#the retreat is so fuckin pretty!!!

[oneforthemunny]

what about mafia!eddie and reader going through a rough patch and all they do is fight and kitten tells him that they should take a break and i'll leave the rest up to you....

oof ok let's 180 back to angst. buckle up angsty babes!

"Maybe," Your voice trembled, sucking in a shaky breath. "Maybe I should go stay with my parents... for a while."

Eddie's head whipped around, eyes wide with something you couldn't quite detect, a new look teetering between anger and something worse. It made your spine tingle with chills, icy and fearful.

"What?" Eddie's voice was soft, much quieter than the raised tone from before.

"I-I think," You tried to still your voice, throat raw and aching from the back and forth screaming match of the night. "I think I- we need to be apart for a while." You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze, looking at the couch behind him instead.

"Why?" Eddie barked, teeth gritting and baring in fury, heart pounding with a fear he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Eddie," You sighed, shaking your head at him. "Seriously? All we do is fight." A fresh wave of tears rolled over you, nose burning.

"That's not-"

"-Eddie," You stopped him, gaze meeting his. You could see it now, could see that the foreign look was fear. Your heart sank, taking a shuddering breath to calm yourself. "We're just... We can't stop fighting."

Eddie stilled, frozen across from you. "I'm tired of fighting." You admitted softly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Days, weeks of bickering- back and forth until your voices were raw, doors slamming, then retreating back with careful apologies, only to repeat the cycle over and over. You were dizzy from it, from trying to get him to see, to understand your point. He was so stubborn.

What started as a what if silly conversation, turned into a bickering, fueled into a full blown fight that seemed never ending.

"You'd be a good dad. You're so good with the boys." You hummed, leaning against his chest.

"Yeah? You'll never know." Eddie scoffed casually.

You frowned, pushing up to look at him. "What?"

Eddie blinked. "C'mon, you know I can't have kids. Not doin' this job. Won't do it to some poor kid."

"But I'll never know?" Your lips pursed. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say to me. Pretty bold." You pushed off of him, out of his hold.

Eddie huffed, running a hand down his face. "Where're you- Seriously? We've talked about this, have we not?"

"Yeah, we have." You huffed, cheeks burning. "But saying I'll never know- do you not see how that's a little rude?"

"What?" Eddie threw his hands up. "You won't. Not with me, anyways."

You gawked at him, surprised, furious, hurt. "You're such a fuckin' asshole. I can't believe you." You snapped, stomping off.

That was the first night. Both of you stubbornly coming for the other, agitation building over and over and over, piling on top of previous fury until you'd finally burst. Leaving you standing here, where you are now, defeated and ready to throw the towel in, too tired to fight.

"I-I- Baby, if this is about the kids thing, look, I told you-"

Your sigh cut Eddie off. "It's not about that." You ran a hand down your face. "I can't- I can't keep trying to explain my side of things when you aren't listen. You won't listen."

"Then what? What is it?" Eddie's franticness turned to angry urgency. "Just say what you mean! Say it!"

You didn't flinch at his anger, at his outburst. Your lip wobbled, taking a deep breath in. "I've said it." You muttered. "I can't- I won't be in a relationship that's one sided." Eddie felt sick at your words.

"I understand that you don't want certain things, and I respect that, I do. But I've changed a lot of things in my life for you, because I love you." You continued, tears brimming your vision. "All I'm asking is for a little change in return. Not with the kids thing-" You cut him off before he could start, sensing what he was going to say.

"But there's two of us in this relationship." You look at him. "I just wish you could try to see my side of things sometimes."

"I do-" Eddie spat in defense.

"-When I'm agreeing with you, you do." You snapped back. "But when it's something you disagree with, you shut me down, dismiss it because what you say is law-"

"-It is not-"

"-And I'm tired of it." You look at him pleadingly. "I think we both need some time apart to figure out what we want. What we do from here."

Eddie felt tears burn, threatening to fall. "I know what I want." He gritted through clenched teeth. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I don't need time to figure out because it's not changing."

You nodded slowly. "I know you do." You whispered. "But this is what I'm talking about. That's what you want."

Eddie felt sick, heart sinking lower and lower into the pit in his stomach. "I need time apart." The room was silent, your voice cutting through. "I need to figure it out."

"Are you- You're breaking up with me?" Eddie sounded petulant, voice crackingly pathetic that he hadn't been since he was a teenager.

Your shoulder shuddered, exhaling shakily. "I didn't say that." You shook your head. "I-I don't want to, that's not what this is. I just... I need to be able to think. We both do."

Eddie blinked, vision bleary with tears that fell. "Alright," He nodded, ignoring the ache in his chest, heart splitting in two. "If that's what you want."

Watching you drive off, slow down the road, Eddie ignored the screaming in his head to run after you. To pull you out of the car, demand you come back, bring you back himself. This is what I'm talking about, your voice played in a painful loop in his mind.

You called him like you said you would, hours later when you got to your parent's house. A quiet, quick phone call. His heart still swelled, lifting when you muttered a fast, "love you" before hanging up.

Sitting in the stillness of the empty house, Eddie had never felt so lonely in his entire life. It was horrifying, thinking that his future could be like this- a life without you in it. Eddie decided right then and there, he'd do whatever he needed to make sure that wasn't his reality.

[woundedoves]

(Multifandom M!top x trans male reader) (NSFW)

a/n: i NEED to get my boycunt ruined im telling u… so i wrote abt it

CW: breeding kink, so much of it, tongue fucks you while you’re full with cum, a bit unrealistic but that’s the fun of it, talks of getting the reader knocked up, not proofread!

ᯓᡣ𐭩

your hands slip up from the wall as your boyfriend pounds his cock in and out of your tight cunt, his cockhead brushinv against your cervix with every thrust, gasping as his grip on your hips are more than enough to keep you up, his muscles flexing as he grabs you from your hips and slams you on his dick, the cold water streaming along your ass; dripping onto his cock as he moans and pulls you flush against his chest by your neck.

“look at you, just a good dicking is enough to make you such a whore, hm?” you whine as you feel your cunt clench around his fat cock, milking all of the pre cum as he groans, “fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight, your cunt’s so fucking good around my dick, boy.” your body shakes as his fingers rub your clitoris harshly, you cry out as you feel your orgasm wash over you in waves, coating his dick with your cum as your body convulses and he moans, thrusting deeper, “fuck- you got even tighter, that’s right, cum for me, good boy”

he helps you ride out your orgasm as he slowed his pace down a bit, his fingers retreating as he takes you by the arms, smiling down at you when your eyes widen as you turn to look at him, “now be good and take my cum inside, let’s see if i can shoot up enough to knock you up, hm?” you can only manage a weak whimper as he drives his cock in and out, your cum making the process much easier as his grunts mix with your whorish moans, feeling the tip of his cock against your cervix as the thought of being bred makes you clench around him; much to his delight.

you shiver at the cold water as he snaps his hips against your ass a few more times, his moans getting louder each time, “take that fuckin’ cock, i’ll knock you up so fucking good— fuck-“ you’re left breathless as he cums into your cunt with a final shove of his cum, feeling the head of his cock open up your cervix as his cum streams into your womb, making you cum around him again with a cry of his name as he rides out his high.

“fuuuck, look at all that cum, yours and mine mixing together like that…” he slowly pulls out until just the tip is in your entrance and then slams his hips down, “just makin’ sure all that cum is in there, baby” he teases as he pulls out completely, you’re about to suggest cleaning up as he shoves you against the wall, on your back and gets on his knees.

“part those legs, let me see that pretty cunt” you obey as you open your legs, he bites his lip as he puts two of his fingers inside, moaning as he feels his cum gush out, he pulls them out and grips your thighs like they’re his lifeline as he shoves his tongue in your cunt, you grip his hair as you let out a loud moan, didn’t even try to eat you out properly before shoving his tongue inside, thrusting it in and out as he tastes you, his cock throbbing as he feels cum on his tongue, running down his chin…

[astralnymphh]

jus needa grab ellies hips from behind and sway em while music plays in the background… until you sway em a little too much and she gives you that look. she’s all mushy internally but acts like a stone wall on the outside. turning around to softly sway her towards the sofa and lay her down. EEEEP she’d totally get that loser grin out too. eating her out and she’s all squirmy n’ flustered <3 neeeeeeda handle her cause she deserves some loving !!!

18+ ─⋆˙꩜ ur so real for this anon. said loser grin crooking her pretty peach lips as she observes you, leading your mouth over various leas of fabrics and flesh. all on one synonymous path to the heart of her thighs; collarbone, sternum, belly button, the borderline of her waistband. with each muddled smack of your kiss, she would squirm, and rouse in volume. so, when the area most craved, most anticipated for, is met with your hungriest kiss - she moans, "uhhnn, shit," and lets a curse slip, chin nearly touching her neck as her head had perked to follow you, visually. that's when the grin n' all her cute dimples and wrinkles recede, when realization sinks in. ellie could tell your intent earlier, but she was too caught up in the swaying and the smooching to actually prepare her mind. lime-eyed fluster shines in the sockets staring at you - pursed brows and mushy, heart-shaped pupils - as you undo her bottoms, backs of your knuckles crossing the textured length of her thighs as you ease the waistband down. a giggle forms in your chest when her legs quickly retreat from the pantholes you've just glid from her ankles, ellie clearly being too enkindled and flustered to guess where you want - no, need her legs to go. "hey, hey- where ya' going els'?" your voice crawls to her, and you collect her ankles in your softened fists, bringing her to you. her tone is cracked, careful, infected with a tiny laugh. "sorry," such a silly girl, apologizing when your face is gratuitous between her thighs, "i-i didn't know where you wanted me to— aahh.."

ellie is the worst at taming herself when she gets licked: will press so dearly on your head as your tongue swipes or takes her clit into the warmth of your mouth, you aren't a stranger to her raspy curses, whines and jerky movements. for sure. sometimes that loser beam will return with her rushed and breathy chants of, "yes.. yes, yes yes.." pussy lips throbbing and pushing for more of your delirious tongue. could you also imagine her, softly curing her bitten n' tugged lips with another, "fuck, fuck it, m'sorry," right before her fingers hook the lowest point of your head and shove you into her little, desperate grinds, breathlessly begging. "i wanna come, wanna come, fuckin' lick me faster - fuck!" eyes twisting cross-eyed as she finally climaxes. all. over.

on a side note - ELLIE HIP LOVING NATION! [2nd picture from ellievaleriaa via pinterest : P] [lmk if a big text version is needed]

[gallaghersgal]

frat boy lip finding out that some new cocky, asshole freshman are being mean to other girls, let alone you oh it’s so over for them lip’s already got his foot on their neck (metaphorically or literally—depends on the situation tbh…)

obsessed w/ lip being so so protective over his little clingy crybaby gf ugh I need him to [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] no warnings, just some crying and a little bit of angry lip at the end!

when you step into lip's room with tearful eyes and mascara tracking down your rosy cheeks, he doesn't waste a second in scooping you up into bed with him. between situating you in his lap and kissing your wet cheeks he whispers; "who." not a question, a demand. "who the fuck made y'cry, baby? 'cause they're gonna regret it."

you inhale in a pitiful little sniffle and press your face against the firm muscle of his chest, shaking your head. "jus' some dick i-in the student center. h-he called my dress ugly!" you exclaim.

"the dress i bought ya? this gorgeous dress?" he asks, playing with the soft fabric of the skirt. he ruches it up past your thighs, letting it fall gently back over the swell of your ass. one firm hand rests there, the other cupping your jaw. "you think i would spend my hard earned money on an ugly dress? hm? dry the tears, sweet girl."

a wet laugh escapes your lips and an indescribable swell rushes over your poor, tormented heart. "no, y'wouldn't," you admit in a mumble as you wipe the remaining tears from under your eyes.

"good girl," he praises, scattering kisses all over your face in an attempt to hear that precious laugh of yours again. "so fuckin' sexy, this 's'ya color. he's jus' jealous, mad that y'so far outta his league. lemme show you, yeah?"

the worries slip from your mind in tandem with his hand slipping under your dress, and by that night you've forgotten all about it.

you don't remember the interaction until a few days later. you're seated on the half wall outside lip's frat house, a grin on your lips as you play bouncer alongside him. a loud, rude voice catches your attention and you shudder, pointing with the cig in your hand to a group of guys approaching the party. "lip, there! the one in the middle, that's the asshole from the student center."

lip gets a shit eating grin on his face and plucks the cig from your fingers, pushing off his spot on the wall. "y'want me to kick his ass, baby?" he kisses your cheek, not even waiting for a response before he marches up to the boy. "hey! who the fuck do y'think you are, huh?"

you hear the boy slur out some drunken excuse, his friends scattering towards another party nearby. it doesn't take long for him to swing at lip, at which you hear a hearty laugh rise from your boyfriend's chest. he catches the punch, twisting the boy's arm behind his back before leaning in towards his ear. you can't make out what lip says to him, but whatever it is does the trick because he ends up nodding solemnly. the pained grimace on his face is a laughable contrast against lip's cocky smirk as he walks the boy up towards you.

"what d'ya fuckin' say t'her, hm?" lip demands, stopping right in front of you. the boy is silent until lip twists his arm harder, drawing out a pained yelp. "i said, what the fuck d'ya say to her? or do i need to remind you."

"no, no! jesus, fine" the boy slurs, directing his gaze to you. "y'very pretty."

lip kicks his heel, not hard enough to knock it from under him, but just enough to hinder his balance. he pulls his cigarette from his lips, exhaling the smoke before demanding, "what did i say about respect."

"you are very pretty, ma'am," he repeats, pursing his lips before the next statement. "an' i'm a little bitch, w-with a littler dick."

you turn your gaze to lip, refusing to address the boy. "you can let him go, i guess," you tell him with a smile, and laugh when the boy stumbles.

"i don' wanna see you around here again, y'hear me?" lip calls out, flicking the ashes of his cigarette at the boy's retreating form.

[frudoo]

heyy you said asks were open so 🫣

i was wondering if you could do like slasher!141 but their girl is a medic and is super super overworked? (smut or fluff i js adore ur writing) what if she also got harrassed by a patient and she goes to them about it!!

also if you see this i am quite literally OBSESSED w ur writing 😭💗

You're the sweetest!!

I don't consider this particular oneshot to be canon in the slasher!141 AU since reader is a daycare teacher, but I couldn't pass up this request!

Warnings: Brief mention of a wound/assault (NOT by 141) and death. SMUT. Cunnilingus. Fem!Reader. MDNI.

The front door slams shut behind you, and you immediately toss aside your lanyard and strip off your scrubs, storming into the laundry room in nothing but your underwear. Kyle is already working on starting a load of laundry but instantly retreats when he sees the mood you’re in. He throws his hands up in surrender when you look at him through your peripheral vision, slowly backing out of the little room and sprinting back to the den, where the other three men are all looking at each other, waiting for someone to speak or act first.

     “We shuid check on ‘er,” Johnny scratches the back of his neck nervously but makes no move to stand from his place on the couch.

     “I ain’t losin’ m’life,” Simon crosses his arms and kicks back in the recliner. “She’s fuckin’ scary when she’s mad.” 

    “We all swore we’d work at better communication,”  John sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get your arses up. We’re all gonna talk to her. She is our wife, after all.”

     Nobody dares argue with John. They all trail into the tiny laundry room, but their hesitation absolutely ceases when they see you on the floor, sobbing your pretty little eyes out. Johnny kneels down before you, gently rubbing your bare arms in an attempt to soothe you. It’s only when you lift your head that he notices the scratch beneath your eye, already starting to bruise. He cups your face in his hands, cautiously running his thumb over the wound.

     “Who did this tae ye?” 

     “A patient,” you sniffle, finding comfort in the warmth of your husbands’ presence. “Big fuckin' guy with a weird accent. I think he was Austrian? Anyway, he woke up from anesthesia and scratched my face.”

     “Name,” Simon demands, and the anger in his voice makes you smile slightly—always so eager to protect you, or get revenge on the ones who hurt you when they couldn’t be there. 

     “Don’t worry about it,” you gently wipe away your tears. “He had a heart attack shortly after. Didn’t make it.”

     John starts laughing, and it’s so contagious that you almost forget all about being sad. Your eye is sore but it’s easy to ignore as Johnny helps you up, carrying you out of the laundry room and upstairs to the main bedroom. Oh. You know what that means. 

     You giggle as Johnny tosses you on the bed, yelping when he hops on after you, followed by Kyle. 

     “W-wait, no, I’m too tired!” You protest half-heartedly as Simon locks the door. 

     “Ye will be once we’re done wit’ ye,” Johnny grins devilishly, flipping you onto your side so that Kyle can undo the clasp of your bra. “Price, come ‘old ‘er fer us, aye?”

     John gently crawls onto the bed, positioning himself behind you so that his back hits the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. Johnny carefully pulls off your panties and John grabs the insides of your thighs, holding you open for all of them to see. There’s already a dull ache where your clit is starting to throb, and you whimper softly, resting the back of your head on John’s shoulder. 

     “It’s not fair that I’m the only naked one,” you huff, trying to tug at Kyle’s shirt, but he bats your hand away. 

     “All about ya tonigh’, dove,” He shrugs, leaning in to take one breast in his warm hand, wrapping his lips around your other nipple and sucking.

     Any objections you could have previously thought up die on your tongue the second Johnny attaches his mouth to your unoccupied nipple, swirling his hot tongue around the stiff peak. John’s beard tickles your skin as he trails kisses down your jawline, his grip on your thighs bruising. As you shut your eyes, you miss the way Simon climbs onto the bed and positions himself between your legs, wasting no time in licking an agonizingly slow stripe through your slit.

     “Oh fuck,” you gasp, your eyes popping open just as quickly as they’d closed, landing on the sight of your hulking lover’s pink lips engulfing your swollen clit. 

     “They makin’ you feel good, darlin’?” John’s gruff voice murmurs into your ear, the cool air of his breath sending goosebumps rising all over your body.

     You nod vigorously, squealing in pleasant surprise when Kyle runs the jagged edges of his teeth along your sensitive nipple. Your hands reach out to cusp the back of his and Johnny’s head in an effort to keep them there, a silent plea for them not to stop. The noises Simon is making between your legs are obscene, tongue dipping into your entrance to slurp up your slick, dragging it back to your bud and circling it with the most delicious pressure. Just when you think it’s impossible to feel any better, the blond man slips two long, calloused fingers inside of your pussy, curling them to rub that rough patch that makes your back arch. 

     “There, right there! Oh, fuck, Si, please don’t stop,” you cry out, trying your best to hump yourself against his mouth despite John’s hands holding you in place.

     “Ye gonna cum fer us, lass?” Johnny pulls off of your nipple with a wet pop, but you shove him back down, earning an amused hum from the other three men.

     “C-close,” you mewl, your entire body trembling with anticipation. “Gonna- hmm, I’m gonna… oh! Please, please, please!”

     Simon shakes his head erratically, adding a euphoric sensation to the already intoxicating feel of his tongue and fingers, and that’s what sends you over the edge. Your cunt pulsates around his digits and your mouth falls open in a silent scream, tremors jolting all throughout your body just beneath your clammy skin. The cream that coats Simon’s fingers squelches when he pushes them back inside to milk your orgasm until you’re pushing him away from overstimulation. Kyle and Johnny pull away from your breasts to pepper your cheeks in sweet kisses.

     An exhausted thanks is all you manage to mutter out as you melt in John’s grasp, to which he tuts.

     “Oh, sweetheart. It’s not over until all of us have had a taste o’that sweet pussy.”

[bellatrixscurls]

pairing : artrick x reader

warnings : mentions of sexual toys, patrick being mean (just for a sec), flirting.

hear me out,, sexshop workers art and patrick. except, they are together and pat convinced art to get a job there, so they can get each other off and fuck whenever the shop isn’t as busy.

so what happened when one time, you didn’t see the closed sign on the door during one of their “breaks”, and you walked in. the place was noisy, vibrators turned on, but it seemed to be more than that. you moved around and there was nobody there. you almost went to walk out BUT right before you were out of earshot, you heard what sounded like wood hitting a wall, repeatedly.

“hello?” you called out softly, and the sound immediately stopped. “fuck you, pat. i told you it was a bad idea!” you heard someone curse under their breath, before the door that said “staff only” opened and revealed two guys, their faces flushed and you could swear that you saw one of them tucking it in last minute.

they eyed you for a moment, and the blonde one went to speak, but was cut off before he could say anything. “didn’t you see the fucking sign that says closed?! you just walk in like it’s your damn house and-” “patrick, shut up!”

the aforementioned boy turned to you once again, eyes wide and a look of embarrassment on his face, because you just had to have heard them. “i’m so sorry about my colleague. what are you looking for today?” he smiled politely and you realise that you forgot what you were, in fact, looking for.

“my colleague” the other one, patrick, said under his breath, rolling his eyes as he followed you and art around the store.

“i’m just looking for an… egg, i think that is? it’s on my best friend’s birthday wishlist and i’m pretty sure it’s not about a normal egg” you rambled, fiddling with your fingers, because never have you ever thought that you’d actually go into a sexshop, and even worse, that two hot guys would have to check you out.

art gave you a tight-lipped smile and turned his back to you, seemingly looking for said egg. god, is it embarrassing. “excuse me for a minute, i have to look in the back room.”

and just like that, you were left with patrick for a good two minutes, and the smug smile he was giving you did nothing to soothe your nerves. you had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant to do anyway. “so, never been in a sexshop before?”

you sighed, there we go. “what gave it away?” you tried to smile at him, ignoring your nerves and the way your palms were sweating just from looking at him.

“eh, just figured” he responded nonchalantly, the smirk still present on his face. he made a quick turn, now fully facing you and your eyes widened slightly. “what do you think about my colleague?”

“s-sorry?” you responded, startled by his directness. but he didn’t say anything, just arched his brow at you. “he is pretty” you cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him.

patrick grinned widely, his blue eyes analysing every inch of you. “just pretty?” he pouted. that fucker. “i think he’d have many more things to say about you. i saw they way you looked at each other.”

“oh, it’s not that. i mean, i look at you just the same, so it’s not-” you sighed, now you really were fucked, “i heard you guys, back there. i don’t want you to think that i like your boyfriend or colleague or-”

“you talk so fuckin’ much.. it’s cute” he nodded to himself and your face instantly reddened. this guy was trying to fuck with your head. he leaned in when he heard the door open, art’s footsteps closer and closer. “you gotta know though, these things are magic” he pointed toward the vibrators, specifically at a large purple one. “me and my boyfriend can help you pick one out the next time you come.”

patrick quickly retreated and you turned, startled, to see art holding several of what seemed to be eggs in his hands, all different colours and shapes. “hey, you have any idea what size would your friend be fond of?”

he was so fucking cute.

[hiiikiko]

hi hi hi

can you do brothers bff!ellie x reader? maybe they met as children and ellie was close with readers brother, but always saw r as a nuisance. until r went away to boarding school or something and came back a few years later, and ellie begins to develop a crush on her? idk i thinks this would be cute for her 🥰

𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖, 𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖

brother’s best friend!ellie x reader | tlou m.list

[a/n:] i love this trope so much, thank you for submitting this ask! also LMAO this went so off base but I like this too much to delete it and It’s too much work to copy and paste every god damn sentence bc tumblr makes that so fuckin’ hard but uh yeah thanks :P

Synopsis: Ellie and you had something goin on.. but it’s been years since the two of you have seen each other..

tw: angst

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SUNDAY

Ellie was your childhood friend, uh, actually that’d be a lie.. she was your brother’s best friend.. but same difference.. I mean, your mom would force your darling big brother, Jesse, to take you everywhere with him.. like, come on, it was free babysitting and it was killing two birds with one stone. Not only was your mom getting free babysitting, she was also able to kick your reckless brother out for a few hours. So everyday for a few hours after school, your brother would drag you along to football games, lacrosse games, basketball games.. ugh, so many sports.. You didn’t always look forward to it, but.. there was one upside to them..

Ellie Williams.

Ellie was your next door neighbour. She was pretty, smart, introverted, and a troublemaker. Sure, she graduated valedictorian and was an all-star on the girl’s lacrosse and basketball and volleyball team but god, did she cause her fair share of trouble.. including, making you fall for her. Although, you were sure Ellie completely hated your guts. She always called you ‘squirt,’ given that you were much smaller than her when the two of you were kids. She would always groan when she saw you tag along with Jesse, smacking his arm and glaring back at you, silently saying ‘Why the fuck did you bring her?” To which Jesse would reply with a sly smirk and a shrug.

Now, it wasn’t your plan to fall for her.. but come on, it was inevitable. She was your brother’s best friend, that’s like the forbidden fruit in the garden of eden! How could you pass that up, hm? But, before you could ever confess to her.. you were shipped off to a catholic all girl’s school because your mom thought that these thoughts about girls weren’t very christian-like. You came back every now and then but it was easier to spend breaks at your Aunt’s house, it was closer to the school and besides, what was the point of coming back? You weren’t very popular in your hometown, you lived in your brother’s shadow. He was an all-star in practically every sport, smart, constantly made the papers for his footaball games.. so did Ellie and you never really felt like you belonged with them, or your town for that matter. In boarding school, you had no one to be compared to. You were actually quite popular, you joined quite a few clubs, even became head of the Newspaper Club and graduated valedictorian. You were doing pretty good on your own, then soon.. you were off to college.

It was the beginning of fall when you finally decided to pay your mom and brother a visit, you were on thanksgiving break.

“Alright, bye Lila! See ya, Chris!” you waved at the retreating volkswagen van belonging to your two best friends from school, rooted in the ground as you watched it disappear round a corner.

You let out a deep sigh as you tuned on your heel to face your childhood home, it felt like forever since you’d been back.. sure, you came back sometimes but.. still, it had been, like, three years. You were now a sophomore i college, you had left when you were a senior in high school.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Ellie’s house, Joel’s truck was in the garage. Joel was a nice guy, he’d always fix your mom’s car for free. You and Jesse really did like him, at one point, the two of you even tried hooking your mom up with him but.. that all came crashing down when your mom found out and sentenced the two of you to yard work for the next week.

“Hey, Joel,” you say to the pair of boots under the old Chevy, drumming your fingers on the hood.

The sound of tools turning comes to a halt as the pair of boots soon slides down to reveal the person the pair of boots belonged to.. Ellie.

“Oh, sorry.. I-I thought you were Joel,” you stuttered out, Ellie’s fierce gaze piercing right through you.

“Yeah? Well, you thought wrong,” she grumbled, using her teeth to pull off her gloves and wiping some grease off her face, “Long time, no see.. what do you want?”

God, you haven’t even been home for more than five minutes and the new you was already melting away under her gaze, you felt like you were 17 again.

“Nothing, just.. wanted to say hi,” you mumble and leave her there, sitting on the sliding board.

You couldn’t see it but, you could feel her hungry gaze watching your every move as you left the driveway. You couldn’t tell if she was watching you out of curiosity or.. something else.

MONDAY

Sunday went by like a breeze, you and your mom caught up over dinner, you and Jesse caught up by not catching up.

Today, you decided to look for a part-time job. You just needed enough cash to get you a one-way ticket back outta here and you didn’t want to burden your Aunt with the costs.

After visiting a multitude of stores, you ran into Joel at the gas station. He mentioned how he was looking for a receptionist and you practically threw yourself at the opportunity.

“Alright, alright, you got the job,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his gas station coffee, letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. This man sure did love his coffee, “Can you start tomorrow?”

You beaned, “Yes, sir, I can.”

He nodded and tapped your trucks hood, “Make sure to bring this ol’ boy by, I promised your mom a free oil change in exchange for her cookin’ me a few dishes a month.”

You giggled, “Will do.”

TUESDAY

“Hey, I’m here for the job,” you said to the guy at the front desk, a older gentleman, he reeked of weed, his eyes glazed over.

“Uh, okay, let me get the other manager.”

You nodded, leaving the desk to look around the old shop, it smelled of gasoline, leaving a metallic taste in your mouth.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Your blood ran cold as you realized who that low, raspy voice belonged to, “Mornin’ to you, too, Ellie.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the desk and tucking her pen behind her ear, “You’re the new girl?”

You nod, trying not to let your smile falter, “Yep, that’s me.”

She rolled her eyes again, “Alright, follow me.”

You jog to keep up with her while she introduces you to all the mechanics, turns out the mechanic you met earlier is named Eugene. They were all happy to see a fresh new face, some even asking if that car out front was yours and if anythin’ were to go wrong, that you knew where to find them, much to Ellie’s annoyance.

“Well, that’s all? Any questions?” and before you could say yes, she slammed her office door closed.

“Same as always, I see,” you mumbled and set yourself down at the desk, familiarizing yourself with the outdated equipment. You didn’t like how close your desk was to her office, it was suffocating.

FRIDAY

By Friday, you had completely reorganized their computer systems to be a little more efficient and their files as well. Ellie didn’t say good job or anything, she just nodded and criticized every little mistake you made. Joel, on the other had, would knock her upside the head every time he caught her saying something a little too mean, then would apologize for his daughter’s behaviour and shower you with compliments.

Besides Ellie’s annoying remarks, work was actually going pretty smoothly.

You were finishing up some paperwork when you heard the door to the garage swing open, she had on her overalls and was covered in grease and oil, just like the first day when you came back.

“Y/n, pull your truck in, Joel wants me to change the oil or whatever she grumbled, wiping her cheek, trying to rid it of the grease but actually, she just made it worse. You couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the sight.. there’s just something about a woman covered in car oil that does it for you..

You nod, “Alright.”

You spent the last 40 minutes talking on the phone with your old schoolmates, laughing about how they got back home.

“Sooo.. Y/n, have you heard from Abby?” your friend, Lila, giggled as she was pushed out of frame by her sister, Chris.

You groan and lean back into your chair, “God, no. I haven’t heard from her since that night,” you rub your face with your hand, trying to conceal the embarrassment.

The two girls on the other end giggled and begin to fangirl over Abby.

“Ugh, I don’t know why you don’t want her anymore!” Lila began.

“She was totally perfect, like.. you landed a lacrosse player.. that’s every girl’s dream-“ “ Not to mention how muscular she was? LIke, uh, drool??”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, I admit she was perfect—.”

The garage door slams and in comes Ellie, looking especially pissed off, “Can you shut the fuck up? It’s hard to work when you’re being so god damn loud.”

She wandered into frame, you could practically read what Lila and Chris were thinking, their eyes screamed ‘do me.’

You rolled your eyes and hung up your phone, “Fuck, Ellie. You’re such a fuckin’ killjoy.”

Ellie laughed, walking over to your desk, spinning around your chair, putting her arms on either side of the arm rests, “You’re such a pain in the ass,” and for a split second, you could swear her eyes flickered down to your lips.

SATURDAY

Saturday night, Dina invited you out with her and Jesse to the local bar. Country music blasted through the speakers and the sound of beer bottles thinking set the tone along with the cheap cigarette smoke.

“Thank god they don’t card, huh,” Dina smirked at you, you laughed. Jesse rushed off to the bar to get the three of you some beers.

The two of them watched you slam down your first beer, a little too fast for them to know it was your first.

“What? Boarding School isn’t as strict if you know how to get around the rules and alarms,” you giggled.

You soon had enough liquid courage in you to make your way onto the dance floor, swinging your way into the arms of guys and girls, alike.

“Uh.. testing.. 1…2..3,” the crowd came to a sudden halt, you followed their gaze. You saw Ellie on stage, a young mechanic you knew, and a guy you didn’t know too well stood behind her. She held her hand up above her eyes to shield them from the harsh stage light. She looked.. well, hot.. she wore some wranglers, steel-toed cowboy boots, and a nice black long sleeve button up, her brown cowboy hat rested atop her head, bringing out the green in her eyes, “Well, tonight, we got some new songs for y’all.”

Her set was pretty amazing, the crown obviously loved her and her voice was very, very good.

“Alright, before we call it a night, we got one more song.. we’ll be covering I Wonder Do You Think of Me,” you couldn’t really tell but you were sure she was staring directly at you, but that was ridiculous, you were sure she couldn’t see anything through that blaring light.

She started, “If you drive around, back in our old hometown.. I wonder, do you think of me?” her voice sounded full of hurt, almost like it was breaking.

The dance floor was full of cowboys and cowgirls moving their bodies in since, in beautiful, melancholic slow dance.

“And remember those games, those cold football games.. I was your hero, though I seldom played, back then.. could you see, what our future would be?”

Now you were certain, she had to be singing this song for you, everything her eyes dipped back underneath her cowboy hat, you could see her emerald eyes piercing into your soul.

“Fuck this,” you grumbled and grabbed your purse, you were not going to do this again.

“I still love you, do you think of me?”

The wooden door slammed behind you and you could hear the cheers of the audience erupt.

“Y/n, wait,” a hoarse voice came bounding toward you.

“God! What? What the fuck do you want Ellie?”

You whipped around, Ellie’s face was only inches from yours.

“I-I wanted to apologize.. for, for everythin’. It wasn’t right to leave you like that.. and it wasn’t right to say all I did. “

The months leading up to your departure, you and Ellie had been sneaking around. “I love you,” she had whispered in your ear, the night of her winning the lacrosse state championship, her mouth nestled against your ear and her hands in your pants and like an idiot, you believed her. You believed her despite her not wanting to go on dates, hang out together in public school, and through the rumours of her being a player. Then, the night before you left for school, she snuck into your room and confessed; “I never loved you, Y/n.. you were just a means to an end, another girl on my roster.”

Those words were ingrained in your memory, the next day when you left for school, your eyes were puffy and that following year, you tried everything to get over her. Then that year became two years, following you into college. You drank, smoked, hooked up with random girls but none of them were her, not even Abby Anderson.

“I’m not doing this again,” you ripped your hand out from her grasp.

“Fuck, would you just listen to me?” she trapped your other hand and pulled it to her chest, “I never meant all that bullshit, don’t ya see? I’ve only ever liked you, Y/n…” her eyes looked sincere.

“Fuck you, you’re so full of yourself.”

“God, you’re sop fuckin stubborn. Don’t believe me? I sent you a letter every god damn day after you left, I had given them to your mom, it wasn’t until recently that Jesse had told me she never mailed them out.”

This whole time, you assumed that she had really meant it all and the no reaching out thing, really drove the nail deeper..

You stopped, “What?”

“You gotta believe me,” her breath smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.

You stared into her eyes, you heart melted, “F-fine..”

She smiled and pulled you even closer, her hand wrapping around your waist and she placed a soft kiss on your lips. You really were a fool, weren’t ya?”

[katsu28]

"send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!"

☕: prompt 23 from list e for rafe!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

it pains me to paint my pogues in a not so great light but i will forever love protective rafe <3 thank you for requesting!

rafe cameron x reader, minimal swearing, 1.9k

“Look who it is! The Princess Kook, slummin’ it on our side of the island for once.” 

Your grip tightened around the pack of beer you were holding at the voice coming from behind you, because you already knew who it was. There was only one person ballsy enough to speak so critically of you, and you were pretty damn sure he was standing right behind you.

Lo and behold there he was, flanked by a more bored looking John B. 

JJ Maybank was and always had been on your case, though you suspected it had more to do with your family name than with you yourself—always spouting off about money and wealth and eating the rich. You understood where he was coming from, of course, but that didn’t mean it stopped being irritating.

It just seemed like he was always riding you about being some little rich girl with daddy’s money, not an actual person, with actual feelings. But after a while, you’d grown used to it. JJ was all bark and no bite. 

“Hi, JJ.” You sighed, shifting your weight to one leg. You nodded at John B, who did the same back to you. “How’s it going?” 

“Didn’t know our booze was good enough for Her Majesty’s taste.” JJ sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his dig. “Rafe know you’re over here?” 

“He’s not my keeper.” 

“What’re you even doing here, Y/N? They don’t got beer on Figure Eight?” John B sounded a little bit nicer, more tired than bitchy like his blond friend. 

“Cheaper here.” 

“Like you don’t have enough fuckin’ money.” JJ scoffed. John B jabbed a sharp elbow into his side, a sign for him to shut up. 

“Look guys, I’m not looking for any trouble. I just wanna get some beer and go home, that’s it.” 

“How ‘bout you leave the beer here and run back to your little princess castle instead?” 

“You’re a real prick tonight, JJ. Something got your panties all up in a bunch?” You shouldn’t have snarked back, that you knew, but he was really getting on your nerves tonight. You weren’t sure why. His words usually just slid right off you. 

JJ’s expression darkened and he scowled, brows furrowing. “Maybe ‘cause I just got fired from the Club this morning.” 

“What, why?” You asked, surprised. It was a genuine question. JJ was a definite pain in your ass, maybe with an attitude problem but still a good employee. 

“Oh, drop the clueless act. Pretty sure it was one of your stuck up friends who complained.” 

“I’m sorry you got fired, JJ, I am, but I had nothing to do with it. And there’s nothing I can do about it either. I don’t have that kind of pull with anyone at the Club, neither does my family.” 

You figured it would be better if you left now before JJ came up with another retort, or you'd likely be here trading snippy insults with each other all night, and you had better things to do with your time. There was some sympathy in you for him, but your statement was still true. There was nothing you could do for him, even if you wanted to. And besides, Rafe was waiting on you for a movie night. 

Leaving the conversation and the beer you were supposed to get behind, you hurried back to your car. The quicker you got to Rafe’s place, the quicker you could forget about it. 

Only a couple minutes into the drive, headlights flashed in your mirror. No big deal, probably just someone heading the same way as you. You were on the main road to the other side of the island, after all. 

Then the car sped up a bit, coming dangerously close to your back bumper before retreating a sizable distance behind—once, twice. By the third time, you were starting to get a little pissed. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting to get a better look at it. A big camper van, old from what you make out in the darkness, faded orange—oh fuck. You knew that van, John B’s old clunker of a car. And if you squinted a little harder, you could almost make out the same blond head of hair that was antagonizing you back at the store. 

So JJ did have a little bite in him. You sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out. 

Stepping on the gas a little harder, you took the long way back to the Figure 8, weaving through the backroads you’d known like the back of your hand since before you were able to drive. Back then, you’d done it on your bike, peals of laughter echoing through the overgrown fields of the Cut turned clean lines of pristinely cut lawns the closer you got to home, as Rafe chased after you on his own. 

Still, the van followed you on your way. With every glance at it in the rearview mirror, you grew a little more worried.

JJ’s driving was erratic, like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with you. If he really wanted to hurt you, this would be the ideal place to do it. There was nothing but grass and weeds around here. Nobody would find you for hours, even days if he were to run you into a ditch or something. 

That thought alone spurred you to drive even faster, driving and driving until you took one more look in the mirror to see that the van had stopped. You watched the headlights grow smaller in the distance, forcing yourself to keep driving until you got to safety—to Rafe. 

You screeched to a stop in front of Rafe’s townhouse, barely giving a backwards glance to see if they were really gone before hurrying the rest of the way to the front door. Hands trembling, you balled them both into fists, raising one to knock as loudly as you could. You could barely hear the thud of your fist on the wood over your thundering heart. 

The door opened in an instant, Rafe’s smiling face greeting you. It quickly faded when he took in your wide eyes, your hard breathing. He pulled you inside immediately, sliding the locks home behind you before gathering you into his arms. “What happened?”

You explained as quick as you could, but the adrenaline from the whole thing was starting to die down. Your previous thoughts were starting to seem silly at this point. JJ was a hothead, but you didn't think he’d go so far as to take out his anger on you. He was probably just trying to scare you, nothing more, nothing less. 

Rafe, on the other hand, was livid. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, voice dangerously low. His eyes searched you for any visible injuries, hands sliding over your body with the utmost care, a stark contrast to the storm creeping into his beautiful blue eyes. “I swear to god if those punks even laid a finger on you—” 

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me, Rafe. I’m okay now, I promise. Just a little shaken up is all.” You assured him, stopping his search by lacing your fingers through his. He still looked unsure. “I’m fine, baby. Honest.” 

Rafe’s brows furrowed long and hard, and you reached up, attempting to smooth out the deep wrinkle between them with your thumb. 

You traced above one of them, trailing down over the skin under it before letting your palm settle against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he leaned more into your touch. The wrinkle disappeared. 

“Okay. But you’re not going home tonight. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna have a talk with my sister in the morning, okay?” He was calmer now, you could tell. The sharp edge to his voice was gone, his shoulders relaxed the more you stroked along his skin. You nodded, satisfied. “Can I make you something? Tea? A snack? I’ve got those cheese puffs you’re so obsessed with, though I don’t really see how good—” 

“Rafe,” You chided, smiling warmly, “You don’t have to dote on me. I’m fine.” 

“I know. My girl’s strong.” He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your palm. “Just had me worried for a bit, that’s all.” 

You kissed him, short and sweet, before tugging him towards the living room. Your gaze landed on the snacks he’d laid out on the coffee table first, drifting to the heaps of blankets and pillows on the couch right after.

Everything was already set up perfectly, and with all that had happened in just the past hour, sent a warmth flooding through your body, a sense of safe and love and home that you only ever felt when you were with Rafe. 

Rafe suddenly looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin at the way you were looking at him. “What? I was excited to see you.” 

“You saw me yesterday, Rafe.” You chided lightly, completely failing at a stern look in favor of something much fonder. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.” 

“Rafe Cameron, are you going soft on me?” You hummed, settling onto the couch. Rafe threw himself down next to you with a nonchalant shrug, resting an idle hand on your knee when you threw your legs across his thighs, but the answer was a resounding yes.

Yes, he was soft for you. Yes, he loved you more than he loved anything and anyone in this world. 

He knew it, you knew it, and that was what prompted him to speak his next words. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Uh oh.” You snickered, drawing a roll of his eyes with a lopsided smile. 

“Hilarious. Anyways, um, what would—I mean, what’re your thoughts about maybe…moving in with me?” 

“Here?” Maybe you sounded a bit more skeptical than you meant to, because Rafe quickly backtracked, sitting up straight. 

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could get a new place, if you want.” He replied, shaking his head. “Top’s uncle works in real estate, I could probably get him to show us some places within the next couple of days—”

“No.” 

Rafe’s expression crumpled. “No? No, as in no, you don’t want to live together?” 

You amended your rather blunt statement with a hand placed over his. “No, as in no, I don’t want to get a new place. I wanna live here. With you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron, your place is way nicer than mine.” You teased. Clearly amused, he scoffed, giving your calf a playful pinch. 

“That the only reason?” 

“‘Course not. I’m also looking forward to that fancy shower head in your bathroom.” 

Rafe snorted, pulling you close against him, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked a bit funny like this, nearly bug-eyed because of your close proximity, but you thought he’d never looked cuter. “And me?” 

You peppered kisses to his cheeks, chin, nose, the corners of his mouth in lieu of an answer, loud and over dramatic and definitely obnoxious, but it made him laugh. Then you kissed him right where he wanted, firm and loving against his lips to say yes, always you, and he smiled. 

Moving in with Rafe meant getting to hear your favorite laugh, see your favorite smile, every single day waking up next to him. You hoped you’d get to experience it for the rest of your life, starting now. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[hp-hcs]

• smut• and lead us nott into temptation — asshole! pureblood! dom bottom! theodore nott x male! muggleborn! catholic! sub top! reader

requested by 🦈 anon! (aka my silly goofy lil guy <3)

WARNING: if you don’t like sacrilegious shit or gay male reader inserts, KEEP SCROLLING

i’ve got enough religious trauma to last me many lifetimes, so writing this one was just like ✍️🥲📿

tws: ⚠️dub-con⚠️, 🔞smut mdni🔞, literally no plot, manipulation, coercion, amab reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, pure blasphemy ngl, inappropriate use of religious prayers, lot of shit talking about the catholic church, gratuitous use of em-dashes, gratuitous use of the pet-name “angel”

you and theo are dormmates or something? idfk man this is literally just 2.2k words of depravity

not edited cause tbh i’m hella embarrassed that i wrote this

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“…hallowed be thy na— Theo?”

“What are you doing?” your roommate asked as he stepped inside your shared dorm, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze focused on the rosary in your hand. 

“Praying,” you mumble, cheeks flushing under his heavy stare. 

“You’re religious?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You believe in all that Muggle deity bullshit?”

“Yes.” You stiffened, lips twisting in distaste at his choice of words. 

You could physically see his pupils dilate at your affirmative answer. 

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. “So you’re…what, celibate, or whatever it’s called?”

You startled at the sudden change of topic. 

“Um…abstinent, yes,” you corrected, taking a step backwards as he moved closer. 

“Shit,” he cursed again. “That’s fuckin’ hot.”

He kept moving forward, crowding you back against the wall. You squeaked when he rested his hand against the wall beside your head, blocking you in on one side. He gently, but firmly, gripped your jaw in his other hand. His gaze raked up and down your body.

You gulped. “Th-Theo, what’re you d—”

He cut you off with a harsh kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was Theo biting your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, tightening his grip on your jaw to wrench it open, and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You were frozen, the rosary slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. After an aggressively…passionate? possessive? minute, Theo pulled back. 

“My sweet little angel,” he cooed, gently stroking the side of your face. “So pretty and pure.”

Your skin prickled under his touch, at the way his eyes darkened with hunger. The way his gentle caress belied the drop of blood running down your chin. 

He looked like sin. The way his hair curled above his ears, his pretty pink lips dotted red with your blood…

He looked like the Devil himself. 

“I want you to fuck me, Y/n,” Theo murmured unabashedly into your ear. 

Your knees trembled. Your heart raced. Your eyes were so wide, it was near painful. “Wh-what?”

“Please, angel? I want you to fuck me,” Theo whispered against your lips, a sensual tone in his voice. 

“Or,” he sighed over-dramatically, really playing it up, “if you want to remain a prude, you can tell me to stop right now and I will; no hard feelings.”

You trembled. What were you doing? Why were you even considering this?

Theo’s hand remained on your waist, and he ran his thumb across your bottommost rib in a steady pattern, back and forth, as he waited for your answer. 

“L-Leviticus 18:22,” you spluttered, doing your damn best to ignore the way the sunlight streaming through your dorm window highlighted and accentuated Theo’s gorgeous bone structure. “Th-thou shalt not lie with m-mankind, as with womankind: it is a-abomination.”

“That’s not a no.”

“That’s not a yes!” you argued. “Besides, lust is a sin of its own!”

“No, this doesn’t count.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an abomination, not sex. Says so right in your little book. So therefore…” his fingers wandered down to the waistband of your trousers, dipping teasingly underneath to ghost over your hip bone before retreating. “Therefore it can’t be lust.”

It was the most backwards logic you’d ever heard. 

But it was hard to think about turning him away when the heel of his hand was suddenly pressing against the front of your trousers. 

“I-it…it isn’t?” you choke out, a confusing new sensation sparking in your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Of course,” Theo said, so confidently that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I-if you’re sure…” you trailed off, eyes widening as Theo dropped like a rock, his knees hitting the flagstone with a resounding crack that you wished you could record, just so you could listen to it over and over and over again. 

His impatient fingers fumbled with the button of your trousers, yanking them and your boxers down to your mid-thigh in a single smooth motion. 

You flushed bright red at the mere notion of being naked from the waist down in front of another person; let alone Theo, the boy who’d been your roommate for the last eight years. 

He kept his gaze firmly locked with yours, those unnervingly dead eyes framed with sinfully long lashes, as he flattened his tongue against the base of your dick and licked a long, slow stroke up the length of it. 

“Oh, fuck—” you cursed, your head falling backwards and hitting the wall behind you with a solid thunk. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.” He grinned, his thumb swiping over the head of your dick and collecting the dribble of precum that was steadily leaking from the tip before spreading it around. 

You whined pathetically, your thighs shaking as a moan was wrenched from your lips. Theo grinned wickedly at how debauched you already looked. 

Without a speck of hesitation, he closed his mouth around your dick, his clever tongue teasing the underside. He hollowed his cheeks around you and you gasped out a choked-off moan. 

Theo’s hand snaked up and found your wrist, guiding your hand to the mess of curls on the top of his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping onto a handful of it for dear life just to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. Honestly, the only thing keeping you from falling over was Theo’s tight grip on your hips. 

“Shit shit shit shit—”

He pulled off of your dick with a sinful pop. 

“Keep reciting,” Theo rasped, his voice already rough and breathless. 

“Wh-what?”

“I interrupted your prayer when I walked in here. Keep reciting.”

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you tried to remember where you’d left off before fully giving up and just starting the Our Father over. “O-Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Th-thy kingdom come, thy w-will be done, on Earth as it— hah~”

Your head fell back against the wall again as Theo sucked furiously on the tip of your dick, all of your thoughts going out the window. 

Theodore, that bastard, pulled off again.

You whined at the loss. “No- d-don’t—”

“Ah ah ah,” Theo chided, patting your thigh. “You stop, I stop. Keep going.”

You hissed out a displeased grumble before returning to your prayer as he returned to his S-tier dick sucking. “O-on Earth as it is in H-Heaven. G-give us this d-day our— Theo— daily b-bread—”

His fingers slipped down from your hip to brush against the sensitive skin behind your balls. 

Your hips jerked forward on instinct, and Theo moaned like a cheap whore around your cock as it was shoved down his throat, his nose suddenly buried in your pubes. 

“And f-forgive us our tre-trespasses…” you panted, fingers tightening their grip on his hair as your eyes squeezed shut. 

There was an odd sensation, like a coil tightening, behind your belly button. It was strange, although not unpleasant. 

“…as we f-forgive those who— who trespass aga-against us.”

Theo pulled away again. You opened your mouth to curse him out—Heaven knows he deserved it, the damn tease—when he got to his feet and promptly shucked off his shirt and trousers, dropping his boxers without a hint of modesty or insecurity. 

You stared, mouth agape, as Theo wandered over to his bed, seemingly in no hurry. He slowly splayed himself out on his bed for you, casting a wandless lubrication charm with a sly grin and an easy, relaxed posture that was belied by his achingly hard cock practically touching his stomach. 

“Close your mouth, angel,” he purred, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You might catch flies.”

You took a small step forward, entranced by the sight in front of you.

“Keep praying, angel,” Theo murmured, running a hand through his already-disheveled curls—which only served in making his just-fucked hairstyle even more pronounced. 

“A-and lead us n-not into temptation,”—Theodore Nott was nothing if not temptation in its purest form—“but deliver us from evil.”

 You took another step closer, then another, until you were by his bedside. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Theo echoed, reaching for you with one hand. His fingers knotted themselves in your shirt, yanking you down on top of him. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours. You wiggled, kicking your trousers and boxers off from where they were still stuck around your knees before pulling back to gasp for air. 

Theo grabbed the front of your shirt again, yanking on it. “Off.”

You complied without a second thought, tugging your shirt off over your head in one fluid motion. 

Theo groaned at the sight of your body as you tossed your shirt God-knows-where. He grabbed the back of your neck again and tugged you into another passionate kiss. 

“One day, ‘m gonna ride you,” he mumbled against your lips, running a possessive hand over your stomach. “My fuckin’ gorgeous boy. But today, you’re gonna fuck me.”

He pulled you fully on top of him, your knees between his, your forearms flat against the mattress on either side of the boy underneath you. 

“Y’know, I never told you to stop praying,” Theo murmured, reaching downwards. His fingers tightened around your cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it closer to his ass and pushing his body down against it. 

You swallowed nervously as you took the not-so-subtle hint, taking a deep breath before slowly pressing the tip in and continuing your Rosary. “H-Hail Mary, f-full of Gr—ah!—ace—”

You had to pause then to bury your head in the crook of his neck, your breathing coming in shaky gasps. Your body zinged with pleasure, your toes curling. 

“That’s it, baby,” Theo cooed, petting your hair gently. “Doing so good. Keep going. Makin’ me feel so good.”

“Th-the Lord is with thee. Blessed art th-thou amongst women—” you whispered breathlessly against his sweaty skin, pausing again for another second to compose yourself before you very slowly and hesitantly pressed in further. 

Theo’s knees tightened around your hips as he dug his heels into the backs of your thighs, urging you closer. “Sh-shit— angel, I need you to go in all the way. C-can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

You nodded and took a deep breath, and slowly and carefully pushed yourself all the way in, bottoming out inside of him after an agonizingly long moment. 

Theo gasped sharply as soon as you were fully seated inside of him. His fingers tightened their grip on your shoulders until his nails managed to break the skin. You leaned down to press your lips against his—much more gently than he had—and moaned into his mouth at the slight sting from his nails. 

Theo sighed in pleasure against your lips and returned the kiss. “M-move, angel. Need you t-to move.”

You slowly pulled nearly all the way out, your eyes fixed on his face. You wanted to document every facial expression, every muscle twitch, everything that Theo did while underneath you. 

Watching his lower lip tremble as a moan spilled out of him had to be your breaking point. Your hips snapped forward of their own accord, quickly filling him back up. “A-and blessed- is- the- fruit- fuck- of thy w-oh!-mb, Jesus.”

His head fell backwards with a loud cry, his nails raking up your back as he scrambled for anything to cling onto. “Yes! Fuck— harder!”

“H-Holy Mar— shit! M-Mary, Mother of G-God…”

You sped up, driving into him faster and harder with every frantic demand that left his lips. You let out a high whine as Theo leaned up to suck on the tender flesh under your jaw with a feral-like possessiveness. Red and purple marks had already begun to bloom along your neck and jaw. 

The coil in your stomach tightened even further.

“Th-Theo, I don’t— wh-what’s—?” you stuttered, panicking at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“Y-you about to cum, angel?” he panted. He stroked a gentle hand over your lower abdomen. “You feel s-something funny right here?”

You whimpered and nodded frantically. “P-please— I’m gonna—”

“No. Hold it, angel.”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t get to finish until you finish your prayer, baby boy.”

You hissed in discomfort. “P-pray for us sinners—”

Your words were interrupted by a high-pitched moan from Theo as his back arched off the bed. He started chanting your name, over and over again, like a prayer of his own. 

His fingers scrabbled for a hold on your shoulders as he tightened around you. “Shit shit shit— ‘m not g-gonna last— fuck! Cum for me, angel,” Theo pleaded, his nails digging further into your back and leaving long marks that quickly blossomed into a rich pink color. 

“Nowandatthehourofourdeath!” you rushed the last line with a near-shriek as the coil in your abdomen exploded, your toes curling again and your vision going white. Your arms buckled and you collapsed on top of Theo, who was experiencing the exact same thing as you.

You both just laid there in a sweaty heap, limp and boneless from your respective mind-blowing orgasms. 

“Amen,” Theo said softly, finishing your prayer. He casted a wandless cleaning spell on the both of you before gently wrapping his arms around you and stroking your scratched-up back as you both came down from your highs. You let out a pleased purr at the feeling of his soft touch gently brushing over your stinging scratches, a wordless spell from Theo methodically coating the marks with a numbing topical ointment. 

You echoed the sentiment after a moment of catching your breath, content to just cuddle with him in this moment. You pressed a kiss to the side of Theo’s throat and whispered a singular word against his skin, “Amen.”

[juuuulez]

📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess,” part two.

📖 -> part one.

info: Richie Jerimovich x reader, no use of (y/n), allusions to sex, kissing, smoking weed, alcohol consumption, overall generally pretty fluffy, Richie wants what’s best for you, king of self control bro is trying so hard.

omg this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week SORRY. but anyway i think this was sweet and is so richie’s growth and awareness era i think he’s trying so hard and is doing an amazing job.

let me know what you all think 😝😝

The floorboards are cold, where you’re sitting against Richie’s door, waiting for him to return from work. 10pm sharp? Yeah, right. Though, you’ve never known Richie to be a punctual man, so it doesn’t bother you that much. Anybody else, and you would have left. But maybe you’ve missed Richie more than you’ll let on.

The 6 pack of beers has already diminished, a half-drunk bottle nursed in your hand, the liquid warming with the air. Heavy footsteps are heard from the stairwell, promoting your head to tilt towards the corridor.

10:23pm, there he is.

Before he’s even approached you, he’s apologising, fumbling with a set of keys inside the pocket of a leather jacket. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, princess,” Richie is cursing. “Carmy was bein’ a massive bitch, and apparently there’s a gas leak ‘n—“

The rambling stops, Richie assumably coming to his senses as he eyes you, sitting on the floor, drink in hand.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” He relents, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

So you simmer on the thought, rolling it around like a pearl, sucking on the inside of your teeth. Finally, you come to stand, not reaching anywhere near Richie’s height.

“Mr. New York?”

A grin breaks out on Richie’s face at your clarification, tone questioning despite the fact that you’re sure, that you remember all of those little conversations. About a dozen people, only made real in your brain, courtesy of Richie’s overzealous descriptions of every little problem in his life.

Sure, he was just your dealer. Just a guy you hooked up with occasionally. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t listen, right?

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He grumbles in approval, a spare hand coming to rub the back of your neck. It’s an intoxicating movement, makes your body warm and fuzzy, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

Richie unlocks the door, the jangling of keys sounding through the hallway. Always the gentleman, he holds it open for you, a smug grin on his face.

“Already made a dent in the beer. Couldn’t wait,” You muse, fingers hooking into the cardboard handle of the 6-pack. “Y’know, this better be worth it.”

“You’ll be right.” Richie dismisses, his eyes following your form as you saunter into his apartment, already so familiar with the place.

He dumps a plastic bag down on the floor, the clutter making an indistinct noise you don’t care to expand on. The beers are placed on the table, and you’re quick to settle into his couch, shoes discarded and knees tucked to your chest.

“So…” Richie begins, coming to stand next to the couch. “Did you want some food?”

Your gaze flickers to him, soaking in how he seems to be a little nervous, a little hesitant. So different. “You know what I’m here for, Richard.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t call me that, it’s weird.” He outwardly cringes at your words, retreating further down the hallway to retrieve the subject of the night.

In your eyes, it was a little amusing. He’d changed, certainly, but you understood why. Maybe Richie’s party days were over, but you’re certainly weren’t.

Your hands find the TV remote, switching it on. It’s been left to Netflix, some kids cartoon looping in the background from when Eva was here, the colours bright and characters animated. Clicking your tongue, you call out to Richie. “Big fan?”

He comes down the hall a few seconds later, nodding towards the TV. “What, of Adventure Time? Fuck yeah. Shits awesome.”

It makes your face split into a grin, a notion he catches onto. Richie leans down, sitting next to you with a joint poised between large fingers, which you eagerly take. Fetching the lighter, you spark the flame, taking a deep inhale to burn the bud inside.

The lighter falls from your hands, Richie scooping it up to light his own cigarette.

“Blazing tonight?” You ask him, a curious lilt to your voice. It’s not often he doesn’t jump at the opportunity.

“Nah,” Richie waves his hand. “Not much, at least.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax back into the couch. “Party pooper.”

Regardless of the quip, Richie’s big hands find your legs, wrapping around your calves and pulling you further down the couch, so you’re lying on your back, and your legs spread across his lap. They rest there, warm over your jeans.

The joint doesn’t last long, you’re antsy to get it through your system. The next one is cradled a little slower, where Richie even takes a few drags, though you can tell he isn’t hungry for it like you are. Cartoons buzz in the background, a distant noise, and the beers quickly disappear leaving you in a giggly stupor.

You end up in a new position: Richie is lying on the couch, his firm chest against your own, with your chin propped up against him. There’s a grin on your face, chewing down on chapped lips, looking as pleased as a goddamn cat. His hands are planted on you, warm over your back, holding you firm and close. Your fingers fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, tugging and twisting it absentmindedly.

Then, his mouth is warm on yours. Hot tongue sliding against hot tongue. It’s unclear who initiated it, but that doesn’t matter, because he tastes like mint gum and nicotine. You probably taste like weed, but Richie doesn’t care, for it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of you. Like a familiar pattern, someone he can come back to when all else fails, someone who he doesn’t need to try for. You’ll always have him.

Your hands travel down the expanse of his torso, finding the band of his sweats. The fabric is soft and you savour the sensation for a moment, every piece of stimuli feeling that much better, like a prickly fog has overcome your mind and makes your body tingle. You press further, dipping your fingers under the band, which makes Richie grunt into your mouth.

“C’mon,” He mumbled against your lips. “Hands off, sweetheart.”

It takes so much effort to pull away, faces inches from each other. And fuck, your eyes are red, glassy and lidded as you stare at him with a mix of satisfaction and tired lust. It’s sleepy and quiet and feels perfect.

“What’s up?” You ask him.

But he just shakes his head, blue eyes still studying you. “Nothin’ s’up.”

You’re sceptical, of course, because when has Richie ever refused sex? Not with you, at least, and certainly not like this. The thought doesn’t simmer long in your mind, because the grin is soon returning, with a poorly suppressed giggle as you shift a little atop him, pressing your hips down against his own.

“I can feel you.” You tell him, utterly amused by the notion of his arousal beneath you. The sweats do little to contain it, and you can tell that Richie finds the situation enticing, his length hardening slowly under the heat of your clothed body.

The giggles don’t stop, seeming to have hit at the worst possible time, but you feel completely smitten. Your head ducks down against his shoulder, to which Richie pats over your hair, holding you close. He’s breathing steadily, one… two… three…, all in an effort to not flip you into the couch and fuck you right there.

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cus ya fuckin sexy,” He mumbles into your hair, which only provokes another round of snorted giggles from your form. “Trust me, I’d give the world to fuck you right now, princess. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a goddamn week.”

You look back up at him, still smiling and happy, albeit a little sleepy. Everything is blurred and fuzzy, and you can imagine how good the sex would feel right now. “Then do it.” You urge him, tongue darting out to wet your lips, despite the dry state of your mouth.

And it’s so goddamn hard to resist. Because right now, it’s all Richie wants to do. But there’s this stupid voice in his head, telling him no: that’s a terrible idea, he can’t do you like this anymore. He doesn’t want to be the person you come to for drugs or sex. That’s not healthy, and it won’t stop if he keeps indulging in it.

Even if he can feel your clothed breasts against his body, and his dick twitches with each of your words, cursing his mind for being such a massive cock-block.

“Hey, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He points out, brushing back your hair to get a better look at your face. It’s true, you’re drunk and high, drowsy eyes blinking up at him with a smug little grin.

You must know that, too, for you rest your head back down on his chest. If he won’t fuck you, at least you’ll probably have the best nap of your life like this. His heartbeat is audible from this position, and you press your nose closer into his shirt, inhaling a deep breath of musk and man and smoke. “You’re just lucky this is really good weed,” You mumble with a deep sigh, “But you owe me a lay.”

“I know princess,” Richie agrees, his voice low and so close to your ear, the only thing you’re truely aware of anymore. “Maybe.. maybe I’ll take you out, huh?”

The suggestion has his mouth going dry, and not from the weed. It’s slightly timid in the way his tone drops an octave, a tad quieter, simultaneously hoping you’re too stoned to remember but also lucid enough to answer honestly.

“What, like a fuckin’ date? Gross.” You shoot back, the words crude and playful. Your discontent is betrayed by the grin on your face, nose scrunched up in amusement, to which Richie pinches at your ass through those jeans.

“Not gross. I’d be a goddamn gentleman.” He pressed back, conscience lightened at how easily you take the suggestion. His hands soothe the curve of your back, following a trail up your spine, and back down.

It’s calming, and with your eyes closed, it feels like you’re near floating. The distance between you and Richie is nonexistent, like you’ve melted into him, a heaviness over your mind that feels like a weighted blanket.

“M’kay,” You manage to mumble with the last of your awareness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And he lets it go, for now. Because that’s a positive answer, and you’re practically falling asleep. Richie is glad you can’t see his smile, how happy that idea makes him, the mental image of taking you out like a regular couple. Maybe he’ll wear his nice dress shirt, a tie if you’re lucky, and take you to some restaurant. Bore you with his stupid stories and have a glass of wine, and then, take you home… give you the night you deserve, something calm and loving and (most importantly) sex you’d actually remember in the morning.

You fall asleep on his chest, dreaming of the same thing.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Prince Bytor

Stephen King: i'm gonna be over at unicorn fuck club tonight Clive Barker: yeah me too Poe: why are you both going to unicorn fuck club tonight? Barker: why not? it's my prerogative Poe:

Poe: clive what are you doing? Barker: what makes you think I'm doing something? King: we're going to introduce JRR Tolkien to rock adaptations of his work Poe: why? he hates rock and roll

King: what?! no he doesn't, he loves it! King: clive said- King: King: CLIVE Poe: CLIVE

Barker: haha oh come on it's funny King: so this whole time we've actually been BOTHERING Jirt by subjecting him to rock music? Barker: oh come on steve it's funny Mary Shelley: it is pretty funny Barker: see? Mary agrees!

Barker: it's just a bit of fun Shelley: i want to fuckin see this Poe: !! Poe: ok i kind of want to see this too

[at unicorn fuck club] JRR Tolkien: you know what else i dislike? Tolkien: those so-called lads from Liverpool Tolkien: with that ghastly rock and or roll music! Barker: hey jirt what do you think of that rush song Tolkien: the what in the who now

Barker: so then the snow dog defeats prince bytor and prince bytor retreats back to hades Barker: it's actually a metaphor for the cycle of life Tolkien: a metaphor? i hate that Barker: oh just wait Barker: you're gonna hate it so much more in a second

Neil Peart: see prince Bytor is my fursona Peart: he was a dark prince of the underworld but he's reformed and joined the white council Peart: he's always struggling against his conflicted nature Peart: which is symbolized by him having heterochromatic eyes

Tolkien: you put a dog on the white council? Tolkien: you put your dog on the white council?!?! Peart: he's the top guy on the council Tolkien: you… you… you insolent little rock man!!! Peart: oh no

CS Lewis: prince Bytor?! phhhhbbt! Lewis: might as well name him prince murrypurry sparkledog! Lewis: that's such a basic bitch fursona! Peart: nuh uh!!! prince bytor is totally unique!! Peart: see, he's got Peart: uh Peart: uh Peart: uhhhhh

Peart: he's got one angel wing and one devil wing!!! King: WHOA!! That is badass! Lewis: no no no Lewis: you're making that up! Lewis: we can clearly from the doodles you made in the liner notes that prince bytor has TWO devil wings Barker: ah ha ha Barker: BUSTED!

[joshfutturman]

mini oneshot (request) - mike schmidt pretends to hate the reality tv shows you (his partner) watch, but one day he catches you watching - and can't help but get himself hooked on the drama (800 words) pairing - mike schmidt (five night's at freddy's) + gn reader tags: just a short lil thing, established relationship, reader lives with mike, you're watching 'love is blind', abby is sleeping!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

✰ he'd recognise that god damn intro song from anywhere. it bleeds through from the television in his living room into the kitchen where he was attempting to reheat leftovers in the microwave. even the humming from the old, dated machine couldn't block it out.

✰ mike had no idea what the name of the reality show was, just that it was your favourite to watch after a long day. it was cute, how absorbed you'd get into the drama. but mike wasn't into all that shit - he had enough drama in his own life never mind watching other people's misery.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: thanks for the request anon! this was so silly, cute n fun to write! i had to write it immediately uwu

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

✰ he'd recognise that god damn intro song from anywhere. it bleeds through from the television in his living room into the kitchen where he was attempting to reheat leftovers in the microwave. even the humming from the old, dated machine couldn't block it out.

✰ mike had no idea what the name of the reality show was, just that it was your favourite to watch after a long day. it was cute, how absorbed you'd get into the drama. but mike wasn't into all that shit - he had enough drama in his own life never mind watching other people's misery.

✰ you were cosy on the sofa, wrapped up in your favourite blankets - they were mike's, but you'd pretty much stolen them at this point. your eyes were fixated on the screen. it didn't bother you that mike wasn't interested in 'love is blind', (you'd told him the name at least eight times, but he'd scoff at even the mention of it), you were too engrossed to care.

✰ the show began, introducing each of the excited yet nervous bachelors and bachelorettes. his ears pricked up at the talking, and mike supposed he had time to kill while his food was becoming edible.

✰ poking his head around the corner, his eyes land on the tv over your shoulder. you don't notice. "some of these people are so fuckin' shallow. . ." mike mumbles, half paying attention. you're surprised to hear him, turning your head towards his voice. he's leaning against the wall, eyes on the tv - but they're suddenly on you.

✰ like he's been caught in the act, he huffs and retreats back into the kitchen. it's subtle, but you catch a blush on his cheeks. he's embarrassed. but it wasn't like he was actually watching it. he was just waiting for his food. that was all. the show was dumb. remember?

✰ a few minutes later he's at the kitchen table, leftovers in his bowl, positioning his chair so he can just see the tv from where he's sitting. from the corner of your eye, you notice him - but choose not to point it out, this was a breakthrough. maybe you should get it on camera.

✰ a few of the couples on screen begin to meet - well, blindly, a wall separating the two of them as they begin to chat. love is blind, after all. you're once again gripped by the romance, the excitement, the secret of it all.

✰ mike's food is growing cold, he hasn't touched it since he sat down. "that guy is flirting with her hard but he was also doing that with the last girl," he suddenly pipes up in a disapproving tone, scrunching his nose, "what's his issue?"

✰ your eyes light up and you try not to make it too obvious how excited you are by mike's words. he's watching love is blind with you. like really watching. "they have to find a date, mike." you say, nonchalantly with a shrug of your shoulders, "they sort of have to flirt with everyone until they find the perfect person and then they meet once they've both decided they like one another."

✰ he scoffs, clearly finding this premise stupid. this causes him to withdraw back to his now cold food. but it's fine. you know he's hooked now.

✰ ten minutes pass without another word, and mike is silently behind you now, standing behind the sofa with his arms firmly crossed like a grumpy old man, ready to shake his fist at the news. you'd noticed as soon as he stood up from the dining room but hadn't dared to turn around to catch eyes with mike - knowing full well that he'd act like a deer caught in the headlights and scatter away.

✰ "this guy. . ." he tuts, speaking for the first time in forever. "dave." you correct him. "dave," he repeats, "this. . . dave, he's a complete asshole to natalie." a large grin grows on your lips. once he knows their names it's all over. "i mean," he continues, "he's giving it all to - what's her face, rebecca? and then with natalie he's being a total douchebag." sighing, mike shakes his head, brows furrowed. the look of someone totally in too deep with love is blind.

✰ and yet, he walks back into the kitchen a few moments later, carrying his bowl through and you deflate a little. maybe he wasn't hooked. your disappointed expression aims back at the television. watching in silence.

✰ . . .

✰ "did dave do anything stupid while i was gone?" mike asked, hurrying over with a bowl of popcorn. he practically spills half of it trying to sit down next to you in a hurry, ushering your legs into his lap - his eyes didn't leave the screen. you can't help but smile, really smile, a goofy smile directly at him.

✰ a glance in your direction. "don't." he says firmly, "and if you tell anyone i watched this with you, you're dead." you hold a hand up, "i won't tell a single soul." "good, because i need to see dave get his ass dumped." mike says with smirk, shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth.

[neetily]

Ch.3 So, Reddit... AITA? — (SDV) Kent

— ✧ chapter warnings: misogyny, sexism, slowburn — ✧ word count: 4,962 — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ synopsis: AITA (47M) FOR FINALLY FOLLOWING MY DOCTORS ADVICE?

— ✧ A/N: FINALLY, chapter three :D i missed this man so much that i wrote this chapter in two days LOL…. this time, it was beta read, so i hope that shows!! thank you for tuning in, if you do <3 and don't worry, things will start ramping up soon!!

thank you to @usernamemybeloathed and Sonder (link TBA pending confirmation that it's okay!) for beta reading!!

previous

It only takes roughly a week into his supposed peaceful retreat for the culmination of issues to arise, which is fucking typical, if you ask him. Expected, even, to an extent. Because nothing in his life since returning to the valley has ever gone his way thus far, so he’s not sure as to why he’d allow false hope to worm its insidious way back into his hardened heart to whisper the opposite so soon. He should know better by now, he scolds himself silently.

Because to expect anything other than his current troubled life was a pipe dream from the start, and he knew that, regardless of what the doc had ordered. Nobody knows him better than himself, and yet… The pitiful pout you wear in response to his questioning is more pretty than anything else in his mind— and he simply can’t stand the thought. Struggling to swallow the large lump of hope currently stuck in his throat, he opts instead to simply shut up. Lips tightly closed to form a thin line as evidence of his inner turmoil. There’s no power in that which is unspoken, or so he hopes.

And he used to be so good at keeping his emotions hidden, too. Had to be, really, given his role in the army. Impassive to the deafening booms and blaring alarms that would so often surround him— imperfect stoicism. Because nobody is truly perfect, right? But regardless, he had to keep himself somewhat in check, remain cool, calm, and collected in the face of some of the worst humanity has to offer.

Yet, here he is struggling to bite back the simple word pretty in the face of some harmless little girl.

A pretty one at that.

It’s pathetic, in truth, how hard his muscles strain when he clenches and unclenches his fists in an attempt to remain in control. So what if you’re pretty, he bargains with himself. Don’t change a fuckin’ thing, really.

But a part of him wants to reach out and soothe all your troubles away anyway. Tender in his touch, a swarm of butterflies filling his lungs full to leave him momentarily breathless, subsequently causing him to cough the hope away. It’s just fatherly instinct, he tells himself.

Hope hasn’t gotten him anything yet, and he’d rather not start relying on it for anything in the future either. He already learnt his lesson.

The art of longing is a fickle one, however. And against his better judgement—body begging for him to get up and leave, because you’re not his problem. Especially not when he’s supposed to be relaxing and getting better—he decides to inquire further about your obnoxiously obvious upset. Almost on a whim at that, because he has to suppress a pained wince at the sound of his voice when regarding you.

It’s too soft. Too genuine for comfort. A pitter patter of his heart briefly catching that lump in his throat again for him to force his words around, audibly frustrated by your pathetic posture before him. Not that he’s any better, unfortunately.

“Whats got you looking so…” He pauses, searching for the right words to describe exactly what he sees on your face without sounding too accusatory, or so involved as to open too much conversation. He’d rather not concern himself with the wants and wishes of your temperamental attitude. “What’s got you so down?” He settles on after a beat, exhaling heavily at the way you still yet avoid his knowing gaze.

You can’t hide from him for much longer, not when you’re forcing him to confront his inner self too.

You take a moment to respond, and he has half a mind to just get up and go before things get worse. But, “It’s, um…” you initially stutter, and he immediately regrets asking, because he so badly wants to coo down at you with soft words and sweet sounds. Yearns, upsettingly, to see you smile again.

But he isn’t about to beg you for information, refuses to stoop down to such a level. He’s got far too much pride to be grovelling at your feet like that, huffing mostly to himself at your inability to admit your truth despite his asking. Though thankfully—or annoyingly, depending on which side of his brain he wants to listen to in the moment—his evident irritation seems to speed things along for you. Makes you peer up at him with those pleading puppy eyes he’s done his best to avoid thus far into his stay, just to wobble your bottom lip in a manner that has him squinting in an attempt to ignore how trigger happy his fingers are.

“It’s date night…” You confess, slow and steady, as if you were ashamed to admit such a fact in front of your boyfriend’s father. Like he shouldn’t know just how much you miss his precious boy, huh? Which would be weird, if that were the case. That’s not the case, right? That’s not just the case, he assumes... But far be it for him to attempt to draw blood from a stone.

“Right…” He hums, pinching between his eyes to try and stall his next words. Because why should he care? And how does he communicate as such politely, calmly, as per the doctors orders? “And— I mean this with no ill intent, mind you,” He’s quick to preface, which is unlike him. Makes him wonder if somehow, someway, spending time at your lonely little farm has indeed helped him. “This is a problem because…?”

Surely you could just call him, right? Meet up with Sam somewhere in town— Hell, even take a weekend away together. Leave him by his lonesome to tend to your chickens and cows and weeds; which he’s gotten rather good at by now, if he does say so himself. It’s tedious work— long and fucking boring work, but: it keeps him busy. And the solitude of most days is appreciated, even if he’d miss the odd quip or two from the sidelines of you. And yet still, here you pout before him in the living room of your old farmhouse. The book he was reading now laying face down on the page you’d interrupted him at, saved for later because you suddenly seek his resolution?

He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t at least a little happy to be relied upon, in some small way. Evident from how difficult it is for him to suppress a small smile at the way you sigh and squirm on the chair beside the couch he rests on. Flopped down on it earlier like a sad little cat.

You know what you’re doing, and he can hardly be mad at you for tugging on his heartstrings like that. Like knows like and all that.

Which is why he’s so suspicious of your intentions right now, silently sizing you up as you act as innocence incarnate. He’d like to hope that he knows you better by now— and there it is again. The hope you drag up his throat.

“Because, well… Because you’re here, Sam’s busy with his friends and all that, and um… I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely?”

Posed towards him as if it were a question for him to answer, instead of the mere statement he was hoping for.

But deep down, he does want to help you out. Something about how scratching his back has him wanting to scratch yours too— you’ve helped him calm down a little by allowing him entry to your farm, so the least he could do is help cheer you up just a bit tonight, right? It’s only fair.

And he’d like to at least be on good terms with his son’s future wife, even if it goes against every fibre of his being in the meantime.

So, with a slap of his knees he readies himself for standing up. But also, he uses the sound to draw your attention back on him instead of your sad lonely thoughts about his son, regarding you with a tense smile. Forced upon his lips in an attempt to appear friendly, to not have you worried over the sudden sound.

When Jodi was down and depressed, he recalled something that always helped her feel better, even if just a little. “Why dont’cha uh… Get all dressed up or somethin’ anyway? Like y’were still goin’ on a date tonight.” He mumbles, the awkward tension of the night filling his lungs with every steady breath he takes, because he doesn’t wanna come across as anything other than fatherly— and he worries that he’s failing for some reason. Like a gnawing itch in the pit of his stomach, something he can’t quite place with his limited vocabulary every time he compares you to his wife. “Girls like you like that sorta thing, right?” He clarifies himself, trying to quell the all of a sudden anxious energy tight in his chest; he’s fearful of an expected reprimand. Not that he considers you a threat, but you’ve annoyed him enough tonight and he’d like to go back to reading his book, truth be told. Forget all about his comparisons once and for all, maybe.

“Might make ya feel a bit better if y’get all pretty or something…” He trails off to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck absentmindedly whilst straying from your gaze.

“Are you insinuating that I’m not, at this present moment, currently, pretty?” You bite back with such an impish lilt to your voice that he can’t help but to bark laughter back in response. An instinctual action, tumbling from his lips before he has a chance to catch it— if he even wanted to in the first place. Because for as much as it’s simply a natural reaction to your quick witted tongue, it’s also a warning. Don’t fucking push it, young lady.

“I’m afraid m’not at liberty to say.” He holds his hands up in his defence, and finally, he looks at you with his confession. Some small part of him secretly hoping to communicate his true answer behind sleepy eyes. Course, it’s not as simple as that. Nothing in life ever fucking is if your name is Kent, but he tries regardless. Really stares you down as if to make you feel ashamed for bantering with him in such a tempting way, but nonetheless, you continue with a pretty smile. As expected at this point.

See, he wants to seethe at you. Told ya it’d help, as even the mere idea of dressing up has you smiling again. Or, as the intrusive worm in his mind that so often pops up when you’re around frantically exclaims, what if it’s him you’re smiling at? At his see through jokes? At the implication that he does, in fact, find you pretty right now.

Mercifully, you steal the moment away from him, and he’s all too grateful to not have to dwell on the selfish thought much longer.

“You’re right,” You stand up with a clap, and he almost lets a sigh of relief slip past his lips. “Just cause Sam isn’t here doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, right?”

“Right,” He nods at you, though really, he’d say just about anything to get you away and out of his sight— in fear over what he might mumble out if you were to stick around for much longer. Words he hasn’t said in a long time, words meant for someone other than you. “Go on, git.” He lightly, and playfully, scolds you. Swatting away the vision of your happy smiles and excited giggles with a flick of his wrist, only to suppress a chuckle of his own when he hears your bedroom door click shut.

He hasn’t felt so… So… What’s the word…

Giddy, perhaps? Happy, to put it plainly? In spite of the nagging bother you often present him, it’s been a while since he’s felt something so lighthearted and pleasant. He needn’t give a name to it, he thinks to himself. Only, this is what’s supposed to happen, right? He’s meant to feel this way— it’s what Jodi wanted in the first place. For him to relax, to joke around a little, to smile more often.

And the way you so easily bounce back from utter sadness over such trivial matters is, dare he say it… Inspiring in a sense. Makes him want to try a little harder to better himself, if only to see you making that pretty expression again, and—

“God, give it a rest, Kent…” he mutters under his breath, fully leaning back on the couch to spread his legs out a little more to try and regain comfort upon your exit, grumbling away to himself to try and get you out of his mind. He even attempts to pick up where he left off with his book, turning it face up to find his place in the paragraph again and over, and over, and over again, he re-reads the same few sentences. Trying to focus, to take in the information presented before him— to think of anything other than you.

But it’s harmless, right? Innocuous fun—  he’s just wondering about what outfit you might be picking for the night. Curious over how you might dress up for the so called date night with his son. A twinge in his chest hoping that you’ll dress up real nice— for no reason other than Sam deserves the best, and Kent won’t settle for anything less for his son. Right…?

And your outfits thus far have been nice. Real nice, like that time in the barn when you were too idiotic to accept his help in the first place. You’ve since learnt better, haven’t you? Huffing away to yourself in such a bad mood, coming through to the living room to seek his help out before anyone else. Dummy, he bets you didn’t even think about calling Sam yourself, right? No, not when Kent’s just in the next room, available for all your complaining needs. And as annoying it is to sit through your childish actions, he must admit that it does feel good to be needed to an extent again, as opposed to being pushed aside by his family thus far, cast to the farm under the guise of it somehow bettering him.

He hates how the echo of their words are starting to ring true in his head. Farm life is nice like how Jodi had elaborated on last week. And he’s starting to understand intimately why Sam had scowled at him so much the night of his arrival at your sweet little abode.

If things were different, he’s sure as fuck that he wouldn’t want to leave you alone either.

Which he also hates, mind you. Cannot fucking stand the thoughts you manage to conjure up in his weary mind, lamenting over such stupid things such as what you might be wearing tonight. Loathes to toss and turn the image of you in various dresses he’s seen Jodi wear on similar date nights when he was younger, when the impact of war didn’t weigh so heavily on his mind and she still wanted him around. And he’s just confusing wires in his mind, surely… All he’d like to do is extend thanks for helping him calm down since living on the farm, right? He just—

“Keeeeent—” he hears your voice call out to him, muffled from behind the wall that separates him from you, and he can only grumble discontent back at nothing at all. Book tossed aside with the amount of care he holds for his own wellbeing—pages crumpled under the imprecise throw, something for him to be frustrated at later—as he stands to heed your insidious call. Like moth to a flame; how utterly detestable.

“Coming—!” He yells back soon after, an exasperated sigh following as he stretches out his old and tired back and thighs: farm work is hard work, he’s come to understand.

He knocks twice upon reaching your door, as every gentleman should. Because even if you’ve specifically asked after him, there are boundaries to respect, as annoying as they are. Rules he must follow to regain normalcy to his otherwise disrupted life, right? And at least he’s trying, you should be thankful for that. It’s more than he’d managed when first arriving back home to the valley…

He’s not a bad man, he’s just not exactly nice. A little rough around the edges, a bit sharp thanks to the life he’s thus led. But you’ve helped soften him up, he can no longer deny his actions.

“All good?” He speaks to the door, once again knocking against it with impatience stretching across his knuckles when you fail to respond to his first few.

“Y-Yeah!” You stutter back to him, and his brows furrow in brief confusion as to why you’ve called his name then. To which, you answer rather promptly behind your previous words with: “Actually, uh… No, not really,” and he can already pick up on your nervousness behind the hidden giggle you let out afterwards. “It’s… I mean, can you just come in?”

He pauses for a moment, considering his circumstances. There aren’t very many good reasons as to why you’d require him in your room right now, and, in fact, he’s thus yet never set foot into the space you share with his son this whole trip. Like a forbidden barrier he’s unsure as to why he’s unwilling to cross, opening and closing his mouth a few times to try and sort through the appropriate questions in his racing mind.

And he wonders what sort of outfit you’ve got on again.

“You sure?” He questions you from behind the door, lips pressed almost completely to it to make up for how much lower his voice grows with his thoughts. But you’re an adult, in spite of the sheer immaturity you exhibit on occasion— it’s probably not your fault. You’ve still got a lot of life to live that he’s already done and seen before, but you’re capable enough of making your own decisions, surely. He at least respects you that much.

“Yup! I’m dressed, promise!”

That’s all the confirmation you need to offer before he’s placing a rough hand on the door handle to your bedroom, gripping it tighter than any other handle in your home, and turning it ever so slowly like a fucking… peeping tom or something, peeking from around the slit his slow actions cause into your secret room with careful caution, until he inevitably has to widen the gap to allow himself access and— huh.

It’s certainly cleaner than his boys’ room back home, more appropriately decorated—if a little too much for his liking, but it’s better than none—and well… Comfortable. Homey, even, as a nice scent surrounds him upon closing the door behind himself with an inaudible gasp. Kept to himself in an attempt to keep friendly appearances up; he’s been doing so well tonight, hasn’t he? Putting up with your inane talk and stupid problems, even coming after you called, like a fucking dog.

And there that annoyance rears its ugly head again. Suddenly unsure as to why he’s even bothered to heed your call, and if he even wants to be sharing the same space as his son does with you. He’s only just gotten used to exploring the rest of the old farmhouse without ever feeling Sam’s presence, but he notices a tossed aside shirt from his son laying on a chair, tucked away into the corner of the room. And it spoils his mood about as much as the shirt stains the otherwise pretty scene.

Which is a shame, because the second he decides to steel himself with a deep inhale to look at you, his frustration only grows.

If this is what you usually wear on date nights with his son, well, he can certainly understand Sam’s intentions well. Deep to the core, even. Like father like son, he’s always appreciated the classic look above anything else. And though he genuinely believes that every outfit you’ve worn since his arrival to the farm has suited you perfectly fine, tonight’s choice takes the cake. Forces him to exhale shakily, eyes unfocused as he’s uncertain as to where he can look, even as your back is turned to him to showcase your nape like it were obscene.

And his hands grow sweaty at the sight alone, a trickle running down his forehead for him to furrow at again. It’s annoying to react so honestly like this, to a mere girl, too. His tacky palms clenched together as he does his best to follow old orders.

Calm, cool, collected.

“Um, hi…” You disturb his thoughts with a smile, which he can fucking hear, because he’s spent enough time around you by now to pick up on small details like that. Calm. “I dunno if you can see but, uh, I think…” And despite staring straight down at the floor, ignoring your desperate call for his attention, he can hear you shuffling and shifting around to try and point something out to him, but something within him clings onto the vain hope of avoidance. Cool. “I think the zip is stuck… Can you help, please?” Duh, he thinks to himself. There’s no other reason as to why you’d require his existence in your room besides to help with your stuck zip. But his chest tightens with something, a mix of relief and disapproval, something sticky and sweet and unnecessary, he decides. Stay collected, Kent.

And as a means to stall, he coughs into the space left between, wetting his lips in sheer frustration as if doing so would somehow help him escape the current situation he now finds himself in. But it’s not all bad, really! Because when he once again returns his gaze to your bare back, he’s forced to accept that yeah. You look real pretty tonight. More so than any other night he’s spent on the farm, and it’s so easy to pretend that you’ve dressed up for him instead, and not some imaginary play pretend date with his son.

God, he perishes the thought to be honest with you. Cannot fucking stand to think about it any longer, so he opts to instead roll his eyes in the safety of your back, and walks steadily towards you. One heavy foot at a time, hyper aware of his every step and sigh as he inches closer, and closer, until he’s face to face with your caught zip and he can’t help but to smirk a little at how downright helpless you are.

It’s so tiny, it’s no wonder you’re having trouble with it. And ordinarily, he’d assume Sam would be right where he’s currently standing, ready and willing and eager to help just as much as he is. And the thought sickens him. Turns upsettingly in his stomach as he sizes the zip up next to his much larger, rougher hand, and he has to stop just short of brushing his knuckles along your spine. Not that he particularly had meant to, but something within him begs to. Like an internal alarm, blaring red alert, halt—! Like he were doing something wrong, crossing a boundary he shouldn’t even think about, let alone act out.

But again, you’re an adult, and you did ask him for his help. And it’s not like he’s actually doing anything wrong, right? He’s just helping zip you up, while you cling to the front of the dress fabric tight to your chest, else it’d fall down and— oh, right. You’ve neglected to wear a bra, which again…! Is totally normal, as he’s seen his wife wear dresses that require no bra before, but isn’t this at least a little weird given that he’s standing where Sam should be, in your shared room, late at night no less—

“Ready?” He asks you once, because he doesn’t have it within him to ask again. Holding onto his breath as if to focus intently on the fact that he’s just helping. There’s nothing more to it, no ulterior motives tonight as he hovers above the pesky zip with sweaty palms.

“Mhm, go ahead.” You respond back, quick and cool. And the sound of your steadfast affirmation is enough to calm him down somewhat, because if you don’t care about how tonight might be misconstrued by other parties, then why should he care, right?

And yet something within him still hangs on. Beats gently, in a slow rhythm. Like a throbbing headache, only in his chest.

His hand lowers to catch your zip, his other free hand coming up to pull tight tension against the caught part of the dress, and with one swift and final tug, he’s able to easily pull the two apart. Leaving you free from the trap of your own doing, and walking right into it himself.

Once making sure you’re steady enough from his rather harsh tug, which he immediately and quietly apologises for—he wasn’t aware that a farmer such as yourself would be so fragile, or perhaps he’s just unaware of his own strength?—he makes sure to help pull the tab all the way up to the top for you. Letting you once and for all let go of your chest now that the dress is properly in place and finally, he can take a step back to admire his work and effort.

“Let’s see then,” He hums softly, a little startled at the tone he carries with his words, but he’s far too frazzled to try and make sense of it tonight, unable to offer it his full attention when you much too eagerly turn around for him to showcase the cute number you’ve picked out for tonights fake date. And for as much as he thinks you look stunning in the little black dress, sleek and fitted so nicely to your form that he has to look down at your feet more than twice to stop himself from staring, he’d like to see it in action too. Give it—and you—the appreciation it deserves, seeing as Sam isn’t around to do so tonight, and: he hopes that if he gives in to you just a bit more, maybe you’ll sufficiently leave him alone for the rest of the night. Let him mull over the events of the night in privacy. “Give us a spin, yeah?”

And Sam must have taught you well, because you happily oblige the moment the words leave his mouth. Which is more than he’s experienced thus far, so he can’t avoid the smile that tugs on his lips when you do, in fact, spin around in a circle for him. Showcasing every pretty inch of the dress, and how it flows so sweetly on your body, curving in all the right places as the memory of his position in the barn flashes across his mind again. Prompting him to fold his arms across his chest in defence of himself— he’s just looking. Appreciating that which he should, he bargains with himself. There’s nothing wrong with having a look, especially considering that you’re practically family at this point.

Ouch, there’s a pang of pain in his heart at the thought.

“So…” You smile at him, all bright and wide and— it’s troubling, actually. Has his heart in a squeeze, as if momentarily stunned by just how happy you look when all dressed up with nowhere to go. And he realise that he might be just a tad jealous over how normal you appear right now, taking in the appreciation he offers like a glass half full, when his remains half empty. “What do you think? Nice, right?”

“Yeah,” He admits honestly with a suppressed smirk. “S’nice all right. Good choice, think Sam’ll love it.”

You tut back at him and he’s taken aback at the sound. Not from upset, but from a tint of pride.

“I wasn’t asking if Sam likes it.”

“Yeah,” He looks at anything other than you, once more rubbing at the back of his neck to try and rid the anxious energy that coils in his tummy. Because he understands intimately what you’re getting at, but he’s absolutely fucking certain that you don’t mean it in the way he’s currently understanding it. So he fumbles for an answer, anything to get you off his case for now, before rushing out a quick “Yeah I know, kid. Told ya s’pretty. What more d’ya want?”

That, thankfully, fulfils your seeking of approval for now. Because he understands that you’re likely only seeking the approval of your soon to be husband’s father, and that he shouldn’t expect or even want anything else.

He’s just getting a little lost in farm life, he assures himself. The comfort of healing away from home, the fantasy of the vacation. He just needs to get through to the end of the week without giving in to his selfish tendencies and then everything will be better. It’ll all be better and he’ll return home and forget all about how nice and simple farm life was to him, and the comforting space of a break you so graciously offer him. And, fuck, he needs to get out of here, he thinks. Before he starts to actually miss the stupid fucking smile on your stupid fucking face.

“Hold on,” You mumble to yourself, clearly distracted as you search around your room for something he’s yet to be privy to. “Go back out and wait a few minutes, I have another dress to show you!”

Oh, it’s going to be a long night of longing.

[nysrage]

Late Night Menu, hobie brown.

— hobie x reader (black coded)

just up thinking about a late night smoke sesh with hobie. how it was always a night to look forward to and how’d he leave you satisfied in the best ways.

the two of you chilling in your apartment, low sounds of music coming from your tv speakers setting the mood and raising the tension between you. it’d been the first time you’d seen him all week, hobie being extremely busy these days. the lights are dim and the room is clouded with smoke. your legs comfortably propped in hobie’s lap as he absentmindedly massages your feet as he takes a deep pull from the blunt. leaning forward and bringing his lips dangerously close to yours, delivering a flustering shotgun. pushing all the smoke from his pull deep into your lungs, letting you blow the smoke back into his face with a smirk. closing the little distance between you and claiming your soft lips while he caresses and massages the soft skin of your thighs and ass.

leading to you moaning and whining in his lap as two of his thick fingers slowly thrust into your pussy while his thumbs pressed against your throbbing clit. your hips bucking each time his cold rings meet your skin, sending jolts of warmth through your body. hobie’s warm tongue is busy circling your pretty pierced nipples, tongue ring grazing against the sensitive skin before he’s sucking those sparkling hearts into his mouth. humming in satisfaction as he releasing it with a pop before leaning back to admire your high fucked out state. his eyes full of arousal as he slaps and massages your breasts.

“god, you’ve got such pretty tits..”

you let out a long whine, resting your head atop of his. intertwining your fingers into the tight coils of his nape, pads of your fingers running against his wicks and into his scalp. the two of you listening to sounds of your wet pussy squelching as you beg. “h-hobie, please.. i wanna cum..”

hobie chuckling softly, thrusting his fingers as deep as they can go. “you already know I like to watch you work for it love, so might as well get started, yeah?”

hobie pumping his fingers into you slowly as you grind down onto them from above. pussy sucking his fingers back in just as he starts to retreat them from you, soft pants leaving your lips as you work for your orgasm. hobie watching you with a smile, curling his fingers as breathy moans escape your lips. your pretty face contorted in pleasure and lips swollen and sticky from all the sloppy heated kissing.

the rough pads of his thumb working expertly on your clit, as he begins his thrusts to meet your rolling hips. pistoning his fingers right into that spot that sent you on a different high, as your pussy flutters on his fingers orgasm approaching quickly.

“gonna cum for me?”

you clench and moan, nodding eagerly as he roughly thrusts his fingers into you. eyes locked on yours as he demolished your pussy, and he looked so good. eyes dark, low, and red, chocolate skin illuminated by the dim light, and pretty white teeth on display beside his signature grin talking you through your orgasm like you loved.

“jussst like that pretty.”

“good fuckin’ girl.”

“you love creaming for daddy?”

copyright © 2023 nysrage on tumblr. do not repost, translate, or remake any of my works on any platform without permission.

[sim0nril3y]

Workplace Distractions

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon spends the night keeping you company at work. Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, tiny bit of angst, derogatory comments.

“Oh, that is sweet of you to ask, but I’m actually working tonight…” Well fuck, didn’t he feel like a plank for putting himself out there and asking you out for another drink. Simon kicked himself for not remembering you mentioning your work hours. It had certainly been something that you had mentioned to him. Bloody hell, there wasn’t much that you hadn’t mentioned to him now that he thought about it. With most things you were an open book and that was refreshing. “Maybe you could pop into the pub I work in…” You announced then breaking the silence. “If you keep me company for a little while I can promise you cheap drinks.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Simon’s throat. It wasn’t like he had anything planned for tonight anyway. “Where’d you work again?”  “The Golden Lion.” Oh, right. Yeah, he remembered that too. It was actually a place he used to visit often when he first moved down South. Back then the owner was a little more hands-on with working behind the bar, there certainly weren’t any pretty girls like you working there. “I’ll be there…” He agreed knowing that he could almost hear the smile that pulled across your face. “You better keep your word about those cheap drinks, love.”

The pub was just as rundown as Simon remembered, the carpeted floors were marked with deep stains of something Simon didn’t want to dwell on too much, the windows were frosted and filthy, all the drink bottles of the top shelves were caked in dust and the bar itself was chipped and broken in several different places. This place was just lacking a bit of TLC. Across the room there was a rowdy group of lads watching the live MMA fight on the TV, a couple regulars sat nearby quietly drinking, a few others were occupying the batter pool table.

It was nice to see you during your shift. The moment that you had seen him perched at the bar you face brightened and instantly you were by his side checking if he needed anything or wanted a refill. You were far more attentive to him than anyone else that approached the bar. God, that made him feel fucking fantastic. He really loved that you would get so engrossed telling him a story that people would have to ask twice to get your attention and each time your attention was drawn away from him you seemed frustrated.

A sharp set of fingers snapped rudely in their direction. “Honey, ‘nother drink…” The drunk rudely tapped his empty glass against the bar. Simon didn’t miss the way that you rolled those precious eyes before sweeping away to prepare his order. “S’bout fuckin’ time…” A dangerous set of eyes began to observe him from afar. A bit of respect wouldn’t go amiss. A little less attitude wouldn’t be too much to ask. Simon watched as the man swayed, stilling himself on the bar itself whilst those glazed eyed cast down your exciting frame. It made his blood boil. Fuck. It wasn’t like they were even a couple but Simon couldn’t stand another set of eyes drinking you in.

Once you had taken payment, stashing the money into the till and then wandered back to stand opposite Simon again. “Alright?” For a moment longer his eyes lingered on the retreating drunk, sliding into the background seamlessly. “Si?” His attention snapped back to you in a second. Nobody called him Si, or well at least not since his mum was alive. Fuck, his head was a mixture of emotions. Was it something he liked? Was it too personal? Was that nickname reserved for her? Could it be shared? “Try not to pay them any notice. They’re all just a bunch of larger louts.” Then shrugging your shoulders as if you dealt with this regularly – well, working in this place you probably did.

A few times that night Simon found himself outside for a smoke. Each time it gave him a moment to think with a clear mind. Could he really keep doing this? Was it really fair to you? Could he even give you what you wanted emotionally? Did you even want anything emotionally? It put his mind at ease to at least know that weren’t expecting anything physically from him you had made that very clear.

“Pwah, mate. I’d give it to her.” A rowdy voice snapped from behind him as a group of lads exited the pub, lighters and cigarettes in hand. “Which one?” “Which one do you think? The barmaid…” They were talking about you. Fuck, he could feel his temper rising at just the mention of your description on their tongues. “Mate, I just know that she’s gaggin’ for a bit of cock. Been givin’ me the eye all night.” They all laughed between them and Simon threw down his cigarette in the next second.

“Oi…” Christ, why was he even picking this fight? It wasn’t like you were even a couple… but fuck, hearing them talk about you like that was fucking soul destroying. It wasn’t going to happen. Not whilst he was around to solve the problem. “That’s enough now. You might wanna show a little respect.” It could have ended there. It really could have, but these lads seemed not to take Simon’s warning all that well. No, instead they picked a fight. 3 against 1. It really wasn’t fair… for them.

Last call came and went and in groups people seemed to leave. You wandered over to him as your colleague got to work cleaning tables and collecting errant glasses. “Thanks for coming tonight, Simon. You being here actually made work bearable.” Fuckin’ hell. He could see that look in your eye. It was dangerous, he knew that, but no part of him was able to walk away or explain to you that this was difficult for him. “I’m working again tomorrow, if you want to… pop by…” Then shrugging your shoulders.

“Wouldn’t miss it…” Fuck, eventually he was going to have to put an end to this. It was going to hurt, maybe it would actually hurt him more than it would hurt you, but… but he couldn’t be selfish about you. He couldn’t keep just stringing you along thinking that he might be able to give you a normal relationship or life. No, deep down Simon knew that the only right thing to do was end this, but… but that couldn’t happen tonight and… and you were counting on him being there tomorrow. No, he would find a good time to do it, but right now you needed him.

Masterlist | Ask | 01-09-2023

[captainjamster]

Valeria x Reader - Mommy Knows Best

Pairing(s): Valeria x Reader (NSFW) Warnings: Mommy kink, initial reluctance but with enthusiastic consent, reader with female anatomy Wordcount: 0.8k Summary: Valeria knows the abilities of your body better than you do, and she's going to prove it. AO3 Version

A/N: I’m fuckin’ crook AND menstruating so productivity has not been high! However, the itch to write + excessive horniness has resulted in a very short Valeria x reader fic. The rep!reader series is still in the works, she’ll be back in business when my immune system gets its shit together!! Thank you so much for all your asks and messages, the requests have been brilliant!

This was inspired by @iciclesses's ghoap x reader noncon drabble, please go check it out if that's your thing :)

Full fic is under the cut <3

Whores, booze and coke is no longer how Valeria prefers to spend her evening. The pages of her discarded book flutter next to her, falling open to a random section. Her attention has been captured by her most prised activity: you.

Your weight is comfortable across her lap. She has you facing away from her, behind on display for her to ogle, pelvis to pelvis as you frot against her with needy moans and gasps. Her hands knead at the flesh of your ass, squeezing hard enough that the skin discolours before releasing some force and watching the blood rush back in. The sensation exaggerates the way your hips twitch and slide, grinding against the mound of her pussy.

“So fuckin’ good like this baby,” she groans, reddening an ass cheek with a playful slap that stutters your grinding, and Valeria takes the opportunity to tease you more. Pushing you ever-so-slightly forward, her breath catches in her throat as slick grasps at your retreating pussy, sticky trails of need connecting to her own lips. They break as she runs her thumb across your pussy lips, watching your hole grip and twitch at the teasing sensation.

Your ass jiggles as you push against her digit, desperately adjusting the angle of your hips to fill the aching emptiness in you, but Valeria denies the opportunity and pulls her hand away. “Without asking, mi pequeño coño?”*

*”my little cunt”

The frustrated whine that you emit sends jolts straight to her groin, and she pulls you back down against her, feeling the heat of your pussy flush against hers. Bucking her hips up, she tears another whine from you as your clits roughly collide.

“I can’t cum, please – please, I can’t!” You whimper, hands gripping around her knees. The effort of grinding for what Valeria guesses must be at least a couple of hours as almost ruined you. Valeria can feel the way your fingers flex and release without even seeing them, loosely synchronising with the clenching of your pretty little hole, teasing Valeria between each swing of your hips.

She laughs mercilessly, the desperation in your tone fuelling the warmth burning in her stomach. “I told you that you can. That you will.”

Arousal soaks her pubic hair as you rub against the bristles, her hands guiding your movements to speed up the pace. Despite your complaints, the slick sounds become wetter and wetter, filling the room along with each noise Valeria drags from you. Tilting her pelvis earns a breathless yelp from you, readjusting to catch your clit against every inch of her folds. The need inside her grows, winding tighter and tighter as each second of contact sends her spinning, sparks flying every time your clit drags against her own.

Valeria isn’t alone in the way she rushes to her peak – the modification in angle has your nails digging deliciously into her thighs, hips jerking in a painful oversensitivity as your sore pussy works you closer and closer. She can’t tell if you’re trying to get closer or pull away from the sensations, but whichever is irrelevant to her, strong hands anchoring your figure to hers.

Running a hand up your spine, her palm rests between the blades of your shoulders, feeling them shake as you sob, pushing down harder with each drag of your hips. “Please, please!”

Another warmth – satisfaction, accomplishment – fills Valeria’s chest at your admission, so soon after your whining and complaining. “Change your mind, hm? Tell Mommy she was right.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You choke out, gasping for air to form words through the exertion, each jolt sapping more and more thought from you. “Mommy please, you were right, Mommy was right!”

Your pleading is high-pitched and whiney, punctuated with each jolt of your movement, and the way her title falls from your lips thrusts her over the edge. Her legs tense underneath you, pushing up against you with one last thrust along your clit, the tight string snapping as she’s flooded with a wave of relief. The sensation is your own downfall, and Valeria watches through her haze as your own orgasm wracks through your body, thighs trembling on either side of her.

By the time Valeria is catching her breath, you’re hunched over in her lap, pussy glistening in the warm light as your torso heaves for air. The sight stirs a weak desire in her loins, temptation gathering that she shelves for when you’re less overstimulated.

Working her loose limbs into cooperation and propping herself up against the pillows, she wraps a fist in your hair, tugging you down to the sheets next to her. You give her a yelp, looking at her with big, watery eyes that she kisses the edges of, tasting the salt of your drying tears against your skin. Detangling her fingers from your hair, she brings them to your scalp, her painted nails dragging in soothing little motions as you mumble gratitude into her chest.

“See? Just gotta listen to Mommy.”