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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

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Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

Content: Attempted Gaslighting, Violence

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish

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gatorlovebot · 1 year ago

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nsfw. mdni. this is self indulgent but its my right as a 20 something who is getting ready to move out on their own for the first time to write about landlord john price ok <3

landlord price who buys a nice looking duplex in the city and fixes it up himself. lives in the top floor because he doesn’t need much space to himself and rents out the bottom unit. so far it had mostly been couples or smaller familes renting out the bottom unit, until you came along.

you, who had been saving money to rent something nice for yourself, something with a little extra space. the two bedroom downstairs unit is perfect for you, but you have pretty mixed feelings about your landlord living right above you. until you actually meet him.

upon moving in your greeted by the warm accent of john price. his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you and you can pick out grey hairs in his full beard. it’s so cliche, feeling butterflies for an older man whose kind to you but what are you supposed to do when he offers to help you bring in boxes, muscly arms on full display?

he allows you time and space to get settled in, with a promise of, “i’m just upstairs if you ever need anything.”

you don’t see him for the next few days until there’s a knock at your door and its him, looking soft and sweet in a grey henley, just in time for the colder fall weather. “would you care to join me for dinner? i tried a new soup recipe and seems like a i have enough to feed a small army.”

and that’s how you end up in his space for the first time. it’s tiday yet lived in. furniture dark and worn. you can tell a man lives here. dinner is nice, soup rich and filling. but john makes it so much better. effortlessly making you laugh with his bad jokes and stories. he’s warm and personable. your little crush grows when he walks you back downstairs to your unit when the sun goes down. you find yourself struggling to go inside to your empty apartment.

some days you see him and some days you don’t. your work schedule is consistent but you can’t get a read on his schedule, coming and going unpredicatably. life of a retiree, you think.

sometimes you catch him when you’ve come home from work. usually you’re thrilled to see him, an immediate smile stretching across your face and a blush on your cheeks as soon as you see his smile and hear his voice.

sometimes you curse his presence. like now, when you can’t even wait until you get inside your place before the tears start to fall. and of course john has to be in the front yard racking up leaves. you try to give a polite hello and walk up the steps inside, but john price can already read you like a book.

he’s pulling you into his chest before you even know it, big, solid arms wrapped around your shoulders holding you snug to him. “what’s got you so upset, huh?”

and you let the tears fall in earnest, feeling safe and secure with john. “work…just fucking sucks.”

“oh you poor thing,” he coos before gathering you up in his arms and leading you up to his place. he brews some tea as you sink into his couch, the leather warm and soft underneath you. once the teas done, he settles next to you and let’s you warble on about how unsupportive your work environment is and how your boss never follows through on his promises. he mostly just lets you talk, letting out an occasional hum in affirmation. that night he’s not very talkative, he’s much more tactile. running his hands up and down your arms, rubbing the tension from your shoulders and back as he allows you to lean on him until you’re practically in his lap. you’ve exhausted yourself crying and he thanks you for being so vulnerable with him and tells you that even though you don’t deserve all the bullshit at your job, you’re such a brave girl for fighting through it.

things continue to get more and more comfortable between you two. you would almost go as far as to say you would consider him a friend. you do still sometimes have awkward moments though. like when you go down to the basement to change your laundry from the washer to the dryer and you find him already placing your garments in. “oh sorry,” he says, flustered, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks at being caught. “i spilt some paint on myself earlier while touching up the trim outside and really needed to get some stuff in the washer. i was going to message you asking if all this stuff could go in the dryer.”

he’s so thoughtful, you think. “yeah, it can all go in. thanks, john!”

hours later when you’re finally putting away your clean laundry you realize some of your panties are missing. oh well, its an older dryer, must have eaten them.

its months layer when your stomach drops as you read a text from john asking if you could come upstairs later tonight, there was something he needed to talk to you about. you feel a flash of panic, his text sounding serious. did you do something wrong? you had just seen him the previous day and everything between you seemed fine. you thought you were a great renter, but now you weren’t so sure.

you make your way up to his place and he greets you at the door, usual soft smile on his face.

“i just wanted to get something out in the open,” he starts as you both take a seat on the couch. “i’ve noticed an odor coming from downstairs late at night.”

for a moment you have no idea what he could be talking about, an odor, you think and then it hits you. your late night smoke sessions. “oh, yeah.” it dawns on you. “i’m so sorry about that.”

“no, no, it’s fine.” he reassures, “i would be a bit of a hypocrite myself to be honest, i smoke cigars constantly. try to keep it to just the back balcony but sometimes i break my own rules.”

“yeah, i don’t do it in the apartment because that would be rude, but,” you wince, “sometimes i get a little too lazy to go outside so i just do it out my bedroom window.”

“ah, no worries, dear. just wanted to let you know that i know.”

with your panic subsiding you feel a little bold, “would you like to smoke a little, john?”

“if you’re offering, i’ll be on the balcony.”

you would have never imagined sharing a joint with john would lead you here. in his lap, legs splayed open with your pants around your ankles. listening to the wet sounds of your pussy as he dips his big fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots. your brain is floaty and your limbs feel weightless against his big body that surrounds yours.

there’s a constant stream of nonsense and whimpers that leaves your lips as you dumbly watch him pet your swollen clit. but its the filth from his mouth that really gets you. “such a pretty little thing fo’ me, huh?”

“this little cunt ‘s all mine, right?”

“i’ve been thinking about touching you like this since the day you moved in.”

“cum on my fingers, sweet girl, i know you want to.”

and you do, clenching around his fingers as you keen and moan through it. there’s a whispered, “good girl,” deep and gravelly in your ear before you’re being lifted into john’s arms as he carries you back inside, to his bedroom.

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #john price smut #john price imagine #captain john price smut #cod smut #cod imagine #gator.writing #like i said SELF INDULGENTTTT #also super messy bc i just needed to get these thoughts out of my head

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world0fmadness · 4 months ago

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BLACK AND WHITE BEAUTY

toto wolff x vintage fashion! model! wife! reader

♡ general married headcanons for toto with a vintage fashion model partner!

୨୧ finally got around to making headcanons related to the smau <3

♡ related smau available here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: hug me kiss me love me by helen kane - red hot by billy the kid emerson - a fine romance by marilyn monroe

♡ toto is just the absolute best husband to have as a vintage loving woman!

୨୧ he’s very old time romantic, he lives just to spoil you and take you on expensive but romantic dates

♡ but those aren’t the only type of dates he takes you on! oh no!

୨୧ he loves taking you to history museums and art galleries! you guys walk through them hand in hand, pointing to things and holding quiet conversations about them after reading the attached information plaque, he always leaves these dates recommending the place to all of his friends, telling them how much his wife loved it

♡ speaking of spoiling, he buys you anything and everything you could ever want!

୨୧ oh what’s that? a pair of gorgeous vintage diamond earrings are going for auction? well, you better take his card!

♡ he’s always surprising you with new jewellery, clothes and other knick knacks, often leaving them wrapped beautifully in a box on your shared bed for you to find <3

“ ah, that! yes, i saw it in a store today and i thought you would like it, do you? no, it wasn’t too expensive, don’t worry about that, schön! ” ( it was absolutely too expensive but he won’t tell you that and nothing is actually too expensive to him if it means he gets to see your smile )

୨୧ i can see toto really getting into watching old movies with you too! he really immerses into the plot line and characters

♡ you often watch movies together in the living room, you’re curled up into his side with one of his arms thrown around you and his chin resting on your head whilst your eyes are glued to the screen

୨୧ if you mention wanting to go grab a drink or some snacks, don’t you even dare try to get up! he’ll go and get it for you, just be sure to pause the movie because he doesn’t want to miss anything…

♡ if you wear hair curlers to bed so that your hair will be full in the morning, he absolutely helps you with them!

୨୧ he’ll stand behind you as you sit at your vanity, helping you hold and part your hair correctly whilst sending you a cheeky smile and a wink in the mirror when you meet his eyes

♡ he helps you take them out in the morning too, i just know he’d be SO gentle with it, pulling them slowly and making sure they don’t pull painfully and none of your hair is tangled

୨୧ after like, two years of you guys dating, he surprises you with a vintage car you’d been dreaming of owning since you were a kid but could never purchase because even as a model it was just a little out of your price range and pretty hard to come across

♡ but toto found it, he’d find anything if it would make you happy and he’d get to see your beaming smile

୨୧ he’ll never tell you how he found it and managed to snag it but you take a guess that it’s because of his connections in the car industry…

♡ and when you guys got married, the “ just married ” drive off was in that same car <3

୨୧ speaking of your guys’ wedding, oh my god was that a dream

♡ he went all OUT for your wedding, wanting you to have the dream wedding, the wedding you’d fantasised about having for years

୨୧ everything you wanted at your wedding was there, no matter how expensive!

♡ a lot of your wedding was very reminiscent of rich vintage weddings, a beautiful wedding dress with a short train, your hair done perfectly and your makeup as bright as your smile

୨୧ but toto does not do the infamous cake face smash, absolutely not! he can tell you’re extremely happy with your hair and makeup, he doesn’t want to ruin that for you and respects you

♡ so he simply dips his finger in the icing and smears a tiny bit on your nose as you giggle and do the same to him before sharing another kiss

୨୧ when he’s as rich as he is, why wouldn’t he give his liebling her perfect wedding day?

♡ toto will come with you to photoshoots whenever he can, always standing with his arms crossed and a boyish smirk on his face as he admires you performing different poses

୨୧ when you ask for his opinion on an outfit for a shoot, he’s sooo… god, i don’t even know how to explain it! he’s almost completely mesmerised by you, speaking quietly as he just can’t stop running his eyes across your body and face, still finding it hard to believe this is the beauty he gets to call his wife

“ you look amazing, schön… you always look so beautiful, you know this, yes? my beauty ” ( with the amount of compliments he sends you every minute of every day? yes, you definitely know )

♡ the amount of photos that exist of him where he’s standing in the mercedes’ staff area with a big lipstick mark on his cheek is insane…

୨୧ there’s SO many of them circulating on social media! sometimes because he simply doesn’t realise the print is there and other times because he simply doesn’t care to remove it, wearing it almost like a mark of pride

♡ and people notice that whenever you’re in the paddock, he’s much less easily angered!

୨୧ he does not like losing control of his anger in front of you at all and will always suppress it the best he can, being settled by your soft hands massaging his shoulder-blades and your voice whispering assuring words to him

“ thank you, schön… yes, i’m okay… don’t worry, you want to go and get some lunch? a tea, maybe? come, let’s go ” ( he lets out a deep chuckle when watching you drink, admiring how to drink so carefully as to not ruin your perfect lipstick )

♡ the number of flower bouquets you get from toto is enough to rival a flower shop! he gives you one nearly every single day and you have so many vases in your home due to it

୨୧ he just knows you really love how romantic flowers are and when your eyes light up as they land upon the new bouquet he’s extending towards you, it fills his heart with the strongest sense of love

♡ due to you almost always wearing heels, toto is very attentive when it comes to pampering you!

୨୧ he’ll give you a foot massage any day, just give him the word! or don’t, he’ll probably still massage your feet for you without even having to ask

♡ you become pretty close with basically the whole mercedes team! always baking them cookies and other treats, either taking them to them yourself when you can join toto or making toto take them and promise you he won’t eat them all himself in his office

୨୧ lewis and george are especially big fans of you and your cookies! you’ve stopped toto from raging out on them more times than they can count which they’re already more than thankful for but your baked goods too? you’re an angel to them, sent straight from the highest peak in heaven to feed them well and save them from your husbands wrath

♡ toto absolutely ADORES how minimal your makeup is! always going with very neutral tones and calm colours <3

୨୧ he honestly just loves watching you get ready, sitting on the bed and fixing the cuffs of his neat white button up shirt whilst his soft eyes follow you as you perform your usual morning routine around the bedroom

♡ you’ll always know he’s watching, feeling his big brown eyes on you and ask him for his opinion on how you should have your hair and what type of eyeshadow you should do today before he comes up to you for a better look at the options

୨୧ this man is the BIGGEST fan of dancing with you whilst you try to bake in the kitchen, he’ll put on some jazz and come up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, swaying softly before gently pulling you away from some cookie dough and taking your hand in his

♡ toto loves spinning and dipping you, leaning down for a soft kiss when you’re dipped back against his arm, it makes you laugh a lot and to him that’s the most heavenly sound in the world…

#toto wolff x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 headcanons #married headcanons

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peavhyshy · 10 months ago

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⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - SHOPPING SPREE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron ⋆ Pogue!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe goes over-the-top as usual to apologize for cheating which includes a grand gesture of buying out an entire boutique is creatively meant to.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language, fluff, semi smut (but not really), power dynamics, mental/emotional manipulation and ulterior motives, reference to cheating, sexually suggestive situations, non-consensual elements (pressure/coercion into sexual acts), dubious consent, unhealthy relationship, discomfort/anxiety, misogyny/objectification.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 5,130

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ It's been a while since I posted on here and whatever so here I am, but who's to say I won't disappear for another few months.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sauntered into the high-end boutique, the little bell above the door announcing his arrival. The sales associates perked up, eyeing his Ralph Lauren polo and Sperry boat shoes. Ah, a Kook with money to burn.

"Hello sir, can I help you find anything today?" the manager asked, her voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

"Yeah, I need to buy out like, your whole store," Rafe said nonchalantly, checking out a display of cashmere sweaters.

The associates' eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Buy out the whole store, sir?"

"Yep. I screwed up badly with my girl. She's a Pogue, you know? Doesn't really do the whole fancy clothes thing. But she found out I cheated on her with some Touron last week, and now she's pissed." Rafe picked up a floral sundress, scrutinizing it. "So I figured, what better way to say sorry than decking her out in some new designer threads?"

The manager nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture. Let me start ringing up some items for you."

"Nah, like I said, I want to buy out the whole damn store. Just name your price." Rafe pulled out his credit card, waving it around.

The manager's eyes lit up at the thought of the huge commission she was about to make. "Of course, sir, let me calculate our current retail inventory value and I'll give you a total."

"Make it quick. I’ve got a picnic on the beach planned to beg for her forgiveness," Rafe said, leaning on the cash wrap counter impatiently.

The manager returned shortly with the grand total. Rafe didn't even blink as he handed over his credit card. Anything to get his Pogue princess back.

Rafe leaned against the wall near the cash register, watching with disinterest as the store employees scurried around grabbing items off racks and shelves.

"Come on, pick up the pace," he called out impatiently. "I wanna get out of here before the sun goes down."

The manager gave him an appeasing smile as she stuffed an armful of sundresses into a large box. "We're going as fast as we can, sir. I really appreciate your business - this is the biggest sale we've ever had!"

Rafe just shrugged, stifling a yawn. The workers were cramming the boxes full of tissue paper and accessories, trying to maximize what they could fit. Shoes, handbags, skirts, tops - everything was being cleared off the floors and walls.

One associate struggled to fold a pile of cashmere sweaters to fit in an overflowing box while another carefully wrapped up a display of fine china jewelry. The store was slowly emptying out as the minutes ticked by.

"Ugh, this is taking forever," Rafe groaned, pulling out his phone to scroll aimlessly. "I should've just gone to Party City and bought her a bunch of balloons or something."

The manager's smile strained a bit as she kept up her enthusiastic energy. "Almost done, sir! Just a few more minutes and you'll have our entire inventory to present to your lovely girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe muttered, back to being bored. Buying out the whole store was proving to be more tedious than he had anticipated. But hey, you were worth it. Probably.

”I need all of this shipped to her beach house.”

The manager nodded as she taped up another overstuffed box. "Of course, sir. I can arrange delivery to any address you'd like."

She gestured to one of the other employees. "Sara, can you grab some shipping labels? We'll need to send all of these boxes to this gentleman's girlfriend's house once we're finished packing everything up."

Sara hurried to grab a stack of shipping labels and a pen. "What's the address, sir?" she asked Rafe.

"Oh, uh..." Rafe scratched his head. "Somewhere in The Cut, not really sure of the exact address. It's a small blue house near the bay though, it has a tire swing out front. Think the name on the mailbox is L/N or something like that."

Sara looked confused. "Do you have the street name or number? There are a lot of small blue houses in The Cut."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know that shit. Her dad's name is Hank though, if that helps. Everyone knows Hank the Tank down there."

The manager and Sara exchanged a look, neither seeming confident about locating the right address.

"Tell you what," Rafe continued, pulling out a thick wad of cash from his back pocket. "Here's 500 bucks. That should cover you guys figuring out where the hell to deliver all this stuff to Y/N in The Cut. I'm sure one of the Pogues down there can point you in the right direction."

He tossed the cash on the counter and headed for the door without another word, leaving the overwhelmed store employees with boxes piled high and vague delivery information.

You squinted against the setting sun as three large delivery trucks rumbled down the sandy driveway toward your family's weathered beach house. You set down your cards on the rickety picnic table, where you had been playing an intense game of Crazy Eights with John B, JJ, Sarah, and Kiara.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered. The trucks parked haphazardly amidst the uncut grass and strewn beach debris surrounding the house. Drivers hopped out and opened up the backs, revealing piles and piles of boxes crammed to the brim.

"Whoa, did you order the entire Amazon warehouse or something?" JJ joked, sauntering over to inspect the deliveries.

Before you could respond, the porch boards creaked loudly under the weight of multiple pairs of high-heeled shoes. The group turned to see half a dozen boutique store employees teetering across the uneven ground, laden with clothing on hangers and large shopping bags.

"Oh no..." you groaned, realization dawning on you.

"Delivery for Ms. Y/N L/N!" one of the women trilled, scanning the rural beachfront for the recipient.

"That's you, Y/N," John B said, giving you a puzzled look.

Just then, a delivery man approached with an oversized bouquet of roses and a card. "Are you Ms. Y/N? These are for you along with all of these boxes."

"I'm going to kill him," you seethed, grabbing the card. Sure enough, it was from Rafe, attempting to apologize for cheating in his usual over-the-top Kook fashion.

The others laughed, taking in the three trucks overflowing with designer clothes and accessories that had arrived on your doorstep. The group whooped and raced toward the trucks, laughing at Rafe's attempt to buy back your forgiveness. You had to admit - it was a pretty damn good start.

The sun had just set over the expansive Cameron estate as you marched up the long driveway and let yourself in the front door. You breezed past the elaborate foyer and down the hall towards the state-of-the-art home gym, where you knew you would find Rafe.

Sure enough, there he was - shirtless and pumping iron, the clanking of weights echoing through the large room. You crossed your arms, watching as Rafe finished his set of bicep curls before acknowledging your presence.

"Oh hey babe," he said casually, setting down the dumbbells. "I see you got my gifts."

"You mean the eighteen-wheeler trucks filled with designer clothes that choked the road to my house all afternoon?" you replied sharply.

Rafe grinned. "So I take it, you liked them?"

You rolled your eyes. "Did you seriously buy out the entire Verona Boutique?"

"Maybe," Rafe shrugged, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Why would you do that?" you asked in exasperation.

"Come on, I was just trying to apologize for what I did," Rafe said. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You sighed heavily. "You can't buy me off with fancy clothes, Rafe. That's not how this works."

Rafe stood up and walked over to you. "But did it at least make you smile a little?" he asked with a coy grin.

Despite yourself, You felt the corners of your mouth turn upward. You shook your head, trying to fight the smile.

"You're unbelievable," you scoffed. But Rafe took your reaction as a promising sign.

"So...am I forgiven?" he asked.

You shrugged, struggling to stay stern. "You're not off the hook yet. But...it's a start."

Rafe smiled victoriously and pulled you into an embrace. You hated to admit it, but his over-the-top gesture did melt away some of your anger. Only a Kook would think that buying out an entire boutique could fix cheating - but you had to give him points for creativity.

Rafe's face lit up with a delighted grin as he saw the smile fighting its way onto your lips. Score! He knew you couldn't stay mad at him for long, not when he pulled out all the stops with his over-the-top apology gifts. Sure, buying you an entire wardrobe wasn't exactly practical, but he wanted to go big to show you how much he cared. Because even though he screwed up by cheating, your were still his girl and he needed you to know you were #1. No Touron hookup could ever mean anything compared to you.

Pulling you tighter into his embrace, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you nuzzled into his bare chest. He could tell the wheels were still turning in your mind, trying to decide if you were ready to fully forgive him yet. But he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve if needed. Diamonds, a new car, a trip to Paris - anything you wanted, it was yours. Being the heir to the Cameron fortune had its perks when you needed to get yourself out of the doghouse.

"So when are you gonna model some of these new outfits for me, hmm?" he murmured suggestively in your ear. "Maybe a private fashion show tonight? I'll even let you use my black AmEx again if you want to pick up some sexy lingerie to complete the looks." He grinned devilishly.

You rolled your eyes and gently pushed out of his embrace. "Down boy. You're not off the hook yet," you reminded him, though your tone had softened considerably. Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay okay, I know. But you gotta admit, the mental image is pretty hot," he said with a wink. you just shook your head, trying to hide your smile. You could never stay irritated with him for long.

"Alright, I should get home and figure out what to do with the small mountain of designer clothes currently cluttering up my living room," You sighed. "I still can't believe you bought out the entire store."

Rafe waved a hand casually. "Don't even trip about it. Consider it just a small token of my love," he said smoothly.

You quirked an eyebrow. "A small token? Rafe, it's got to be worth at least $20,000 worth of stuff."

Rafe shrugged. "Meh, that's like pocket change for me, babe. You're worth it and so much more." He pulled you in for a quick kiss. "I'll swing by later to help you sort through it all, yeah?"

You nodded, a genuine smile breaking through now. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later." you gave him one last peck on the lips before heading out, shaking your head slightly at your ridiculous boyfriend's attempt to buy your forgiveness. But even you had to admit it was a pretty damn adorable gesture. The boy was utterly smitten, that much was clear. And even if it took a small army of delivery trucks worth of designer clothes to prove it, you supposed you couldn't complain. After all, what girl didn't love a massive shopping spree courtesy of the Cameron family fortune?

Rafe sauntered up the stairs of your beach house, not bothering to knock before letting himself in. your dad was away on a fishing charter and he knew you’d be home alone trying to organize the massive shipment of clothes he had sent over as an apology gift.

"Knock knock, princess!" he called out as he strode down the hall to your bedroom. "Did you get a chance to try on any of the new outfits I bought you?"

He pushed open your bedroom door to find you sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of tissue paper and discarded shopping bags. You looked up at him in exasperation.

"Rafe! You could at least knock before barging into my room," you admonished.

“My bad, didn't mean to startle you. Just excited to see my gifts being put to use," he said with a grin.

You sighed, gesturing to the chaos around you. "Well, I've been trying to sort through it all morning but there's just so much stuff. You went way overboard as usual."

"Anything to make my girl happy," Rafe replied smoothly, plopping down on the floor next to you. "Here, let me help you get organized."

He began sifting through the piles of clothing, occasionally holding up items for your inspection. "Ooh, you have to model this one for me," he said, grabbing a lacy black teddy. "And this mini skirt would look so hot on you."

You blushed deeply, snatching the risqué items out of his hands. "Rafe! My dad could be home any minute," you hissed in embarrassment.

"So? I want him to see how smoking his daughter looks in the outfits I bought her," Rafe said with a devilish grin. "Might make him finally approve of me."

You buried your face in your hands. "You're unbelievable," you groaned. "Can we please just focus on organizing? I don't have time for an impromptu fashion show."

"Fine fine, I'll behave. For now," he added in a playful whisper.

You guys spent the next hour sorting your new wardrobe into categories - dresses, tops, bottoms, shoes, jewelry. Rafe "helped" by periodically holding up scandalous lingerie pieces and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively until you threaten to smack him with a stiletto heel.

Despite your exasperation at the overabundance of clothing, you had to admit it was fun exploring all the different styles and accessories Rafe had picked out for you. The boy definitely knew your taste, even if he did go over-the-top with buying out the entire store. You made a mental note to donate some of the clothes to charity once you had a chance to try it all on.

You collapsed backwards onto a pile of cashmere sweaters. "Phew! We’re almost done." You smiled over at Rafe. "Thanks for your help. And for the very generous gift. Even though it's pretty ridiculous you bought out an entire store," you added with a laugh.

Rafe grinned and leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Anything for my princess," he murmured. "You deserve to be spoiled rotten."

You giggled as he nuzzled your neck, wrapping your arms around him. You supposed you couldn't stay irritated with him for long, not when he was just trying to show his affection through expensive gifts. Over-the-top as it may be.

"Alright Casanova, that's enough distracting me," You said, playfully nudging him away. "Now help me get all of these clothes put away in my closet before my dad gets home."

You shook your head in amusement. "You're absolutely ridiculous. But…" You tilted your head up to him and smiled."I love you for it."

Rafe playfully tackled you onto the pile of cashmere sweaters you had been sorting through. You let out a surprised squeal, smacking his chest lightly as he hovered over you. "Rafeee, I told you to behave!" you chided through your laughter. He just grinned mischievously, dipping his head to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you squirmed beneath him ticklishly.

"Mm mm, you know I can never keep my hands off you for long," he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly. His hands slid up under your shirt, tracing along your stomach and ribs. You shivered at the contact, cheeks flushing as you felt him growing hard against your thigh already. You really shouldn't be doing this with your dad liable to come home any minute…but then again, the risk just made it more exciting.

You bit your lip, hesitating only a moment longer before grabbing Rafe's face and crashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips down against yours. Things were escalating fast, all thoughts of organizing clothes now tossed aside. Rafe broke the kiss only to tug your shirt over your head swiftly. His eyes drank in the sight of your breasts encased in a lacy pink bra.

"Damn baby…have I mentioned how fucking sexy you look in all these new lingerie pieces I bought you?" He reached around to unclasp your bra, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimpered, arching into him. You were quickly losing the willpower to stop this and he knew it. His hands slid under your skirt, fingers dipping beneath your panties to find you wet and ready for him already. His hands wandered recklessly over your body, groping and grasping wherever they pleased..

"R-Rafe, my dad…" You gasped half-heartedly in protest even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

Rafe silenced you with another bruising kiss, grinding his arousal against you. His fingers tangled in your hair, using it as a handle to maneuver your head for better access to your neck and chest.

"Shh, don't worry about him," Rafe crooned, his breath hot against your ear. "It's just us right now." His knee nudged between your legs, parting your thighs as he claimed your mouth once more.

Your knees went weak, overwhelmed by the onslaught of Rafe's hungry kisses and wandering hands. You clung to his shoulders for support, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the sparking heat of his body pressed to yours. Your token protests died away as Rafe's skilled fingers caressed the soft skin of your breasts.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly when you arched into his touch instead of pulling away. His knee rubbed teasingly between your legs as he continued his pleasurable assault, intent on showing you exactly who was in control here.

Your mind reeled, inner alarm bells drowned out by the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You knew you should push Rafe away, stop this before it went too far with your dad possibly home any minute. But your traitorous body seemed to have other ideas as it melted shamefully against Rafe's hard frame.

His kisses left you dizzy and compliant, willpower evaporating under the intoxicating strokes of his hands. But when those hands went to zip down your skirt, some deeply buried remnant of reason sparked back to life inside you.

"Rafe, stop," you gasped out, catching his wrists in your hands. He paused, eyes dark with lust and irritation at being denied his prize.

"Come on baby, don't be like that," he cajoled, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I know you want this too."

You shook your head, gently but firmly removing his hands from your body. "No, not now. Not here." Your cheeks burned but you held your ground. "I'm not comfortable going any further with my dad so close by. Can we please just…slow down?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, displeasure evident at having his fun interrupted. But after a tense moment he stepped back.

"Fine, princess, whatever you say," he relented, tone dripping with poorly concealed frustration. You let out a shaky breath, tugging your rumpled clothing back into place. Your lips still tingled from the force of Rafe's kisses but the frenzied moment had passed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I just don't want our first time to be so…rushed," You said earnestly, hoping he could understand despite his obvious annoyance at being denied. His eyes remained dark but he managed a tight smile.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Wouldn't want Daddy dearest walking in on us anyway," he said with an eye roll. You smiled weakly, knowing that was as close to understanding as you would get from him right now. At least he had backed off for the moment. But you had a feeling this conversation was far from over. Rafe did not like being told no.

He swallowed down his anger, forcing his face into a strained smile. He had to play this carefully; you Lila too much and you’d bolt. No, he needed to lure you in gently, make you trust him completely.

"Of course, princess. We'll take this at your pace," he said smoothly, stroking your cheek. "I just got carried away because you're so damn irresistible." He kissed your forehead, the very picture of understanding despite the lust still raging inside him.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a shy smile. "Thank you, Rafe. I'm glad you understand. I promise, when the time is right…" You trailed off, blushing. Rafe tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your neck teasingly.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it so good for you when you're ready," he purred. You shivered, skin tingling from his touch. "For now, why don't you model some of these new outfits for me? Might give me a sneak peek of what I have to look forward to." He grinned devilishly.

You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. "You're incorrigible," you admonished, but went to pick out a few items from the piles of new clothes. Rafe settled on your bed, hungry eyes tracking your every movement. For now, he would enjoy the little fashion show. But it was only a matter of time before those clothes ended up scattered across the bedroom floor instead.

A relieved smile crossed your face as Rafe appeared to accept your request to slow things down without argument. You knew he must be frustrated, but you appreciate him respecting your boundaries for now. There would be a right time and place for intimacy later on.

As you sifted through the piles of new clothes, Your smile faltered slightly. You could feel Rafe's intense gaze following your every movement, almost palpable in its hunger. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not entirely an unpleasant one. Still, something about the glint in his eyes gave you pause.

You selected a few simple, conservative outfits to model - a loose fitting sundress, some shorts with a flowy blouse. But Rafe tsked in disappointment, getting up to rummage through the options himself.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," he coaxed, grabbing a slinky miniskirt and cropped tank top. "I want to see my sexy girl shine." He shot you a playful grin as he pressed the revealing clothes into your hands.

You laughed nervously. "Rafe, those aren't really my style…" But he pouted childishly, guiding you towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Humor me? Just a peek," he insisted. You hesitated, then relented with a shy smile. You had never worn anything so risqué before, but the delight on Rafe's face was gratifying. And it was just the two of you after all…

You changed quickly, adjusting the tiny skirt over yourself. The top was snug and showed a hint of midriff that made you self-conscious. But Rafe's eager expression as you stepped out stopped any protests before they left your lips.

"Stunning," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. You blushed under his intense scrutiny, suddenly feeling very exposed. But you tried to push past it, giving an awkward little twirl to show off the outfit fully. Rafe's grin was downright predatory.

"Now take it off nice and slow," he said lowly, eyes raking over you. "Give me a proper show."

You balked, arms crossing instinctively over your torso. "Rafe, I…" His eyebrows shot up in challenge and you faltered. Maybe you were overthinking things. You didn't want to disappoint him again…

With trembling fingers, You reached for the hem of the snug tank top. But the voice inside screaming this was a bad idea only grew louder. You dropped your hands, shaking your head firmly as you backed towards the bathroom.

"I'm sorry Rafe, I can't do this. The clothes need to stay on." Your voice was small but resolute. You wouldn't ignore your instincts, not even to placate Rafe's desires. His scowl made your stomach twist anxiously, but you stood your ground, waiting for his response.

Taking a deep breath, Rafe fixed an understanding smile on his face. "You're right, I got carried away again. I'm sorry," he said gently. "I just can't control myself around you sometimes. You look so gorgeous in that outfit."

He approached you slowly until you allowed him to take your hands in his. "Of course the clothes should stay on until you're ready. I'm truly sorry for pushing you, princess." He brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. "It's okay, Rafe. Thank you for understanding." You leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

You emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable sundress, feeling infinitely more at ease now that you were back in your own clothes. Rafe's obvious disappointment tugged at your heartstrings for a moment, but you brushed it aside. You knew in your gut that stripping for him, even just down to your underwear, wasn't something you were ready for yet.

To your relief, Rafe seemed to have reigned himself in and was back to his usual charming self, apologizing for getting carried away again. You smiled up at him gratefully, leaning in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," You said earnestly. "It really means a lot. I know this is all new for me." you ducked your head a bit shyly.

Rafe tilted your chin up, smiling fondly as he gazed down at you. "Of course, princess. I'll wait as long as you need. I'm just happy to be with you," he assured you smoothly.

Your heart swelled. You knew you had been lucky to find a guy like Rafe. Wealthy Kook boys had a reputation for being entitled spoiled brats. But most people didn't get to see this sweet, caring side of Rafe like you did. He could be impulsive and hot headed at times, but he respected your boundaries when it really mattered.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," You declared, going up on tiptoe to kiss him warmly. Rafe grinned against your lips, strong arms circling your waist.

"Anything for my girl," he murmured affectionately when you broke apart. You playfully booped his nose, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Alright mister, as much as I appreciate these new clothes, I could really use some help donating some of them," you said in a practical tone. "I can't even wear this many outfits in a lifetime!"

Rafe heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled good-naturedly. "Fiiine, guess I did go a little overboard on the shopping spree," he conceded. You giggled.

"Just a bit. Come on, let's get started." You took his hand, leading him back to the piles of clothes awaiting sorting. Even if Rafe's impulsive extravagance could be frustrating at times, You were grateful to have someone so attentive and willing to lavish you with gifts and affection. You hoped in time he would come to value you for more than just your looks or virginity. For now, You were content to take things slow and simply enjoy exploring young love one day at a time.

Rafe resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he let you lead him by the hand back to the piles of designer clothes he had gifted you. Donating them? What a pointless waste. He had spent a small fortune solely with the intent of seeing you decked out in finery, not giving it away to the destitute Pogues of the Cut.

But he bit his tongue, keeping up the doting act. "Of course I'll help, babe. Anything you want," he said smoothly, playing with your fingers.

Soon, he promised himself as he pulled you in for a chaste kiss on the forehead that contradicted his lustful thoughts. Your smile made him want to gag, but he mirrored it charmingly. Let you enjoy playing house a little while longer. He was adept at getting what he wanted from any woman eventually. The thought made Rafe's cock stir impatiently, but he willed it down. Not yet. He needed to lull you into total complacency first before finally stripping away the last of your resistance.

You hummed contentedly to yourself as you neatly folded clothes into donation boxes, Rafe helping beside you. You smiled up at him after he gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, happy you guys seemed to be back in sync after the brief tension earlier.

You held up a slinky red cocktail dress, pondering keeping it for a special occasion. But no, it wasn't really your style at all. Into the donation box it went. You frowned slightly as you pulled out several incredibly risqué lingerie items - crotchless panties, lace teddies that left little to the imagination. Definitely not your taste.

"Geez Rafe, did you raid the whole lingerie section?" you asked with a laugh. Rafe just shrugged, unbothered. You shook your head in amusement as you set them aside to give to your more adventurous friend.

Once all the clothes were sorted, you surveyed the boxes contentedly. You had kept enough everyday outfits to last a lifetime, but now many girls in the Cut would have the chance to enjoy fancy new clothes too. It made you happy to spread the wealth, so to speak.

"There, all done! The donation center is going to be thrilled." You smiled brightly at Rafe. "This was a really great idea. I know I said it already, but thank you again for being so generous. And understanding about…everything," you finished, cheeks pinking slightly.

Rafe smiled back warmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course, babe. Anything for you," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggled into his side, relieved you seemed to be back on the same page.

You hoped with time, Rafe would see you as more than just a conquest or object of physical desire. For now, you were content taking it slow, focusing on emotional intimacy over physical. You had all the time in the world for those things later on if things progressed. But for today, You were simply happy snuggling innocently with the boy who made you feel so safe, protected and cherished. Everything was perfect just as it was.

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albertasunrise · 10 months ago

Text

Hope for Forgiveness - Hope

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (Wow... the last chapter got so much love and I am so happy y'all are enjoying this ♥️)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

11 years earlier...

Joel still couldn't quite believe how you'd managed to pull this off. His house was decorated head to toe in tacky decorations in his favourite colour. His kitchen table was smothered in delicious smelling food and the couch was full of presents.

"Happy Birthday buddy." Alec said sweetly as he gave Joel's arm a friendly pat "If you hate this... It was all her idea I swear."

Joel chuckled at Alec's statement before wandering over to you "Thank you." He said sweetly as he gave you a hug and pecked your cheek "Didn't think I'd be doing much for my birthday this year with Sarah n' all."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm back for a bit." Said Tommy as he wandered into the room with Sarah sleeping soundly on his shoulder "Got someone to babysit."

"Shut the front door." Joel chuffed as he strode towards his brother to hug him, careful not to wake Sarah.

"Where's Noah?" He asked upon noticing the little boy wasn't around.

"My parents are down for a few days so he's getting some quality grandparent time." Alec replied as he pulled you into a sideways hug, beaming at Joel as the man started to eye up all the presents on his couch "You gonna open them or just stare at them?"

Joel chuckled before sitting on his armchair whilst you excitedly handed him presents. He received a new jacket from Alec after complaining to the man that he had was worn out, and a pager from Tommy. Ali's parents had sent him some of his favourite Canadian snacks and a year's supply of maple syrup. There were a few presents from some friends and colleagues that ranged from beer to accessories for his guitars.

Your present was last.

"Finally, this one from me." You said sweetly as you handed him a small, rectangular shaped box.

"You got him Jewellery?" Tommy teased "Your man's stood right here!"

Joel opened the box to reveal a watch and his eyes widened. He had spotted the watch in the window of a jeweller one day and commented to you that he liked it. The price had been extravagant but with a little one at home to focus on he didn't feel like he could justify buying himself such a luxury.

"I don't know what to say." He said as he looked at you with misty eyes "I can't believe you got this for me."

"I thought you deserved something nice after everything that's happened." You said sweetly as you shrugged off his statement "Maybe now you'll arrive on time for things." You teased as you gave him a friendly nudge.

"Thank you." He said sweetly as he smiled at you and you felt your heart squeeze at the look he gave you "This is... It's perfect."

"You're welcome, Miller." You replied finally before returning to Alec's side.

Present day...

Joel stared at the watch on his wrist as he remembered that day fondly. Its face was smashed from the accident and no longer worked but he'd refused to take it off. It was all he had left of you and despite everything that had happened after the accident, he'd never been able to let you go.

He had never blamed you for what had happened. For how you had drifted apart.

He had been the one driving and so it was his fault that Alec had ended up paralysed. If only he had said no to driving. Things would have been so different. He stared at the picture of the four of you and the kids. How happy you and Alec looked together. He had hated how he couldn't hate the man. He had been the kindest, most genuine person, other than yourself, that Joel had ever met. There hadn't been a selfish bone in the man's body and it genuinely hurt to learn that he no longer graced the earth with his presence.

He normally loved Saturdays. He often had nothing to do. Sarah had soccer practice and then Tommy took her for dinner after. It was their day together and Joel loved that the little girl had such a strong relationship with her uncle. At 12 she was such a mature young woman. Forced to grow up a little too fast which Joel felt guilty about but the girl never held it against him. Her mother would have been so proud of her.

This Saturday, however, he hated. His solitude and the fact that you were back had him dwelling on pains he had long since buried. He hated knowing that you hated him. That you were back and that he couldn't just call you and ask if you wanted to meet for a coffee.

After two hours of moping over things he couldn't change he decided to do something constructive. Jumping into his van, he headed to the supermarket. He had his list in hand as he scaled the aisles. Throwing his and Sarah's favourites into his trolly and ticking them off as he went. He looked up in an attempt to spot the next thing on his list only to freeze on the spot.

There you were. Eyes wide as you stared at him from the other end of the aisle.

He lifted his hand to wave but before he got a chance you looked away and scarpered. His heart squeezed in his chest as he watched you retreat. Even after all these years, you couldn't stand to be around him but then, he couldn't really blame you. He'd ruined your life.

...

You scolded yourself for running but the moment you'd locked eyes with him, you thought your heart was going to beat out of your chest. He had looked good. Time had been kind to him. He's grown his hair out a little and adorned a scruffy beard that suited him. He looked so ruggedly handsome.

Noah had been off with you since learning that he had known his new friend Sarah since she'd been a baby. He'd also hated how you'd hurt Joel and you couldn't blame him for that either. You'd spent the last decade hating yourself for that too. He must hate you.

You were a coward. You just couldn't face him.

If only you knew that he didn't hate you. That he never had.

10 years earlier...

Tommy sat at his brother's bedside and waited for him to open his eyes. He had managed to get special leave to fly back to be with his brother who had woken up from his month and a half long coma the night before. He had gone to yours first, assuming you had been taking care of Sarah whilst Joel was in the hospital. When someone else answered the door he knew something had happened.

His next stop had been Joel's house. Ali's parents had greeted him. Both looked run down and exhausted but they caught him up with what they knew. Which was very little.

Joel had collapsed almost as soon as he'd stepped out of the taxi that had driven him home. The driver had then quickly lifted him back into the car and had driven him to the hospital. It had been pure luck that the hospital had managed to find their number and they had been on the first flight over.

Now he found himself clutching his older brother's hand, waiting for him to open his eyes again. He wasn't waiting too long. Joel woke up a little over half an hour after he'd arrived. Joel was slow to come around. It was a good hour before he was even remotely aware of his surroundings. Doctors and nurses came to check on him before leaving Tommy to sit with his brother once again.

Your name slipped from Joel's lips as he rolled his head to face his younger brother "Has she brought Sarah by?" He asked and Tommy felt his anger towards you swell.

"Sarah's not with her." He answered and Joel's brows pulled together in confusion.

"Who's she with?" He asked and Tommy sighed.

"She's with Ali's parents." He answered "The hospital managed to get hold of them and they flew out."

"But where's-"

Your name fell from Tommy's lips in a sour tone "She and Alec have moved away." He interrupted "Went by their house and different people were living there. They moved a month ago."

"Oh..." Joel trialled off as his eyes drifted away from his brother and locked on something across from him.

"Joel, what happened with you guys? When I left they were taking care of you and then I learned that you'd collapsed on your front lawn and I-"

"She threw me out." Joel replied and Tommy stilled "Don't blame her... She hates me for what happened." Joel continued as a few tears slipped down his cheeks "It's all my fault..."

"Joel, none of this is your fault." Tommy replied but he knew that he wouldn't convince Joel.

He hated how you'd made Joel feel. Hated that you had thrown him out when he was vulnerable and still recovering from brain surgery. He vowed then and there that if you ever came back... he'd make sure you regretted your decision to turf his brother out in his hour of need.

He would never forgive you for this.

Present day...

It had been two weeks since your run-in with Joel in the supermarket. Noah continued to avoid you. He spent most days with Sarah and you were glad that he had found her again. You were sure from the moment they'd been introduced that they were soulmates. Ali hadn't seemed to really notice the difference in her brother. She spent much of her time decorating her cast or reading her latest book.

Your solitude made you miss your husband. Despite his condition, he had remained upbeat in the 10 years that followed the accident. He hadn't let his condition get him down and you had always respected him for that. Things had been hard. His ever fluctuating health had affected your relationship in a multitude of ways but you'd continued to love each other until the very end.

Despite losing touch with Joel and Tommy, you had kept hold of the memories that you'd made together. Photos dotted the house of your short time together. Alec had always talked about what a shame it was that you'd all lost touch.

You'd never had the heart to tell him that it was your fault that had happened.

Noah came through the front door pulling you from your thoughts and you smiled at him as hung his coat and up and headed for the stairs.

"How was Sarah?" You asked, trying desperately to get him to just talk to you.

"She was good." He replied simply, hanging his pack on the bannister and deciding to head into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"That's good." You replied softly as you watched him putter around "You and he are spending a lot of time together."

"Yeah... She's pretty amazing." He replied with a shrug "I guess I shouldn't be surprised we get on so well seeing as we knew each other as babies." He scoffed as he washed the glass he'd just used.

"Noah I'm...I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you." You sighed "What happened to your dad was tough. I was pregnant and facing raising you and your sister with him in a completely different way than how I'd pictured."

"So you needed someone to blame for that?" He scoffed as he turned to face you "Blame a guy that had just gone through brain surgery and had almost died."

"It's complicated..." You trailed off and Noah scoffed "My hormones were all over the place and... Your father was paralysed... He was never going to walk again and then Joel was just walking around and I just resented him for that."

"He didn't deserve that mum." He growled and you nodded your head.

"You're right, he didn't." You agreed "But I can't change the past."

"You're right." He piped up and you looked up at him, knowing he had more to say "But perhaps you can change things now."

"I don't know Noah... I hurt him pretty badly back then and I-"

"Sarah's my girlfriend." Noah interrupted, stopping you in your tracks "So you are eventually going to have to talk to him again mum."

"Your girlfriend?" You all but squeaked and Noah smiled at you "Since when?"

"Today, actually." He replied with a shrug "We get on so well and she's so pretty. I know she's a little younger than me but-"

"She's not even two years younger than you Noah, nothing wrong with that."

"Well anyway. We kinda kissed today and lunch." He smiled as he remembered the moment "We were eating under the tree by the soccer field and she was reading to me and I just looked at her. She looked so pretty and I just went for it."

You smiled as he regaled his tale to you. You knew that it was only a matter of time for the two of them. They were like kindred spirits. Separated due to circumstances out of their control but fate felt it right to reunite them again.

And you were glad of it.

"I would really like it if you and Joel could work stuff out, Mum." Noah pleaded "I really like Sarah and I want it to work but I don't want my girlfriend's parents to hate each other."

"Does Sarah know?" You asked and he shook his head "As much as I hate lying to her I didn't think it was my place to tell her that we knew each other as kids." He stated plainly "That's down to you and Joel to tell her."

You nodded. Relieved that he hadn't outed you to her.

You wanted to fix things between you and Joel but you feared it had been too long to do so. After learning that you'd upped and left whilst Joel had been in hospital fighting for his life a second time had been eating away at you for days. You had thrown Joel out when he'd clearly been unwell and the more you'd thought about it the more obvious it had been. He's not been eating. His headaches had been frequent and had appeared to be increasing in intensity as the days had gone on.

But you had been too caught up in your own problems to see that he was taking a nose dive... And you hated yourself for it.

"Okay." You said softly as you smiled at your son

"Really?"

"You give Joel my number and tell him I'd like to meet and talk." You said softly "Leave the ball in his court."

"Thank you." Noah sighed as he hugged you tightly and you choked back a sob at the affectionate action.

"Anything for you my boy." You whispered softly as you kissed the crown of his head.

Joel finished placing the tacos he'd made on the table. Noah coming to Tacco Tuesday had become a regular thing. Now though, as well as talk about school and updates, it was filled with sweet smiles and hand-holding between the two young loves.

Joel knew he should hate the fact that his 12-year-old daughter had a boyfriend but Noah was a good boy. He had felt like they were destined from the moment he first played with her on her playmat. They were two puzzle pieces that fitted together so perfectly. So he couldn't really hate their relationship. When dinner was done, Sarah excused herself to use the facilities and Noah knew this was his chance.

"Joel." He piped up and the man looked at him from the sink where he'd just placed the last of the dishes "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Joel gave him a bemused look but nodded, coming back to the table and sitting with Noah as he eyed the lounge for any sign of Sarah.

"I know that you, my mum and dad used to be close. That I've known Sarah since she and I were babies." He started and Joel's head shot back in surprise "I also know that you were driving the car when my dad had his accident and that you almost died." He continued "My mum asked me to give you her number. She would like to meet and talk to you about things. Try and lay ghosts to rest and everything."

"Why now?" Joel asked, his head tilting to the side as he waited for Noah to answer.

"She's always regretted the way things turned out." The boy continued and Joel's brows pulled tighter "She saw your brother a few weeks ago and he told her about how you almost died after she sent you away. She wants to make things right."

Joel nodded. Thinking over what Noah had just told him.

"Your mother blames me for what happened to your dad." He said after a few minutes of tense silence "Are you sure she wants to talk to me?"

Noah nodded and Joel sighed.

"Okay, give me her number and I'll call her." Noah grinned at this response before pulling out one of your cards and sliding it across the table to the man.

"Thank you." He said sweetly and Joel returned it.

That following Saturday found Joel sitting in the cafe you'd sent him the address of. He fiddled with the mug in his hand as he watched the door. You'd text him to say you'd gotten stuck in traffic but you would be there soon so he had taken that as a chance to have a coffee and calm his nerves.

The bell dinging above the door caught his attention and he looked up and caught eyes with you. His heart froze as you both looked at each other a moment before you found your feet again and walked towards him. He could breathe when you stopped on the other side of the table, a small smile gracing your lips.

"Hi." You said softly as you smiled a little wider at him but he couldn't speak "Been a long time."

He still couldn't say a word.

"I missed you."

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #Pedro Pascal gif

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fictionalmenxyn · 2 years ago

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What it’s like to Date, ¡Price!

He is very open to things, he is an open minded man in relationships. You got questions he’ll answer them.

If your nervous, he’ll reassure you and tell you that you can take this relationship slow.

Once it’s been a while he is a gentleman. He’ll open doors, pull your seat out and push the chair in he will help you whenever he can see you need it.

His type of love language would probably be gift giving and words of affirmation sometimes quality time; it just depends how long he’s been gone. He likes to vocalise the relationship (take that comment as whatever you want/think of😉). But he likes to know how your feeling and if you need to talk.

If he has to leave for the military, he’ll give you one of his hoodies and he’ll buy a extra bottle of his after shave or his cologne so if he’s gone longer than expected you can still make his clothes smell like him.

He loves buying small things that remind him of you or things he knows will light up your face or make your day. Like if he went shopping to grab some small things like snacks or stock up of water; he’ll grab you a small cake for you or something you enjoy.

Although he loves firing you things he does love when you get him a box full of new cigars. His knees are weak when you buy them, he loves how you know the exact brand even if you don’t smoke or know much about cigars. It’s even better if you didn’t ask him what brand he used or likes most.

Like Soap and gets you to give him a trim. But he gets you to do his beard cause to him you are thee only person to ever get his mutton chop style to a perfection that he likes. It’s like you have a talent not even a professional barber has. You think it’s because your his partner but it’s not that, it’s because your actual good at it.

He may be your partner but he is definitely a role model in your life as of other lives too. Even if your not in the army he is still a role model and he is proud of it.

He enjoys it when you go and sit in his office. You would be on your phone or talking to him, it didn’t matter what you did but your presence being there as he write away with military paper work he enjoys it. He gets through the paperwork quicker when your there.

He likes to take you out, wherever whenever he doesn’t mind. If it’s shopping it’s fine, wherever as long as it puts a smile on your face it puts a smile on his face.

Price loves giving you nicknames. He’s a bit old fashioned with them though but it’s not bad. He tends to use “dove, love, darling, flower” and such. But if you prefer to be called something else he’ll call you it.

Every morning if he’s up before you, he knows you won’t be too far behind. So he’ll go downstairs put on the kettle and puts the news on for a quick reminder of what’s going on in life. Then as the kettle finishes he’ll make you and him either a coffee or tea. Then when your downstairs he’s sat on the sofa watching tv with a brew in hand and eating for you to join him.

In the mornings when he feels like staying in bed a little longer though; he gives your forehead a kiss and feels you snuggles your face towards his neck. He smiles to himself knowing your safe in his arms.

In the night, every so often he likes to watch a documentary on animals especially David Attenborough’s shows; or he’ll watch a bit of crime watch (idk why he just comes of as the type 😂)

Hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to request/message me if you want

Have a good day/night!🫶

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pristinekanesays · 2 years ago

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🦋 Life Is Strange: Relationship Headcanons.

🦋 some short headcanons on what it's like in a relationship with my six favourites :)

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: cheesy romantic stuff, swearing, jealousy, insecurities and toxic relationships (nathan)

🎧A/N: I send these out faster than my brain can handle, I have no idea why it hasn't turned to pure dust yet.

🦋Chloe Price:

🤍Wacky, trashy dates that don't cost a ton of money, she definitely cannot afford to go to super expensive places so the junkyard, train tracks and just simply walking about late at night is the best you're gonna get.

🤍On one date, she bought/possibly stole this tacky little lighthouse figure for you so you could put it nearby and when you see it, you'll automatically think of her.

🤍She was SO nervous asking you out even if you guys were super close, like shaking and fidgeting with her hands type of nervous.

🤍Offers to paint your nails sometimes but she literally only owns black nail polish, so you'll have to make do.

🤍She totally believes she's a badass 100%, I'd be lying if I said she hasn't climbed through your window at least once.

🤍Jealous? She's in the middle, she trusts you but is also scared some dickhead is gonna get the wrong idea.

🍂Kate Marsh:

🤍She seems like she'd enjoy those cute little picnic dates or movie nights, as long as it's not a horror movie. Kate can't cope when she's watching ANYTHING horror-wise, she's holding onto your arm the whole time.

🤍She'll buy you a small gift here and there but she also likes sketching you or painting your favourite place to go together, she's pretty artistic.

🤍If you couldn't tell already, she ADORES you, she could literally spend hours just looking at you.

🤍When she finally confesses to you, she cries happy tears and stares at you in pure disbelief as if she's just waiting for you to tell her it's a prank or somethin'.

🤍Kate trusts you entirely and knows you won't just leave her, not after all the things you guys have gone through together.

📷Max Caulfield:

🤍You have to be on pretty good terms with Chloe, she's literally Max's best friend. As long as you aren't a major asshole, you'll be fine.

🤍She takes photos of you, so many photos. Photos at the beach, photos at the diner, photos of you half asleep, photos of you in a banana costume that one halloween, photos of you brushing your teeth.

🤍It's like dating your best friend, even if you guys weren't that close when you first met, you are now motherfucker!

🤍Max can't cook, at all. Do not expect anything other than burnt grilled cheese or off-brand cereal if you were to ever get anything breakfast-wise.

🤍If you can cook then, oh boy! She will definitely refer to you as her beloved private chef with a huge grin on her face.

🤍Max thinks being jealous is for cheesy middle schoolers, she doesn't really care.

🎭Rachel Amber:

🤍Oh my god, she fucking loves you. In her eyes, you're literally an angel with wings that she scored with pure luck, she 100% hangs out with you nearly all time and is a little paranoid that something could happen to you out of the blue.

🤍Expensive gifts, you're literally collecting them from her at this point. On your birthday, she read out a poem she wrote herself with dramatics and all.

🤍She has to be really close with you to fall genuinely head over heels so, well done!

🤍Unlike Max, Rachel can actually cook like she could serve up a whole 5 star, three course meal with rarely any effort.

🤍She has a box under her bed which is just full of photos and sketches of the both of you.

🤍It's in Rachel's blood to be..a little jealous, she'd be broken if you were to just lose interest in her completely.

🎬Victoria Chase:

🤍Shocker but you HAVE to get along with Nathan, or somehow tolerate him but I can understand how that could be hard.

🤍Victoria is so damn wealthy and is nearly always buying you cute little necklaces or expensive ass things to put in your room, she loves going on dates with you but she'll freak out if anyone sees you together in public and you aren't nearly as popular as her.

🤍She also takes photos of you a lot, she has a weird nerdy side that only you and Nathan really know about.

🤍If she's open about your relationship, she definitely posts those cheesy middle-school posts about you and refers to you as `her light, her inspiration and the moon to her sun` she 100% sees herself as the sun because she's bright and fun and you're just you.

🤍Victoria gets jealous SO easily. She has to bite her tongue to stop her from saying something she shouldn't sometimes, she'll just look at you with an annoyed ass look on her face if you're doing something she doesn't like.

🎮 Warren Graham:

🤍Ever stayed up till 4:30AM playing shitty ass multiplayer games with snacks in your lap like you need junk food to survive? Well, now you'll be doing that all the time with him! He seriously won't give up and he's the first person to let you know when the new game you guys have been wanting to buy is on sale.

🤍He's a dork but he's a dork that helps you with studying when you need it, he's already outside your door before you can even pick up your phone to text him.

🤍You know those zodiac tiktoks kids make? Yeah, he'll have a fucking fit if they're not accurate and he seriously believes those but will pretend he doesn't.

🤍He'll maybe buy you a cheap ass video game here and there but other than that he'll probably just write you a little love letter and slide it under your door which is SO fucking cute.

🤍Warren can get jealous sometimes and I feel like he'd be kind of insecure about if he's a good boyfriend or not.

🧨Nathan Prescott:

🤍If I'm being honest, it isn't the healthiest relationship exactly and he freaks the fuck out if you stop replying to his texts suddenly because he needs your attention constantly.

🤍He's terrified that you'll get fed up of his shitty behaviour and bail, so he's constantly trying to make it up to you. He'll buy you a new camera, expensive equipment or just blow up your phone if that doesn't work.

🤍He'd be open about your relationship depending on your popularity and if you're a guy or not, he's still probably going through some denial but he still loves you the same even if he's a complete asshole.

🤍Nathan suffers from really bad nightmares and without warning you'll just wake up to him shuffling around your room in the middle of the night and then ask if he can stay over but pretend he didn't the next day, even though it keeps happening nearly every night.

🤍So jealous, like really jealous, he wants you to only have eyes for him and is a sucker for your attention only.

#🤍kane's headcanons #nathan prescott x reader #kate marsh x reader #victoria chase x reader #max caulfield x reader #chloe price x fem!reader #rachel amber x reader #warren graham x reader #lis headcanons #life is strange headcanons

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years ago

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A Memory Lives On

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Sad...?

Author's Note: I kinda forgot Simon's entire family was murked on Christmas Eve so...here's sad and kind of happy -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Spades always has a ridiculous amount of money. Everyone is at an understanding that it’s from her job as an international assassin, but they still can’t help but wonder how there just seems to be a never-ending flow of funds. That being said, they’ve never exactly questioned the extra supplies and protype weapons that mysteriously appear in the base for their whims. And the gifts she gives are stellar too.

Last year on Gaz’s birthday she bought two thousand dollars’ worth of Lego sets of the Death Star and the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars. Gaz cried. He literally opened the wrapping paper and cried for a solid five minutes because he had been so happy.

Another year she gave Soap a week’s vacation for his birthday, a full week rented at Blair Castle in Highland Perthshire. The entire castle to himself, full service from the best cooks and servants’ money could buy. Soap came back more Scot than he’d ever been.

One birthday, she’d given Price six boxes of rare cigars, three boxes for each brand of Royal Danish Cigars and Arturo Fuentes Opus X. Everyone had to admit that they’d never seen the Old Man so damned relaxed while smoking a cigar whilst reclining in a velvet chair with a bourbon in his hand.

And yet, for Ghost, she never gave him gifts. But then again, he never celebrated his birthdays to begin with, so there wasn’t ever a need. Ghost didn’t do parties like the others did. Didn’t want cake and beer and junk food and to relax. Ghost worked on his birthdays. It wasn’t a special day to him. It was just another Tuesday or Friday. Still though, he respected Spades for not spending lavish amounts of money on him like she did the others. It wasn’t worth it; he wasn’t worth it.

It does surprise him however, to see her at his door when he opens it at six, already awake before then, but he’d finished paperwork in the meantime.

She smiles calmly, eyes a telling tale she has something planned. “Good morning, Simon,” she greets. “I do believe a Happy Birthday is in order for our resident phantom.”

He grunts in response and waits for her to move—she doesn’t.

“Price has already cleared us for leave today and I’ve something for you. Would you mind accompanying me?”

Now he’s curious, suspicious, but more so curious. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always do, Simon,” she replies with a tut. “But I would enjoy your presence if you came along. It is a gift for you.”

Ghost lets out a sigh, but motions for her to lead and she does, to the garage where he climbs in the SUV with her and allows her to take him. “Where are we going?” he asks, but the signs on the road are familiar enough that he already knows.

“Manchester. There’s something waiting for us.”

It’s all she says, and the rest of the ride is filled with silence until they pull into the parking lot of The University of Manchester and begin walking across campus.

“Please don’t tell me I’m attending a college class,” he mutters, and she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, indeed we are. A course on morals and how ambiguous they can be during war.” She gives him a look and gestures for him to follow.

There’s a woman standing there outside the doors, and she smiles as the two approach. “Miss Christensen it’s so wonderful to see you.”

Christensen, Spades fake surname she uses, he recognizes.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Mary.” She introduces Ghost. “This is a friend of mine, he’s accompanying me today. His name is Michael.”

Ghost’s lip curls in disgust at the name but he shakes her hand and allows them to lead, wondering what on earth is at the university for him.

Mary leads them into an office, and they sit across from one another; he feels awkward in the confined room, but relaxes as Spades’ hand rests on his forearm. “So,” she starts, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Miss Christensen?”

Spades smiles. “Michael and I were both intrigued on perhaps obtaining more degrees. We came to check out the potential majors and more importantly, the scholarships we could apply for.”

“Oh yes!” Mary chirps and pulls out a folder that Ghost wonders if she has pre-made for visits like these. “We have quite a few. Old ones that have been around for years, and our newest ones that have been in circulation for the last few years.”

“I heard you had a particular new one that showed up. Would you explain that one?”

“Ah, yes, our newer scholarship started by a rather mysterious sponsor.” She pulls out a packet. “The Joseph Riley Foundation.”

Ghost all but freezes at the mention of a name he hasn’t heard in years.

“Our sponsor created the foundation in memory of a young boy who was sadly killed many years ago. His name was Joseph Riley. Grew up right here in Manchester. From what our sponsor told us, he loved jets and wanted to fly one in the army.” She smiles, but it’s full of sadness. “It’s unfortunate he never got to experience it. Still though, his memory lives on here.” She hands the packet to them, and Spades simply gives it to Ghost to look over. “This scholarship works hand in hand with the British Special Air Services, or SAS, and gives students the opportunity to have a job in the SAS when they graduate. As long as they meet the required terms, they join as an officer with a bonus if they graduate above a three grade point average.”

“Specifically, what does the scholarship provide? Is it entitled to specific degree?”

“Indeed. Aviation degrees, specifically those in aviation engineering and maintenance, aeronautical science, and physics.” She seems rather pleased with herself that she knows so much. “Our sponsor supplies endless funds and expertise along with it for this scholarship, it’s perhaps become one of our most coveted scholarships simply because it’s extremely beneficial to the education. Most of our students in those majors have this.”

Spades is content to listen as she rattles on about it, but Ghost is still stuck on the pages of the history of the scholarship, and a photo of a small boy with a face that looks too familiar.

***

By the time the entire tour is done, Ghost is as mentally drained as Spades looks and she bids farewell to Mary as she escorts the two to their vehicle and waves them goodbye as they pull out of the parking lot.

Spades says nothing, content to stay in silence, but Ghost feels like he has to say something, even if he isn’t even sure what to say.

“Why.”

A snort escapes her. “Because typical birthday gifts aren’t your cup of tea.”

“I haven’t thought about Joey in years,” he murmurs, staring out the window. “I can’t bear to.”

“Yes, I imagine it’s not a pleasant memory…the end, at least. He was just a babe, wasn’t he?”

“Five,” Ghost says quietly. “He…had just turned five.”

She sighs deeply but doesn’t offer Ghost the pitied, “Such a horrid shame,” he’s heard before.

“You come here every year on my birthday?”

“Mhm,” she responds. “I visit the science building and interview the students who’ve obtained the scholarship. Make sure it’s being put to good use. And then I cash a very generous multi-million-dollar check to the school for the foundation. Keeps it thriving and sought after.”

Ghost has never kept the memory of his family alive. It died with him that Christmas Eve as the only surviving Riley. But something aches deep in his chest as he imagines his nephew fresh out of basic, ready to travel and be a pilot for the jets he so loved playing with as a babe. He swallows thickly and looks out the window as Manchester fades away. “Thank you, Spades.”

“Happy Birthday, Simon,” she replies instead and turns on the radio, a catchy pop song drowning out the ache in his chest. “I do have one more gift, if you’ll let me spoil you a little.”

Ghost lets out a groan, already drained far too emotionally to do this again. “You know I don’t do gifts.”

“Hush,” she tuts with a disapproving click of her tongue and commands, “Reach behind your seat.”

He does as she says and reaches back and down, grasping what feels like a box; Ghost pulls it to his lap and stares at it. “What is it?”

“Well, perhaps if you open it?”

He ignores the sarcastic jab and carefully removes the tape around the box and opens it. Inside is a smaller box, about twelve inches and he pulls it out, tosses the first box into the backseat, and opens the second. His eyes widen as he stares at the blade resting in the velvet.

“…Wow…” he manages to mutter, and she smirks at the wheel.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, she’s lovely,” he says, taking the knife out to admire it.

“She’s one of a kind too. Made by an old Blackfeet man in the mountains of Montana. One of the best blades men for diamond knives there is.” She reaches over and touches the hilt. “It’s made from a buffalo and carved with protection symbols.”

Ghost twists the knife in his grip, handling it like any other. “It’s just for show, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, sweetheart,” she says. “That knife is one hundred percent battle ready.” Her expression changes. “I had thought about an obsidian blade. Wanted to make a joke about having a knife as black as your heart, but then I figured why waste it when I can get you a knife I know you’ll use. Hence, the diamond knife.”

“It’s really made of diamonds?”

“Indeed. One of the strongest knives you’ll ever find on the face of this earth. It’ll make for quick work of jugulars and aortas.”

Ghost is seemingly satisfied as he stows the knife in the hide sheath and tucks it into his jacket; and she can feel the smirk he has on his face, knowing he’s itching to use it.

“Happy Birthday, Ghost.”

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greyauras · 10 months ago

Text

This is like 600 words.

Everyone headcanons Ghost and Soap's living conditions like Ghost is a frequent visitor of r/malelivingspace and Soap has like a slightly cozy, filled just enough with furniture type of place. I think that's cute and hilarious, but I'm just thinking about the opposite.

That Ghost actually has this REALLY nice place somewhere near the base that Price *legally* finances for him but pays out of pocket for. King sized bed, some cacti, has an elderly neighbor that waters them for him if he's gone for too long and everything. I'm pretty sure Ghost was canonically a butcher (I hc him that way anyway) so he probably can make a good steak, and eventually learned how to cook for himself and it's become a hobby. He grew up without, so now that he has the money and the luxury to have a quiet space of his own, he takes full advantage of it.

I believe he likes stability, and while the base is where he feels the most like himself, the bustle of it all irritates him. Sometimes it's nice to drink your weird ass flavored tea with your pink cacti. Best date you'll ever have if you squint past the red flags Tom Cardy style.

And Soap? Pretty big, concrete, studio loft. Completely empty save necessary appliances and the fullest place being his art space with easels and canvases in front of the large windows, a cot with boxes of his shit next to it. And a bean bag chair begging for life. The only thing he knows how to cook is ramen and MRE tuna packets. He tries family recipes, but fucks it up so badly he hopes his nan doesn't see it beyond the grave. Growing up, he took care of himself while his parents worked constantly and could have been away for days at the time. It's easier to take care of yourself when your only obligations are feeding yourself, doing homework, and going to bed before midnight. Being an adult has similar rules but for some reason it's much worse.

Being in the military, it's an automatic rule to take care of yourself (physically). You stink, you'll get a bath one way or another. He doesn't buy anything because why need a bed if you'll only sleep on it for a month or so? Why a couch and TV when paying for a streaming service would be a waste? (Laptop disc player kind of guy, got a box of classic movies too, “THIS IS SPARTA!”) Really shouldn't even invest in a flat, he doesn't really celebrate holidays with his family anymore since they're the vacation on Christmas type. The only time he's there is when injured, forced or both.

But since Simon moves to Scotland and brings all his stuff with him, the big place gets filled a lot quicker. John gets some shelf racks and finally unpacks his boxes. I would say and maybe vice versa since Soap doesn't have a lot of stuff, but Price is glad to get that freeloader’s lease off his name.

Extra: They're all hanging out in the base’s living area.

Gaz: Does anybody need a couch? My sister's selling one, might even give it away if I ask.

Soap perks up from his spot on the floor: I do! I've been sleeping on the floor for 3 years!

Ghost: Johnny, I thought you said you had a cot?

Soap: I did. The legs broke, now it's just a framed mat.

Gaz: Bruv, what the fuck.

Soap: Does it have a stench?

Gaz: No?

Soap: I'll take it.

#ghostsoap #call of duty #drabble #totally not projecting #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #i think i did this right #kyle gaz garrick #shitpost #john soap mactavish #Gerard Butler fan Soap #i think im funny #it's even called an old lady cactus #her name is Eleanor #the cactus and the woman

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pricegouge · 5 months ago

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my memory is so bad so if u’ve done this before just ignore but bear!price taking care of bunny on her period by snacks cuddles & orgasms :] & the sight & taste of her blood on him just makes him go a bit feral. sorry if it’s too weird😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Forgetful fighters unite 👊🏻

Sorry this took so long! Weirdly busy and then it turned out I actually needed this treatment too so uhh… hopefully it's not too late to bring you comfort, but at least it's a long one?

There actually is some of this in the actual fic (ch. 7? I think? Idk, I also forgot.) That being said, let's get you some fruit, bitch.

CW for period sex & oral. Tampon stays in for some of the foreplay, sorry. Pussy slapping, rough sex, breeding kink, light primal play, spit kink, mild dub con, and a spoiler for the main story if you haven't read it yet.

I think this'll have to be pretty early on in their relationship just because I like when Bunny's not used to being spoiled okay bye hope you enjoy :)

You're pretty sure he takes it personally, as if each cycle that passes is a mark against his abilities as both a man and a bear. John had yet to admit it but you knew he wanted to breed you, and every month marked by the arrival of your period meant he'd failed (you weren't even letting him try yet, really); worse, he'd let his mate suffer through another week of ill-designed resource waste.

He told you once he can smell it on you days before it actually started. It was weird, sure, but hard to complain when it always triggered some sort of pseudo-sympathetic response in him. He'd get grouchy because he was ridiculous, but never with you. Instead he spends the days leading up to your period doing some sort of nesting ritual comprised of overstuffing his cabinets with more pads, tampons, and snacks than you'd ever be able to use up in a single cycle. And towels. You're pretty certain no one has ever just happened to own this many towels.

"Maybe we should go back to pretending you don't know what my uterus is up to?" You'd teased him once while helping to unload his latest haul. You couldn't imagine him feeling obliged to buy you super plus overnight pads, an industrial sized bottle of midol, and what seemed to be an entire production run of your favorite Ben & Jerry's flavor was anyway to keep the romance alive after all.

But John had looked so dejected at your suggestion. "Why? Did I forget something?"

"Freezer space?" You'd laughed, shaking a bulk box of potato skins at him.

But it was no laughing matter the next day when you felt like you could've eaten him out of house and home if not for how thoroughly he'd prepared. You haven't teased him about it since, too scared to ruin a good thing.

That doesn't mean you've gotten used to all the ways he likes to spoil you this time of month, though.

John's always so good at taking care of you, it's kind of unfair. You never plan on leaving him but it's times like this - when you've been airheaded and confused all day, snapping at coworkers for no good reason and apologizing minutes later when you realize you were the problem all along; when you let yourself back into his apartment and curl up to rot on the couch, too tired to even make yourself dinner while you wait on John to wrap up at the bar only for him to stumble through the door hours later with a hot to go container of garbage nachos and a paper bag tucked under his arm full of pads and tampons and more snacks than you'd ever be able to eat in your life -.

It's times like this when you realize if you ever do leave him, you'll be totally fucked.

"Is that what's wrong with me today?" you ask, pointing your toe at the haul he's currently unloading onto the counter.

He sniffs the air pointedly just because he knows it'll make you scrunch up your nose in distaste. "Tomorrow morning, I'd say."

You groan as you sit up, preparing yourself for the trek to the kitchen to get sustenance, but John brings you the nachos before you can get much further than the edge of the couch. "Thanks," you mumble as he places them in front of you, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.

Or at least he pretends to. When he lingers, mouth moving against your skin, you know he's checking your temp. "You're welcome, honey. How you feeling?"

"Fine. Just tired and kinda airheaded."

"Poor bunny."

You hum in agreement but it turns to pleasure as you open the nachos up and get hit in the face with the smell of pulled pork and melty cheese. It's still hot which means it was the last thing the kitchen made before cleaning, probably kept in the oven even after it had been shut off to help keep it fresh while he ran to the store. Sometimes it makes you want to cry how thoughtful he is, but you ask him if he'd like to share instead. John shakes his head, eyeing the jalapenos warily. You snag one off the top and eat it plain just to show off. It's fresh and crunchy, none of that pickled shit. Delicious. "You still gonna kiss me later?"

Laughing quietly, John pulls you in for a quick, whiskery kiss. "Gonna take more than some greenery to stop me there."

***

Your cramps wake you up earlier than God the next morning. Despite it being only three in the morning, John's awake when you crawl back in bed, holding his arms wide for you to slide between. He could sleep through an earthquake, maybe even a robbery; but he always stirred awake if you left the bed for more than five minutes.

"Need me, bunny?"

You do, but you can't admit it yet. "Can you be big spoon?" You ask instead, knowing full well that wasn't quite what he meant.

He knew you knew it too, cocky bastard. Voice too thick to be properly chuffed, he still sounded quite pleased with himself when he rolled you over with a thick, "Of course, honey."

John always runs at a temperature you're fairly certain should've gotten him admitted to a long term care unit by now, but in the dead of night, when he's all sleep soft and blanket warm, his skin is positively sweltering. He uses it to his advantage now, sealing himself against your achy back and reaching around you to cup what he can of your lower belly in his wide palm, letting you dictate how much pressure he uses.

"Thanks," you grumble when he gets it just right, and you feel the bristle of his mustache when he smiles against the nape of your neck.

"Whatever you need, sweetheart."

Whether you admit it or not, he means.

He's patient enough to wait until you start wiggling in pain. He's not always. Sometimes the pressure of his hands turns groping, or his length grows against your back when he plants his nose to the hollow behind your ear, samples your scent with each breath. He'll tell you you smell good if you're lucky, some variation of 'delicious' if you're not. And now, while his actions are patient, his words aren't. "Smell good enough to eat, bunny."

Heat climbs up your throat, flames your cheeks. The problem is, he means it, and you're never sure what to do with that information.

"Wanna sleep, John," you breathe, lying. He drops it for the night anyway, letting you rest as peacefully as you are able with his body pressed up against your own.

***

He's lazy with you all morning, sitting you between his thick thighs and letting you lean against his chest as he sprawls across the couch. Officially, you're watching a movie together, but John does not seem at all engrossed in it; too busy running his hands up your thighs, middle finger following the seam of your bottoms far too high. It's embarrassing, your paranoia telling you you're leaking, growing damp under his palm. You know that's what he wants, though; wants you soaked, has never been too particular about the details of it.

Well, that's not entirely fair. John loves when you're soaked in blood.

"Never been one to turn my nose up at a nice juicy rabbit," he'd told you once, and something about his tone made it clear he didn't mean turning you down over something as trivial as blood.

"Should I be worried you're gonna eat me some day?" You'd asked, laugh slightly nervous.

"Oh, bunny," he'd leered, "I'm gonna eat you now."

It drove him crazy. Made him so hungry for you there were days you wouldn't even get cramps because he wouldn't leave you alone long enough for them to develop. Today wouldn't be one of those days - couldn't be, because he had to work later -, but the way he's actually bothering to take his time, building up your pleasure before he even technically gets his hands on you, you know he's planning on leaving you unwound for hours.

He doesn't bother slipping beneath the hem of your loose bottoms when he does finally give up pretenses, rubbing you through the thin material with the flat of his fingers. You know your concerns were valid when he groans.

"So wet for me, sweetheart." His hand comes away streaked slightly red, and you only squawk a little when he licks it clean.

This time he gets his fingers under your hem, eager as they explore your folds, seeking the font at the center of you. He grunts as if in disappointment when he feels the string of your tampon, but then laughs meanly, a low rumble in his chest which spills from him like springtime melt off over the gravel of a dry creek bed.

"Got you this wet even with this thing in, did I?"

"That's not how it -."

"No?" His free hand pulls your waist band down to your thighs. He shows you the mess he's made, sticky cum stringing between his fingers where it doesn't quite mix perfectly with the blood that stains his fingers. "What's this, then? Hm?" You feel like you might spontaneously combust when he licks his fingers again, groaning. "Tastes like cum to me."

"John," you whine, tummy fluttering in a way you're not sure you're completely on board with.

"You love it," he asserts anyway, and you're in no position to argue when his spit soaked fingers find your clit again.

He never fills you with anything more than you already have, makes you whine your dissatisfaction into the crook of his neck. You cum anyway, pussy throbbing the kind of womb-deep pain that comes easiest this time of month. He slaps you there, after, the sharp jolts making you clenching down hard enough to have your cervix aching deliciously.

When he deems you've had enough time to recover, John orders you bed.

"Gotta…" you point illustratively at the bathroom and he nods once in understanding.

"Don't bother cleaning up though, only gonna make more of a mess."

"You're a dog," you tell him, and then very much do clean yourself up, because it's a very heavy flow day and no one needs all that.

He's still in his sweats when you return to him, lounging across a towel-covered bed. He pouts when he sees you've cleaned up, but is easily soothed with kisses when he pulls you into his lap. You don't bother commenting on his sweats after he leans back and slides you up his belly, encouraging you to grind against the thick thatch of hair there. It's soft, doesn't provide enough friction to do anything other than make you leak all over him. John does not seem sympathetic, too engrossed in the way his hair darkens under your ministrations, gleaming wetly in the sunlight streaming through the window. When his thumb finds your clit, he's rough about it. He holds you in place with his free hand wrapped around to the small of your back, only letting you move enough to keep you rocking against him. He doesn't build up to it, just instantly starts in with the kind of tight, firm circles that make you buck in overstimulation, moaning when you find you have nowhere to go.

"Christ, listen to her." Embarrassment floods you when you realize he's not talking about the pathetic noises falling from your mouth. It's like he's commenting on some particularly nice weather when he continues, "Nothing better than the sound of a bloody, wet cunt."

You cum with a sharp cry when he switches his thumb out for a mean press of two knuckles against you, and it's like he hardly even notices, eyes still latched on where you stain his skin. He doesn't let you ride it out either, drawing his hand away the second he feels your pussy flutter over his belly, clenching around nothing. You watch him lick his fingers clean as he tips you over onto the bed. He doesn't take his eyes from your core when he follows, kneeling between your feet before lowering himself to his belly.

He looks starved. Looks more bear than man, honestly.

"If you lick your chops I swear I'm kicking you out of bed."

A single huff of laughter blows across your mons, cool where it meets your soaked skin. John does in fact lick his chops, an aborted little joke he's too focused to fully sell. It makes you squirm, the way he looks at you - a butterfly pinned before it's fully died. Part of you hates how much you love this, still feels dirty whenever you see him bloody down to his chest. Despite his eagerness, there's always a nagging thought at the back of your mind which wonders if he's putting on a show for you, if he feels like he owes you this because it's the best way to make you feel better. The fucking was one thing - half driven insane the way he is each month by the fact you're still not full of his cubs, you suppose the fucking makes sense. Still, there's no way he wants this, surely.

But John never looks more bear-like than he does in these moments, half starved and rabid as he stares down at you like his latest kill, and you know there is simply no faking how much he wants you.

"Pretty little cunt doesn't know what's good for her, bunny." John's voice is thick and dark as the blood that paints his lips. "Won't take my seed, keeps wasting all your energy on this bloody little cycle." He tuts, hands spreading your thighs so he can better fit between them. "Have to try harder, won't we?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, licking along the crease of your thigh and groaning at the salty mix of sweat and spend. It's all so hot, slick. The rough texture of his tongue barely even noticeable through the juices that coat it when he licks fat stripes across the whole of you. He's sloppy, huffing and groaning into you each time he finds some new reserve of slick hidden within your folds. Usually, John likes to get you sighing in pleasure before he gets his fingers on you like this, but he isn't patient enough today, it seems. After licking you clean, he moves onto your clit and gives it some sweet little kisses that smack horribly, his fingers finding your entrance and drawing out more blood and slick which he doesn't hesitate to lick up as well.

"Taste so fucking good, bunny," he growls; or at least, you think he does. Hard to be sure, the way he speaks directly to your pussy. When he does draw back to be sure you hear him, his beard is matted and soaked, his eyes wine dark. "Wanna split you open bunny."

You're not sure he means on his cock, but that's what you get anyway.

John doesn't bother rubbing your slick over him, just pushes his waistband under his balls and lines himself up, sinking to his root with a heavy groan; his head bowed forward like he doesn't have the energy left to support it. It aches but you're powerless to do anything but take it, loving the way he notches against the very end of you, cervix so sore and sensitive he puts you on the knife edge of pain and pleasure without even trying. Your hands grapple up his thick forearms and he finally seems to notice your presence underneath him, lowering himself enough he can lick into your mouth. His mustache is soaked where it presses against you, smell strong enough to flip your tummy a bit.

John notices. He chuckles, not giving you an inch to breathe. "Rabbits don't like blood, do they?"

You shake your head, hypocrisy burning your throat at the way you enjoy him eating you out despite the blood when you can't stomach the same.

"That's right, need your bear to take care of you like this, don't you?" His hips draw back in one smooth motion, accentuate his words when they snap back in.

"Yes, please," you stutter. Worked up and teased as you are, you know you won't last long.

"Don't worry, bunny. I'll take care of you." He pushes himself back up so he looms over you, forearms flexing under your fingertips. He shakes one of your hands loose, bears his hips into you to support his weight as he brings one hand up to your jaw, fingers staining as he tilts your face just so, hinging your mouth open. "I'll fuck you just like you need, but you're gonna let me use that mouth however I want."

Even his spit is blood stained and pink as he dangles a string of it into your mouth. You whine at the taste when it coats your tongue, rust and salt. Somehow more metallic than even the smell of it.

A predator sensing weakness, John snarls at your whine, shoves all four of his coated fingers into your mouth while his thumb strokes your jaw, too heavy to be soothing. "Suck," he orders, voice barely human. You wonder how close his other form is to the surface, if the fingers in your mouth will change shape if you can't appease him. Assure him you're his adamantly enough. The thought makes you clench on his cock, sucking the wide breadth of his fingers messily.

"Good rabbit," he growls. He adjusts your hips against his own, sinks impossibly deeper. He barely bothers to pull out when he fucks you, thatch of hair over his cock grinding against your clit as he rocks into you. When he speaks again, you're not certain you're supposed to hear.

"Drive me fucking crazy, bunny. Walking around smelling like my next fucking meal." His hips slap into you, pace increasing but depth never changing.

You whine around the fingers in your mouth, hands scrambling over his chest, down his belly. You remember how full he'd been after Phil, the way his skin had been drawn so taut. His words should scare you, probably, but his teeth are none too sharp when he sinks them into the fat of your breast.

"Shit, John," you hiss and he releases your flesh with a slobbery sound.

"Gonna fill you with my cub so I can drink from these too," he promises. You just nod dumbly, the thought of him feeding from you in any way he wanted doing things for you you never thought it would. "Get you full of my cub so you can stop. Fucking. Bleeding all the time," his hips accentuate his words and you groan, fingers finding your clit until he rips his hand from your mouth and slaps you away. Spit soaked, he rubs your clit deliciously, only getting more assertive when your hips fall open for him like a flower in bloom.

"Dangerous thing, bunny. Blood in the water. He leans over, weight pinning you when he takes your earlobe into his mouth with bloody force. "Tasty little thing, too. Gonna eat you right up," he snarls.

Your orgasm pulls his from him, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths between wet, sloppy licks. It's hard to mind the taste when your whole body is pulsing deliciously, a flood of blood and cum flowing from you when John pulls out. It feels like he's taken a whole day off your period when you see how much of a mess he's made.

He knows how your head can throb briefly, after coming with his cock lodged in your cervix. John lays you across the pillows while he starts cleaning up, bringing a wet washcloth out to wipe the worst of the mess from you. When you're ready, he joins you in the shower, lathering you both up until the water runs clear.

"Feeling better, honey?" he asks, nose buried in the crook of your neck. Innocent and sweet, like he didn't just threaten to impregnate and eat you by turns.

"For now." You're still rubbing soap into his hairy belly absently, so you grope the soft flesh there and laugh when he jolts. "You're not gonna eat me, are you?"

You feel his huff of laughter. He begins to shake his head and then thinks better of it, standing to his full height so he can tower over you when he says, "Depends on how soon you let me put a baby in you."

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#asks #fatted rabbit #💷🔪

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