much you appreciate it - how much you appreciate him.

Every single stream you're giving him more. Ignoring the other messages. Letting him guide you. Giving him full control. Letting him have control over the remote toys. You aren't even timing him. You're in that deep with him.

You wear a canucks jersey on stream one day? With his fucking name on it? There's no way you could ever know that it's him, but he can't just watch you now. You've pushed him over the edge. He needs his hands on your body, needs to drag his hands under it, pawing at your skin. He needs you to scream his name. Needs to fuck you with it on.

You'd clearly be down.

[mildarka]

Went to a museum today and bought painting supplies a couple of days ago :>

super excited to get back into painting again! It's been... years??? whoops???

I bought gouache tho! I've never used it before! I'll probs default back to acrylics but I'm excited to try them out :D

[running-in-the-dark]

super annoying how breathing always feels weird/harder after I paint my nails. don't think that used to happen but oh well whatever

[summerlycoris]

I dont have work next week! Or until february! Because im taking next week off to deal with bedbugs! Whoo!

[jester-lover]

What if the dorm leaders had a clumsy, klutzy, forgetful, and lazy female s/o that somehow knows how to do impossible tasks (like cooking up a feast, repairing a car, play 10 different instruments, getting good grades, etc) without even trying?

Dorm Leaders with a Talented yet Lazy Girlfriend

CWs: a tinge of jealousy, fluff and a little insecurity. Fem! Reader, s/o is basically one of those overpowered anime protags lol.

Riddle

He adores you so much as his girlfriend, but Riddle can’t help but be a little jealous of you. The sheer lack of effort you put into anything and everything you do compared to the overall success you have goes against everything he was raised to believe.

Riddle might push you to be a little more studious but ends up finding it meaningless. You simply have a talent for beating people who’ve put in considerably more effort than you have.

Those miraculous acts of preparation you do, such as preparing full meals and such, come in especially handy when his dorm is in chaos before a tea party.

Seeing you whip up the tea, set the table, and paint all the roses in record time, it was like seeing a phoenix rise from the ashes. He was so bewildered he just stood there, mouth slightly agape.

The klutzy nature you display fits right in with his dorm, so he isn’t put off by it at all.

“S/O, remember you’ve got a history test today…I know you’ll do great…”

Leona

At the start of your relationship, there is a comfort the two of you have in your shared sense of calm. You’re both chill people with slow lives, living comfortably. The second he learns how effortlessly you succeed at life, though? He can’t help but be a little jealous.

Very verbally supportive, but silently fuming until he realizes just how ridiculous he’s being. Then he’s bragging about you to anyone who’s even a little curious. 

Leona’s event planning skills are…unfortunate to say the least. So whenever the two of you have guests over or are hosting some type of event, you take over. 

Clumsiness is also something he isn’t used to; lion beastmen are agile in nature, so he tends to help you in terms of holding things and overall balance. Leona insists you hand over any heavy or easily breakable object to him.

“Do you want me to carry that? Your hands are shaking again…”

Azul

You two definitely met because he deemed you an easy target for one of his contracts, only to be embarrassed and slightly enamored when you broke apart each aspect of it and tried to negotiate a better deal for yourself.

He respects how multifaceted you are, especially when it comes to your talents. Azul might even employ you to play light background music for the lounge. 

If your talents extend to sports, he’s going to beg for advice.

“So you don’t even practice or anything? And you made the team? What do you mean you’ve never played—

On the topic of grades, he gets a little freaked out. You’ve been here for like a month, and you’ve learned all of Twisted Wonderland’s history already? Are you some kind of malfunctioning robot?

Azul also doesn’t care about your lazy nature; nap around his office all you want.

Kalim

You two are quite similar in disposition and overall vibes, but when it comes to grades, you’re way better off than he is.

The amount of stress you both put Jamil in before you locked in and cleaned out that entire dorm was unbelievable. I mean, a full-course dinner that he didn’t have to make; he’s begging you to marry Kalim at this point.

He would be the type to leave you sticky notes reminding you of your tasks and goals, with little encouraging messages.

“Don’t forget you have a presentation today! How’d you do all 20 slides in ten minutes? Who cares? You’ll do great! :)”

Vil

This would be a tricky situation.

Vil believes in pushing yourself to reach your ideal goals; to sweat and tire is to prove your worth to him. So to see you basically lose at every step of the way and still win at life is unbelievable. I mean, you forget every quiz date you get and still score hundreds every single time.

Vil also appreciates your musical skills; he’ll encourage you to play complex melodies as he gets ready in the morning, waking him up for the day ahead.

His own schedule takes time from his studies, but he also scores high on everything. He thinks your grades come from a good sense of intuition.

“Schatz, how could you possibly have scored a hundred on this when you skipped all but 2 classes?”

Laziness is something he dislikes overall, but he can’t help but find you adorable when you drift off to sleep in his dorm room as opposed to getting some job done for Crowley. He likes making you feel safe.

Idia

He thinks you’re a natural good luck charm; I mean, everything you do seems to fall into place! 

Idia is also kind of lazy, so he won’t complain about your work ethic. Your clumsy nature, on the other hand, worries him because of all the one-of-a-kind tech in his room.

Once Idia finds out how good you are at, well, practically everything, he’ll get a little self-conscious. I mean, you don’t even have to try, and you just kinda win? Why stay with a shut-in like him?

You shut that down pretty quick, and he learns to just enjoy your talented self. He’s got a girlfriend; he’s already like, halfway more successful than most of his internet buddies.

Idia would adore it. If you played some type of electric instrument, like a synth or an electric guitar, he’d buy you the best one on the market just to hear some of his favorite intro songs played by you.

“S/O, how does a keytar sound? Of course, you already know how to play that.”

Malleus

Grades and all that don’t really matter to Malleus, as he’s also just naturally talented at everything, similarly to you. It's your clumsy, human nature that enchants him. Fae like him are naturally balanced, elegant, and refined; they don’t just fall over or knock things down like you have a habit of doing.

“You’ve just done what humans call ‘eating dirt,’ did you not, Beastie? Intriguing…”

The concept of laziness is also new to him; he would have fun dragging you along to your tasks and seeing the looks of shock on people’s faces as you come riding into class on the Prince of the Briar Valley’s shoulders.

Malleus is also probably trained in several instruments, and he’d love to play duets or help you acquire more rare, niche musical tools.

People who’ve been around as long as he has don’t often deem things impossible, but the shocking speed at which you managed to fix the decaying Ramshackle dorm, cook dinner each night for Grim and yourself, and deal with everyone’s problems, including your own, has him questioning if you’re human at all.

[stabbedthrutheeye]

i wish i could paint my nails without having a nuclear meltdown from sensory issues

[rqnarok]

ANIMALS | old man!logan x fem!reader

summary: old man!logan catches you trying to finger yourself on his bed...

cws/tags: smut, mdni! literally porn w/o plot. old man!logan. fem!reader. daddy kink. exhibitionsm kink. unspecified age gap. petnames (kid, darlin’, baby, etc). logan calls himself ‘old man’. oral (f receiving). not proofread. wc: 2k

Logan can’t stand you. 

Ever since you enrolled as Charles’ caregiver, you’ve been a little bug crawling on his skin–itching him in bits.

Logan fucking hates how your generation seems to put so much trust in life like it isn’t all absurdity. He despises how you always seem to be bubbly all the time; breathlessly giggling at the unfunniest shit he had ever watched in his life. He loathes your eagerness to make him smile or laugh - he detests you and your youth. 

Or so that’s what he’s been telling himself.

Logan puts all these decoys to bury what he truly feels under the soil–like he always does throughout his life. Tries to hide how his stomach flutters when you tend his wounds, or simply when you get close to him. It suffocates him, you. 

You who cooks the very luscious foods for him and Charles every living day–you who take care of Logan as he has his occurring nightmares–you, who is the life he needed all along. 

You who had him ashamed of himself when he thought of thoughts of you. Visions of your beautiful figure flustering under Logan. He bet you were soft under those clothes, every inch of you. Bet you smelled better if he got nearer. 

So there you have it, false pretense. 

Deep down, he knows he’s doing everything for the sake of you. Including this week, when he has to stay in Texas for a few days just to earn extra pennies–again, for you. That’s why he got your picture patched in the car rear-view mirror, after all. 

Today, because of several reasons he had not expected, Logan went home a day earlier than what he told you. 

When he got home, by home he meant an abandoned smelting plant in Northern Mexico - he thought you were already tucked in your sheets, deep in a slumber. 

Oh, he was wrong because when he gets in front of his own bedroom door, it was slightly open with the sound of sighing now and then. He vaguely creaks the door open to paint a bigger picture of what’s inside as he hears another sigh, no, a moan.

Logan swears his breath got stuck in his throat when he catches the sight of you. Your eyelids shut tightly as your body jerked under the covers, another noise escaping your faintly gaping lips. He also notes the slow bumps and bulges in the sheets, moving in a repeated pattern of up and down–your head thrown back almost hitting the headboard. 

Are you touching yourself in his fuckin’ bed? His nostrils fumed. 

He called your name.

No reaction. 

“Kid.”

Logan enters the dim room and gives the bed a light shake. 

His act makes you yelp and jolt in surprise; sitting as much as you could in the unorganized space - your hair configured messily - cheeks flushed red. Your bottom lip was red and swollen as if you had bitten something fierce. 

With doe-eyes, you devour the sight of the man before you: Logan in his old white tank top, his belt loosened, his graying beard complemented his face so perfectly, and lastly, his deceitful expression. 

“What ‘re you doin’, huh?”

Gulping down your own spit, you shrank in on yourself, “L-Logan! I-I’m sorry! I cannot sleep… it’s just - your sheets. The- They smelled so nice. Smelled like you.” You find yourself spiraling in this humiliating situation, “You’re h-home.”

Logan’s eyes glance down into your nightgown, then to the bulge in the covers. Your hands, he supposed. 

Fuck it, he thought. Logan is already sure he’s going to hell after all. Why not grab a sweet treat to pile it onto his stack of sins?

“Show me what you were doin’.” His voice is deep as he gives the order, making you shiver in arousal. 

Still, with utter shyness, you kick the covers to reveal your body. You showed the full piece of your sheer nightgown - your white cotton panties shoved down to your thighs - your hands placed on top of your pussy, which was wet and leaking onto his sheets. 

Logan stared at you for a moment then lurked forward. Oh, you could see he was starting to bulge up too. 

“Keep goin’.” 

The high-pitched noise that left you was embarrassing but it did not stop you from doing what you’re told. How can you? When the man you had been crushing on, your employer, is looking down at you as if you’re his last meal. 

You pull your legs up as much as you can, before inserting your finger back into your wet hole, letting your eyes linger on Logan’s face. With his aging lines, he looks more angry and grumpy, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled. Beyond that, he’s focused on where your hand moved. It was so hot—you had never experienced something like this and it felt amazing—but it was not enough. 

“A-ah, please. Help– I need–” You let out a plea as you try to run your thumb over your puffy clit. You moan; pleasure rushed through you like a strike of electricity, gasping and keening.

Logan’s head falls forward, as if surrendering. Really, fuck it. He can’t hold back anymore. 

After a moment, he gets on the bed–making it let out a noise as he gets closer and closer, “Wha’s that, baby? Ya’ need more?” Logan grabs you by the hips and drags you closer to him, “Need Daddy’s fingers, ‘s that it?”’ 

“Y-yeah! Need you, so so bad.” The tips of his fingers rubbing your inner thighs and the ghosting feel of his hot breath make you lose any of your critical thinking. Burning your cheeks even warmer than they already were. 

Logan gets harder as he wonders how many times you have been doing this before. Trying to finger yourself on his bed while he was away—while he was earning money for you.   

A ‘mhm’ is all he grumbled out before his mouth was on your pussy, lapping at your labia and you cry out for the hundredth time.

“Ah!” There you finally understand why everyone was all in a rage about getting eaten out. This is everything, indeed. 

”Dirty fuckin’ girl. Touching herself in an old man’s bed.” Hearing him, you look down to grab a handful of Logan’s turning gray hair and hike up your nightgown even more as Logan’s tongue pushes inside you. Literally, devouring you. 

“L-Logan- ’M gon’ cum! ‘M cumming!”

The older man hums in response, squeezing your plump thighs—feeling like a goddamn animal. Your back arches on the mattress while one of his hands creeps up to fondle your breast, and you explode. 

He could feel your cum drizzling out and even got some of it on his scruffy beard. The world is still spinning around you but he does not give you a chance to rest. Logan shoves your legs higher and places kisses on your sensitive button. “Logan…”

“Not my name, sweet’art.” You cry out when you feel one of his fingers pushing into your hole - how it barely fuckin’ fits makes your body tremble with all the pleasure coursing through your veins.

He chuckles in glory as he glances up at your teary-eyed expression, still pushing his finger into reaching deeper, “Yeah- Your fingers too small?” Logan reads you so easily, “Need Daddy’s fingers to the job, huh?” He murmured, teasing his tongue around where his finger stretched you. 

When he bobs his head up, you can see how his beard is glistening with your slick under the moonlight, “Y’sure you want this, kid?”

“Y-yeah!” You said embarrassingly quickly. But oh, little do you know, this is the best thing in Logan’s life. 

Logan is breathing hard as he gets out of his clothes, nodding and grinning at you, “Been wantin’ do to this f’r a while.” 

You gasp when he climbs after you, spreading himself out above you, “Y-you do?” 

Legs wrapping around him, the both of you slid together against each other and Logan finally kissed you.

His tongue wrestled around your mouth, nipping and licking—ravaging you so sweetly, “Y’ve no idea.” You could feel his fingers probing at your heat. They pressed inside gently, only the tips of it, teasing you. Making you moan into his lips. 

“D-Daddy- Gimme more, please—” He was about to continue teasing you but hearing you say that word so meekly, gives him a whiplash. 

He groans out strings of curse words before easily manhandling you into a position, “F-Fuck. Daddy’s gon’ give it t’ya.” Logan rolls you into facing the wall—himself behind you. 

“Ya’ like this, darlin’?” You could feel his hips circling, his large cock sliding down between your thighs. He continues nipping at your ear as he rains you with praises, “C’mon. Use your big girl words, baby. Let Daddy hear ya’.”

You can’t even breathe right and end up whimpering in response, “Yeayeayeah… Like it a lot!”

Logan hummed, pleased at your reply—his girl being so fuckin’ obedient, “Aight’ breath for me now. Jus’ let Daddy slip right in? Ya’ want that? Wan’ to make your old man happy?”

Your head bobs erratically as your smaller fingers wrap around his; Logan’s gone, he pushes inside of you with a throaty groan. The head slipped inside easily. You can’t believe how good it feels when he stretches you. As he keeps pushing, his large hands palm your chest and pinch hard your peaking nipples. 

“T-Tha’s it, sweet girl. Take Daddy’s cock.” And you’re gone too, your eyes rolled back while Logan ruts into you in short, sharp motions, easing your figure with kisses to your neck and shoulders.

Tears fall down your cheeks in utter bliss, “Feel s’good, Daddy.” Your whole body is slick with sweat, baby hairs sticking on your forehead, and Logan’s chest is glued to your back. 

He fills you up into the brim and it is almost like you’re overflowing with pleasure. He moves you again so that you feel more comfortable, “Gon’ go little faster, that okay, kid?”

You sob into his pillows and nod, “Yeah… Daddy, please, yeah—”

He pulls out far enough that even the head barely remains inside. Then he drives in deep again. Hard and fast, pounds into you, making your skin slap as your bodies meet. He sets a mean, cruel pace. He slips out so, so slowly, only to thrust in as hard and as fast as the very first time. 

“Ah, fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ good, so tight on Daddy’s cock,” You blush at how Logan grunts, voice hitching at every thrust. 

Logan presses himself up against you, his chest feeling so impossibly wide and thick on your back. His arms wrapped around your body; one hand toys with your nipples, and the other gives your clit rough, hard jerks, ripping even more pleasure out of you.

“Daddy, Daddy, ah—” you plea while turning your head to watch him with hald-lidded eyes.

“Keep sayin’ it, baby, keep sayin’ that,” Logan growls between kisses and latches into you. “Say it. Tell Daddy who’s fuckin’ this pussy open.”

“Daddy!” You whine louder for him. “Daddy, Da- ah!”

Just as you could feel the orgasm being punched out of you for the second time, Logan growls again, snapping his hips for a few last hard thrusts.

You feel how Logan fills you up as deep as he could, his warm cum stuffing you—cock pulsing as the both of you came, hard. 

Logan falls onto you suddenly, putting all his bulky figure on top of you, the man’s whole body going lax in the after-orgasm bliss. 

The older man huffs over and over; you smile at the sight, you don’t mind at all. His weight feels safe and comforting, protecting you from everything else.

Still, you are relieved when he rolls himself off you. More relieved when his lips finds yours in instant, sensually kissing you—making you know how much you mean to him. 

Though, you are not relieved when he comes to the shameful confrontation. 

“Y’do this often? Touching y’rself on my bed, kid?” 

[calypso-rt]

01 | acts of service

| one | | two | | three | | four | | five |

and how Rafe shows it

-> Rafe x F!Reader

Rafe Notices Things

The morning air is crisp, the kind that makes you want to curl back into bed and forget responsibilities exist. But life doesn’t work that way, so here you are: half-asleep, wrapped in a hoodie, trudging toward your car with coffee in one hand and your bag slipping off your shoulder.

You slide into the driver’s seat with a sigh, reaching for your keys. The second you turn the ignition, your brain finally registers something is off.

The gas tank.

It’s full.

That’s impossible.

You distinctly remember last night: running late, exhausted, and fully intending to stop for gas but ultimately deciding, Eh, future me will deal with it. Well, future you is here, and somehow… the problem is already solved.

Your eyebrows furrow as you pull out your phone. You definitely didn’t fill up the tank. There’s only one person who could have.

You: You filled my gas tank?

The three dots pop up immediately.

Rafe: You run on fumes. Got tired of watching.

You roll your eyes, even as something warm unfurls in your chest.

You: You’re so dramatic. Rafe: You’re so irresponsible.

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile. Before you can reply, another text comes through.

Rafe: Check the glove compartment.

You do, confused, until your fingers brush against something small and familiar. Pulling it out, you find a pack of your favorite gum, a brand you only ever remember to buy after you’ve already run out.

Your heart does a weird little flip.

You: Are you stalking me? Rafe: If I was, I’d be charging you for all these services, sweetheart.

You huff, tucking the gum into your pocket.

You: Thanks, I guess.

You can feel his smirk through the phone.

You: Just don’t make this a habit, Cameron. Rafe: Too late.

You shake your head, start your car, and drive off. And even though you won’t say it, you spend the entire ride smiling.

Because maybe, you kind of like it.

...

Rafe the Protector

The festival is insane.

It had been fine at first: the air buzzing with energy, music thrumming through the ground, neon lights painting the night in a kaleidoscope of color. You’d been laughing, drink in hand, caught up in the electric joy of it all.

But then, somewhere between one act ending and another beginning, the crowd shifted.

People pushed in from all sides, bodies jostling, voices blending into an overwhelming roar. You lost track of where you were, of where anyone was. One second, Rafe had been right beside you, and the next...

He’s gone.

Your chest tightens.

You don’t panic easily. You don’t do helpless. But right now, all you can see is a sea of strangers, pressing in too close, blocking every path, and—

A hand wraps firmly around your wrist.

You flinch, but before the fear can fully hit, a voice cuts through the noise.

“Hey, hey—got you.”

Rafe.

The relief is instant, crashing over you like a wave. He’s there, standing solid and steady in front of you, his grip grounding, reassuring.

“I—” Your voice falters. You hadn’t realized just how hard your heart was pounding until now.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he shifts closer, his other hand pressing lightly against your back, guiding you in. “You okay?” His voice is low, only meant for you.

You nod quickly, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. “Yeah, I just—”

“Got caught up.” He finishes for you, watching you closely. “I know.”

The crowd surges again, another rush of bodies pushing past. Instinctively, you grab onto him this time. Rafe doesn’t hesitate. His arm slides fully around you, pulling you in against him, a barrier between you and the chaos.

“We’re getting out of here,” he says, tone leaving no room for argument.

You let him lead.

He doesn’t shove or fight his way through, just moves with quiet confidence, navigating the crowd effortlessly. And the whole time, he doesn’t let go.

Not even when you’re finally in the clear, standing at the edge of the festival grounds where the air is easier to breathe.

Not even when you should let go, when the moment has passed.

Instead, he looks down at you, brows slightly furrowed. “You good now?”

You exhale, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks.”

His thumb brushes absently over the back of your hand before he finally, reluctantly, lets go.

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he didn’t just anchor you when you needed it most.

You don’t mention it.

But later that night, long after the festival has ended, you’ll still remember the feeling of his hand in yours.

...

Rafe the Caretaker

It starts with a knock.

A sharp, insistent knock that makes you groan because moving right now feels impossible. You’re bundled under a mountain of blankets, head throbbing, nose stuffed, body aching in that feverish way that makes everything miserable.

You ignore it.

But then, the door opens anyway.

“Seriously?” Your voice is hoarse, but it’s all the protest you can manage as Rafe strides in, arms full of stuff.

“Did you think I wasn’t gonna show up?” He kicks the door shut behind him, setting his haul down on your nightstand.

You blink at the pile: medicine, soup from that overpriced deli he likes, some kind of fancy tea that looks like it belongs in a wellness spa. There’s even a bottle of Gatorade, your favorite flavor.

You sniffle. “How did you even know I was sick?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, tugging off his jacket. “You think I don’t notice when you don’t text me back?”

You had gone suspiciously radio silent, but still. “That doesn’t mean you had to—”

“Yes, it does,” he interrupts, giving you a pointed look. “Because you suck at taking care of yourself.”

You scowl. “I do not.”

“You do,” he counters easily, already unpacking the medicine. “And now, I’m in charge.”

You open your mouth to argue, but it’s useless. Rafe’s already grabbed the thermometer, tapping the end of it checking if it works.

“Open up.”

You glare. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re sick.” His expression is flat, but there’s something undeniably soft about it. Like even if he’s being bossy about it, he actually cares.

You grumble but let him take your temperature anyway.

When he sees the number, he mutters something under his breath—probably cursing you for not calling him sooner—before reaching for the cold medicine.

“You’re taking this.” He hands you the dose. “Then drinking all of that tea.”

You eye the steaming cup warily. “That looks disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it.” He shoves the cup into your hands, then grabs the extra blanket from the chair and drapes it over you.

You blink up at him. “Are you tucking me in right now?”

Rafe scoffs. “Shut up.” But he still pulls the blanket snug around your shoulders, knuckles grazing your cheek as he checks your forehead.

His hand is warm. Gentle. You lean into it without thinking.

Rafe stills for half a second, then just shakes his head, muttering, “Pathetic.” But his voice is softer than before.

He stays.

Puts on some terrible daytime TV. Grumbles about your taste in shows. Forces you to eat the soup even when you insist you’re not hungry.

And at some point, when you’re drifting in and out of sleep, you feel the weight of him settle beside you on the bed, his arm slung over the back of your pillows like he belongs there.

“You better not get sick,” you mumble, voice thick with exhaustion.

Rafe huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”

But he doesn’t move.

And when you wake up later, still feverish but a little less miserable, he’s still there, fast asleep, head tilted back against the headboard.

As if taking care of you was the most natural thing in the world.

...

When it Really Matters

It’s one of those days.

The kind where everything is too much. Where your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting from exhaustion, stress pressing into your ribs like a vice. You’re running on fumes, eyes stinging from holding back frustrated tears, and the idea of dealing with one more thing makes your stomach churn.

So you don’t text him.

You don’t call.

You just sit there, curled up in the dim light of your apartment, staring blankly at the pile of unfinished work on your desk, the notifications stacking up on your phone, the way your hands shake just a little from how tense you are.

Then there’s a knock.

A familiar one. Steady. Insistent.

You don’t answer, but the door opens anyway.

And there he is.

Rafe takes one look at you and his whole expression shifts. The teasing, the smug confidence, all of it softens into something quieter. Something only you get to see.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just sets a takeout bag on the table, tosses your phone onto the couch to silence the endless buzzing, and then crouches down in front of you.

“You ate today?”

You try to lie, but your silence gives you away.

Rafe exhales through his nose, shaking his head, but he doesn’t scold you. Doesn’t tease. He just grabs the takeout bag, pulls out the food, and sets it in front of you like it’s not up for debate.

“I’m not hungry,” you murmur.

Rafe doesn’t even blink. “Don’t care.”

Your lip wobbles. You hate that it wobbles.

His brows pinch together, and then he’s shifting forward, arms hooking under your knees and around your back before you can protest.

“Rafe—”

“Shh.” He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you over to the couch and settling you in his lap, wrapping you up in his arms like it’s second nature. Like he’s done this before.

And you don’t even fight it.

You should. Should push him away, should pretend you don’t need this. Shouldn’t let yourself sink into him like he’s the only thing keeping you from unraveling.

But you do.

You fist your hands in his shirt, bury your face in the crook of his neck.

And he just holds you.

One hand rubs slow, soothing circles on your back. The other tucks into your hair, fingertips pressing into your scalp in a way that makes you melt.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “Just breathe, alright?”

You inhale. Shaky, uneven.

Rafe’s arms tighten.

And for the first time all day, you finally exhale.

...

Realizing this is Love

It sneaks up on you.

Not in some grand, sweeping declaration. Not in the way you’ve always imagined love would feel.

No.

It happens in the little things.

Like now.

You’re sitting on Rafe’s couch, bundled up in one of his hoodies, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you watch him move around the kitchen. He’s grumbling under his breath, muttering something about how you never stock anything useful in your fridge, rummaging through the cabinets like he owns the place.

It’s nothing new.

Rafe has a habit of doing things without being asked: grabbing your keys when you forget them, keeping a water bottle in his car because he knows you never bring one, making sure you actually eat even when you insist you’re fine.

And it’s so effortless. So casual.

But tonight, something about it hits differently.

Because this isn’t just him being overprotective. This isn’t just him being stubborn or bossy or playing some game.

This is just… him.

And it always has been.

The realization settles in your chest like a slow, warm ache.

Rafe comes back with a plate, nothing fancy, just toast with the exact amount of butter you like, because of course he knows that. He sets it on the coffee table and flops down next to you, throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Eat,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You don’t move. Just watch him.

He frowns. “What?”

You shake your head, lips pressing together, heart pounding at the weight of what’s suddenly sitting between you.

“Nothing,” you murmur.

His eyes narrow slightly. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re always weird,” you counter.

Rafe snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s a flicker of something behind them, like maybe he feels it too. Like maybe he knows what you aren’t saying.

You could say it.

Could lean in, cup his face, tell him what you just realized.

But instead, you reach for the toast.

You take a bite.

Rafe watches you, something unreadable in his expression, but then he just shakes his head and looks away, like he knows this is something you’re not ready to say out loud yet.

And somehow, that just makes it even more real.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi !! i was thinking about logical by olivia rodrigo when she sings "said i was too young i was too soft, can't take a joke can't get you off" and it got me thinking of rupert campbell black x younger!reader getting into a huge argument about something and he says that to her in the heat of the moment and then maybe they end up having make up sex idk

thank you <33

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. angst. so much use of the word darling. this might be a tiny bit toxic, but...

word count - 2.3k

authors note - title taken from logical by olivia rodrigo (which fits him so well, by the way). thank you for this request, erica!! it works so beautifully. I tried not to make it too toxic, but I think rupert is a tiny bit toxic, regardless. oops. and yet we love him anyway.

masterlist. inbox.

“What’s the matter?”

You’re curled up in the armchair by the fire, cup of tea warming the palms of your hands as the flames warm your toes. You’re still wearing your ballgown, hair still pretty in its updo and makeup still perfectly done.

“Darling,” you hear come from the kitchen, where he’s no doubt pouring himself a whiskey.

You stay quiet, taking a sip from your mug and sitting in your frustration.

Rupert appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of you. The first thing he observes is how cosy you look. The second thing he observes is how annoyed you look.

“Darling,” he repeats, walking over to kneel in front of you. “What’s the matter? Did you not have a good time?”

You’ve gotten very good at picking your battles with Rupert. Sometimes, you let go of whatever’s bothering you to save yourself the aggravation of an argument. Other days, much like today, you just can’t seem to keep a lid on your anger.

“I was having a good time until you made me feel stupid in front of everyone.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

You look down at him, his wide eyes staring up at you with genuine confusion painted across them.

“When I told that story about the horses, at the dinner table. I saw that look you gave Bas. It was like you were laughing at me, not with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? You did the same thing a few weeks ago at Lizzie’s. You so easily undermine me when I’m speaking with a look or a laugh. That’s all it takes, and you don’t even realise.”

“Darling, I’m just joking with my friends. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so personally. It’s a non issue that you’re making into an issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well I could argue that it’s not fair that you’re telling me that I make you feel stupid. That’s an accusation that’s not fair.”

He gets up, moving to stand by the fire with his glass in his hand.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing me,” you say quietly, squeezing the mug tighter in your hands.

“Because you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” you retort quickly, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Look, darling. Maybe this is just our gap in life experience rearing its head. You’ve got a lot to learn, and sometimes it shows.”

“You know, our age gap only becomes a problem when you make it a problem. You want a sweet, young girlfriend until she acts her age, and then it’s an issue.”

“Because you can be so mature, and then all of a sudden you’re throwing a tantrum like a child,” he fumes, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re young and you’re soft, I’m not oblivious to that. But sometimes you can’t take a joke - or sometimes you miss the joke completely. It’s not my fault if you twist that into me making you feel stupid.”

You put your mug down onto the side table, willing yourself not to get upset. You stand up so you’re no longer below him, still keeping a distance between the two of you. Breathing in deeply, you exhale shakily in an attempt to keep yourself and your composure together.

“You’re acting like my age is something that came up later, Rupert - and that’s not true at all. You knew how old I was when we met. You knew I was significantly younger than you.”

“Yes, I did. Maybe I just wasn’t aware of how often it would come up as a point when we argued.”

He leans against the fireplace wall, sharp features illuminated by the light of the flames. All that can be heard are the sounds of wood crackling and two sets of lungs heaving for breath.

“You’re making me feel like I’m insane,” you burst suddenly, sick of biting your tongue. “You’re acting as if everything is all my fault. When will you take some responsibility, Rupert? When will you hold your hands up and say ‘do you know what - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it’, hmm? Why do I always have to apologise?”

“Darling-”

“No, I’m sick of it. One minute, you’re telling me our age gap doesn’t matter because we’re in love and I’m mature and intelligent and everything you need - and the next minute you’re treating me like some sort of virginal lamb that doesn’t know the difference between left and right. Make up your mind, because you’re making me dizzy.”

“If you’re so sick of it, why are we doing this? If you are so sick of it, you know where the door is, darling. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to start falling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Your sadness seems to be uncontrollable, stemming from your chest and humming through your veins. You’re surprised you’re not turning blue, a perfect personification of sorrow.

You stand your ground and cry in place, refusing to move to him for comfort. Eventually, he breaks first, unable to watch you sob any longer.

“My darling,” he soothes, striding across the space to wrap his arms around you. “My sweet girl.”

His nicknames only make you cry harder, burying your face in his crisp white dress shirt and undoubtedly getting makeup all over it. He doesn’t care, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other wraps around your waist to pull you closer.

“That was really mean,” you blubber into his chest. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

“No,” he reassures, rocking you in his arms gently. “No, darling. No. God, that’s the last thing I want. Honest.”

“Why did you say it then?”

Your voice is muffled, face still pressed against him. He smells so familiar and masculine and Rupert that it only makes you cry more.

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses, squeezing you tighter. “I shouldn’t have. You know me, I- I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Your fingers are gripping the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

“I know, darling. I know.”

You sniffle as you pull back slightly to look up at him, surprised to see his eyes teary and glistening.

“Do you love me, Rupert? Because, because- if you… if you really wanted me to leave… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, cradling your face in his hands. “Of course I love you. The fact you even have to ask breaks my heart. I don’t want to you leave - I love having you here. And god forbid, if something bad did happen between us… we both know we wouldn’t stick around and pretend that this is something it’s not.”

Part of you knows that he’s good at this - saying exactly what you want and need to hear. The rest of you is stupidly relieved, letting his words wash over you like a balm on a scrape.

“I didn’t like it when you laughed at me tonight. One, because it made me feel stupid, and two… because I don’t want people to doubt us. You know what they’re all like. They see the tiniest crack and dig their fingers into it until it’s a gaping wound that they can all gossip about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs as he sweeps his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. “I shouldn’t give them any ammunition. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. There was no malicious intent on my part, I swear - it was just a joke between friends. You know Bas adores you.”

“I know,” you half chuckle. “He tells me every single time he sees me.”

“Exactly,” Rupert grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But no one adores you the way I do. I can promise you that.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, meaning you can feel his warm skin against your cheek, comforting and familiar.

“Rupert?”

He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Will you stop bringing up my age when we argue? I don’t ever mention that you’re older than me, but you’re so quick to call me young or inexperienced or a baby.”

“Yes, darling. I’m sorry that it seems like a focal point for us - it’s not, I swear.”

“You kissed me.”

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me, that day in the garden. Not the other way around. You made the move first. I’m not some innocent girl chasing after you because I’m naive and too young to know any better.”

“I know that. I kissed you because I thought you were the most magnificent girl I’d ever met. I still do.”

He tightens his arms around you, gently rocking you like a child again.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” you mumble, sighing deeply.

“Neither do I, darling. We’re finished with the arguing now. Promise.”

Rupert takes half a step back, to give him a better look at you. You still look beautiful, even if you do have mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smudged across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss you.

“I love you too,” you manage to mutter against his lips, kissing him back as hard as you can.

He kisses you carefully, methodically, as if he’s worried he’ll spook you and you’ll take off running. He’s keeping you close, hands gripping your hips to plaster your body to his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging the dark locks with a little too much force, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

Rupert walks you both towards the fire, lips never parting from yours. His hand finds the back of your dress, pulling down the zip in one smooth movement. It falls to your feet, kicked to the side in disregard. He sits down in the armchair and pulls you with him so you’re straddling his lap, legs on either side of his hips and arms thrown around his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing patterns up and down your bare back.

You press kisses into his neck and down his chest, the hair there tickling your face as you do it. Your hips have slowly started to move against his, both of you out of breath as the stakes get higher and higher.

He undoes the zip on his trousers, smirking when you whimper at his knuckles brushing your wet core. He pulls them down just enough to free himself, not worried about getting completely undressed.

“I want these off,” he instructs, pulling at the waistband of your underwear. “Now, darling.”

You wiggle them down your legs, kicking them off one foot in the direction of your dress. You’re fully naked in his lap, while he’s still wearing his shirt unbuttoned with his trousers halfway down his thighs. You both look debauched, more scandalous than you could ever imagine. You wish for a moment that you had a mirror, desperate to watch the way you need each other.

You take matters into your own hands and line him up, sinking down slowly so you can savour the stretch. It burns just right, the slight ache a welcome intrusion.

“Shit, darling. That’s it. Good girl.”

Tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, you start to wind your hips up and down - gently at first, and then with more vigour. Rupert lets his head loll back into the chair, exposing that gorgeously tanned neck of his. You nip at it with your teeth, grinning when he groans all low and slow.

He cups your tits, squeezing and pinching as he begins to buck his hips to meet yours. You’re determined to do all the work yourself, but he can read your body language like a book, whether you like it or not. He knows you’re getting tired, but will point blank refuse to admit it.

One of his hands slinks between you to rub firm circles onto your clit, both of you moaning when you clench down around him. He can tell you’re almost there, just needing the tiniest push to throw you over the edge.

“There we go, good girl. My good girl. All mine.”

That’s all you need, back arching and legs shaking as you reach your climax. Yours triggers Rupert’s, the most delicious groan leaving his mouth as he comes. He looks like a Greek God, all chiseled and glistening in the firelight.

Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you breathe him and try to calm your pounding heart. You can feel his heart battering against his chest where it’s pressed against yours, bodies tangled together in the armchair.

The two of you catch your breath for a while, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the company of the other. Eventually, Rupert carries you upstairs, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your hair as he does it.

I was wrong, earlier, you think as he tucks you into bed and immediately climbs in next to you, plastering himself to your back. No one could love me like Rupert does.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, even if I sound like a broken record…

reblogs are gold dust to writers!! reblog the fics you read and enjoy, and your favourite writers will keep writing them for you!! it really is that simple!! <3

[0x-cinder]

GN!Reader gets lost for a night. Law isn't very happy when they find their way back to the Polar Tang the next morning....

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, angst, a bit suggestive if you look hard enough.

"I would have torn that town to pieces"

You strolled through the town on your way back to Polar Tang, your head throbbing, an after-effect of the night before. You couldn't remember much after Ikkaku handed you your 6th shot of the night. I thought you remembered dancing with her? Or at least…Dancing with someone? The next thing you knew, you awoke hidden inside a hay wagon with no clue how you got there. You chuckled to yourself and vowed never to drink again…At least for the rest of the week. 

As you approached the rocks that served as the hiding place for the yellow submarine, you sighed in relief to see that it was still there. You'd half expected them to have left you there. Law preferred everyone to be present and accounted for on the Tang by nightfall. That said, you were undoubtedly in for a stern talking-to from the Heart Pirates' captain once you boarded. 

Weaving your way around the rocky shore, you spotted Bepo standing on the deck of the Tang and waved. 

The Bear's paws rushed to his mouth in a gasp, and he scrambled to lower the ramp, "They're back!" He called behind him before rushing towards you, trapping you in a tight, fuzzy hug. 

"Bepo…I can't breathe…" You wheezed, squirming to free yourself from his arms.

"Oh!" Bepo gasped, releasing you, "Sorry." 

You stepped back, brushing yourself off. Then you noticed the anxious look painted on the Bear's face as he looked you up and down.

 "What? Is something wrong?" You asked. Had something happened while you were gone?

"You- are you okay?" The bear questioned, still scanning your body for any sign of harm.

"Yeah? I think so? You're making me nervous, Bepo." You replied with a chuckle.

"You were really drunk last night. I turned my back on you for one second to get you some water and you disappeared! No one saw you leave the tavern. The Captain-" Bepo started to ramble. 

Guilt began to creep its way into your consciousness.

"Look who finally showed up." A rough voice resonated from the Tang. 

You peered over Bepo's shoulder to see a very pissed-off Trafalgar Law descending the ramp toward you. Shit. You thought. You'd wanted to at least take a nap before facing the captain's wrath.

"My office. Now." He ordered.

Bepo gave you a sympathetic look as you strode past him to follow Law. "I'm glad you're okay." 

You nodded with a sheepish smile before following your fuming captain onto his ship and into his office, passing multiple crew members who watched you with relieved looks on their faces.

Law opened the door for you. Once you were inside, he followed and closed the door behind him. He then walked to his desk, still completely silent, his back turned to you. You felt the anxiety start to rise in your chest at the uncomfortable silence. 

"Law I'm-" you started to apologize.

"Are you hurt?" He interrupted, clenching and unclenching his inked hands, as though he was trying to release some of his pent-up anger. You'd seen Law angry before, but never this angry. 

You were in some serious trouble. 

"No. I mean, I have a crazy hangover, but-" you began to explain before he cut you off again. 

"Where the hell were you?" 

"Well, I woke up in a hay wagon…I think I may have blacked out. Oops."

Law tensed, balling his hands into tight fists. "You're telling me you were wandering around. Alone. After dark. Drunk out of your mind. Are you insane?" His calm demeanor was starting to scare you. 

"I didn't mean to wander off…At least I don't think I did? I don't remember much from last night." You chuckled nervously, fidgeting with the tips of your fingers.

He spun around to face you, and the pained expression he wore on his face startled you, somewhere between intense worry and seething anger. You stepped backward, but your back hit the wall, preventing you from putting any more space between you and the furious man in front of you.  

"You think this is funny?" Law asked, still maintaining that eerily calm tone, "What if something happened to you? What if someone tried to hurt you or-" he cut off, his voice cracking slightly. He was slowly losing it.

Guilt shot through your body once again and you looked away, beginning to crumble under the pressure of the captain's intense gaze. 

"I guess you'd have to patch me up again then, huh, doc?" You joked, rubbing your arm awkwardly in an attempt to ease the tension that engulfed the room.

Law exploded. In seconds, he moved from the center of the room to hover over you. "This isn't a fucking joke." He seethed, his jaw clenched tight.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed yourself against the wall as if you could fall through it and escape this situation. You didn't. He was so close you could feel his rapid breathing on your hair.

"I-" you stumbled over your words. Taking a deep breath before continuing, "I didn't think anyone would-"

Law cut you off by slamming his hand into the wall behind you, making you jump. "Fucking look at me, god damn it!" 

You winced and opened your eyes, slowly bringing your gaze to meet his. His brows were creased with anger, but the vulnerability in his eyes shot a dagger through your heart. 

"You didn't think anyone would what?" he continued after a moment, "That anyone would care? Ikkaku didn't sleep last night. Neither did Bepo. Penguin and Sachi were out until 1AM looking for you, and I-"

He choked.

The doctor's anger softened ever so slightly as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek gently, "I would have torn that town to pieces until I found you if Penguin hadn't-" He paused, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes widened at his words. "Law.." You breathed, "I'm fine- you didn't have to-"

The man cut you off by running his thumb across your lips, his eyes darkened. Your heart pounded as they flickered down to your lips and then back up to meet yours, calculating. Questioning. 

He swallowed. "I'm just.." he trailed off. You could feel his shaky breath against your lips. He leaned closer, bringing his face centimeters away from yours, "terrified of losing you.." he finished.

Then his lips brushed against yours hesitantly. As if he was testing you. Making sure this was okay. 

You closed your eyes and pushed your lips to his, giving him your approval.

That was all Law needed.

Releasing the breath he was holding, he moved his lips against yours desperately, bringing his other hand to the other side of your face, caging you between his calloused hands.

He tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss as you melted into him, running your hands up his chest to rest around his neck.

The doctor let out a muffled groaned as one of his tattooed hands wove its way into your hair while the other slid down to your hips, his thumb slipped under the hem of your shirt igniting a fire that spread throughout your whole body. 

The captain flinched as if something had shocked him. Hesitating for a moment. You bit down on his lip softly, wanting more. He recovered instantly, pulling your hips against his while his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. You felt your knees grow weak beneath you, stumbling as they gave out entirely.

Law caught you, sliding his whole hand underneath your shirt to settle on your back, holding you tight against him as his mouth devoured yours; slowly, full of desire and self-indulgence. 

Everything other than him melted away and you moved your hands to rest on his jawline, holding his face, his lips, exactly where they were as you responded with a passion that almost rivaled his.

Eventually, you both remembered you needed to breathe and reluctantly pulled away, your bodies heaving together as you waited for your lungs to catch up. 

The reality of what just happened dawned on you in an instant. You'd just kissed the captain. Heat rushed to your face as your widened eyes met Law's. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was a mess. The sight made your stomach flutter.

He touched his forehead to yours. "Now do you understand?" he asked breathlessly, his inked thumb drawing small circles over your cheek.

"I think so.." You gave him a nervous smile. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Yes. But I'll get over it." He sighed. "Just don't ever disappear like that again."

[luvjunie]

— trust who?

pairing: e-42!miles x 1610!fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of death, yandere?miles

summary: you were taken from him a year ago, and now it seems the universe has given him a chance to do things differently— and this time, he’s not letting you go. no matter what. wc: 1,648

a/n: i got a lil carried away w this one won’t lie, lol. i love this song, and i put a little twist on it to match the plot. song lyrics are in small, bold italics

🎧: Not You Too - drake (ft. chris brown)

“trust- trust who? trust me and i can set you free. left your man came straight to me you the real mvp, my love.“

dimmed hues of red lights spotted your vision as you came to, eyelids heavy as they peeled apart to reveal the room you assumed would be the setting of your demise. your head snapped up when you finally regained consciousness completely, fright-riddled eyes darting around to scout out an escape plan. but just as you went to move, you heard chains clink from above as your body swayed, and realized you couldn’t. you looked down to find your legs bound by rope, as well as your hands, as well as the rest of your body to a firm, stuffed sack.

feet dangling from the ground, you let your head fall back against the punching bag, defeated, and settled for your only remaining option. “help!” you yelled, voice rasped and weak. “help!” you tried again.

“don’t bother, can’t hear a thing down here.”

an artificial, robotic voice sounded from above, warranting your eyes to meet a masked man who resided on a high beam, crouched in place, watching you. how long had he been there?

he jumped down, catching himself and effortlessly hanging from one arm before his sneakers met the steel floor. they were untied, you noticed.

fear permeated your entire being as he strolled over to you, a semblance of uneasiness coursing through your veins, pumping into your blood and rendering your spine straight as the ominous figure stopped just in front of you.

“ple—please, i don’t know why i’m here,” the words tumbled out in a broken heap of suffocated, stifled sobs as tears welled in your eyes.

“shh, it’s okay,” he shushed you, a hand reaching out to gently pinch your chin, lifting your head back up after it’d fallen. his touch was delicate, like he was scared he’d break you.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, mi vida. i’d never hurt you… you know that.” the voice distorter cut out, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering over every inch of this strange mask. it reminded you of a ventilation mask you’d seen in miles’ room once, a mask used to protect your lungs from the fumes of spray paint.

as if your mind were working against you, you found yourself… calmer than you were just a few seconds ago, and even more confused. why did the voice sound so familiar?

something wasn’t right.

“who— who are you?” you gulped.

“you don’t remember me?” the shield over his face pulled back, the quiet sound of mechanical whirring as it revealed his face drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ear drums.

here stood your boyfriend in front of you, the same features, but… different. his entire demeanor had shifted since you had last seen him just prior to whatever time it was now, to something sinister. his hair was longer, pulled back and braided. an accent, almost resemblant of his mother’s lingered on the tip of his tongue, dripping within the words he spoke. his face was harder, etched and carved like the weight of the world had chipped at it piece by piece, only to settle on his shoulders, leaving him with no time for himself.

this couldn’t be right.

“miles?” you choked out, mouth gaping to find your voice. “w-why… what am I—you’re, you… but different? what is this? where am i?”

a puff of air shot through his nostrils, his best effort at a laugh as a small, smile lifted the corner of his lips, braids gliding over his shoulders when his head tilted to the side.

“you came back to me, mi amor. and god…you’re even more beautiful than i remembered.” he breathed, eyes flickering with sorrow for just a moment as they studied your face, a moment that was almost too brief for you to catch.

when he’d encountered you and his counterpart on the roof with his uncle, he swore his prayers had been answered. somehow, someway you’d been brought back to him— the pain of witnessing the bullet that pierced through your chest that fateful night just a year ago drifted from his mind, and replaced itself with the all consuming, peaceful, sleeping image of you the minute he’d picked you up and cradled you in his arms. it pained him to inject you with the needle to sedate you, but he had no other choice, he could never truly hurt you. no, he would never do that.

“i missed you so much.”

“first time in a long time hurtin' deeply inside”

the hand sporting his mechanical gauntlet lifted towards you, fingers bending so the claws wouldn’t scrape your skin as he let the cold metal brush against the swell of your cheek. the sound of the steel joints ticking made you flinch, chest stuttering for breaths you couldn’t keep within your overworked lungs as you turned away from him.

you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes, when all he’s ever wanted to do was keep you safe, to protect you, to make you feel comforted and secure. and he failed at that before, he knows that, but he’s ready this time. he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

“it’s me, hermosa… it’s okay, you know me. just trust me, and i can set you free, and then we can be together. just like old times.” his brows furrowed, his tone one of sincerity as he assured you, but it did nothing for your racing heart.

“trust—“ you sputtered, voice wavering when you spoke. “trust who? you? how can i when you have me tied up like this?!” you balked, your bewilderment such a stark contrast from his bleak, seemingly unmoving disposition.

“yeah… i’m real sorry ‘bout that. uncle aaron made me, so i tried not to make ‘em too tight. you know something like this would never, ever be my idea.”

you shook your head, was this some kind of sick joke? why wasn’t he understanding a single word that was coming from your mouth?

you grew frustrated, time was not on your side, and honestly you were getting tired of this game.

“i don’t know anything about you, i don’t even know who you are. you might have his face, and—and his body,” you looked him up and down. “but you… you are not my miles.”

he felt a pang in his chest, the words you uttered, the way you said ‘my miles’, as if he wasn’t right here, as if he wasn’t right in front of you. the version of himself he’d buried in the ground with you just last year wanted to jump out and yell at you, plead with you, anything to make you see he could be just like your miles, because he was your miles.

“oh,” he pulled the skin of his cheek between his teeth as he turned away with an agitated nod, extending his arm out to point towards your miles, who was still unconscious, chin dropped to his chest as he hung from another punching bag.

“him?” his voice raised in volume and broke apart with desperation, a humorless chuckle unintentionally escaping his trembling lips. “what’s the difference? huh? tell me.” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he tried to maintain his composure, staring deep into the eyes of the girl who would’ve burned the whole world down with him if he asked. the girl who was in his grasp, right in this moment, yet still so far from his reach— reserved for the one who had everything that belonged to him.

your head whipped to where he pointed, and the moment your eyes landed on your boyfriend your blood ran cold, a pained gasp rippling your chest. “miles! oh god, please!” you called out for him as you struggled against your restraints, his counterpart interrupting you by blocking your line of your view with his body.

“cálmate,” he hummed, “he’s fine, just unconscious. i’m not cruel. is that how you remember me, mamí?” he questioned, voice bleeding with hurt.

your gaze drifted over to your miles again, hope swelling within you when you heard him groan.

“no, no, princesa. don’t look at him, look at me.” he urged.

he didn’t understand. you always used to say you would love him in every universe, that you’d find him in every lifetime, what happened to that?

“please, we need to get home, if we don’t… he won’t be able to save his father, he—he’ll die. you have to understand.” you pleaded, the tears finally bubbling over your waterline, streamlining down your cheeks.

“you are home! it’s me, mi amor, i’m right here. what about everything we went through?” he asked tenderly, voice full of hurt and eyes still soaking in the slight difference in your features. he was too distracted by the fact that the girl he thought he’d never see again, was right here in front of him to even try and comprehend what you were trying to say. “please, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

nothing else seemed to be working, so you settled for empathizing with him. he was still miles, after all, different universe or not, he was still the same person deep down. and from the way he was looking at you, love flowing from the eyes that held so much anguish within them, you knew some version of you had loved him, too. in the same way you loved your own.

“look, i’m sure i-“ you stopped to correct yourself, “she, loved you, but i’m not her. i’m not from here, and i’m sorry she’s gone, and i’m sorry you have to live with this pain, but, please… you have to let me go.” your tone was forbearing, words teetering off into a hushed plea, your lingering apprehension threatening to tear through the seam of your heartfelt spiel.

“let you go?”

you nodded tentatively.

he moved closer to you, to unbound you from this elevated prison, you assumed. because maybe, just maybe you’d managed to get through to him.

but this wasn’t your universe, and this… this was not your miles.

for the first time in your entirety of knowing miles morales, you felt your heart stop— and not in the way that brought a flurry of warmed, passioned butterflies to flutter within you— but in a way that invited his words to settle like ice in your bones, allowed panic and dread to inhabit your senses, clutching you in a selfish grasp of resentment that had no intentions of letting you go— you realized, as this time, his gloveless hand swiped away yet another tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed.

“why would i do that?”

“I've given you enough time. hurtin' deeply inside.“

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

©luvjunie 2023

[starboye]

starring: rafe cameron x male reader

request: top reader x rafe - fucking rafe during his angry episodes to calm him down

warnings: smut, top!male reader, bottom!rafe, daddy kink, light ass slapping, cursing, lil pet names

director note: i actually liked making this

rafe usually got into big arguments with his dad ward, leaving him boiling with rage and no way to get rid of it other than you plowing his hole, now here he was in this exact situation after he came into your apartment fuming with anger, him bent over on your couch as you plowed into him, restricting his hands behind his back.

"you like that rafey" you tease leaning down to his ear, slightly biting at it making him whimper "mgh harder" rafe cried out into the cushion "okay then" you said moving your hips with more force into him now basically fucking the anger out of him one thrust at a time "so damn tight, i might start fucking you when you're angry more" you chuckle slapping his ass making him jolt forward.

"y/n i want it" rafe says backing his ass onto you "are you ready to be calm now" you ask wrapping your fingers in his hair and tugging to pull his face out of the couch "mhm" rafe nods furiously "words rafe" you demand "fuck- yes daddy" rafe croaks feeling his dick jolt with pleasure as he cums to your words and dick.

"such a good boy for me" you mutter leaning in to attack his neck with kisses and hickeys, further claiming him as yours "yes... im all yours" rafe says arching his back to let your ruin his guts deeper "yeah stay just like that for me" you says holding his hips with one hand before cumming in rafe.

long thick ropes of cum spurting into his hole, painting his walls white with your arousal before he falls onto the couch with heavy pants, you sitting down next you him and rubbing his back "want me to get you some water" you ask, he slowly nods to your request.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune

[writingroom21]

Our Secret

Pairing: Stepdad!Rafe x stepdaughter!Reader

Summary: This is a part 2 of this story

Warinings:18+, smut, nipple play, fingering, p in v, pregnancy sex, unprotected sex, (let me know if I missed any)

Wc: 1.9K

“Shouldn’t be in here. The fumes aren’t good for the baby.”

You stand in the middle of the nursery looking at the powder blue walls Rafe just got done painting. The furniture is piled on one side that's already dry keeping it from the wet paint. “I just wanted to see how it was looking.” Looking around you envision how you are going to decorate the walls. You want the theme to be Alice in Wonderland so one of your friends is going to paint a mural on the wall. Rafe said he was going to do it but you don’t think he has the artistic skills for that.

He’s been really big on giving you anything and everything that you want. You’re seven months pregnant and about to reach your eighth month. It’s been a wild couple of months since you found out. The two of you were so happy living in a bubble until you had to tell your mom. She was pissed off with you, calling you every name under the sun. “Do you really not know the dad? How stupid can you be?” You know it was due to her wanting a better life than she had. Your dad had left as soon as you came into the picture and here you are repeating history.

Well at least in her eyes you are.

Rafe was the voice of reason, convincing your mom that they needed to help you out. Then a week after that conversation he was clearing out the room next to yours for the nursery. Your mom found it sweet how much Rafe wanted to help you. Even going as far as joking that he should just be dad when the baby comes. You had all laughed brushing it under the rug but you and Rafe shared a look. It was so brief that your mom didn’t think anything of it but you two knew you had to be careful.

Which wasn’t really hard since she was still traveling for work. She was gone weeks on end allowing you two to be alone. You’ve even moved into the master bedroom with him and she never noticed. The only time you were in your room was when she was here. You know things have not been going smoothly with them. Sometimes you can hear them arguing when they think you aren’t around.

“Why are you always defending her? She should find her own place.” You sat on the daybed in the backyard listening to them through the open windows. Your mom had just gotten back from another work trip to find the house littered with baby things. Rafe had just taken you shopping so everything was a mess. “She’s pregnant, I'm not kicking her out. You’re barely here anyway so why should it matter.” 

Their voices carry outside filling your ears. You feel bad for causing so many problems, maybe you and Rafe should stop. It wouldn’t be that bad to just end it here. The lie tasted foul. You know if this ever ended it would break you but you could live with it. “I’m working Rafe, what do you want me to do? Just because you would rather have fun than work doesn’t mean I want to.” There was her go to line. She’s older than Rafe by ten years and always throws it back in his face. Always reminding him that she has more experience in life.

“No, I want a wife that’s here and to have a family. Not a wife that thinks I’m too stupid to notice her sleeping around. Next time you have a work trip make sure your company is aware of it.” There was complete silence after his words rang in the air. You sat up from the chair looking at the bedroom window. You can see them standing there just as your mom slapped him across the face. “Maybe I was tired of having a husband who couldn’t meet my needs.” Rafe just laughed. “Hard to meet them when half of the world already had a chance.”

You haven’t seen her since. She came down telling you she had to go back for work and never came back. Rafe refused to talk about it stating there wasn’t anything to worry about. But you can’t help but to feel like this is all your fault. “What are you thinking about?” Rafe’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands spreading across your bump. He’s been so affectionate, making you feel so loved. “Do you ever feel bad? Like about what we are doing to my mom.” Slowly he turns to face him. “No. Do you?”

You go to speak but footsteps in the hallway catch both your attention. “Rafe?” Your moms voice echos. The two of you detach yourselves and stare at the door when she emerges. “Wow this looks nice.” She looks at the paint stains on his shirt. Her eyes pinch together, looking between the two of you. “You painted the room? Should have just hired someone.” Rafe clears his throat, shrugging as he looks around. “Thought it would be nice. Plus I don't need this one going crazy on the workers.” You slap his arm, offended at his accusation. “I’m not that bad.”

Your mom just watches the two of you interact, nodding her head along. Sucking her teeth she grabs your attention again. “Well I’m glad to see the two of you getting along. I’m going to go unpack.” Rafe’s head snaps over to her, his feet following her retreating body. “What do you mean?” She grabs the bag she left by the master bedroom and enters. You watch from the hallway as Rafe follows. “Well I decided I should be here since the due date is getting closer. She’s going to need me.” Not wanting to hear more, you just lock yourself in your room for the rest of the night.

The routine follows for the next few weeks. Your mom seems to never leave the house anymore. Usually Rafe goes to your appointments with you but when he mentioned it last night your mom jumped at the opportunity. “Don’t stress yourself with something that doesn’t concern you. I’ll bring her, I want to see my grandbaby.” You tried to go by yourself but she wouldn’t let you. The car ride and waiting room were awkward since she wouldn’t speak to you. You mentioned things about the baby and your life but she didn’t seem interested. 

“No dad today? We’ll make him an extra copy to have.” Your obgyn says as she walks in the room. You froze in your spot, looking at your mom who didn’t react at all. “Oh no, that's my husband. He’s been helping her out while I was gone.” The doctor looks between the two of you. Her eyes are suspicious and you can tell the moment that it clicked. “Gee my sincere apology. I just assumed.” The rest of the appointment was okay. The baby was looking good and you were excited to hear their little heartbeat. 

When you had gotten home she went straight to the kitchen grabbing some wine before disappearing to her room. You waited a few moments before sneaking your way to Rafe’s office. “Hi baby.” He looked up, leaning back in his chair as he smiled at you. Rounding the desk you sit on the edge in front of him. “Hi sweetie. How’s our little princess doing?” His fingers brush against your bump, catching the blunt end of a kick. “Think she’s going to be a soccer star with that leg of hers.” You giggle, pulling out a copy of the ultrasound. Rafe takes it and places it next to the frame with your first one. He’s been collecting each one and displaying them on his desk. 

“Everything is good. Just need to get through these last few weeks and she’ll be here.” Dragging his chair close, Rafe traps himself between your thighs. His fingers make their way down to the hem of your dress, finding their way under the fabric. “That’s good. Can’t wait to hold our baby girl.” He places a kiss on your bump at the same time his fingers find the soaked material of your panties. “And how’s my baby doing, hm? Been missing her.”

Since your moms been back the two of you haven’t been with each other. Going to fucking each other’s brains out to not getting to touch each other has been torture. “I’ve missed you too.” When they say pregnancy makes you super horny they aren’t wrong. You were jumping his bones any chance you got. Not being able to get that fix has you winded up to the point his fingers slide right in. Rafe stares intently at your face, looking at how pleasure consumes you as his fingers play you like a violin.

Pulling the top of your dress he frees your breast, tugging at your nipples harshly. Since being pregnant your breasts have been extra sensitive. You could probably get off just from him playing with them. Standing he takes one of them in his mouth, sucking at the pebbled nipple. He takes his time, taking his finger out to play with your clit just to slide them back in. Moving to the other nipple he bites down on it. A moan slips from your lips, maybe a little too loud but you don’t care. “Hear how wet you are? Bet you’re soaking my desk right now.”

Straining your ears you can hear the squelch your pussy makes every time he pushes his fingers back in. You clench around them, a hand finding his shoulder to stable yourself. “You gonna drench me baby? I know you want to.” He attaches to your nipple again, his free hand finding the other to pinch. He keeps the actions going. Sucking and pinching on your nipples as he fucks you with his fingers. The pressure in your lower stomach gets more intense and you feel like you are going to explode. All of a sudden you are gushing everywhere, moans filling the room as you come down from the feeling.

“Fuck. How come you’ve never done that before? Would have had you do that for me all the time if I knew.” He kisses your lips and rubs your legs to soothe you. “Mmm never knew either.” He helps you down and tells you to go take a shower. Looking at him and his desk you can see how much you actually squirted. His papers were all wet and his shirt was soaked. You apologized but he didn’t want to hear it since he thought it was hot. Leaving the room you don’t notice how the previously closed door was left open. “Maybe I was tired of having a wife who I didn’t love.” He threw her words back at her. 

Huffing your mom grabs her things, grabbing her phone to text someone. “You know what? The two of you can go together, I don’t need this.” Getting something from her bag she walks to the island and throws a stack of papers on it. “Those better be signed by the end of the week.” She walks out the house, leaving the divorce papers staring back at you. Rafe picks them up with a smile. “Looks like I’ll be a free man. It’s just us now sweetie.”

There’s a sound of water hitting something. Rafe looks over his shoulder at you noticing the far away look you have. “Hey it’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out together.” He goes to comfort you but slips. Looking down he sees that the floor is wet. “What the fuck?” 

“I think my water just broke.”

✧✧✧✧✧

“Come on sweetie, give me one more. Just one and we can be done.” Rafe breathe’s out as he thrusts into you. A whine leaves your lips as you claw at his shoulders. Your mom had gone on a “girls trip" with her friends, leaving you two alone. Rafe didn’t waste a moment dragging you into every room in the house. Which is why you are leaning over the kitchen counter with him behind you. 

“I can’t.” You moan out. One of his hands gathers your hair, pulling your head up slightly. “Told you if you wore that dress you’d regret it. Don’t whine now because you got exactly what you asked for.” He’s made you cum four times by now. The two of you have been at it for a while at this point and he can’t seem to stop. First he needed you squirting all over him. Then he needed to taste you as you cum. It was just a never ending cycle leading you back to him pounding the life out of you. Not to mention he’s excusing it as helping you induce labor since your already past your due date.

Your skin lights on fire as his fingers dance along it. Everything is just overwhelming and you’re so close. “Come on mama.” He twists a nipple causing the flood gates to open. You slump over the counter as you moan. Soon the feeling of a rushing warmth fills you letting you know that Rafe just cummed. Slowly he pulls out, lifting your dress and spreading your ass cheeks to watch his cum drip out of you. “Fuck sweet heart. Look great with my cum seeping out of you.”

“What the fuck.” The sound of a voice and things hitting the floor causes the two of you to look up. Your mom stands in the doorway staring at the scene in front of her. “Mom I ca-” “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear it.” Rafe covers you up, tucking himself back into his pants. “Don’t ever talk to her like that again. Be mad at me all you want but you won’t speak to her like that in my house.” There’s a shocked look on her face, not expecting Rafe to speak back to her. “Seriously, could have been anyone else. Why my kid?” 

He laughs at her audacity. “You lost all room to talk when you were sneaking off at our wedding reception to screw your boss. What was it that you said ‘can’t help who you fall for’.” He places a hand on your shoulder bringing you to his side.

Taglist: @rafedaddy01 @theeternaloptimistt @laniirackssss

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[mandarinmoons]

SLUMBER PARTY WITH REID!!

brainiac bsf surprises you when your feeling down with the idea of sleep over. pretty boy has never had a sleep over, but boy does he wanna sleep over with you. he suggests a movie and chinese takeout but you’ve got things to add to that list. you get him to do face masks with you and convince him to let you paint his nails pink and he feigns annoyance but he’s actually just happy to see you in a happy mood. you best bet he will be shy coming into work with those rose colored nails, that he isn’t a fan of, but at least his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum 😭😭

“Spence, hold still or else I’ll get the nail polish on your fingers!”

Spencer sighed as you tightened your grip on his hand and carefully applied the pink paint on his fingernails. He smiled to himself seeing how your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration, he thought you looked adorable.

This is not how he expected his evening to go. Spencer mentioned how he’s never been to a sleepover before and suggested having one seeing how you’d been a bit down lately. What he thought would be you two cuddling under the sheets, having some take out while watching a movie, turned into something else very fast. The second you heard the word “sleepover” your mind went straight to doing face masks and painting each other’s nails, which you were currently doing. 

“Okay and… done! Don’t touch them for a few minutes to let them dry.”

Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to get used to the feeling of the polish on his fingers. It looked nice but the fumes were making him feel a bit dizzy, but he didn’t say a word to you as he saw how happy you seemed for the first time in a while.

This is going to be fun explaining to Morgan

“How does your face feel?”

“It feels a bit… tight,” Spencer’s answer was mumbled as the clay mask he had on made it hard to move his face. You chuckled as you saw him try to move his face in order to gain some sort of feeling back, but the beauty product rendered it useless.

“That means it’s time to take it off. Let me help.”

You took a damp washcloth and gently ran it over Spencer’s face, removing the mask and the impurities it took with it.

Spencer felt as though he could fall asleep right then and there, you ran the cloth over his face so lightly and he felt so well loved and taken care of. He didn’t think humans had the ability to be this tender until he met you.

“All nice and clean,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, feeling the effect the mask left on his skin.

“It feels nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Spencer nodded and you kissed his cheek, your lips barely making contact with his skin. Spencer reached out and pulled you closer to him, your nose squishing against his cheek in the process which caused both of you to laugh.

“I’m really glad we did this.”

“I am too.”

Taking Spencer’s hand into your own, you ran your thumb over his fingers, taking in the hard work you put into them.

“Hmm…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I made a mistake.”

“What do you mean? I think they look nice.”

“No, I mean yeah they look good, but this is so not your color.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as you chuckled and kissed his cheek again.

“It only means I get to paint your nails again.”

“Whatever it takes to make you happy, angel.”

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[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 02

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining

prev part masterlist next part

It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,

"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"

What you did all day,

"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"

It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.

"I thought you were good at cooking"

"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.

He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"

"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"

"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,

He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"

"Let you what"

"Cook, I'll make dinner"

"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"

"They don't feed you at work?"

"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"

"Did your mum cook?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"

"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"

He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,

"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"

He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,

"So what are you making?"

"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"

"French toast?"

"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"

You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,

"Well, it smells great"

The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,

"You can't be serious"

"What'd I do?"

"That's like a cup of syrup"

"So?"

"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"

"What if they already have"

You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"

"You don't have to turn away you know"

You make a small huh? in response,

"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"

"I just assumed"

"I know, but you don't have to turn away"

"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”

“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”

“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.

He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.

You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,

“Sorry”

“Doesn’t hurt”

You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.

“That should do”

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.

"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"

"You trying to kick me out?"

"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"

"There isn't"

You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"

"Right"

There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.

"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.

He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.

You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,

"You scared me"

"You were having a nightmare"

"Yeah, they happen sometimes"

It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,

He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,

"Simon"

He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.

"Will you stay, it's just"

He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"

"Please"

"Of course"

You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.

You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.

You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.

"Do you have something in your pocket?"

He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,

"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.

"It's fine"

He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,

"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"

"Thank you"

You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.

You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.

You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Top left cabinet”

You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,

“Thanks”

He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yep, just making tea”

“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”

He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.

His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,

“Are you any good at fixing things?”

“Depends, what needs fixing”

“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”

“I could give them a look”

You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.

The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.

“I think you’re his new favourite”

Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.

“Strange”

“He’s not strange”

“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”

“Well get used to it”

He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.

“The shutters”

You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”

“I’ll get right on it then”

It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.

I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.

“Beer”

It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.

“Cheers, love one”

Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.

“Must be hot with the mask”

“Get used to it”

You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.

“How’s it looking”

“Great”

“So you’re almost done”

“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,

“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”

“Yeah, nearly there”

“Great, I’ll be inside”

The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.

“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”

“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”

He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,

“You alright?” You call

“Yeah, just sore”

“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”

You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.

“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”

He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,

“Sure, easier”

He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.

“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”

“Great”

“Might leave a scar”

“Adds to the collection”

You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.

“I’m fine”

“I know you are”

“It only hurts a little, when it happens”

“And someone did this to you”

“A few people”

“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,

“Nothing you need to worry about”

You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,

“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,

“Simon, would you- nevermind”

“What do you need?”

“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”

“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.

“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”

He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.

He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.

He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,

“Good morning kitty”

He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.

He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.

“Mornin”

You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,

“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.

“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”

His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”

“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”

“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”

You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.

“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.

“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,

“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”

“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”

“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”

“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”

He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.

[rlimagi]

Can you do bridget with a villain GF. Like major Sunshine x Storm or whatever

Perfect Revenge

Pairings: Bridget x Villian! Reader

Genre: Fluff with a splash of reader being a menace <3

Warnings: evil activities?

Note: Hi!! Thank you for your request, this is a bit short but this is the first time I’m writing for Descendants so hopefully you’ll enjoy this! Also thank you everyone else for the requests, I’ll start writing as soon as I get more ideas<3

“Sweetheart, you need to stop being so nice to people who don’t deserve it!” You frowned, voice raising higher and higher the longer you thought of Uliana who recently dropped a bucket of green paint over Bridget’s head.

It was humiliating for Bridget but she still forgave her, the thought made you more angry by the seconds.

“Calm down, baby. The school’s going to flood soon if you don’t, just…it’s fine just stop thinking about this.” Bridget being the angel she was, intertwined your hands with hers to calm you down even when she was the victim of a petty prank.

You sighed, your emotions got the best of you to the point that you didn’t realize that you summoned heavy rain upon the school grounds.

You lifted your eyes off the ground to see other students running inside the school, trying their best not to get too wet.

“Okay, fine…sorry but really, if she touches even an inch of your body again, Ursala might need to come on land to find her precious baby sister’s remains.” You said, smirking as you eyed Uliana and her gangs who were strutting to god knows where but you know it’s not to etiquette class.

“That’s well…good enough! Thank you baby, now stop sulking and go back to class!” Bridget smiled gleefully, giving you a kiss on the cheek before running off to her class before giving you a chance to respond.

Your face reddened at the sudden kiss even if it was only on the cheek. Bridget had always had this effect on you, even in the darkest of days she’ll somehow make it all brighter.

But just to your dismay, Uliana appeared in your sight again but this time she was alone. A smirk rose up your lips. “Sorry, Bridget. You’ve let Uliana off way too many times. She wants to play with fire, but I’ll give her all the elements.”

You silently followed her into the forest, waiting until she was too far from another living being aside from yourself to strike.

You stood on one of the branches of a tree, luckily the trees in the magic forest was big or else you wouldn’t have been able to hide so easily. “Uliana~” you sang out, your voice echoed into the darkness, scaring the living soul out of the villian.

“Who’s there!” Uliana shouted, trying to seem threatening but you could read her like an open book. She was trying her hardest not to tremble

“Is that how you speak to a friend?” You pouted, faking an innocent look as you jumped right in front of her.

“You!” Uliana screamed, her body fuming in anger but before she could utter another word you snapped your fingers. Then her lips was moving but no words came out.

“I?” You asked, pointing to yourself as you tilted your head to the side. “I what, Uliana?” your smile grew wider as the speed of her lips moved faster and faster, yet no words seemed to be coming out.

But clearly, Uliana wasn’t about to let you off so easily. She glared at you and was about to sprint to your way when you ordered the vines on the ground to pull her onto the ground, tying her whole body to the sharp grass.

Let’s say what happened next wasn’t very pretty.

“Yn! Guess what! Uliana hasn’t been bothering me at all lately, I think she liked the cookies I gave her!” Bridget smiled joyfully, placing the plate of cookies aside before running up to you to give the warmest hug ever.

You melted into her touch, nodding to everything she said. “Of course, who wouldn’t like my princess’s famous choco chip cookies.”

Bridget blushed at what you called her, “Your princess?” she pulled away from the hug for a bit to look right into your eyes, it was filled with love and adoration.

“Only mine, got it?” You claimed in a joking manner, grinning when she playfully pinched your cheek.

“Of course, silly.” Bridget cupped your face before pulling you in for a sweet kiss, a kiss sweeter than all the sweets in the world combined.

After pulling away from the sweetest you wished to never be apart from, you saw Uliana from the corner of your eyes. She looked like a deer caught in headlights after noticing your eyes on her, immediately she ran out of your sight.

It was you who made Uliana stop her bullying towards your girlfriend but no one needs to know about that. Especially Bridget, your girlfriend should never know that you tortured someone for hours just for her.