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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac.

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes.

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back.

Simon’s already sprinting.

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition.

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask.

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest.

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door.

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others.

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed.

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth.

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room.

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater.

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you.

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight.

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there.

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all.

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing.

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you.

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse.

The Lieutenant grunts.

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should’ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults.

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again.

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent.

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly.

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.”

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really.

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few.

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

TAGS:

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

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strnilolover · 4 months ago

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player!chris and ditsy!reader headcanons

• player!chris who … is a very competitive person. whether that be games, sports, bets, etc. he’s always turning things into a challenge and doesn’t let others win easily.

• player!chris who … is a big dog person. completely opposite from ditsy!reader who loves cats. he has a great dane named atlas who he loves and honestly looks like.

• player!chris who … likes to work out. he’ll show off with his friends, trying to one up each other to impress the girls — and he never fails.

• player!chris who .. can get anyone into his bed if he wanted and he has. but when he started getting closer to ditsy!reader, he stopped seeing girls less and less.

• player!chris who … absolutely loves teasing ditsy!reader. calling her angel and darling just to watch her stammer and blush.

• player!chris who … pokes fun at ditsy!reader for her clumsiness or forgetfulness. “Try not to trip over ya own feet next time, a’ight?” but if anyone else tries to make fun of her, he immediately shuts it down, acting as if only he has the right to tease her.

• player!chris who … is gentle with ditsy!reader. if she’s upset or overwhelmed, he’ll dial his teasing down and might even let her vent a little, listening quietly. He won’t talk about it afterward, pretending it never happened, but he’ll remember the details.

• player!chris who … gets possessive when other guys try to flirt with ditsy!reader. she often can’t read social queue’s so she never knows when people are flirting with her. he’ll glare them down, and will probably get mean. she’s his to bother.

• player!chris who … is fiercely protective of ditsy!reader. if he hears about anyone giving her trouble, he’ll confront them, acting like he’s just doing it for his own amusement, but in reality, he genuinely cares.

• player!chris who … will take multiple photos of ditsy!reader once they’re close enough for him to tell her he loves photography. he’ll take pictures of her reading, completely caught off guard, etc.

• ditsy!reader who … will let any stray cat she sees. she’ll even talk to them as if they’re listening, telling them things she probably wouldn’t share with regular people.

• ditsy!reader who … isn’t the best at watching where she’s going. so she has a habit of accidentally walking into people or knocking things over, making her apologize profusely.

• ditsy!reader who … is horrible at remembering people’s names, often giving them little nicknames to keep track of who they are. she’ll get embarrassed when she has to ask for someone’s name again.

• ditsy!reader who … is curious about everything. she’s the type to always asks questions like, “how do bee’s make honey?” or just asks chris about everything he does.

• ditsy!reader who … can’t really handle horror movies that well. she’ll jump at particularly scary scenes, covering her ears or eyes. but she’s very fascinated with the paranormal and such.

• ditsy!reader who … avoids eye contact with chris. his intense gaze tends to make her nervous, so her eyes are always pointed down or pretends to be focused on something else while she fidgets.

• ditsy!reader who … when she gets comfortable enough, will start to ramble to him. either about books, music, her classes, etc. she may even vent to him at some point, not meaning to but it just sort of happens.

• ditsy!reader who … gets jealous whenever she sees chris talking to other girls, she tries to brush it off, but she can’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. she knows she has no reason to feel that way.

• ditsy!reader who … when chris flirts or leans in close, she feels like her brain short-circuits. she’s used to characters in books doing these things, not real people, and it leaves her flustered beyond words.

• ditsy!reader who … will try to compliment or make moves on chris, but will ultimately fail. if she goes to give him a small pec on the lips, she swerves and pecs his cheek or just doesn’t do it at all. if she try’s to compliment him, she stammers off. “you’re uh.. really good at — er — i don’t know, never mind!”

a/n : talk to me abt them y’all PLEASE, idk who to talk to about them😞

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soap-ify · 1 year ago

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nsfw below , mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader.

02 — you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am.

chapter summary — after chaos broke out during your work, simon attempts to comfort you in his own way.

tags / cw — angst, reader almost has a panic attack, reactions from bad anxiety, reader is yelled at, verbal assault, violence (simon beats someone up), tending to wounds i don't know how that thing works, just reader and simon being awkward, simon is very self aware, smut 18+, outercourse, grinding through clothes, p in v. [3.8k words]

☆ reader written with afab anatomy but gender neutral terms.

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

If you had the choice to disappear into the void, you would.

The cafe was quite crowded, which was a good thing for the place but not so welcoming for you. The customers kept on rushing in, rambling out orders while you hastily gave them their stuff while trying your best to not mess anything up. You knew the others were working just as much as you, and you didn’t want to seem selfish by thinking that you were having it the worst out there.

Though your brain truly was horribly overwhelmed with the amount of faces in this small cafe. The heat made your head throb, causing you to rub your hands over your face and take a few deep breaths, afraid that you’d break down in front of everyone, feeling your palms getting clammy. It was so hard to keep your voice controlled and polite while talking to the others, making sure that it didn’t crack.

You despised busy days.

Simon was sitting alone at the far edge seat inside the cafe, a cup of bitter black coffee on the table while his brown eyes blankly stared at you, observing your struggles that you seemingly masked quite well in front of others, but well, not for him.

The rest of the taskforce wasn’t here today since it wasn’t a weekend, and normally Simon himself would have never willingly come over at a crowded place like this. But he was feeling too restless in his apartment. Maybe he just needed fresh air. His mind kept on making dumb excuses, even though he was fully aware that he just wished to see you.

Plus it was always somewhat comforting knowing that he would keep you safe.

You were aware of him, aware of his eyes on you and words couldn’t describe how grateful you were. It was as if his familiar presence was the only thing keeping you sane during this shift, knowing that once this was over, you could talk to him if he’d let you.

You had just given the person standing in the front of the queue their coffee, watching them leave before the other person came at the front — some guy who was probably around your age, looking at you with a wolfish grin plastered on his lips that sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“What would you like, sir?” You asked politely, fumbling with the fabric of your apron behind the counter, thankfully hidden from everyone’s sight. Inhale, exhale.

“A large cup of espresso, sugar.” That man replied, the pet name causing you to internally grimace. Fucking disgusting.

You silently nodded and went back to go over to the coffee machine, only to find out that one of the ingredients had run out. Today truly was your unlucky day.

A wave of panic shot over you as you walked over to the counter once more, facing that man. “I-I am sorry, sir… It seems like the espresso can’t be made due to the shortage of some stuff…” You were unable to hold in the little stammer in your words this time, your breath hitching at the way some anger began making its way over to that man’s face, his mood taking a huge swing. Volatile.

It scared, no, terrified you to see someone angry over something you said. It reminded you of your own parents, reminded you of things you no longer had wished to recall at this point.

“Fuck you mean shortage? What kind of cafe is this?!” The man snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you, his seething rage causing you to freeze on your spot. Fuck, everyone was looking. You hated this — hated the way you flinched at his loud voice, hated the way everyone was staring at you, silence taking over the cafe before soft murmurs could be heard here and there. Gossiping about this.

As if this was just a joke to them, as if all of this was normal.

“I-I understand your anger, sir… But—” Your words were cut off by his impatient slam on the counter. Your eyes widened and everything for a second seemed too silent, too unbearable. Don’t panic, don’t panic…

“You useless slag. Why don’t you just quit this job and—”

“Fucking get off her, you bastard.” A large hand grabbed the strange man’s collar and shoved him out of your sight, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Simon. You had almost forgotten that he was here too. Another wave of humiliation and helplessness hit you as you just stood there, feeling like a weak idiot.

You didn’t even have to speak, not that you were going to, before Simon pulled the man back up on his feet. “You. Come with me.” He growled and dragged the man out of the cafe, leaving behind an unsettling thick layer of silence caused by the commotion. Over a fucking coffee.

Everyone saw it. Everyone saw you getting yelled at. Everyone saw you being fucking useless.

You soon realised that tears had begun blurring your vision, causing you to hastily undo your apron and scurry off into the staff room.

Simon had that horrendous man thrown into an eerily quiet alley with no one in sight except them both.

“Who do you think you’re messing with?” He growled under his breath, fingers curled up into fists, knuckles a bit bruised and bleeding after having repeatedly punched the man on his face, resulting in a broken nose and some broken teeth. Honestly deserved worse.

Simon didn’t know why he was so angry. He just hated seeing you already on the edge before this man just came in and messed everything up. How dare he yell at you? Scumbag. Simon wanted to spit at him and throw him in the bin like the fucking garbage he was, but he knew that someone could always walk by even in an isolated alley like this and he definitely didn’t want unnecessary attention.

Adrenaline was coursing through Simon’s veins and he could hear the blood rushing into his ears. He looked scary above the man, brown eyes wide and deadly. The fact that his face was covered in that balaclava made him look all the more inhuman.

Thank goodness you weren’t here to witness this.

In Simon’s mind, this was who he really was. Roughened up and turned into this rageful mess after years of brutal training and even worse missions. Trained like a fucking dog. Maybe that was what he was. A dog. Not a human, just a pathetic dirty thing who only knew the worst, who only knew the wrongs.

He was his own poison, killing himself on his own.

With one last kick on the stomach, Simon left the man to weep alone in the alley. He didn’t have to deal with someone like that anymore, all he could think was of you and how you probably were feeling right now.

Your manager had luckily let you end your shift early today, albeit still having scolded you for creating such a ruckus inside the cafe. For ruining a nice busy day. It made your throat tighten, making you feel as if everyone was blaming you for this. Maybe it really was your fault.

You silently stood outside the cafe, staring down at your hands that were clasped together, your fingers visibly trembling. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to clear the fog in your head. Your moment of silence was broken by the familiar sound of soft footsteps nearing you.

Yes, you had memorised his footsteps. You knew everyone’s, actually. And his were your favourite — oddly soft and quiet, juxtaposing to what you initially expected from someone of his size. He was probably very skilled in sneaking up behind the people.

Simon silently stood besides you, not uttering a word. For a whole minute, it was just silence between you, your eyes nervously darting around before landing on his hands that were uncharacteristically not covered in his usual gloves that he wore all the time except for when you both were all alone.

And that’s when you noticed it, his bleeding knuckles.

“Simon…” You breathed out in panic, voice laced with concern as your eyes repeatedly shot back and forth between his face and his hands. What the fuck happened?

“Didn’t want my gloves getting dirty.” He mused gruffly, his eyes slowly looked down at you, causing you to knit your brows even more.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, love. No one is.” He finally mumbled after a few seconds, one hand of his reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. He really wasn’t bothered by the mild cuts on his knuckles. In fact, he really didn’t care. He wasn’t even thinking of bandaging it.

“Let’s go to my place.” You urged him, lips a bit pouty while worry was etched over your face.

He couldn’t help but find you adorable.

Once you both reached your apartment, you were quick to push him onto the couch and hastily grab a first aid kit, scurrying over to sit beside him on the couch.

“Show me your hands.” You mumbled softly, causing him to reluctantly let your gentle hands hold his callused, larger hands. What a contrast. He felt guilty for making you hold such a dirty, damaged thing.

You were quick to clean up his hands, carefully touching the cuts with the cotton pads. You didn’t even want to imagine what Simon was capable of. Your eyes scanned his hands carefully, admiring every scar on his skin.

You never really thought much of it. Sure you knew that he was in the military, always doing some sort of highly dangerous work. But you never really saw that side of his — scary one. So it was fairly easy to forget his real strength until moments like these came to remind you. Though you never really disliked him for it.

You don’t think you could ever dislike him. He was just… everything.

Ever since you both have come to your place, all you could think about was how he stood up for you. You didn’t like pity, but the fact that someone cared, especially if that someone was Simon, made you feel all the more warmer aside.

He did care for you, right? Were you too fond of him? Too in awe of him?

You dabbed some antiseptic on the cuts before applying some cute panda bandaids on his knuckles. He stared at them questionably, brows furrowed though an amused scoff soon escaped his lips behind the mask. “You don’t own normal bandaids?”

“These are normal!” You grumbled, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Just kiddin’... They are cute like you.”

You got up to put the kit away and wash your hands before coming back to sit besides him, pulling your knees to your chest, silence filling the room up once more.

Simon could see how you were still shaken up, the frown etched on your face accentuating the storm of thoughts raging inside your head. It made his heart ache, though he didn’t move a muscle at all, silently staring at you from the corner of his.

He didn’t know how to comfort you at all.

All he knew was how to handle guns and beat up people. All he knew was how to ignite a sense of terror within people.

Simon didn’t want to think of himself as a monster, the word alone making him think of no one other than his father. He wasn’t that man, he wasn’t.

He sighed behind his balaclava after a while and shuffled a bit closer to you on the couch, his arm brushing against yours.

Your body tensed up for a second, and he was just about to back away once he sensed it before you eventually relaxed and leaned into him, a trembling sigh escaping your lips. He was warm, and you couldn’t help but think of him as a blanket that was shielding you from the world. A protector. Though he really wasn’t that, right? What even was he to you?

You didn’t want to think of that right now, not when your brain was already so exhausted after everything that happened today, the little bit of confidence you had already shattered.

Simon’s hand slowly snaked behind your back, drawing lazy discreet circles on your waist through the fabric of your shirt. You could make out some of them — a circle, then a star, then some random incomprehensible shape that he probably just made up on the spot and then a star again. This act of his made you smile a bit, your eyes fluttering up to look at him, only to find him looking back at you.

You had caught him staring at you multiple times before, but this moment felt so different — more cozy and intimate. It made your heart skip a beat, your brain feeling all foggy due to the sudden wave of happiness shooting within you.

Simon probably noticed the change in the air too since his hand was quick to pull back and settle on his lap, fingers drumming on his thigh, pretending as if nothing happened. It left you confused, disappointed even, but more so at yourself then at him. Why were you making every little interaction with him such a big deal? He didn’t like you the way you liked him.

Simon was silent for a while, multiple thoughts going on within his head. His large hand slowly drifted towards you once more, this time towards your thigh, fingers absent-mindedly caressing you. Well, he could comfort you in the way he knew of.

Your body was quick to react to his touch, your breath hitching while you were simultaneously a bit embarrassed of how you were so used to his touch, used to the way his caresses would make you squirm. You could already pick up on his intention behind this, to somehow get your mind off whatever happened in your job today.

“C’mere, love…”

His callused hands pulled you onto his lips with ease, holding onto your hips, your face facing his, eyes meeting. You swear you could feel the world slowing down every time your eyes would meet his, his stare alone coaxing you to lean into him, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck while your fingers curled up into the fabric of the large grey hoodie he was wearing.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise.” His gruff voice came out as a whisper, making your heart swell yet ache at the same time. Yes, please take care of me, these words repeated over and over in your head while you sheepishly nodded against his neck.

His hands were quick to work, not letting you do a single thing, lifting your hips up gently as he slid down your pants, carefully removing them all the way down, letting it drop to the ground. Your hands reached down in attempted to undo his pants, though he just lightly smacked your hands away and shook his head, huffing softly as he unbuckled the belt and unzipped his pants on his own, tugging them alongside his boxers just a bit so his cock was free from the restraints, already semi-hard.

Your mouth watered at the familiar sight that always made you all heated up and blustered, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes stared down at his cock, admiring the veins that adorned it. It was just perfect — girthy and uncut.

“Simon…” A meek whine left your lips while your eyes literally pleaded him to do something, anything to just somehow make your mind empty, to let you forget about everything, to let you pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that you were with him.

His cock twitched at the noise you made, one hand of his tight gripping your hip in position while his other hand gently grabbed the base of his cock, beginning to rub the head against your clothed cunt, watching the way a wet patch was forming on your panties.

“D-Don’t tease me like this!” You grumbled, nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt the swollen head of his now hardened up cock bumping against your clothed clit, making your hips bucking towards him, desperate for more.

“Don’t nibble your lip like that, love. You’re gonna bruise it.” He breathed out, his eyes falling onto your lips that looked so kissable, making him clench his jaw behind that balaclava of his. No, he couldn’t kiss you.

He continued to play with you like this, rubbing and smearing his precum on your panties, continuing to grind against your clothed cunt, ruining this pair of panties. You mentally noted that you should buy some new ones this weekend.

It wasn’t until a few moments later that you started to feel the familiar tight knots building in your abdomen, a soft whimper leaving your lips while your fingers tightened around the fabric of his hoodie, desperately grinding back against his clock. “P-Please, please, Si… So close, pl—”

He stopped, gently pushing you slightly backwards on his lap so his cock was no longer touching you. A frustrated sob left your lips as you glared at him in confusion, eyes all glossy and he couldn’t help but grin behind his mask, noticing how adorable you looked like this. He already knew that he had successfully distracted you from your thoughts. He knew this wasn’t the ideal way. Hell, he should have actually cuddled with you and shared some comforting words. But fuck, he can’t. He shouldn’t. He is already being selfish enough with this whole thing you two have going on, and he definitely doesn’t want to risk progressing into something more.

He was a fucking asshole, he knew it. He knew of how he didn’t deserve you, and you definitely didn’t deserve a broken, fucked up in the head man like him. You deserved better.

But you two were already so far into this, weren’t you?

“Ssh, don’t worry. Gonna make you cum properly.” He assured you, gently pulling you into him once more, his fingers pushing your panties aside and giving your throbbing clit a few sweet rubs before positioning the head of his twitching cock in front of your entrance, looking at you while you were looking down at the spot your bodies were about to be connected at, literally swooning.

“Please…” You pleaded, feeling his cock gently smear your slick all over your folds before beginning to gently push into your tightness, a quiet grunt leaving his lips at the way you clenched around you, still struggling to fully get used to the way his girth would stretch you out. Your head fell onto his shoulder, panting softly as you tried to relax, feeling him slide into you slowly, inch by inch until he was fully snug inside your tight cunt, the cloth of your panties gently grazing against the side of his shaft.

“Takin’ me so well, aren’t ya? Always do. That pretty cunt of yours is so perfect.” He praised hoarsely into your ears, his affectionate words driving you over the edge, feeling him begin to lazily fuck his cock in and out of your fluttering cunt, hitting the spongy spots inside you with ease, as if having them all memorised within his head. Shaky moans would leave your lips at the blissful feeling, eyes rolling back into your head once you felt the head of his cock slam against your cervix, him making sure that it wasn’t painful at all. His hand massaged your hip gently, fondling the flesh and gently guiding you to grind against him while his other hand slid in between your connected bodies, caressing the moist skin of your thigh before moving in between to lightly rub your clit, feeling you clenching around him tightly.

You felt fuzzy, leaning into him fully to let his warmth relax you, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against you while your eyes fluttered shut, head fully nuzzled into his neck. You felt the knots building up again, even stronger this time, leaving you with no time to warn him before your orgasm washed over you hard, your walls spasming around him while a muffled moan left your lips, his fingers rubbing your clit just heightening up your sensitivity. He breathed heavily, his eyes filled with adoration at the way you cummed around his cock, his shaft having a white ring around him, filling his heart with a sickeningly proud feeling at the realisation that only he was capable of making you cum so hard, of making you get rid of all those thoughts.

His own orgasm flooded within him soon after, balls tightening up as he pulled his cock out of your cunt and gave it a few pumps, spraying the thick strings of his cum all over your sweaty, trembling thighs.

Both of you were breathing heavily, tingles spreading through your skin that made you smile at how full of pleasure you felt right now, all floaty as you fully collapsed onto him, clinging onto his tight while his sticky cock rested against your inner thigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

“Si… Thank you so much…” You sleepily babbled, your breathing getting calmer.

He wished that he could show you the stupid smile that was spread on his face right now.

“I am goin’ to go for deployment after two days.”

He randomly announced that night, causing you to freeze and look away from the movie you both were watching and towards him, eyes all wide. What the fuck? And here you were being happy that he had decided to stay with you tonight, having agreed to spend some time with you.

You were making it all up, all this happiness and whatever feelings and signals you thought you were getting from him. Deployment. God, you hated that word and the way it filled you with dread, the way it always left you all anxious during the weeks he’d be away, fighting god knows who, literally a mistake away from walking on a bridge from life to death.

“How long…?” You quietly asked, trying not to seem so fazed by his sudden words, fingers fiddling with your shirt while your eyes looked away.

“Dunno… I believe it won’t be longer than two weeks. Don’t worry, love.” He mumbled after a while, subtle warmth lingering in his voice as his hand reached to gently caress the back of your head, causing you to sigh softly and lean into him, frowning a bit.

“Okay… Stay safe, Si.”

You trust him. Of course you do.

Liar. Fucking liar. It had been three weeks, three weeks without any contact from him, or any news from him. He wasn’t on this mission with Kyle as far as you knew, so there was no point in asking him.

Was Simon safe? Was he wounded? Did he get captured? Did he get tired of you? Is he finally getting rid of you? Is he… abandoning you?

You tried to shake these thoughts off your mind, trying to remember that his job was a hard one. Still, you stupidly kept grabbing your phone, desperate for any notification or noise.

Only to be met with silence.

notes : thank you so much for the support on the previous chapter :( !! i feel truly grateful. also... feeling evil i love fucking stuff up for simon.

#simon. let's go to therapy together.#simon is struggling #like actually #my projection on reader is crazy on this one #yaaiad : masterlist #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

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kabr0ztrousers · 9 days ago

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Naive curvy fem reader who recently gave birth but her man left her to fend for herself. Mother in-law + father in-law (who are both vampires) disown their son and allow the reader and their grandchild to stay at their estate. They convinced her they will help relieve any tension. Like massaging her sore breasts, suckling or squeezing any excess milk, and licking and rubbing her pussy. Starts off as dubious consent but transitions to full consent when they tell her that she's more than a daughter in-law to them.

Kabr0z Episode 54: The In-Laws

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: blood; vampires; incest (no blood relation); age gap; power imbalance; dubcon to enthusiastic consent; receiving cunnilingus; giving cunnilingus and fellatio; very mild foot mention; technically intox; ghoulification;

A/N: Nobody's claimed the prize from my previous competition regarding vampires, but I had fun posing the question, so if you can give the clan the in-laws belong to with your request, you get to skip the queue! Two prizes up for grabs as the clan changed its name with Vampire V5 😁

Again, here's the daily reminder that I won't know what you want if you don't request it, so by all means request! My DMs and asks are open for a reason!

#######################################

You pulled up outside the wrought iron gates. You knew Nick grew up with money but this is old-school aristocrat level, a real Great Gatsby mansion. You reached out of your window to hit the buzzer

"Name?" A bored voice called over the intercom.

You told them who you were, you were getting to why you were there when the gate swung silently open. You drove on, gate swinging shut behind you. You didn't see the men with automatic rifles from the road, but you bet they saw you. Sophie fussed in the baby seat. You stopped to shush her back to sleep, the last thing you wanted was to make a poor first impression.

Too late. A pair of figures stood in the doorway to the house. The lights flattered them in the late evening, artfully curated shadows highlighting the razor-sharp creases of his suit, the elegant drape of her long red dress. They were looking at you.

Here was as good a place to leave the car as any, you supposed, and got out. Cradling your baby you approached the figures in the doorway. They smiled at you, the light making them look washed out and pale.

"So, we finally meet! So sorry we couldn't make the wedding" The woman spoke first "I am Lucrezia, this is Alfonso" the man bowed neatly at the waist, allowing his wife to continue "When we caught wind of what our dog of a son did! We're both so very glad you came to us"

You smiled, it's not like you had much of a choice. Both of your parents had passed while you were expecting Sophie, and you didn't really have any other family. "Thanks for having us, we'll try not to be a burden"

Alfonso laughed "It's not a burden at all! It will be so good to have a child about the house again, it gets awfully quiet with just me, your mother, the security, the cleaners, and the servants"

That sounded positively bustling to you, but their perspectives were probably different you guessed, a house like this needs upkeep

A man cleared his throat behind you "Your keys, ma'am?"

You turned, he was wearing a flak vest and an earpiece, his rifle secured to him with a strap "so we can park your car and unpack you"

The woman waved him away "There's time for that later, Giacomo. Now, let's get out of the cold"

It was a warm night. You followed the pair inside. They looked exactly like the old paintings on the walls of the house, though the varnish had darkened with age. Some of them looked to contain a young Peter too... Maybe these were of Alfonso's side of the family? There was quite a strong family resemblance with the boy, but then how was Lucrezia there?

They led you to a lounge, where they took seats on either end of a long sofa. You sat in an armchair, sinking into the plush velvet. "So," Lucrezia began "We'll hear no more of this not wanting to intrude business. You're family, and family takes care of family. Besides, it's not like we're hurting for bedrooms" They both laughed. You felt like a deer in headlamps. A rabbit cornered by circling wolves. The light in here was warmer than outside, but it didn't diminish the corpselike pallor on their faces, bluish lips on pale faces, dry eyes that didn't catch the light, and aside from when they spoke... No, that's silly.

Obviously they must breathe, right?

Sophie was picking up on something, too. She hadn't stopped fussing since you came in. Lucrezia stepped over to you, or at least you assumed she did, you looked up and she was simply there, dark eyes staring into yours

"There, there, the little one is tired! Come to Nana, little one"

You let her take the restless baby from your arms, playing with her with a fingertip. Sophie calmed at once, gurgling happily before settling into a deep sleep. Lucrezia gave her back to you. Was that... Blood on her mouth?

You blinked, it was gone. Probably just your overactive imagination. Driving for four hours after packing up your entire life would do that.

You looked at Lucrezia again, into those deep black eyes, dark in a sea of white "Let's get my granddaughter to bed, then we can talk about your future here"

You nodded. It's the best thing for it. She led you upstairs, to a nursery with a beautiful cot, pulling a tablet computer off the wall and handing it to you "Only the best for you, 4k camera and the best audio money can buy. If she so much as peeps, you'll hear"

You put Sophie down in the cot. Finally the two of you were safe again. "Can I have a bed in here with her?"

Lucrezia smiled at you, those eyes meeting yours again "Of course, I'll have the staff bring one in. She stepped out of the door, clapped her hands twice and shouted in the fastest Italian you'd ever heard someone speak before coming back "The bed will be brought in soon, now let's go back downstairs"

You followed her again. Alphonso looked up from a book when you entered, before getting up and ushering you down to the sofa between them.

Lucrezia's hands were on your shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles of your back "You're so tense, why don't you relax?"

You had to admit, you ached. The massage hurt a little as Lucrezia eased the knots in your back from driving so long. Alfonso slipped off your shoes and began massaging your feet, pulling you so you lay across the two of them as they rubbed and squeezed you, their too-strong hands loosening you up. Your eyes closed gently as exhaustion took over.

Your dream was dark, and troubled. You were running down the hallway of the house, chased by armed men. Every door you opened had either Lucrezia behind it, Alphonso, or both.

You snapped awake. In the bed in the nursery, morning light visible against the curtains. A maid was there, she curtseyed and left a tray on the end of your bed. Some toast, butter, jam, and a small cup of strong-smelling coffee. You checked on Sophie. Sleeping like an angel.

Breakfast was simple, but every bit as good as it looked. That was possibly the best coffee you'd ever had.

You picked up Sophie and started to explore your new home. Three floors, the maid told you the top floor was only for Lucrezia and Alphonso, their studies, the private chambers and whatnot, she told you you'd probably be allowed up eventually being family, just not yet.

And so your days passed, at first. Daytime was spent with Sophie in any combination of a dozen rooms between her nursery, the library, the TV room, or walking through the gardens. You looked forward to when she'd be old enough to teach to swim so you could use the swimming pool.

At night, your hosts finally finished whatever work they did all day and came downstairs to spend time with you and their granddaughter. They never seemed to eat with you, every day around nightfall a maid carrying a platter would walk up the staircase to their suites, but never seem to come back down until the following morning. Always a different one, too, which seemed odd.

It was amazing, the way Lucrezia had with Sophie, she could put her to sleep in moments. You'd stay up with them talking about your day, how your daughter was doing, never about them or their business... You let your mind wander as Lucrezia massaged your back again, you didn't know why she liked doing that, but you weren't going to stop her...

Shit. They were mobsters, weren't they? It checked out, armed guards, inexplicably wealthy, a preoccupation with privacy, family, and trust above all.

A roving hand snapped you out of your reverie. Alfonso had just pulled aside your underwear, his hand up your skirt. You yelped, Lucrezia held your shoulders.

You looked up at her, she smiled back "Now, now, we said we'd take care of all of your needs, and we meant it"

Alfonso's hand was rubbing the lips of your pussy. You were already wet, the massage had loosened you up more than you thought. His fingers slipped around your clit, making you whine as Lucrezia's attentions moved to your collarbones and your milk-filled tits, squeezing squirts of milk from you as you whimpered and gasped under their attention

Alfonso's tongue joined his hand, fingering your hole while he licked rings around your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your cunt as it twitched and your back arched. Lucrezia kissed your lips, and you came. You ground your cunt into Alfonso's face, no longer caring that these two are your parents in law, just wanting to prolong the orgasm running through you.

Your spasms subsided, you looked up at Lucrezia as you panted.

"Oh, child, I can't imagine what you think of us... You must think we're criminals?"

You nodded weakly. Alphonso laughed, looking at you from between your legs "Shall we give her the truth?"

Lucrezia manhandled you to the floor, forcing you to your knees, holding your head up as Alphonso stood over you, pulling out his cock as it hardened in his hands. "I'll need a drink after we're done. Hopefully it's as good as it looks"

Your mouth was forced open. Alphonso stuffed his semi-hard cock inside. You could feel it hardening as he thrust it in, invading you again and again as his wife crooned in your ear.

You bit down hard. He didn't stop. His groans got louder as he railed you harder, his cock pushing your throat as he came. It wasn't cum. His cock twitched a d throbbed, pulsing like he should be spraying cum down your throat, but it wasn't. It was blood.

The blood fell out of your mouth, but some trickled down your throat.

The world got sharper. Your head spun as you became hyper-aware of everything around you. Around, and in you. God you're horny. Your hand shot to your cunt, furiously rubbing yourself as you sucked his cock. He pulled out, rubbing the mix of blood and spit on your face. You tried to catch as much as you could before Lucrezia turned your head and licked your face, cleaning you of the mess her husband had made.

She stood before you and lifted the front of her skirt.

You couldn't stop yourself even if you wanted to. Your face was in her cunt, slurping and licking like an animal as she held you to her. You could feel her, already getting closer and closer as you licked and nibbled, her cunt oozing more wetness onto your face as you buried yourself in her folds. All you could taste was blood, all you wanted was more.

Lucrezia came hard, twitching and squirting into your mouth, covering your face.

You opened your eyes. You could see blood pooling below you, staining your top and your skirt. Alphonso was looking at you, so was Lucrezia, predatory eyes taking you in.

Alphonso bit you first. The searing pain of his fangs sinking in to your wrist making you grit your teeth. You screamed when Lucrezia bit the other.

The world became cold, your head spun a little as the vampires released you, licking the wounds to close them. Lucrezia barked a command in Italian, a man ran over and stabbed a needle into your arm. Giacomo. You saw a blood bag held over your head as you closed your eyes, letting sleep take you.

Giacomo was there in the morning when you awoke "Afternoon, ma'am. The bosses have asked I explain everything. Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life."

######################################

So, fun fact: it's canon that literally every liquid a Kindred produces is vitae, except for in very specific circumstances. So, if you let a Kindred cum down your throat, you become a ghoul.

Honestly, goals.

To reiterate from the start, if you correctly identify which clan Alphonso and Lucrezia belong to you'll get to jump the queue! 2 prizes to claim this time as the clan name changed when Vampire V5 was published, so get to guessing! Promotion ends when the first winning guess is published 😉

On that note, even if you don't want to guess, I want to hear your requests, ideas, fantasies, whatever! This challenge is set to run right through to the end of the year and I intend to go the distance!

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baizhoobies · 1 year ago

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Good Morning! “Waking up with…” gn!Headcanons

Request: Hey!!! How are you? Can I request morning headcanons with Sigma, Bram, Kunikida and Fyodor? Can be suggestive if you want. Thank you have a good day!

A/N: Hiya! thank you for the request :3 I am doing okay thank you for asking! Also one last thank you to those in the requests queue who are waiting! I love and appreciate you

Warnings: suggestive, swearing, mostly fluff and sweet domesticity, 18+

Including: Sigma, Bram, Kunikida and Fyodor

Sigma

- Okay to start off with, lets say you both live in the casino together, he has one of those fancy VIP looking rooms

- your bed is ridiculously comfy, as the manager/owner, he has to have a good nights rest (plus working in the DOA the man needs some good fucking sleep)

- Sigma is enamoured with you, he wants nothing more than to be with you and to express his love for you, so he will make sure you are at your most comfort, with your preferred duvet covers, pillows, the works

- He looks like a sleeping beauty whilst he sleeps, so if you are the first to wake up and look at him… if you weren’t madly in love with him, you are now

- clingyyyyyyy

- super clingy, the man doesn’t know what home is but he knows he is at home with you. Keeping that in mind, he will probably prefer to be the big spoon, holding you tightly like some sort of teddy bear

- If he is the first person to wake up whilst he is the big spoon, he will probably try to wake you up with kisses on your neck and shoulders

- though I won’t lie, if you roll over in your sleep to become the big spoon, he will love that just as much

- knowing that you love him and wish to embrace him is enough to make his heart flutter and feel even more at home with you

- he loves the way you smell, your soft breaths and the way your skin feels against his own; soft and warm

- probably keeps a pillow or something and sprays it with your perfume so if you are away for any reason, he can sleep a lot better whilst thinking of you

- I can’t see him being the most active person in the morning, he will definitely want an extra 10 minutes. Even if you want to get out of bed, he just wants to cuddle and how can you refuse his puppy dog eyes?

- Probably doesn’t engage in anything sexual though, at least not in your sleep unless you talk about it prior. Though in saying that, if you have breasts, he will hold onto them like some sort of stress toy, or out of comfort

- I am picturing him doing this, half awake but the moment he hears your moans in your sleep, he’s only going to keep doing it until you are awake 🤭

Bram

- oooh boy, okay I am going to take liberty and allow Bram to have all of his limbs, maybe this scenario is before the events of BSD?

- If you are both vampires, its natural that neither of you will be awake in the morning as ya’ll sleep all day. So I am going to assume your mornings are actually in the evening after sunset

- Not that either of you are allergic to the sun (as seen in the anime/manga) but its a vampires natural sleeping pattern to sleep during the day, and I assume he did when he was living in his estate in Europe.

- He will most likely wake up out of hunger than anything else. You guys could sleep for centuries if you wanted, so the only reason to wake up is to feed, and perhaps spend time with you

- I am gunna say that ya’ll rest in a double sized coffin (yes, they exist) you are his partner after all and wishes to hold you close

- probably will have anxiety if you were in another coffin

- he’s a gentleman, if he wakes up first he will pull you closer and purposefully rest your head on his chest. In one manga panel its seen that he has claws? Or long nails? Will draw circles into your back/shoulders, humming contently as he does so

- if you guys are spooning, he will kiss your spine and your shoulders, but he will only really do this if he is in the mood… might even sneak a hand around and have a cheeky little touch~

- if you aren’t a vampire, he will probably follow your sleeping patterns. Ain’t no way is he going to wake up whilst you go to bed, nuh uh.

- nothing much would be different except Bram being a little dramatic in the mornings

- Like he will say some shit like “human, you have disturbed my slumber, why must your weak bodies-” promptly tell him to shut up and give him a kiss, he will soon shut up

- he will convince you to sleep longer, or at least lay there with him so he can sleep some more

- promise to make out with him, or wake him up if ygm, this may convince him to wake up and indulge 🫡

Kunikida

- So this man ensures that he gets 7 hours of sleep every night; its essential for him to feel refreshed and ready for when he wakes up in the morning. He the type of guy who will wake up immediately at the sound of his alarm, get out of bed, shower etc.. all according to his notebook

- HOWEVER

- Ever since you moved in, he's found himself becoming.. sloppy with his schedules

- Kunikida doesn't strike me as the guy to enforce his schedule onto his s/o, the word 'no' is a foreign word to him when it comes to you

- So lets say his alarm goes off in the morning, he goes to turn it off and get out of bed, but oh no! Your legs are intertwined, your head on his chest and your arms snaked around his waist.

- Despite his best efforts to convince himself to get immediately ready for the day, he will let out one huge sigh and set the alarm to snooze...and then snooze again, and again.

- Kunikida's biggest weakness is cuddles, especially whilst you are sleeping so adorably

- He might curse himself for breaking his schedule but, you certainly are worth it

- He may even incorporate snuggle time into his schedule just to say that he is following his ideals to feel better about himself

- LOVES to watch you sleep, I know bro is romantical (but will never admit it) he will just stare at your features, it doesn’t matter if you snore or have your hair all a mess, or whatever, he just is so in love with you.

- He takes this time to reflect on your relationship together, he probably practices ‘gratitude affirmations’ and you are certainly one of them

- Not the type of person to fulfil his desires in your sleep, he'd rather wait till you're awake before initiating anything, HOWEVER, if you are the first to awake, he certainly isn't going to complain waking up to you under the covers, iygm 😏

- Note in diary: woke up to sloppy toppy at 7am

- Expect breakfast in bed at the weekends, those are the days he has more time in the mornings and will make the extra effort in pampering you. You like coffee? Well the man owns one of those fancy coffee machines, Idc what anyone says, he does.

- Kisses with the taste of coffee on his lips >

Fyodor

- This was hard but I like a challenge (plus the recent episode got me quaking)

- Fyodor does not sleep a lot, over working himself on his plots and schemes, 100% will need convincing to join you in bed

- He would wake up first, no matter what. You would never catch him sleeping, like ever

- even if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, the man just senses when you are awake (he is probably a very light sleeper)

- its most likely to do with the fact that when you are sleeping, its quite a vulnerable state and although he is comfortable with you, he struggles to turn that side of him off

- As he wakes up before you, it gives him a chance to watch you resting peacefully, he leans over you and just takes in the view

- He will gently brush the hair from your face and just… he just thinks you are precious and wants nothing more than to just take a moment and reflect on it

- If its coming close to having to get up for whatever reason, he will stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, most likely calling you Russian pet names and shit

- Although he is the first awake, he won’t get out of bed until you are ready

- I can’t see him being a person who’d want to cuddle in bed really, going to sleep or waking up. He is a little touch starved but in the sense that he doesn’t quite know how to be physically affectionate

- though catch him on a day where he is particularly sleepy, then he will be more likely to let his guard down and cuddle (he can’t keep up this criminal master mind shit 24/7)

- I don’t think he’d be super relentlessly horny in the mornings, but if he is for whatever reason, he would (like the whispering you awake HCs) he would probably give you a few sleepy neck kisses, caressing your body with his nimble fingers and enjoys watching you squirm and whimper yourself awake.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd kunikida #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #kunikida x reader #bsd bram #bram stoker #BSD Bram x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor headcanons #bsd fyodor x reader #sigma x reader #bsd sigma #bsd sigma x reader

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loverboykirstein · 4 months ago

Text

biting the bullet // kinktober pt. 4/5

sam (sdv) x afab! reader

wc: 7,574

mdni -> warnings: mentions of addiction/neglect/throwing up/mental illness, unprotected sex, breeding, possession

***“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”.

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own.

you did break his heart, right?

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity.

on his feet, another deep breath for the road.

“samson, go,”.***

the mismatched pattering of his heartbeat in his ears began to close his throat, chest cavity torn apart by the weight of a passing phrase.

“can we do tomorrow? i’m taking them to the look-out on my bike tonight,”.

what..?

it was happening again. he let his guard down for just a moment, a fraction of a second, and his lungs and heart and every nerve ending were spilling out of his ripped apart being, invisible to all but him.

you..seb..? of course you want seb. everyone does. we each have a role, right? just like mom? like dad?

is there something that wrong with me? how do i atone for my sins in my past life to mediate the bullshit i’ve drug into this one? that’s the only explanation, right?

it followed him everywhere, a sick joke that didn’t even have a punchline. in its wake, it simply stole his soul away, piece by piece, a sick treasure hunt of trying to rebuild and rebuild and rebuild.

for what cause? to sit up and stare at his ceiling, snapping the rubber band on his wrist over and over and over again, a piss-poor attempt to calm himself down that never seemed to work.

what was he supposed to do? he hadn’t even been handed the short end of the stick, simply tempted with it like a dumb dog and locked in a collar for the rest of time as punishment for his greed.

the desperate, aching, bruising desire for a life.

to be more than a secondary, to figure out who he was.

to fall in love and not get hurt.

to begin to trust without losing his joints in the process, left a brittle mess of grinding bones at the end of it all.

to make the decision to live for himself, not for the need of the image of others.

to make it out of a war-torn cage, to never follow in his fathers footsteps.

to build a family that was wanted, unlike his.

he wanted that with you.

he never knew why he existed, or what the point was.

then he heard your laugh for the first time, handing him an extra maple bar you had made and he nearly collapsed at the life that made his fingers numb and filled his lungs instantaneously.

but now, quiet trembles rustled through his bloodied fingers, too busy taking out anything he could on anything he could.

near the edge of the valley, beyond leah’s quaint home lied a hidden little cave, behind bushes and trees and the occasional critter or two.

his blood stained parts of the exposed rock, the only thing he could hit without feeling bad. far enough away, no one ever finding him out there.

for no one to hear his violent sobs, his screams out to whoever was behind all of this, why, why, why. over and over and over, prayers for a reason as to why things had to be this way.

but if he wasn’t home to set the table, his mother would lose her temper before the oven timer even rang. the sun finding its way back to the never-ending horizon was her queue, the so-called ‘acceptable’ time of day to numb the sorrow crawling near, pushing it onto the son she never wanted in the first place.

which left vincent to his own devices, luckily not alone, but he knew he wasn’t doing well, penny not focused enough on teaching, more on playing, as she glued herself to the novel of the day, explicit enough to be banned from the library entirely. in front of the kids? really?

so he would swallow his heartbeat, coughing up a stable voice through his constricted windpipe that built a facade good enough to fool just about everyone.

he sat on his floor for hours. the hum of the washing machine was echoing through the paper thin walls.

everything was else felt silent, felt quiet.

except the unrelenting grave digging itself wide open in the middle of his messy bedroom.

because things weren’t quiet. dad was fighting for god knows what, narrowly missing shrapnel with each breath.

mom was mixing pills and booze, manic-depressive in nature and waiting until the very edge before it was too late.

but the worst was knowing that you and seb weren’t being quiet. you weren’t asleep in your bed, cuddled up with your cat under a quilt and your childhood blanket held close.

you were clinging onto him, body pressed against his. sharing a spot of the world that he had only seen once, seeing the city ahead of him that he could barely remember being a part of.

the most he could remember was his childhood therapist, the only one who saw past his so-called laxidasical disposition and class-clown behavior. struggling with reading, a common case of adhd and anxiety all jumbled up inside of a first grader.

a hint of dyslexia, and the guilt of his mothers cries he could hear against the locked doors, mourning a life without children.

nothing a child should have to bear, tiptoeing as to not crack the paper thin ice that made up his floorboards.

craving attention from the ones who created him, from the one who carried him in her womb.

father rarely around, making up for the lack of stability in the form of a paycheck and health insurance.

reprimand after reprimand, the only way to get his mother to look him in the eyes.

acting out as a cry for help, at validation, at fucking anything.

from the comedy covered pain, he learned to always know how to make someone laugh. to make sure they could exhale a little bit of whatever was holding them back, even if it meant that he had to let it settle in his lungs so it wouldn’t fall back into theirs one day.

he promised himself that he would never open up the small little lock on his exterior for anyone. ever.

maybe he didn’t notice, or maybe you tripped the wires first, but the alarm bells never rang. no emergency protocol, no swot team to barricade his entire being shut.

you left the door open, not even bothering to worry about the heat being on, letting all the cold air in.

or maybe you didn’t even know, the key hidden in the corner of your room, under your bed mixed with dust and other lost memories.

how was he supposed to face you again? he had planned on inviting you to the band’s first show, your excitement bouncing off the walls at the thought, when he mentioned the idea.

even though they only had a few songs, rough drafts at best, poor attempts at writing lyrics in an attempt to give abi and seb the spotlight.

also in fear, knowing someone would put the pieces together, that someone would connect the dots. that they would see the unrepairable shattered glass of his being behind it all.

that you would figure it out, never looking at him the same way again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

weeks flew by in aching stretches, avoiding contact with anyone, his only bandaid over the wound. declining invitations that could maybe bring you close, making your laugh ring in his ears or the smell of your perfume that would replace his train of thought.

all his time spent sleeping, the sun becoming his worst enemy.

braving the light only upon vincent’s summertime pleas, just to lie and say that dad was okay, that there was nothing to worry about.

flickering his eyes between his brother and the beach entrance, hoping, praying, you wouldn’t appear behind him, or anyone for that matter. not strong enough to explain his absence, to explain the proverbial last straw that chewed up and spit out his barricaded soul.

you would stop by, questioning his mother on his wordless disappearance. she didn’t have an honest answer, blaming it on music school?

weeks turned to months, watching the seasons pass by. he couldn’t figure out why it hurt so goddamn bad.

trying to process two decades worth of grief, wrapped up in his dna as he grew inside his mothers unwanting body.

every effort, every last ditch grasp with a mildly politically incorrect joke, another brick laid on his wall of lies.

why did this become his downfall? the dramatic, be all end all suffocating downfall.

what did his subconscious craft while he wasn’t fixing up the cracks? too busy lost in your stories that filled him with a mix of worry and thrill all at the same time, the small scrunch of your nose, and the way you bit your lip when you lost your train of thought.

two weeks after the attempt harvey made to check up on him, to ‘have a talk’, a government letter arrived through the mail slot on the door.

kent was coming home. dad is coming home. dad is coming… home..?

arriving in a week, realizing he had a week to build the wall back up.

to rid his eyes of the rubbed-raw corners, saltwater leaving a red hue around his lashes.

to cover up his sullen cheeks, too fucked to get up and take care of himself beyond the minimum.

the hole in his chest mirrored the grave he had to step around when he got the courage to move, too deep and vacant to see the bottom.

he couldn’t figure out why you were the one to kick all of this off, you weren’t even that close? sure, friends who saw each other all the time, near habitual meetings that would worry the other when routines changed.

but you weren’t together, did he even have the right to blame you?

you didn’t cause every ounce of pain he had endured through the fabric of his life, you didn’t stitch pain into the pattern of his fingerprints.

but every goddamn thought came back to you. you, you, you.

all he fucking wanted was you.

it was pathetic, a childlike reaction to not getting something he made no effort to get. to try and make, to try and prove himself to you.

you were probably waiting for the next rain by now, already modifying your cabin to accommodate your soon to be husband.

FUCK.

the 7 letters managed to make him ill, rushing past the all consuming ending cornering him against his wall.

knees melting the cold tile, reaching to turn on the sink and the fan so that no one could hear him try and expel the hell of that idea.

that he would get to sleep next to you every night, he would want love songs about you, he would get the chance to see the most intimate parts of you and so much more.

everything sam wanted, gone. stripped away.

but it was never his to begin with, was it?

⊹ ࣪ ˖

a blur of days meshed together, world now sideways as a version of his mother he had never seen cleaned every corner of the house, paint chips repaired, hiding every dark secret she tucked away in his absence.

the dread made him want to hurl, want to really disappear. how was he supposed to face a version of his father he didn’t know at all?

two bags in hand at the doorstep, his mother and vincent sobbing in unison at their reunion. but he saw it. the visions in his eyes, the forced image of being alive was like looking in a mirror.

he didn’t know what to do. he was stripped of anything he ever knew. any hopes of his life ahead.

except his was lost in a real war, fighting for some sort of cause that came with a paycheck and praise and thank-you’s.

sam’s was a selfish mess, ruining himself over the idea of something that wasn’t real over a goddamn sentence.

a look of unblinking eyes, both bloodshot and sad, a nod of mutual understanding but also complete confusion.

kent wondering what went wrong with his eldest as he was gone, mouth running dry when he recognized the look plastered on his son.

a hot meal, the first real one kent had eaten without the threat of an air strike in god knows how long, mixed with his favorite beer he could finally share with his eldest.

despite the distaste, sam took the opportunity to drink, no reprimands on something that would make him feel less.

but it seemed to do the opposite as he stepped out into the pouring rain, clouds appearing out of nowhere as the sun took its leave.

letting the cold, wet air settle the heat of panic in his stomach, he jumped half to death when his father tapped his arm with an open beer bottle.

“take it,” kent tipped the bottle towards him, watching the rain patter on the glass.

he nodded, nearly losing his grip as he swung back far too heavy of a drink, not wanting to taste it anymore. it tasted like guilt, disappointment.

“kid, spill it. i didn’t stay alive to see the same look in your eyes,” kent’s demand knocked sam’s brain around in his skull, stunting his breathing and blacking out his vision.

“what?” he coughed, knowing it wouldn’t work worth a damn on his unhappy father, who seemed to already know what happened, yet equally clueless as he had never asked about sam’s feelings before.

“samson, c’mon kid. i-” he sighed, eyes tracking the rain on the porch make its way to the sidewalk. “i want to help you. i want to be a father, at least a friend. i realized that, alone out there. i can smell it on you, so talk,”.

a lingering, sulfur filled silence crushed his passageways, nearly collapsing into his father like a small child after scraping his knee on the playground.

‘i want to be a father’.

“look kid, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine,” kent leaned up against the painted exterior of what felt like a new home. “just, whatever it is, you can’t run away forever. it doesn’t wor-”

“I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG WITH ME, DAD,”.

the first time he had ever spoken up to his father, that he had raised his voice.

a cracked voice still managed to let the sorrow spill, pooling over his lash line and mixing with the rain.

“i can’t fucking take it anymore-i-FUCK,”.

his syllables were broken, caught between desperate gasps for air in his first cry for help.

paper mache hands disappearing under the diluted salt, crouching down as if to save them.

“she’s-” his words barely coherent, choking up his pathetic admittance. “she’s probably already gotten that stupid fucking pendant god damn it all,”.

broken laughter, a mix of every feeling known to man, choked up with gravel and acid.

“i never fucking did anything about it, either,” running his arthritic bones through his sopping wet hair, he looked up at the man who had just been through the troubles of war.

real war.

not the emotional one, the near psychosis-like state of a few months passed.

“so do something about it,”. kent was cut and dry, the only way he knew how to cover up his heartache.

his eldest, the one he held the most guilt for, the most agony for. the one he prayed for every night, the one who was his first thought every time a bullet flew past a little too close.

he didn’t want to break, knowing that if his son watched him collapse at the sight, he would never forgive himself.

“what?” nothing more than a scoff, but a halt of accidental waterboarding at the gasps for air.

“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”.

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own.

you did break his heart, right?

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity.

on his feet, another deep breath for the road.

“samson, go,”.

his fathers gruff tone, eyes sharp and stern sent his feet moving, running.

barely able to see in the dark, pouring rain, letting nothing but his burning blood carry his body to the place you called home.

i have to fix this i have to fix this i have to-

over and over and over again, repeating like a broken record, the only words left engrained.

even though you didn’t know that anything needed to be fixed, he needed to fix things for him. he couldn’t look at his father the same if he at least didn’t try.

soaking wet, hair in his eyes and catching on his tear stained blinks, out of breath and on your front porch.

the only shield left was your front door, metal handle illuminated from your porch light.

do it, you already got here, do it.

scattered shallow breaths from running turned to shaky heavy ones, raising his still-bruised hand to your wooden door.

two knocks, two seconds, two more. the way he always did before his self-inflicted imprisonment.

“sam..?” you rubbed your eyes, shocked awake by his unnerving knocks in the dark. “what are you-come in, you’re soaked,”.

you looked panicked, not bothering to worry about anything other than him being soaking wet and out of breath.

he took his sopping wet shoes off at your door, leaving them to sit on your porch next to your rain boots. with less than a passing second, you had disappeared and returned with a towel and a change of clothes.

“sam what the fuck-are you-” running around in your pajamas, a short pair of flannel shorts and a tshirt that nearly covered them entirely, turning the heat on and running a kettle on the stove, his drying eyes were too focused on you.

questioning why you weren’t out as late as you used to, knowing marlon had found you passed out cold on one too many occasions.

“y/n it’s-it’s fine, i uh-” he stood still, shaking his head as if to force himself to blink.

“go, go change before you freeze half to death in my house,” busy standing on your tip-toes to reach the top cabinet, barely able to grab the box of tea you kept specifically for him.

peeling his eyes from your strained calves and your ass peeking out of the bottom of your sleepwear, he hurried off the other way towards your bathroom.

the sight of your overly exposed legs was enough for him to twitch, his mind such a goddamn mess that he couldn’t really even remember what he was going to say.

suffocating in your perfume that had soaked into your walls, he forced his rain soaked clothes off his shivering body. the purple hue on his lips, aching joints.

hands on either side of the counter, flushed cheeks and sunken eyes, sam caught his breath, stealing any strength he could from the hardwood holding his hands.

i have to fix this. don’t be a fucking bitch. suck it the fuck up, you fucking moron.

hanging his clothes over the bathtub, towel still in hand, he caught sight of you pacing back and forth in your kitchen.

chewing on your thumbnail, something you only did when you were stressed. brows furrowed, only snapped out of your endless loop by the kettle whistling loud.

“better?” you asked, back turned to him as you poured him a mug full, adding a bag of his favorite tea from the traveling merchant in to simmer.

“y-yeah. thank you,” rustling his hair with the towel, worn and faded, trying to rid it of any extra sorrow carried inside.

“sit, mister,” you pointed at your couch, eyes stern almost like a mothers.

he did as he was told, slowly caving in on himself as he felt like a bigger burden than ever before.

“here, i’ll be right back,”.

gently handing him the warm blue ceramic mug, the one vincent had given you after you spent your afternoons helping him learn to read, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly at the lax in sam’s shoulders once his joints found warm relief.

grabbing a comb from under the bathroom sink, you came back wordlessly, floorboards creaking below your hurried feet.

in a matter of minutes, you went from fast asleep on the couch, tv paused from lack of activity when asked, cuddled up closely to your cat and your blanket, to wide awake and flustered, worried beyond belief.

you knew that kent had come home, and you had planned to introduce yourself in a few days, allowing him time to settle in.

rattling your skull was the fear that something horrid had happened, so bad that sam had run in the fucking rain to your cabin of all places after the endless era of radio silence.

“so,” you sighed standing behind him, a small shadow casting over him as your body blocked the light in your entry way. “you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on?”

your words were harsher than you wanted them to be, but fuck man, you hadn’t seen him in months, no matter how many attempts you made.

pulling his head back a little, you began to comb through his incredibly tangled hair, feeling him dissolve under the slightly bit of affection.

“can-can i ask a question..first?” his eyes were closed, mindlessly rubbing his thumb into his opposite palm.

“only, if you pinky promise to tell me everything after,”. you stuck out your pinky, and he didn’t hesitate to reach yours. locking in his fate, peeling away the plastic film that was the only bit of his shield still remaining, your fingers crossed and released as the promise was sealed.

“how are uh, how are you and seb?” it felt like blood came up as he spoke, riddled with sorrow filled expectations of what your response would be.

“what?” you hands stopped their attempt to comb through his tangled blonde mess, stunned at the question. “were..fine? have you not talked to him recently?”

huh?

“no i uh- no i haven’t. i thought you guys were like…”

“sam, you don’t think we’re dating, do you?”

you-

“you’re..not?” covering his face with his hands, trying to hold any bit left of him together.

“no? sam i-”. your breaths were deep, focusing all your downright confusion into releasing the knots through his hair.

“oh,”.

oh.

“alright, now that your speculations on my nonexistent sex life are over can you please explain why you are here right now?”

a black hole, all consuming, everything everywhere all at the same time. the inside of his skull, spinning, spinning, spinning.

“i um-fuck, im so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry,”. leaning his head back, fully into your overworked fingertips, soaking in every ounce of touch he could.

“why are you sorry? sam you didn’t do anything, other than give me a goddamn heart attack,”.

how are you not mad?

how are you so casual about this?

“i-”

“if this is because of seb i swear to god i’m going to beat the shit out of you samson,” he could feel you shake your head in disbelief, as if he should have known or as if there was this big sign that was supposed to be placed in front of him that he managed to look right through.

“y/n, i-”

he couldn’t cough the words he wanted out, embarrassment flooding his entire being, shame mixing in at a searing rate.

he felt you silently leave, pulling his airways closed the further you went.

so pathetic, so goddamn fucking pathetic. cant even tell her, what am i doing-

“sammy, come back from whatever planet you're on please,” you were sat on the coffee table, knees touching his. two shot glasses in one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other.

you set them both on the table, filling them each to the brim. dark amber syrup, so foolishly innocent, burning its way all the way past your lips.

as if your voice didn’t make him dizzy enough, the liquor you kept on hand was always the strongest, outshining anything else he had ever had before.

“each shot, we each share something. okay?”

handing him his glass, clinking them together and kicking it back.

he winced at the burn, the warmth bubbling in his stomach.

he watched you drink it far too easily, better than you did the last time you drank together. your eyes, your soul looked tired, gone unnoticed in his own self-pity.

soon the heater was shut off, both of you warm enough from the poison seeping into mutual bloodstreams.

shot after shot, losing track in storytelling as he listened to you speak on your adventures in the newly found desert, all of the new weapons you learned to use.

how he had tried to teach alex to skateboard, his first time getting high, struggling to find any reason to talk about himself when you were sat in front of him, inches away.

he was simply infatuated, beyond infatuated, soaking up every breath to make up for lost time.

“oh! sammy, sammy,” you nearly whined, placing a hand on either one of his thighs. “will you pleaseee tell me where you’ve been all this time?”

your slightly jutted lip, flushed cheeks and steadfast grip on his legs froze his surroundings, eyes locked on your pleading heart.

just fucking bite the damn bullet.

“i-seb canceled on me, that night he took you to the lookout. and i-” he leaned forward, heaviest sigh blowing fear out of the way. “i realized i couldn’t handle that. i couldn’t handle you being with-”

“sam-”

“i couldn’t handle seeing you with someone else when all i ever wanted was you, i just,”.

“sam-”.

“i knew that wasn’t fair to you and i just, i didn’t realize how much i-”

guilt ridden words cut short, your liquor stained lips shutting his. entire body pushed into him, not even enough time for him to fully register what was happening.

is she..?

“you’re fucking stupid,” you pulled away for a moments time to mutter that to him, pressing your forehead against his. “it has been you this whole time, idiot”.

what?

“what?” his eyes forced rapid blinks, unable to process what you had just said, what you had just done.

“i-god damn it all sam LISTEN TO ME, i never went with seb that night, i wanted to do that with you,”.

shock was the only way to think of it, the world frozen on its titled axis as it listened to your confession, to his heart that was on the brink of collapse as it beat so hard it shook the ground.

a few short stutters, words falling flat. months of self-imposed torture, losing everything he knew, breaking his father’s heart, really was selfish, too scared to do anything.

if he had swallowed his fear, faced the music, done something, anything.

don’t let this get away. don’t fuck it up. don’t fuck it up.

lifting his hands from his awkward side, roughly placed on either side of your hips.

using a newfound strength, he pulled you from the table, right into his lap.

falling into his wordless surrender, you let your body collapse into his, legs straddled on either side.

your clothed cunt immediately rolled against his length, pulling all of the blood from his body to an aching throb under you.

addicted to the sheer desperation in the air, gravity itself forced your lips back together, making up for months of time apart.

feverish from the first touch, wildfire to a field of wilted grass, burning oxygen faster than it could be replaced.

each heavy breath another exposed confession, his grip pushing you into him even harder another apology for leaving you for so long.

tongues fighting for a chance at forgiveness, soaking up the words that were too hard to exhale.

he let out a soft whine at your separation, instant drop of his stomach as you pulled away from his bruised lips.

dropping your head to the side, he shivered under your heated breaths against the side of his neck. heartbeat nearly visible, your swollen lips pressed slow praises down, not leaving an inch untouched.

opposite hand keeping his jaw turned, you trailed your tongue back up, a smirk hitting your lips at the twitch you felt against your spread legs.

no permission, no hesitation, just a gasp from his aching lungs as you sucking a mark of sheer possession in the form of broken blood vessels. grazing your teeth along with your vampiric latch, leaving a bruise dark enough no amount of makeup could cover.

your hips now indented with the lines of his fingerprints, permanently etched into your skeletal structure.

“bedroom,” you whispered into his ear, sin coating your voice in blatant need.

body driven by nothing but lust, he stood from the couch as you wrapped your legs around him, one hand cupping your ass while the other was itching to open the door to a new life.

it was all happening so fucking fast.

you wanted him.

this whole time, you wanted him.

letting your head hit the plush of your bedding, he loomed over you with two devilish sparkles in his eyes.

one glistening as his broken heart glued itself back together, your touch ensuring that every piece was perfectly aligned.

the other shimmering in primal greed, suffocating any thought other than possession. to not lose the chance to keep you all to himself.

a needy look twitched in your jutted-lip pout, a wordless plea for him to take what was his this whole. time.

now fluid joints, unphased by the ache in his tortured hands, hooked under your shorts, no underwear in between.

warm fingers against exposed skin, the small bit of decency on the floor with one swift effort.

cold air hit your already wet cunt, a small trail of your sticky pleads following your clothing to the floor.

“can i..?” he looked up at you for a moments time, not wanting to lose sight of your glistening slit like his life depended on it.

you nodded, not letting the small voice of insecurity speak up before your aching heart did, unprepared for intimacy to this degree.

or intimacy at all for that matter.

a touchy subject, too used to getting hurt. leaving your life behind in the smog coated city, one night stands back in the poorly painted walls of your studio apartment.

you thought you knew what love was, the overwhelming panic, the world ending promises to be better, to be prettier, to be someone they wanted.

forcing the thought out of your mind, each synapse in your aching brain going fuzzy at the first swipe of his hesitant tongue.

it had been so long since you had been touched, too afraid to ruin a friendship in such a small town. to not overstep your place as the new addition in an already woven community.

too exhausted to do it yourself most of the time, the thoughts only settling in when it came to him.

a single brush of your fragile bud make your ears buzz, the sheer ache to feel it again, and again, and again.

silent prayers answered, waters tested, sam’s tongue writing apologies and months worth of confessions in your pooling slick, feeding him the first meal of his life.

placing your hand over your mouth, muffled whimpers replaced exhales, sharp inhales through your nose not providing nearly enough oxygen to your racing heart.

“don’t hide, pretty girl,” his slightly slurred voice stuck like honey, pulling your hand away without a second thought.

his plea a few octaves deeper, your walls clenching around nothing at all and with his drunken confidence.

like he would die of hunger if he strayed away any longer, you lost sight of him between your legs, tongue teasing your pleading hole.

“sammy please,” you couldn’t do anything but whine, a fistful of his hair in your shaking fingertips.

pushing his flushed face deeper, nose pressed against your clit, shoving his tongue in as far as he could.

muffled vibrations of his satisfied moans shook your core to near collapse, the slight movement of his nose making your legs quiver against the side of his head.

thighs increasing their strength, ensuring he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to, the telltale that you were already on the brink of release.

the first of many, just the beginning to a man who would never forgive himself for leaving you for what felt like an eternity.

no time for warning, words broken into a mess of jumbled up letters, your salty-sweet slick flooding his overworked taste buds at an alarming rate.

nerve endings twitching, spine forced to endure repeated bolts of serenity with each spasm. all ten of his fingers bruising your thighs as he held onto them so tightly, a feeble attempt to keep you still until you rode out your first high of the night, your first in so, so long.

finally able to breathe at the weakening of your hips, legs shakier than you would have liked them to be. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, more than enough of you on him, and he loved it.

meeting your blown out eyes, you couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled over, dragging his long lost smile out of the dark with each little sound.

both hands covering your face, embarrassed, nervous.

how a man like him, so gorgeous, so gentle, would want a single thing to do with you, you didn’t understand.

hiding away your feelings for him for what felt like ages, heart shredded when he took his reclusive leave, without a word on why.

weeks spent spiraling, wondering what you did wrong, how you could fix what you didn’t even know.

“nuh-uh, no thank you,” his tsks were so thick, so heavy as he pulled both your hands away from your face, eyes softening just enough at the sight of your embarrassment.

“do you want to keep going?” question so very gentle, not assuming like you had always known.

and it was fucking hot.

a quick nod, a little shy at the urgency in your reaction, but needing him anywhere was all you could think of.

you watched him stand beside you, a better angle to strip himself of his clothes.

nearly drooling at the sight, you could have died and gone to the highest bits of heaven, and it wouldn’t compare to the feeling of him looking down at you with his hand on his cock, thumb tracing over his pre-coated pink tip, silver bar glistening.

oh fuck.

each scar that covered his arms, each muscle contracting with labored breaths, made a whimper fall out of you, like a bitch in heat.

“needy girl, aren’t you?” he climbed on top of you, urging you to sit up just a little so he could tear away the fabric hiding the rest of you. “haven’t been touched in so. very. long. huh?”

usually, patronizing teases would have angered you to the third degree, but it had you melting into his palms like ice cream on a midsummers day.

feeling his fingertips graze over your whole body, thumbs baaareely drawing circles around your nipples, another guilty whine for more, more of him.

“think you can take me without stretching ya out?” his demeanor turned a little cocky, nearly pulling a bratty remark out of you, just to run his tongue against your over-sensitive chest.

palming one tit, mouth fixed on the other, you nodded without thinking. a muffled ‘mhm’ and a handful of hair, pulling his fixated mouth away.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?” a sliver of seriousness caught in the bubbling excitement pooling inside his blood, you knew he really did mean it.

length in hand, he lightly traced his leaking head up and down your already swollen cunt, a small attempt at teasing you before he plunged inside your screaming walls, begging to pull him in and not let go.

both hitching in air through gritted teeth, holding onto the last molecule you could manage as he slid inside, so. goddamn. slow.

maybe in fear of hurting you, but really trying to gather himself at the sheer grip you had on him, regretting his own choice to not stretch you at least a little before letting his greed take over.

so warm, so wet, better than any drug he had ever taken, or ever would.

“s-sam, m-more, please?” you begged, batting your lashes ever so slowly to not give him a choice, but needing him so, so much deeper.

any sense of restraint lost as your pleading eyes surrendered to him, and who was he to say no?

he would never say no to you, not after what he did.

an obedient dog, snapping his hips into you, flush against you. knocking the wind straight out of you, only thing you could feel was him.

settling in, head dropping as he lost all of his strength, losing it all to restraining his urge to breed you right then and there.

“fff-fucking hell,” his sputters were whiny, causing a slight spasm around him. the sound of struggling, barely keeping it together drove you fucking. insane.

feeling full, feeling whole, wanting nothing more than for him to destroy you, molding your walls to the shape of him.

“sammy, please,” you shifted your hips slightly, pushing against his hip bones, brushing the sweet, sinfully sweet spot you don’t think had ever been reached.

his blacked out eyes, taking photos of the scene to never forget how goddamn angelic you looked under him, committing a cardinal sin.

white-knuckle grip on your sides, bruising your bone marrow with his desperate grasp.

jaw slacked, eyes locked on the mess of slick you coated him in, a slight clench in his jaw.

free of his chain link leash, a feral animal let free for the first time since its previous carnation, learning to live again.

focused on nothing else but you, your pleas for him to claim you, to mark up your insides far beyond recognition, begging for him at every breath beyond this moment in time.

his whimpers mixed with low hums and exhales with each violating thrust, veins pulsing, a sick smirk pulling on his lips as he ruined you.

instinctually squirming away, the urge of another trip over the edge already settling in, overstimulation hitting you like a bullet train without its lights on.

feeling the slight quiver of your legs against his hyperactive body, a hand released your side, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder without a falter in rhythm.

held hostage, you swore you could feel him in your chest as he fucked into you again, and again, and again.

hypnotized by the furrow of his brow, glossy lips swollen from his hyper focused bite, holding back his own profanities as he tried to hold back his own release, never wanting the moment to end.

if heaven existed, it was buried deep in your cunt, chest bouncing with each relentless thrust. it was the dig of your nails, grasping on to whatever they could.

it was your fucked out eyes, watering at the corners in desperate need, in submission to his every want, his every dream.

since that very first day, you were the thought at hand when he was fucking into it, edging himself for hours as punishment for thinking of you that way.

but your innocent glances, and hard to read gestures every friday, the time you wore a that dress, dancing along with abi at the flower dance.

taking the masculine role while dressed in a white skirt, a little too short for such a windy day, excusing himself to the depths of the forest.

back against an oak tree, knowing seb would come looking for him at any moment, and god did it excite him in such a twisted way.

he couldn’t fuck his fist hard enough to get the thought of taking you then and there out of his mind, flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side.

making you carry his cum around all day, slowly dripping out of you as you spoke to his mother.

but this, the real thing, was better than any fantasy he could ever imagine, the sound of your sopping wet cunt pornograohically loud, each wall of your unpainted cabin holding onto your sobs for more, more, more.

hiccups caught in your throat, back arched and nails leaving crescent moon cuts in his arms as your second snap pulled him in harder, deeper.

watching you fall apart was the sweetest thing, spilling out onto your bedding as he refused to let up.

a dangerous game, knowing he was teetering on his own edge from the start.

“m-‘ya gotta let me know if this is gonna be-”, his words cut off by the purposeful squeeze of your walls, offering a raised eyebrow and your bottom lip bitten.

nearly knocking the wind right out of you, he flipped you onto your stomach, forcing you onto your knees.

“you think it’s funny, huh?” leaning over you to purr in your ear, only focusing on how empty you felt, needing his pierced tip beating the life out of your cunt.

“mm-no,” you shook your head, face red, pushing your ass into him just a smidge, hoping he would grant you your wordless wish.

a palm to your ass, red hot and stinging, a startled gasp slipping out as he lined himself up with your dripping hole.

without a warning, his hips were pressed against your ass, one hand forcing your arch deeper, the other holding your hip to keep you upright as he rammed into you.

mine, mine, mine.

over, and over, and over.

sobs of overwhelming everything spilled out of you, moans nearly cut silent by the permanent bruising to every inch of you.

sucking him off so well, pulling him back in with a force greater than gravity itself, his jumbled profanities mumbled under his breath only making it that much harder to hold on to reality.

“wanna-” stuttered breathing, feeling the twitch of his cock buried inside you flash like a warning sign. “wanna fill you up- m-make you mi-mine,”.

higher pitched, through clenched teeth, you had never heard a man so shattered, so beyond steady that his eyes blurred.

the most you could offer was the push of your ass against him, too close to your own unraveling again to remember a single word.

his hand slid from your hip to your swollen, battered clit, squirming against him as the warm pad of his middle finger matched his sacrilegious pace.

a matter of seconds is all it took, suffocating his overworked length that much tighter, too lost in your own ecstasy to feel the ropes of sin inside you, met with a loss of rhythm and short gasps for air.

a weak attempt to catch your breath, feeling him slowly relax inside you, blood making its way back to his shaking hands and overworked core.

releasing himself from your now relaxed grip, his fingers ran small circles on your back, delicate whispers that slowed your heart rate to normal.

drained, all the energy stored in the form of internalized anxiety depleted, no control over your emotions anymore.

a silent sob, tears of everything allowed to flow free at your relaxed inhibitions.

“shhh-shhh it’s okay, it’s all okay,”. he pulled you up from your knees, gentle fingers moving you to his lap.

head against his chest like a child, he rocked back and forth ever so slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his own tears at the sight of you upset.

what happened ? is she okay ? what-

“never-” your muffled words caught behind a screen of hyperventilation. “never run away like that again,”.

your heaving body against his, his heart paralyzed at the sheer heartbreak rooted in your syllables.

so goddamn mad at himself for bringing you to tears, but so fucking relieved that you wanted him to stay.

“i-” a tear stained hiccup, an attempt to bury yourself inside of him completely, “i thought you left and didn’t say goodbye,”.

she-she thought i would do that..?

“shhhh, no no no, i’m not going anywhere,” cradling your face, letting a small stream pool over his lash line. holding his breath enough to mask the sputtering spasms thrashing around in his chest. “i would never, ever, do that to you. i promise,”.

“pinky promise?” you pulled your face away from his chest, blurry eyes meeting his. raising your fragile hand, awaiting his interlocked promise.

“pinky promise,”. interlocking without hesitation, pressing his forehead against yours.

“will you stay tonight?” body running cold, the fear of him leaving settling in your stomach, overtaking the bubbling acid.

“i will stay with you forever if you asked me to,”. gentle, soft. thumb against your cheek.

“will you stay forever, then?”

“anything for you,”. a gentle kiss on the nose, a sigh of relief mutually exhaled.

tears dissolving, mending two broken hearts as they dried.

matched breathing, hearts beating in unison.

anything for you.

---------------------------------------------------------

long time no see! so sorry this was so delayed, i had to work an insane amount of overtime at work and had a massive lyme flare up.

i have an alex fic in the works, who else would you like to see?

lots of love to @justwolosers for being there through all this!

mwuah! ᥫ᭡。

#this is a big projection of some feelings ive had forever #so sorry #i promise the next one will be just smut #me actively awaiting requests like mmmm #mwuah love you all so much #ok love u bye #sam sdv #stardew valley #sdv sam #sdv #kinktober #mwuah #sdv sam x female reader #stardew valley sam #sdv sam x reader #sdv smut #sdv farmer

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 year ago

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 4

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: I wrote this hungover so you can just call me The Little Engine That Could

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood

Word Count: 3,121

If Eris could see me right now he would surely detest my un-princess like behavior and call off our courtship promptly. In fact I might put ‘standing on a pile of books to reach the top of a bookshelf’ in my Eris repellent arsenal.

Normally I would ask The House of Wind for assistance but I suppose that today it wanted to use me as entertainment. The large stack below me wobbled causing my stomach to flip as my fingertips brushed the edge of the leatherbound book I was just dying to read. I almost had it in my hand when my book stack teetered again causing me to gasp.

“Woah there princess!” boomed a voice from the hall. “Get down, you're going to hurt yourself.”

I turned my head to find Cassian clad in casual clothes, most likely about to turn in for the night. Seeing him in fighting leathers was deadly, but seeing him so domestic? It made my cheeks heat. My makeshift step stool wobbled again and I would’ve toppled over if it wasn’t for the general's hands grasping my hips and placing me on the ground.

“Thanks,” I smile as my feet firmly hit the plush carpet. I can’t help but feel a little foolish.

“Which one did you want?” Cassian asked, scanning the shelf I was close to climbing.

“Uh the red one, with the rose on the spine,” I reply pointing to it.

He reached his arm up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. Gods now I really did feel foolish.

“Here you go,” he smiles, handing me the book. I take it from his grasp and for a moment his hand brushes mine sending shivers down my spine. In the 5 seconds I feel his skin I try to soak up all the warmth that it holds. Try to remember the sensation so I can replay it over and over again in my head when I go to bed.

“Thank you,” I smile trying to avoid those hazel eyes.

“See now you’ve taught me to fetch too,” he jokes.

I roll my eyes, “You’re never going to let me live that dog comment down are you?” I laugh.

Cassian flashes me a smile that threatens to make my knees buckle before perusing the bookshelf himself. I take it as my queue to relax on the couch next to the roaring fire. Ever since that drunken night when I ran into him coming back from Rita’s I couldn’t shake the words he had said to me… I’d do anything for you y/n. I tried to forget the feeling of his hands on my hips, the warmth seeping through the silk of my nightgown. But no matter how hard I tried, the scene continued to replay in my head over and over again.

Even now it was hard to read with him in the room. I tried to keep my eyes on the book I was reading, but even just watching him scan all the shelves was erotic. I watched as his fingers grazed over a few titles until he finally plucked one from its spot. He began to walk towards the door and before I could even think my words betray me.

“Wait!” I call out and he stops in his tracks. I mentally curse myself. Now what’s your plan dipshit?

“Do you need another book?” Cassian asks and I realize I’ve let him sit in silence for longer than I ought to.

“Could you stay and read here? I know reading is typically an independent activity but…” My voice trails off and I try to decide whether or not to voice my next words. “I find it hard being alone as of late.”

It was true. Whenever I had a moment alone my mind would wander to that interaction in the hallway… don’t marry him…and then it would wander to thoughts of Eris, that damned dream I kept having.

“Of course I’ll stay,” he says, turning from the door.

As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess…

Cassian walks over to where I sit on the couch, picks up my outstretched legs and places them on his lap so that he can sit down. His forearms rest on my shins as he flips open his book and I nearly gawk at how natural the movement is for him.

“You don’t have to sit next to me, you know?” I laugh. “You can sit in one of the chairs over there if you want to.” I say nodding to a set of armchairs in the corner.

“Yeah but this is the only seat close to the fire,” he replies. “Besides, those chairs aren’t very wing friendly.”

My eyes look back to the chairs and realize that he’s right so I shrug my shoulders and turn my eyes to my book. It was hard to concentrate on reading with the feeling of my legs in his lap but as my eyes scan the page I can’t help but get lost in the story…

“So you have me alone, in your bedroom.” Sofie says. “Now what happens?”

Alexander stalks towards her, looking her up and down. “Now I kiss you, and touch you, and make you mine in every way I possibly can.”

I feel my blood heat up and I avidly try not to let my toes curl knowing they are currently in Cassian’s lap. The scene progresses and I try not to look like I’m reading something so filthy in the presence of my general, which is near impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and I yank my gaze up expecting to find him looking at me like a scorned parent. Instead I find him quietly reading his own book. His own very large, very heavy book.

“That book is huge,” I point out and his gaze snaps to me. “What is it about?”

“It’s about war strategies,” he replies cooly. “I’ve read it before, but I like to brush up on it every now and then.”

“That’s what you read in your spare time? War strategies?” I scoff.

“Knowledge is power princess,” he smiles flipping through the pages of the abnormally large book. “I’m your general, don’t you want me reading this kind of thing?”

“I want you to read what makes you happy, especially when it’s for pleasure.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Well then you’ll be glad to know that reading war books makes me happy,” he muses at me.

I shake my head and return to my own book, getting caught up in the heat of the scene once more.

“What are you reading princess?” Cassian chides knowingly.

“Oh nothing,” I say, pulling the book closer to my chest in a way that definitely could’ve been more subtle.

“Really because it looked like you were riveted a few moments ago,” he smirks, leaning over to try and see the title.

“Well it’s a good book!” I squeak, pulling the book back further so he can’t see it.

“Why are you hiding?” Cassian laughs. “Afraid I’ll judge your literary tastes?”

“Yes actually I am,” I laugh pulling the book away from his hand as he tries to pluck it from my fingers.

“Oh c’mon princess I showed you mine now show me yours,” he teases. One of his hands clamps down on my ankle so I can’t shift away anymore while the other snatches the book from my hands.

“Cassian!” I protest as he moves the novel to his other hand that’s hanging off the arm of the couch.

“As he kissed her feverishly his hands ran down her bare breasts, leaving goosebumps over the skin they touched.” Cassian read from the book. “This isn’t very lady like reading material princess!” he teases me.

In a panic I climb over his lap to try and get the book back but he pulls it even further away.

“Alexander's fingers traveled lower to her awaiting-” Cassian laughed before I finally grabbed the book from his hands.

“I’ll take that!” I said snapping the book closed.

It wasn’t until the book was safely in my possession once more that I realized the compromising position I was in… I was on his lap. I was sitting on my general's lap. I quickly scooted over to the side to sit next to him once more trying to hide the blush in my cheeks.

“Who knew you had a secret romantic side?” Cassian teases with a sly smirk.

“Yeah yeah, you found me out! Now go back to reading your book about stabbing people!” I brush him off with a laugh.

We spend the rest of the evening reading our respective books, this time without any interruptions. At first it’s nearly impossible to read while he’s right next to me, especially given the content of said book. But after a while I fall into a comfortable silence with the general, stealing glances at him whenever I can. At some point in the night, though I can’t pinpoint when, my eyes grow heavy and I fall asleep, one of the most peaceful rests I’d had in a while.

Cassian:

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the content of the princess’ book didn’t both shock and intrigue me. So much so that I couldn’t help but glance her way every once in a while just to see her little hands gripping the pages like her life depended on it.

Even though she was just sitting there reading, she was so undeniably gorgeous. No wonder her beauty had been built up to the point where she was practically a character from mythology. I almost cursed myself for admiring her too much, clearly just becoming another wide eyed male desperately seeking the princess’ attention. I recalled how Helion practically begged Rhysand for her hand, not to mention the other lords. Gods I really was just one of many when, and even more depressing, the least worthy of her affections.

At one point I glanced over to find her fast asleep with her book resting on her chest. I thought about leaving to go to my room or carrying her to bed. But she was so peaceful. More peaceful in this moment than I had seen in the past few weeks. I would kill anyone who dared pull her from that peace, and that meant myself as well. So I set down my book and let myself sink further into the couch.

I had never slept in the library before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Cassian:

“You’re even slower today than you were yesterday brother,” Azriel barked, swinging his sword towards me. I blocked with my own, the sound of metal on metal reverberating throughout the air. “Let me guess, another bad night of sleep?”

“I slept fine!” I grumble going in for the attack, he blocks me with ease.

“Are you sure? When I saw you asleep on the couch with the princess this morning you didn’t look too comfortable.” he smirked. The words caught me so off guard I missed my block and his sword sliced the back of my shoulder.

“Ahh,” I hissed at the cut.

“Sorry I thought you were gonna block that,” Azriel laughs.

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging off the small cut. “Let’s go again.”

“Actually let’s call it, Rhys needs me on the border to check on things with Hybern,” Az replies, putting his sword over with the others.

I do the same and go to take off the wraps around my hands. I can’t help but notice the scars and calluses all over them from years of battle and war. Clearly hands unfit to be anywhere near the princess.

“How does the autumn court fare?” Azriel asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Still full of the most pompous asses in Prythian,” I roll my eyes.

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” Az laughs. “Does y/n seem to be warming up to Eris?”

My head immediately goes to that dark hallway. How she screamed for him to get off her. I’ll never unsee the fear in her eyes.

“No, she can’t stand him. But he seems to be warming up to her just fine,” I say trying not to sound as bristled as I am.

“Uh oh,” Azriel said, catching my tone.

“He was going to rape her the other day, I had to intervine.” I huff tossing away what’s left of my wraps a little harsher than I normally would.

“Are you serious? Why haven’t you told Rhys?” Azriel asks, his tone changing.

“She won’t let me, she's determined to see this thing through, for us, for her people.” I explain trying to stay calm.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming,” Azriel says. “When she became this almost mythical being I knew that she would be a conquest. Especially for males like Eris. If he chooses to marry her it won’t be because he loves her. He just wants to say that he owns The Jewel.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I scoff at my brother.

“She deserves someone who loves her for her. Someone who sees her as more than The Jewel. Someone who has a big heart. Someone who makes her laugh. Someone that teaches her how to play drinking games,” Azriel went on and I knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Nice try Az, but it’s never going to happen,” I huff walking towards the door

“You wouldn’t know, you haven’t asked her!” he shouts at me.

I shake my head at my brother's persistence as I make my way inside the House of Wind. For what it’s worth, I should be flattered that he think’s the princess could ever love someone like me. But I don’t feel flattered, I feel like a joke. The kind that might be passed around by other men at taverns for years to come.

“Have you ever heard the story of the bastard general and the beautiful princess?”

“The poor fool fell in love with her and she turned him down flat!”

Gods I could hear the crowds of drunken fools laughing at the tale right now.

The kitchen in the House of Wind always seemed like the most alive part of the house and the part of the house I had always ventured to least. Meals always seemed to appear whenever they were required, leaving no reason to darken the kitchen's doorstep. However, while the cut on the back of my shoulder didn’t hurt, the last thing I needed was an infection. Which is how I found myself rummaging through doors and cabinets for the first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding.” said that beautiful voice cutting through the air like a siren's song. I swore then and there I’d follow it to whatever end.

I turned to find the princess, standing in the doorway clutching that red leather book from last night. I don’t miss her eyes glancing over my half naked body and it takes everything in me not to bear a self satisfied smirk.

“It’s just a scratch from sparring with Az,” I reply, trying to look over my shoulder to see the state of the cut.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, turning to the drawer nearest to her and pulling out the first aid kit.

“Don’t worry I can do it,” I assure her, the idea of her dirtying her hands by touching me makes me cringe.

“It’s on your back you won’t be able to reach it,” she answers, laying out the things from the kit.

“Princess you really don’t have-”

“Shh, think of it as me repaying you for fetching that book for me last night,” she says with a playful glint in her eye.

I smile remembering everything from me teasing her about the dog comment to the sight of her reading that dirty book. I turn around so she can see the small cut.

“Do you think you could sit down? It’ll be easier for me to reach.” she asked me.

“Yes sorry,” I replied sitting down.

My skin practically buzzes from anticipation, knowing I’ll feel the gentleness of her hands at any moment. I suddenly feel like an adolescent male again, excited at the idea of having a female hug me. The second the warm washcloth is pulled away from the cut it’s replaced by her hands smoothing a healing balm over it. I flinch at the chill of her fingers on my bare skin.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” she apologizes. I almost laugh, her hands are nothing but perfect. All of her is.

“No it’s okay,” I say back trying to keep my voice even. I feel her smooth a bandage over the cut and the second she removes her hands from my skin I contemplate begging her to touch me once more.

“All patched up!” she cheers, already beginning to pick up the supplies.

“Thank gods I thought they were going to have to amputate,” I laugh standing up and flexing my shoulder back and forth to get used to the feeling of the wrapping.

“We can’t have that. How would you dance at the Vanserra’s ball tomorrow night?” she jokes putting the kit back in the drawer.

“Ah yes, I forgot that’s tomorrow,” I say. In truth I had been counting down the days leading up to the dreaded event.

“You are coming right?” she asks and I can sense a bit of worry behind her words.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her.

“Good, it’ll be nice to have a familiar face there,” she smiles. “Who knows, maybe they’ll bring out that wine they had at dinner.”

“They better, there’s no way I can stand being in a room full of pompous assholes that long sober!” I laugh.

“Tell me about it, I’ll have to dance with Eris all night,” she says, rolling her eyes. The image of her in his arms is enough to make my blood boil.

“Who knows princess, maybe you’ll be surprised at your surplus of dance partners,” I smirk knowingly.

“I’m sure Eris will beat them all off with a stick,” she huffs leaning against the table, picking at her nails.

“Then he should talk to Rhys first and get a few pointers,” I laughed leaning against the table next to her.

"Or better yet, maybe I'll bring a stick to fend them off myself," she quips, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

With a shared laugh, we lingered in the moment, finding solace in each other's company before the looming specter of tomorrow's ball cast its shadow over us once more.

Part 5

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup

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