#but shinier and without the earrings
Note
i really wanna see carmy groveling 🤭 might be fun, after a fight or something
how cruel... i like the way you think! i tried to write him as close to his character here while still adding in that groveling element. i hope i've done it justice!
o.s. a guilty heart's plea(s)
summary: carmen's said some unforgivable things to you. and yet here he is at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)
reflection: as much as i pride myself in my ability to write scenes and descriptions, i still struggle a lot with making dialogue sound good while flowing with my writing. i think this has been good practice for me to really get inside this character's head and see what he could possibly say with a prompt as heavy as this. this took me about a week to write so i really hope i gave it the time and energy it deserves. thank you all for reading and feedback is always welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged!
warnings: cursing, angst, established relationship, implied smut, reminiscing, they're on a break, inner monologue, carmen's pov, rambling, self-loathing, carmen pleading, inability to express feelings, apologies, missed calls, insecurities, acts of service, sydney sweeney mention, smoking, somewhat happy ending (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)
word count: 2,132
( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )
Carmen knocks on the screen door ahead of him. It’s his seventh time doing so, the clattering and aggravating sound of metal reverberating against the second door behind that one. Dust coats his knuckles because it transferred from the opaque metal, a small spot shinier than the rest of the door because he continued to rap at the same area. Maybe he should clean it for you later if you actually decide to speak to him again. His hands fidget at his sides, clenching and releasing, staring blankly as he thinks of all the times he’s come over. For his first initial visit, you unlocked the door, gave him a cautious glance over your shoulder, and then led him inside. During the second time, you held his hand as you stepped past the threshold, squeezing it in reassurance.
On Valentine’s Day, when he surprised you with an assortment of flowers from the farmer’s market, you greeted him with a deep kiss, tugging the collar of his shirt to pull him inside of your house. He didn’t show any resistance, blindly following your lead, dropping off the flowers onto your couch as your hands lifted his shirt, and your mouths departed from one another for a smidgen of a second before they found each other again, more impassioned and desperate.
“Open the door, come on, I’m sorry,” he says, more so to himself than your screen door. He’s been close to shouting at it this entire time, making his pleas, encouraging you to open it for him so he can have a discussion with you face-to-face.
He’s called you plenty of times. Each one has either rang for as long as the line allowed or went straight to voicemail. Two weeks have passed without seeing each other. Two long weeks of unanswered text messages he’s sent day by day and missed calls clogging up your phone’s notifications. You’re ignoring him and he knows he deserves it, guilty as the hand in the cookie jar, but he still can’t shake this overwhelming feeling inside of him to see you again. The albums dedicated to you in his gallery are not enough to satisfy this. His fingers twitch every time he swipes at an image and relives the sensation of running them along your skin. That’s when his nose begins to miss the scent that clings to your neck. That’s when his ears long to hear the lilt of your laughter and that particular way you say his name. That’s when his tongue rejects the nicotine and implores him for a taste of your chapstick, or the bubblegum flavor lingering in your mouth greeting him after a shift at work, or the giggles you fall into as he chases the subtle pecks you graciously feed him.
The door behind the one he’s attending to opens. There you are. He can’t see you since the sun is positioned right behind him, warming his back as it sets into the background. At most, he makes out the silhouette of your frame, recognizable to his eyes as he’s acquainted himself with every curve and slope of you, but he’s aware you fully see him on the other side. He wonders if you’re able to tell how little he’s slept since a look in the mirror this morning painted the picture of an exhausted man through dark rings under his eyes and a slackened jaw.
“What do you want, Carmen?” You ask. Not Carmy. Not Bear. Not any of that cheesy shit Richie pokes fun at him for. Carmen. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved to hear the sound of your voice or offended he’s lost every sweet moniker you’ve bestowed upon him.
“To talk,” he explains quickly, “I just want to talk. If you want me to fuck off, then,” he inhales sharply. It would kill him if you told him to fuck off, but he’s also not about to make you uncomfortable for an issue he caused. “Then I’ll fuck off.”
Unlike Carmen, you’re not rapidly firing away sentences in response to him. You’re quiet for a beat and it’s rather agonizing for him because even though there’s only a door separating the two of you, you’re still so far out of his reach. He’s tempted to cup his hands over his eyes and look past the individual holes of the door to check if you’re still there.
“Go ahead,” you say, interrupting his thoughts and refuting his fear you’ve stalked back inside your living room.
“Talk.”
He gulps. He was hoping to at least do this without a barrier in the way, but he’s not about to fumble the one opportunity and chance you’ve given him after two weeks of nothing. He’d be a fool to.
“Fuck… I…” Well, this is off to a great start. He tries to think about the texts he’s sent. He had time to sit down and write out apologies and yet none of them are splurging onto his tongue to save him the awkward discomfort currently stirring in his stomach.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said,” Can you let me figure this shit out without breathing down my fucking neck ringing in his ears, haunting him like a phantom stuck on his shadow because it’s one of the last things he said to you before you took off and rightfully gave him the cold shoulder.
“I was stressed and frustrated and, and I wasn’t thinking. Those aren’t excuses for being shitty,” he shakes his head so hard that his hair untucks from his hat and grazes his eyelashes, “If anything, they make me more shitty because only assholes do that and that’s what I am. I’m a fucking asshole and and and and…” He’s rambling, losing the point of this. He’s got a talent for berating himself. He falls into it naturally if he’s not careful.
“And I fucked up. I really, really fucked up. I didn’t mean any of it. I never wanted to hurt you.” But you did. “I don’t know why I do that. I don’t know why I ruin shit, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but something is and you, you, you always… you’re always there and and and then you weren’t and…”
This is hard. He’s never been good at articulating his feelings. He wants nothing more than to just tell you how he’s fucked up and you’re one of the only people who doesn’t think he is, but after his true colors have splintered out of him and sliced at you as they have other people in his life he cares for, your perception’s possibly changed from that. He believes he’s confirmed every horrible thing he’s ever thought and said about himself and usually, he can handle that self-loathing and dissonance on his own, but consternation bubbles in his ribcage and sparks embers licking at the lining of his stomach at the very idea of you becoming desensitized to the version of himself you’ve fallen for. He wants to shove the curtains back into place, pretend you never stumbled upon the man behind them, and continue walking hand in hand with you in the reverie he knew wouldn’t last. But damn it. He wants it to last longer than this. It wasn’t enough time. He craves more of it, grasping for the seconds in his hands despite how much they’re attempting to evade him as the clock ticks and ticks.
“Fucking fuck,” he bellows, “Man, fuck me, fucking fuck me.” Vulnerability is so fucking repulsive. Who the hell invented it? He can’t finish a keynote to save his life.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he settles on.
“I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t fucking eat, Richie keeps calling me a dumb shit like I’m not already thinking that. I-I-I need you. I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t, but I do. I don’t blame you for leaving and I don’t blame you for ghosting me, but please, I can’t fucking do this anymore. I know I’m being a selfish fuck, but I can’t shake what you make me feel and I won’t leave until you talk to me.”
He stares hard at the door. The sun’s lower in the sky, making it more difficult to see if you’re still standing there listening to what he has to say, as jumbled of a mess that it is. His hands leave his sides, anxiously pressing palms first into the metal like it’ll ground him. An urge presents itself to rip it off its hinges and see it for himself rather than wait for verification, but he manages to remain steady where he stands. It’s about the same experience he’s had over the past two weeks of texting and calling to no avail. You’re not saying anything. You’re not denying his insecurities, you’re not soothing his temper, you’re not reflecting it, and you’re not engaging like he’s envisioned time and time again. You’re eluding him. You’re slipping past his fingers like liquid as he desperately grasps.
“Please, please, please say something.” His forehead leans into the surface, eyes shutting tight. “Tell me I’m not shit, tell me you never want to see me again, please talk to me.”
Please forgive me, he swallows. Please forgive me and take me back.
“Just… please… I… I want to fix this. I want to make it up to you. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please don’t shut me out. I’ll make you something? Yeah? Your favorite? What about that place you wanted to go off Lake Shore? Or, or that movie you wanted to see with, uh, that Sweeney girl? What the fuck was it?” Carmen’s eyebrows knit together as he tries to remember the name. “We can go see it… we can go to dinner… I can make dinner. I can take time off work and we can travel somewhere, we can take a trip like you wanted, whatever—I want what you want. Please…? Hello?”
Carmen speaks your name a few times among his pleading. His forehead slowly detaches from the door, indents of the mesh left behind on his skin. He goes quiet to listen for any movement, but he can’t even hear your breathing like this. He can’t hear anything besides the wind picking up, blowing cold over the tips of his ears sticking out from his hat. He steps away from the door, a lump in his throat alongside all the affection he doesn’t know how to let out that he swallows with great difficulty. Instead of walking away from your house, he sits on the cement step leading up to the walkway. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave until you talked to him.
He camps outside your house. One hand fishes for his carton of Sapphires, plucking a cigarette from the box. He’s got about two left since he’s been chain-smoking to fill the void. Carmen greatly considers trying to make his plea again on his knees in front of the door if that’s what it’ll take as he lights the end away from his mouth. The pressure of the cement will be a motherfucker, but he’s concocting another game plan to gain your attention since he’s already here and the walk back to his apartment is too long for him to jump at it. If that doesn’t work, then he can leave and come back in the morning before work. He can afford to be slightly late as his normal is showing up early and Sydney and Tina know the prep work that needs to be done.
All his thoughts fade as he hears the door behind him creak. He glances back suddenly, catching it as it slowly swings open. He’s in the midst of standing to his feet and flicking his cigarette into a patch of dirt when you come into view. Your hair’s messy, a white tank top on your torso, and a pair of fleece pajama pants he knows are new. His hands yearn to become acquainted with them as he has your other bottoms. Carmen stares at how you’re hugging yourself, presumably because the cold air is filtering into your warm house. The goosebumps littered over your biceps and forearms confirm his theory.
He’s on you in an instant. His arms wrap firmly around your frame, sighing out as his stress undergoes the mitigation of your own arms embracing him back. Your hand finds his hair, incidentally causing his hat to fall off to the floor, but he doesn’t care. He’s far too busy stamping your temples, cheeks, jawline, and lips with kisses he has weeks of time to make up for.
“M’sorry,” he mumbles into your hairline, “so, so, so sorry. Missed you.”
#l4l.writes#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto angst#l4l.oneshot#the bear fic#carmy the bear#jeremy allen white#a guilty heart's plea(s)
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Late Nights
Spencer Reid
Summary: after a extra long week out of state working on a case with a difficult unsub all Spencer wants to do is go to your shared home and possibly eat you out for how good you take care of him <3
Word count: 1488
———
Spencer walked through the front door fully expecting you to be asleep at the couch probably leaving the TV on to his surprise you were wide awake waiting for him.
There was nothing special going on tonight but you wanted to do something nice for your hard working fiancé as he works a lot and always makes time for you. It was a big thank you from you to him, what you didn’t know was how it would warm his heart too much.
You got up the couch to greet him and give him a kiss.
“Hi doll you missed me?” he asked holding you, both arms wrapped around your waist and his head leaning down to your neck taking in your strawberry scent.
“Of course I missed you Spence everyday I miss you more and more” you said hugging him back and kissing him. Slowly you started backing out holding his hand dragging him to the kitchen wanting to show him his favorite home meal.
“You didn’t have to sweat heart” he said looking at you with so much love in his eyes. At that moment he knew exactly why he is going to marry you, but it’s not like he needed an extra explanation.
“You’re always working so hard Spence. I wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you do. That’s why I love you so much” your words were pure honey to him, you’re the only reason why he does what he does to protect you from all the awful people outside.
“God you don’t know how much I love you and want you to marry me right now”
“Oh shut up” you said shyly backing away to serve him up a plate. You knew he was coming late and made dinner later so he could eat it with you and hot. Placing both of your plates down he grabbed you by the hand and propped you up on his lap.
“What are you doing Dr? I don’t think this is very appropriate.” You said in a teasing tone, it’s a running joke you like to do pretend you’re a patient and it was oh so scandalous what you where doing.
“I think it’s very much appropriate if neither of us tell our spouses” he said whispering in your ear.
“I don’t think my husband would like that Dr. Reid as I love him very much” you said shoving your left hand with your shiny ring on his face and wiggling your fingers.
“Oh he got you this ring?” He said grabbing your hand and faking examining your ring.
“Yes and I love it a lot” you said giggling through your teeth.
“I bet I could get you a much bigger and shinier ring” he said right before he started attacking your neck which made you both laugh. Without knowing as you were laughing you were moving your hips while frantically which got him going.
He groaned in your ear and you knew instantly what you were doing to him. “Oh I’m sorry Dr didn’t know you were so worked up” you said with a smirk on your face.
“God yn you are so beautiful” he said looking straight into your eyes and taking some hair that was in front of your face to behind your ear.
You went in for a kiss and he happily complied kissing you back. His hands were roaming around your back before they settled on your ass as he was slightly squeezing it and spreading it on your tiny shorts.
“God who needs dinner when you can have dessert right away” he said pushing his plate of food to the side and lifting you up from his lap to the dining table.
“Spence please I’ve needed you all week” you said looking up at him as he was standing leaning down on you.
“I know baby I know, I’m going to make you feel so good” he started to kiss you again with his hands pulling his oversized shirt off of you revealing his favorite bra.
“It’s almost as if you knew we were going to end up like this at the dining table. With me fucking you senseless” he started to kiss you again and laid you all over the table with just your back and your legs hanging off of the table.
“But first I’m gonna have to eat this pussy as it’s been neglected for oh so long” after he said that you let out a whine knowing he was about to make you cum harder than anybody else had made you.
He started taking off your shorts leaving your panties on. Slowly he started rubbing your thighs preparing you. He then started licking you through your shorts knowing where exactly your clit was. Then his face was buried between your legs, he was licking and swirling his tongue over your panties making them all wet and transparent.
Holding his hair and playing with it you said “please take them off Spence” you said with a high pitched voice.
“I will in just a minute have some patience baby” he said looking up at you and heading back to his work. Slowly his tongue started to go down prodding at your hole almost like making fun of it.
You grabbed into his hair harder as you were close to cumming. He backed away from your cunt and looked up at you saying “you taste so good baby, could have you everyday for the rest of my life”
His comment made you physically react and started grinding on nothing and you looked so pathetic.
“Someone’s being needy” he remarked
Taking off your panties and throwing them somewhere in the living room. He started licking your pretty cunt and swirling his tongue around your swollen clit.
“It’s almost as if you get sweeter the longer I don’t eat you out” he said going back into your cunt licking everywhere and sticking his tongue in slightly teasing you.
“Please Spence all the way” you said crying, it has been so long without him you were now crying from finally feeling him touch you exactly where you needed him.
He nodded at you as he inserted his whole tongue, the sensation felt unreal you locked your legs around his head without thinking. Slowly he started moving it in and out while also nudging his nose to your clit so it doesn’t feel so neglected.
Tugging at his hair harder he took his hand and started rubbing on your swollen red clit pushing you over the edge and making you cum hard on his face.
“God Spence!!” You yelled out with it dying down with a low whine.
“Felt good huh baby” he said standing up raking his hand through his hair before starting to lick his fingers that were in you. It was a sight for sore eyes.
Before you knew it he started unbuckling his belt and slightly pulling his pants down exposing his dick.
“I’ve been needing you for so long Spence” you said whining at him. “I know baby I know I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget I was gone for a week”
He took your hair and moved it once again behind your ears so he can see your whole face as it moves as he pleases you.
He started playing with your nipples as they have been neglected all night. You started moaning out loud as he started licking them and squeezing your boobs before entering you.
“Spencer!” You yelled feeling so so good, your eyebrows arched and mouth open. He started moving at a steady pace that took all his strength and will not to go any faster as he wanted to be gentle with you. “No Spencer, faster!” he continued with your wish and started fucking you harder. It was so messy as your cum and saliva was spilling out with his precum. It made it easier pulling in and out of you as it was so wet and slippery.
“So wet, fuck you’re so fucking wet” he said making you whine as he knows you loved to be praised.
“You’re doing so good my pretty girl, making me feel so good” your moaning was so loud I swear your neighbors could hear it and will probably have a friendly conversation about it in the morning.
“I’m gonna cum!” he said grunting into your ear and your nails clawing his back.
“Please inside! Spence inside!” You asked rarely fir him to cum inside you, he did what you wanted and came all inside you. As he was pulling out both of your mixed cum was spilling out. He was grabbing it with his fingers and pushing it back inside so you wouldn’t get it on the table.
“I love you yn so much”
“I love you so much too Spence” you said almost slurred with your eyes closed. <3
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid smut#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid self insert#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x you#mgg#mathew gray gubler#mgg x reader#mgg x y/n#mgg x you#mgg smut#mgg imagine#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid drabble#ssa spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader
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𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✧˚ · .
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and carlos sainz have had your eyes on each other for so long, but the more you think about the each other the more jealous you get for others who get to spend time with the other. Who will fall first in this little game you’re playing?
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 18+ (minors dni and read at your own discretion.), jealousy, semi-public sex, party, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), poorly written smut (first timer guys), mirror sex, Rudy Pankow involved because I need a random celebrity
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2K+
𝐀/𝐍: very much inspired by “boyfriend” by ariana grande and social house music video. first time writing something like this, I might write more, requests always open.
There you stood in front of the big, dark wood door of the huge mansion where the party you’d been invited to was happening. Your stylist had picked a black sparkly short dress with stars on it, paired with under-the-knee high heel boots. Your ears and neck are adorned with silver jewellery, matching the bracelet around your wrist. The invite said to be there at around 21:00, but you are Y/N Y/L/N. You didn’t need to arrive a little late to make an impact on whoever was in there, but the team that worked with you knew how doing so reinforced that effect. And even if it was a private party, the paparazzi were going insane with your image spread on their cameras. Y/N, the epitome of beauty, the woman every magazine wanted on their covers, every designer on their runway, and every photographer in their studio.
You gave wide smiles to the paparazzi as you walked into the house. Other than the lack of light and the loud music all around, you noticed the main guests this party was for: all of the F1 grid. You were acquainted with them, but from the first meeting, you found them to be a nuisance to your job, to your image, and most importantly, to you, there were a few you tolerated but the way they messed with anyone that was involved in modeling threw you off. But.. him. Carlos Sainz, the one man you’d danced with on those warm summer nights in clubs, parties, or anywhere you were invited that enhanced your reputation. The black classic suit he was in, and to make it a little more informal, without the tie. The dress shirt unbuttoned the right amount, showing off just enough of the chest you’d rested your head on before. And under the lack of light, his eyes looked even shinier.
Throughout those months, Sainz and you had your eyes on each other. You only spoke to each other in person never through texting, but the amount of time both of you spent just looking at each other’s social media pages was too much to be safe for the average person. You saw every picture posted on his account, along with every one he was tagged in. But so did he. And every picture you took holding a man that wasn’t him a little closer than usual had him gritting his teeth and holding his phone a little tighter than usual. To be fair, you knew what you were doing without looking at it; you helped pick the photos for your social media, thinking about what reaction you’d get from the driver if he were to see them.
Of course, you greeted every one of them, talking loudly so you could be heard over the loud music. What a season! They deserve the break and whatever party is thrown for them, although you were sure they’d rather sleep. The other driver you actually got along with was Lando, so as soon as you went and said hello, the conversation went smoothly, catching up with the last few months. You couldn’t help but eye the Spaniard from the corner of your eye, sliding the tip of your fingers along the side of Lando’s arm as you laughed lightly at a joke he cracked. Carlos couldn’t just walk over and snatch you away from his friend and colleague, slapping his hand away even if it wasn’t touching you, so he decided to play your game.
Approaching another guest, she giggled as you watched the Spaniard move his lips, finishing with a grin playing on them. He eyed you almost directly, but somehow the woman in front of him didn’t notice. At this point, the conversation with Lando had faded out a bit, and he offered to go get you a drink, which, after turning back to him to stop looking at Carlos, you accepted. You stood there for a second. You weren’t going to let Sainz win the game you started. To your luck, Rudy Pankow walked right past you and, upon noticing, greeted you right away. Looking back at the Spaniard, who now had his hand placed very lightly, almost not touching the hips of the woman in front of him, as they both laughed, you hugged the blonde actor tightly and longer than usual. You held his arms, asking him how he was doing and how everyone was. He replied to you, but everything you could focus on was the Brunette man giving you a quick look, your eyes meeting for just a millisecond as the woman hugged him tightly while telling him something he genuinely didn’t care about at the moment.
"Rudy, that’s so nice." You said this as he told you all about what he was filming at the moment. He lowered his head slightly to hear what you needed to say, and reaching your mouth to his ear, you continued. "I really need to go touch up; I won’t take long, promise."
With that, you walked to the bathroom. It didn’t take you long to find it, but to your surprise, the bathroom was huge. There was a long counter with a sink and a vase with flowers placed on the other end, two round mirrors along that wall, and not one person was in there. Right after you left his field of vision, the one and only Carlos Sainz rushingly left the embrace of the woman, whose name he didn’t even remember, and without saying goodbye, basically ran after you.
As you looked at yourself in the mirror, carefully running your fingers through your hair to fix it up, a silhouette showed up behind you. And without even looking carefully, you knew exactly who it was. "Carlos Sainz. You looked like you were having fun over there."
"Cállate, Princesa." (Shut up, Princess.) He says it in a more joking way than anything else. He makes his way over to you, shutting and locking the door behind him swiftly. You turned to him, and the moment your eyes met, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The Spaniard’s hand flew to your hips, roughly gripping them. You threw your arms around his neck, letting your hands run along his dark hair. Both of your lips crashed into each other abruptly. Both of you lost the game. You lowered your hands to his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders under the black blazer he was wearing. It was far too hot in here for him to be wearing that. You slid your hands down just slightly, and Carlos placed his arms back, letting the blazer fall off, landing on the cold floor. His hands fell right back on you, and they roamed along your back. Every touch of his fingers against your skin made you press up against him, closing every air gap between you. He lowered his hand to the back of your thighs, picking you up and setting you down on that counter. As he set you down, you grabbed his shirt’s collar and pulled him towards you. It all felt so desperate and somewhat rushed. Both of you felt hot and in a trance; you both pulled away from each other. Carlos looked at you with those brown eyes of his, and you held your breath at the sight in front of you, his mouth slightly open, panting quietly, his once neat hair now messy. But you weren’t the only one in awe. Carlos looked at your face, lips red and swollen from the previous kissing, cheeks visibly warmer than before, and eyes carefully watching his every move. Nothing else mattered right now; the music was significantly lowered in volume in here, and all you could hear were your company’s panting along with yours. The Spaniard didn’t take long to place both of your lips back together, and you roughly roamed your hands on each other, moving almost savagely on the counter—CRASH! Only you looked at the fallen, now broken, vase on the floor. "Wait, Carlos—"
"It doesn’t matter, cariño." He said, his hands reaching the zipper on the back of your dress, sliding it down and placing his hands under it, sliding one of the straps down to reveal more of your neck, then sliding the other one down to reveal your breasts, your nipples hardening at the contact with the cold air. He trailed kisses down your jawline and neck, reaching them. He worked carefully on both of your nipples, giving them equal attention. His hands rested on both sides of your waist. You rested your head back on the mirror behind you and intertwined your fingers with his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, breathing shakily. His hand moved to the side of your thighs, sliding to the inner side of them, and not long after, right under your dress, lightly touching your clothed clit with his fingers. At which point you gasped, feeling almost dizzy. He rubbed it on top of your black lace panties just the right way—enough to keep you shaking from pleasure in his hands but not nearly enough to make you cum. "Carlos.."
"Dime, niña bonita." (Tell me, pretty girl.) He whispered lowly in your ear.
"Please, please make me cum." You desperately told him he slid your panties down your legs, you whining at the loss of contact in between your legs, and threw them near his blazer, and in a second he got on his knees in front of you, leaning his head against the inner side of your thigh. Your hands still rested on his soft hair as he pulled you towards him, sliding you on the counter. He pulled your dress up and guided his finger on your folds, hovering over your clit before pressing down. His finger slid slickly inside you, earning a choked moan out of your mouth. His tongue started working on your clit, and at the contact, you abruptly gripped his hair and practically screamed. As he got quicker, Carlos added two more fingers, and you could do nothing but let him, at this point only seeing stars. His pants were getting tighter as your moans became louder and your legs shook under the influence of his actions. Your legs instinctively closed around him as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a string of moans, calling out his name. The Spaniard pried your legs open and got up. "I don’t remember saying you could cum, cariño. Fucking the obedience back into you doesn’t sound like a bad idea."
You panted, fucked out, and were sensitive from the orgasm you’d just had. Carlos didn’t seem to care as he slid you down from the counter and turned you around to face the mirror. You could see him with his hands lowered in the mirror, but what confirmed he was unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants were the noises, the clinging of the metal part of the belt and the unzipping of the dress pants. After doing so, he looked up at you, placing his hand near your mouth and resting his fingers on your lips. You took them in your mouth, sucking gently on them and coating them with the saliva built up from simply looking at the male behind you. Carlos stroked himself a bit, sighing, before pressing his cock against your pussy. "Fuck. Carlos, just do it." You moaned out, lowering your head with both hands to your sides and supporting yourself on the marble counter of the bathroom. He stopped himself.
"What do you want me to do, Princesa?" You shivered under his touch, one of his hands going up to your breasts, flicking the hardened skin of your nipple between his fingers, the other under your chin, almost wrapping around your throat from the front. He made you look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at you. I bet none of those guys have ever left you like this, have they? I know you posted all those pictures just for me. You get off at the thought of me getting jealous over you, huh? Princesa?"
You looked at yourself in the mirror; the mess you were in under his touch was unmatched. Fucked out and breathless, still waiting and begging for more, your hair falling on both of your shoulders, your skin glistening with sweat and desire, He was right; no one to ever touch you had touched you like he did; you were ruined for other men after today. "I need you right now, please, Carlos, please." You begged, looking at him through the mirror.
"Only because you asked nicely, niña bonita." He slid his cock into your pussy slowly, groaning.
"You had to put it all in, you fucking asshole." You said that, struggling to keep your legs still so you wouldn’t fall.
"Perdóname, but I’m not halfway in." (Forgive me.) He cooed, leaning against you and tightening the grip on your throat to hold your head up still. Your knees gave out slightly, and you tried to keep your strength on your arms. The unstoppable noises slipping out of your lips could only encourage Carlos more, as he finally thrust in everything he could, earning sharp panting for you underneath him. He started thrusting into you at a slow pace, although it didn’t take him long to speed up, and it didn’t take long for you to feel that pit in your stomach again. Finally, it hit you—that sweet spot you liked so much. Your whole body trembled as Carlos hit it, and noticing it, he angled his thrusts towards that same spot. It was being used and abused, and you couldn’t hold out like this much longer. You were practically screaming; no one outside could hear you both with the loud music and chatting of everyone, but even if they did, at this point you couldn’t care less. "Y/N, Y/N.." Carlos chanted, his thrusts getting sloppier, his breathing getting heavier, and his moans getting louder.
"Please let me,.. ugh.., please let me cum, Carlos." The way his name slid off your tongue drove him wild. "Cum for me, Princesa." He almost begged in your ears; you felt yourself tense up, and from there you were lost, crying out his name, gripping on anything you could around you, and your legs shaking from the wave of pleasure that shot through you.
As you rode out your high, you felt Carlos halt and pull out, spilling his seed onto your thighs, holding you against him, and pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach on your skin.
__________________
Carlos was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out, his blazer on the floor next to him. You sat on top of him, head leaning against the counter; you were dressed now, and you innocently giggled at whatever he was saying. He had his fingers running along your cheek, and you had your fingers gripping the collar of his shirt. Your lips inches away from his.
"Estás tan hermosa—"
An unlocking noise was heard, and Lando walked in. Both of you halted and leaned back away from each other’s touch. Lando looked at the both of you, still you sat on Carlos’ legs, furrowing his eyebrows and visibly gritting his teeth. He looked at the broken vase on the floor and at the way you were now adjusting the strap of your dress while Carlos buttoned his shirt back up. And before any of you could speak, he just backed away.
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz smut#f1 x you#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#f1 one shot#f1 smut#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader
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the flowers that bloom without you (tartaglia x reader)
warnings: I LOVE CHILDE SO MUCH, angst, blood and slight gore descriptions, hanahaki au, reader is not traveller, reader is childe’s childhood friend
“Does love truly need words?”
Ajax never really understood what you meant by that. Never really got your cryptic bouts of speech as you stared out the window, blanket tucked over your form as you listened to the bustling of the city, your face looking weary, bags under your eyes dark, skin almost icily cold whenever he would lay a hand upon you to personally check on your condition.
From personal nurses, personal doctors, hells, even researchers that he paid extensively to search for the cause of your illness. Yet, an answer had yet to be found, he’s growing restless with every passing day, anger and irritation swirling in his head with every lower-rank recruit he inevitably beats to a pulp to release stress.
Just what was the source of this stubborn disease?
Your condition would never get better if you had stayed in the cold, unforgiving climates of Morepesok.
You would only seek to worry him whilst he was out on the job, thousands of miles away from you. His family can only do so much by informing him of your worsening, deteriorating self. Your insistent coughs, your shortened breaths, a body that seemed to be growing colder and colder that rivalled the icy winds of the small fishing village that you both grew up in.
Another thing Childe has noticed in the time you spent writing each other, was that you liked to prance around the truth.
You weren’t getting better like you claimed in those letters.
He doesn’t ever wish to come home only to see your tombstone. He could never begin to even fathom the thought. So upon the news in which he had orders to depart to the warmer atmosphere of Liyue, he whisked you away.
(Despite your initial rejections.)
He’s not taking anymore chances. Not when you had insisted that it was nothing, that you’ll be fine, only for it to end with you collapsing to the ground right before him, mouth spewing globs of blood that had caked up and solidified within your throat. He didn’t know whether he was more disgusted to that sight, or of himself for being too patient with you.
Though, you seem to be having quite the improvement to your wellbeing ever since you’ve arrived in the bustling city of Liyue.
“A crush? All of a sudden?” He’s chewing on some sweet potato snacks he had bought for you to come try together, a bag of the aforementioned snack on his lap as he opens his mouth to let you throw another into his mouth for him to catch. The odd, salty sweetness is actually quite addicting.
(And so were the giggles you made whenever he successfully caught one.)
“It’s not all of a sudden!” You’re huffy, defensive, angry and quite frankly, offended as you cross your arms, lightly smacking him as he feigns pain, an overly dramatic yelp and rubbing of his injury following.
“I had it— Since—“ It’s cute how you fight to find the words, puffing your cheeks up, growing determined as you look back up at him. “Since a really long time, okay?! That’s how you know feelings like that are real!”
Always the hopeless romantic. He laughs at you as you continue to blow a fuse, warmth emanating in his chest as he notices the drastic improvements to your health.
You’re looking bright today. Face more coloured, hair even shinier than usual, eyes brighter than they have ever been before. Maybe you were getting better.
A light flick to your forehead as he watches you swipe at his hand with a blush and a smile.
“Why don’t you just confess then?”
You grow silent.
“I… don’t think I could find it in my heart to.” Your tired eyes trail out to the bustling city of Liyue as your demeanor falls back into a calm, eyes blanking out as murmured words are caught on his ears. “Falling in love is so unpredictable…” His fists clench.
He thinks you’re stupid, foolish even, to keep those messy, deep feelings hidden from this secret crush of yours. Those stringent secrets you keep, never telling them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
You slap your cheeks, as if to snap out of your trance choosing to smile up at him from atop your bed instead. l swear I will find that strength one day!”
You’re so stupid. Yet, he still loves you all the same. You are his dearest childhood friend, after all.
(And that’s all you’ll ever be… Right?)
——
The festival is loud this year. You stare out of your bedroom window, barely able to see the explosion of colour against the starry night sky, obscured by tall buildings and infrastructure.
“Miss Lumine invited me to watch the lantern rite with her today!” His eyes are alight with mirth, his grin excited and just so… Full of life.
Ajax always looked the prettiest when he was happy.
So it’s okay. Whatever is okay as long as he is happy. Anything for him.
You don’t even mind the feeling of the flowers blooming deep within you. The itch in your throat, the fluttering you had to endure in your lungs.
You do it for love. Love so deep-sated and rooted to your very core, it hurts. Love so hard to describe, you sometimes fear that it doesn’t exist until you see him walk into the room, causing the blooming, the feelings literally swirling within your lungs, shortening your breaths as the petals flutter about in your heart.
You’re in love with him. Unbelievably, helplessly so.
You can’t even feel the hot tears dripping onto your hands as lights of the glowing, festive explosions shine through your window, casting you in an almost apologetic glow as you hear the laughter of the common folk outside.
He chose her in the end. You’re not surprised, really. Who would even want to spend their time with the terminally ill? Who would ever want to watch the fireworks from within a glorified hospital room? The scent of iron with an undertone of flowery fragrances, paired with quite frankly, a shitty view?
“Ajax— Would you have time to watch the fireworks with me this year…? Since you have—“
You take in a breath, your hands trembling as they dig into the skin of your thighs, your blanket obscuring them where you laid. “Plans with Miss Lumine.”
Lumine, Lumine, Lumine. The traveller who had stolen his attention away with barely a twitch of her pinky finger, the one who had a natural disposition for battle, a prowess for duels. She who was charming, skilled and everything you weren’t.
It hurts all the more at the thought of what a wonderful person she is. Everything that you could never even hope to be.
You can’t even resent her, for her kindness and willingness to help those who needed it preceded every silver of hatred you built. She was simply… Her. And you could never find it in yourself to hate someone who had as much goodwill as she did.
A contemplative hand is placed under his chin, before that stupidly pretty smile on his face breaks out. “Of course! I’d be stupid to not come spend time with you.” A wink is sent your way as he holds your hand, winding your pinkies together.
You want to cry.
“Love can be so fickle, Ajax.” You’re staring straight into his eyes as that promise manifests from the entanglement of your fingers. Are you… Tearing up?
“For if you get caught in it’s arms,” You’re still smiling as he throws you a look of utter confusion, patting your head as he showers you with attention, unwinding your fingers to bring out a handkerchief to wipe at your tears for you. The bouquet of glaze lilies by your bedside shimmering in the afternoon sunshine.
“You’ll be happy even if you di—“
“There you go being cryptic again,” He’s sighing, absolutely confused as he lightly dabs at your eyes. “You’re going to make me sad, you know?” All this talk about death… He wants to keep you smiling, even if it’s just for a little while.
It doesn’t matter that he broke that silly promise. He’s happy, so you are too. That’s all you could ever hope for.
——
“I’m surprised you picked me.”
“Of course, comrade!” He’s smiling, twirling a lone Glaze Lily in his hand as he regards the traveller, leaned back and elbows rested upon the railing as he looked up at the brilliant sky.
“I’m not one to turn down a good time. Plus,” The flower is held between his fingers as he straightens his back. “I’m here to collect my insider information from my favourite errand girl.” A handsome grin growing on his cheeks as he sees the golden-haired girl stand beside him.
“I want information, comrade.” The chopsticks in his hand are fumbled with, the mechanics of it lost. “On someone precious to me.”
“Hanahaki.” Lumine’s voice is dead serious as her eyes get lost at the sight of the lanterns above. “A terminal illness that stems from love, causing flowers to take root in their lungs.” An ironic disease, taking ‘blooming feelings’ far too literal, utilizing such a pure emotion against the victim. It makes him sick to his stomach.
Good. As expected of the famous, reliable little traveller. More competent than any goon he’s ever had.
He’s growing anxious with her words, though. “And the cure?”
“Surgery. It’s possible for a procedure to be done to remove the roots on the lungs. There’s a surgeon in Inazuma that—“
Then it’s done. That’s all? Then you’ll be cured and won’t be bedridden? He’ll arrange for it at the earlie—
“But,” Lumine’s voice is slightly shaky, her grip on the rails tightening as the feel of the metal digs into her palms. “The feelings of the victim will disappear.” Her golden eyes meet a palpitating, uneasy blue. “Sources cited that… The surgery will remove any and all emotion from them.” He knows what she’s implying.
You’ll never fall in love again.
“I don’t ever want to let them go, Ajax.” Your hand is over your heart as your shy gaze meets his. “It’s so precious to me.” The smile on your face begets the stuttering in his chest, the sweat on his palms.
Beautiful.
No. He— Can’t. The thought of you never able to think of another person romantically… Is sickeningly appealing. No. He can’t do that to you. Not if you’ll be unhappy because of it.
He gulps, as if swallowing the lump stuck in his throat. “Is there no other solution?”
“Reciprocation of their feelings.” Lumine’s straightforward, quick to the point. “True reciprocation.” Requited love.
He grits his teeth. So he has to track down whomever you admire… And make them love you? That’s… Honestly not that hard of a request. You’re… Lovely. The loveliest person he has ever had the honour of knowing.
It’s hard to not fall in love with you. And he…Doesn’t like the feeling, the idea of you being in love with someone else. He never did. And he doesn’t think he ever will if it’s not—
(What is he going on about? This isn’t the time for this!)
“Fine.” It’s spat out in disgust. “Do you have any leads on the bastard?” It’s a last resort, a manifestation of the fact that he would do anything for you.
(Even if he feels the ripping, clawing pain at his heart.)
Lumine looks… Absolutely unimpressed. Hand massaging her temple as she fought the urge to wring the Harbinger’s neck.
——
It’s a rush he never thought he had to face, didn’t want to face. How is he so dense? So stupid?
“So? Who is this crush of yours?” The smile is unsteady, almost forced on his face as he watches your expression switch to one of embarrassed shame, almost choking on the scallion pancake in your mouth as he pulled the fork away from your lips.
“He— He’s…” He’s right before you. Closed eye smile, teasing grin and absolutely, infuriatingly cute.
“You can’t just ask that all of a sudden!” Your hand lifts up in defensive, pure embarrassment, not taking into regard how much the adrenaline of love can give you so much strength.
It ends with you coddling a weeping Ajax’s head in your lap, stroking his hair as he continued to fake the apparent agony you caused him, letting him snuggle himself into your arms and overtake his ‘competition’ vying for you.
Good. It’s good that he was the one filling your mind. He doesn’t like it when that secret admirer of yours is the one that takes over your thoughts. He doesn’t want to admit how warm you make him feel on the inside despite how cold your body is.
He doesn’t want you to want that stupid loser of a person who made you so fluttery, making you akin to a blushing schoolgirl whenever he brings that crush of yours up.
Was it stupid of him to not have noticed that he was in love with you all this time? How long had he been tying himself back? How much longer does he have to give to you?
How long did he make you suffer?
Time has been cruel to him, to you.
——
You’re smiling. Why are you still smiling? Aren’t you in pain? Aren’t you scared that you’re going to die? Why are you spending your last moments like this?
He hears it, barely even breathed out from your choked throat.
“Ajax…” You coughing fits are acting up again.
“If- If in another lifetime…” It’s getting worse, your breaths are hacked, blood spilling from your lips with every syllable forced out. “If you could ever learn-“ A multitude of bloodied petals bloom within your throat, suffocating your words, a final attempt to save you the heartbreak you knew all too well. “To love me-“
He calls for the doctor, turning away to grab their attention before your fingers weakly tug at his sleeve.
Your face is aghast with the pain, your mouth stained with blood, crimson petals discharge from within you, stalks entwining and curling itself around your heart, a final comfort and a warning of your last moments.
“Would you please have me?”
Realization strikes, the feeling finally settling down in his stomach in an odd satisfaction, the dull throb of pain in his brain as his breath hitches.
Why? Why why why why why why? Why now?
He doesn’t say anything, trembling hands grasping your own in his before he leans in to capture your cold, colourless lips with his own, returning every ounce of unsaid affection, every bit of undivided attention he owed you.
Childe— No, Ajax doesn’t care that all he can taste is the vile flavour of petals mixed with blood and bile, he can only feel you through this kiss so raw and emotional, that all he can comprehend is the texture of your bitten lips, the slipping warmth of your skin, the feeling of loss that envelops his entire being.
He pulls away, hoping, praying that you understood his reply to your confession. That your eyes will flutter open, staring at him as if he picked the stars from the sky and placed them in your hand, tears that stained your cheeks flaring within your eyes from happiness, skin reinvigorated by the jubilant feeling of having this silent love of yours finally being heard by the object of its affections.
It all goes quiet save for the sounds of his despaired sobs as the wind carries your final breaths away.
Too late.
#whalewrites#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#genshin angst#tartaglia angst#childe angst#genshin impact x reader
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Heart-shaped kisses | Eddie Munson x reader
Summary: Eddie tends to fall asleep as soon as you crash on his bed, and you can’t help but feel insecure about it.
Content/warnings: insecure reader; reassuring Eddie <3 love confession; kisses <3.
wc: 600
A/N: I just really want to take a nap with Eddie and tell him how much I love him :( <3333
Eddie’s body curled onto yours jerked for the third time in the last twenty minutes. He was always the first one to fall asleep, which often made you wonder if you were too dull for him.
You didn’t think much about it. The time you spent with him during the day was so short, you didn’t want to ruin it with things that were just in your head. Also, he was the most beautiful creature when he slept (that if you didn’t count when he played his guitar. Not as peaceful but just as pretty). You rarely slept because of that same thing. You just didn’t want to miss anything. His pink lips looked as soft and plump as they actually were, and his arm wrapped lazily yet tight around your waist seemed to be made to fit there.
You kept scratching his scalp just how he liked and puckered your lips against his forehead every so often to kiss him without a sound.
His arm wrapped stronger around you and his lips found the spot under your ear. “mmm. Feels nice.”
You pulled back a bit to scan his sleepy face. He had a soft smile and his eyes were barely open.
“Thought you were sleeping.”
“I was. Three seconds ago.” He adjusted a bit higher on the bed to be at your level. “Your lips–” he kissed under your ear again “–are the best thing to wake up to.”
You licked your lips and closed your eyes as he kept peppering kisses on your neck, higher and higher.
“How was your nap?” His voice was still raspy.
“Didn’t sleep.” You shook your head and his kisses stopped.
“Why?” He rested his weight on his elbow and stared down at you. “You okay?”
You stared back, contemplating whether to tell him or not but your words slipped.
“Do I... bore you?”
His face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“I don’t know, you just... whenever I come over you just fall asleep on me.”
He opened his mouth to say something but merely caressed your cheek with the back of his curled fingers.
“It’s not that I don’t like when we cuddle,” you continued. “but–”
“Babe.” He leaned down and pecked the tip of your nose. “It may be some psychological shit because I can’t help it. Doesn’t mean I’m bored when I’m with you. ‘Kay?”
“Okay.” You nodded.
He then kissed your lips softly. Once. Twice. By the third, he made you smile, by the fourth he adjusted on top of you, and by the fifth—
“I love you.”
Your body froze for a second or two. Neither of you had said it before, and you always thought you’d be the first one to do it. You’d been feeling it for a while, but your insecurities sank your love for him to the depths of your heart.
“Eddie…” your voice came out so small.
“Please, don’t just say my name.” Those big brown puppy dog eyes became shinier.
You brushed pieces of hair away from his face with both of your hands and then drew them down to cup his face. He’d opened up to you many times before about… stuff, and you knew how hard it was for him.
“You– you don’t have to say it back but please.” He gulped. “Say something. Anything?”
Your love for him bubbled up right then so damn hard, that all you could do was pull him into a kiss by the nape of his neck.
So many heart-shaped butterflies were begging to come out you were scared they might burst through your skin. It was like kissing him for the first time all over again.
“I love you, too,” you whispered.
#domestic life with Eddie is my dream idc#Eddie Munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#my writing#Eddie blurbs
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Monkey D. Luffy - When are they gonna kiss ?
Warning : none
Genre : fluff
Synopsis : "Opla!luffy x male reader, meeting a powerful devil fruit user who’s fairly attractive and luffy is super shy about it and his crew is just confused" + "OPLA fic of Luffy here he meets a reader and they're really flirty with him and the others are just like "get together already" and maybe if you're okay with it you could have a bit of smut as well." - anon 1 + anon 2
Reader : male (you/yours)
A/N : Part TWO
Now, this is new for him.
In all his life, Luffy has never stopped anything for someone good-looking. Hell, he didn't even know what the world saw as a criteria of beauty.
You're handsome if you're cool looking, right ? Like cyborgs, for example. They're so cool they have to be handsome for everyone !
So for Luffy to find you attractive without being a cyborg, you have to be a special kind of handsome.
And that you are !
Cool, handsome, strong, you have it all and Luffy can't help but look at you with wide eyes as he smiles.
He almost asked you to join his crew before knowing what you were capable of doing. You were too cool/handsome to not be on his crew.
But when he saw your power and how you used it, yeah you definitely had to be a part of his crew.
Talking about them, the crew, they have noticed the way he looks at you, stealing glances your way, eyes shinier than usual, acting as if he's being giddy.
At first it was weird to see him act like this, although they only knew Luffy for a couple of days, watching him stop running everywhere for someone attractive was definitely not on their bingo cards.
Sanji, Nami and Usopp were quick to see Luffy's crush on you. While Zoro only thought he acted this way because you looked cool. Like a kid being shown his Christmas presents before opening them.
Oh, he was wrong of course. With the way Luffy's heart jumped in his chest each time you made a comment, a flirty remark always well placed.
Unable to feel anything else other than sheepish, grinning broadly at each of the words you threw his way. Like a dog hearing "treat".
People would be wrong to assume Luffy isn't touched by flirting. The way he perks up each time you flirt with him. Which is all the time. Always flustering him.
The rest of the crew didn't mind your dynamic with him, you seemed like a good person and seeing how you flirted with him, you were clearly both on the same page. They're just waiting for you two to get together, this chase, with the way you're flirting and how he's reacting, grew old pretty quickly.
"When do you think they're gonna… ?" Nami asks, her head resting on her hand as she sat outside on the Merry.
"Kiss ?" Asked Usopp. "I don't know."
"I feel like [Name] is a gentleman." Sanji chimed in. "Even though it's hard to see with all the flirting."
The two others hummed, as Sanji gave them a little en-cas.
"It'll take time." He added.
"Will you please tune it down ?" Said Zoro, trying to nap. Sanji rolled his eyes with Nami as Usopp focused back on what he was doing.
The four of them were unaware of what you two were doing in the cabin. Both growing really close and touchy. More than just kissing.
Each time you two would get intimate Luffy couldn't help but get shy, your pretty remarks making his brain short-circuit and unsure if he's doing the right thing.
Smiling almost maniacally as a light blush spreads to his cheeks while you say the prettiest and dirtiest things to him.
It's relentless, even when you pound into him, short gasps and moans leaving his lips as you whisper dirty things in his ears. His arms wrapped around you as if to keep you against him forever.
God, you're always so beautiful it's breathtaking. Even when you're covered in sweat and panting, you still look as attractive as ever with your voice slightly shaky from the effort and your dilated pupils.
#male reader#m!reader#one piece#one piece x male reader#one piece imagine#opla#opla x male reader#opla imagine#one piece live action#opla luffy#monkey d luffy#monkey d luffy x male reader#monkey d luffy imagine
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Ten Seconds
Masterlist
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x female!reader
TW:none I don't think
Summary: Who knew life could change so quickly?
Word Count:3.3k
One. Rafe's eyes land on your features, taking in your plump lips that shine with strawberry-flavored lipgloss and the mild sunburn dusted on your cheeks.
Two. He takes a deep breath and for the first time, feels like his lungs can fully expand to take in the salty sea air in all its glory.
Three. His heart thrums in its cage, seemingly unlocked by a key he wasn't aware existed as it flutters away and lands in the palm of your hand.
Four. Your sweet scent intoxicates him, hitting his bloodstream like a drug that smells like tanning oil and cotton candy.
Five. The tension dissolves from his body as your energy engulfs him like a down comforter, and muscles he's never felt before unwind and go lax.
Five seconds is all it takes for Rafe's entire world to shift, and you disarm him without even knowing he exists.
Six. Your laugh floats to his ears like a summer melody that drips with sticky sweetness like a melting popsicle, and he decides it's his favorite treat.
Seven. His knees nearly buckle when a smile brighter than the sun graces your features, chasing away the darkness that shrouds him.
Eight. Your head tilts back and the hues from the setting sky dance off your exposed neck with an angelic glow, and suddenly pink is his favorite color.
Nine. His eye catches a glint of gold and his attention is drawn to the rings scattered on your right hand, suddenly he wants to add an even shinier one with a diamond that could be seen from space to your left.
Ten. Your lip quirks up as you catch him admiring you from afar, and the breeze that's thick with sand and hushed whispers that he previously inhaled is sucked from his constricting throat.
Ten seconds is all it takes for Rafe Cameron to believe in love at first sight. Time stands still altogether as he watches you excuse yourself from your friends and make your way toward him.
He notes that you seem to float instead of walk, moving oh so gracefully as if you're a celestial being and he's about to have a religious experience.
Your gaze never leaves his, the eye contact so intense that it sends fire racing through his veins, burning so hot it leaves a scorching trail in its wake.
He's frozen in place, utterly entranced by the way your long eyelashes fan across your face when you blink.
Another ten seconds is all the time it takes to cross the few feet of distance that separates the two of you, and his head swims at the close proximity.
Your aroma is even stronger up close, and he's sent reeling as he wonders if it could be bottled up and turned into a candle.
He doesn't even know your name and has never heard you speak, yet somehow you feel like home. It doesn't make any sense, but then again, neither does falling in love with a stranger.
You watch him for a moment, eyes raking over his chiseled jawline and backwards baseball cap. There's a few strands of sun bleached hair poking out and ticking his tanned skin in a way that reminds you of a character in The Outsiders.
He looks boyish and rugged at the same time, and your interest is fully piqued. He's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen.
Your melodic voice rings out like a siren song that's calling just for him, and the ever-present violent storm that rages just under the surface relents.
"Do you always lurk like a stalker or am I just that special?"
There's that smile again, unabashed and erasing any logical thought from his brain. You wait for a moment, your eyebrows shooting up expectantly as he stares down at you like he's been struck with lightning.
Rafe scrambles for words, begging his mind to string together a coherent sentence that will keep you within arms reach.
"Uh, sorry. You just-"
He cuts himself off and your grin widens.
"What? Do I have something on my face?"
He's painfully aware you're teasing; you don't make a move to wipe your mouth and your smile doesn't falter for a second.
"You're stunning."
He breathes a sigh of relief as words finally find him and your features soften in a way that makes his heart skip a beat.
Despite the stench of stale peanuts and sweat, you still feel like you're in the center of rom-com. There's shitty music playing, yet you hone in on the dizzying rasp of his voice.
"Stunning?" You question, and he nods his head slowly.
"Exquisite, actually. Downright bewitching if I'm being completely honest."
Rafe has never used those words before; he's never seen anyone or anything that warranted them. You most certainly do.
You laugh lightly and in a split second, he makes it his life mission to get that sound out of you as often as possible.
It's a fleeting moment; a blip in the universe, but it feels like an entire lifetime as he studies the look in your eye.
It's a mix between enamored and mischievous, and he can't even begin to comprehend the feeling it gives him.
"Those are big words. I figured someone as gorgeous as yourself would get by on pretty privilege."
He ignores the blush crawling up his neck, tilting his head with a smile of his own.
"Are you saying I look dumb?"
He's used to women being flustered around him, his sense of humor usually throwing them for a loop. You don't miss a beat though, and his stomach does a somersault.
Your head shakes from side to side and he fights the urge to run his fingers through your hair that looks a little too soft to be real.
"No, I'm saying you're attractive enough that you could be dumb and no one would fault you."
His smile only grows at your quick wit and ability to match his energy. He's quickly learning that your tongue is sharp as a knife, and he loves the way it cuts him.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
You study him for a moment, pondering your next words.
"Do you have a name? Or should I just call you pretty boy?"
He pretends to think for a moment before taking a step closer. He's elated when you don't move back, and rests his hand dangerously close to yours on the table.
"Rafe. Though pretty boy works just as well."
He's about to ask you the same when you offer it up on a silver platter.
"I'm Y/N. Though if you have a fitting nickname, you can use that too."
Your voice holds a teasing lilt and he lowers his head so it's only a couple inches from your ear.
"I'm sure I could think of a few."
In fact, he could think of more than a few. He doesn't want to come on too strong though, and much to your displeasure, he backs away just as quickly as he advanced.
He wonders for a second how he hasn't seen you before and worries that you're a touron. It's a fleeting thought, quickly swept away when your hand grazes his.
"Hopefully I get to hear them."
He doesn't miss the lust that causes your voice to turn sultry and shifts a bit as his pants grow tighter.
"Where are you from? I haven't seen you around."
He changes the subject to something more innocent in an attempt to distract himself from his growing arousal and you tsk.
"I'm from right here in OBX, but I didn't go to the academy and I generally stay away from figure eight. I kinda ride the line between kook and pogue."
He nods his head, the decades-long class war nowhere near the forefront of his mind.
"So I take it you know who I am?"
It's a pointless question; anyone who grew up within a twenty-mile radius of Kildare knows his family.
You give a timid smile and nod.
"Yeah, I just didn't want to be too presumptuous. Your reputation kind of precedes you."
His heart sinks as he feels any chance he had with you drifting away.
"So then why are you talking to me?"
There's an underlying sadness in his voice that you catch, and your eyebrows furrow.
"I never believed in judging people without knowing them. Besides, I know that picture-perfect family stuff is bullshit. Everyone has their skeletons."
He straightens up at this, genuinely taken aback at the lack of judgment in your voice.
"And what if I told you the rumors are true? That I am some violent asshole that rains terror on those around me?"
The words leave his mouth before he fully processes them and he kicks himself. Is he trying to scare you away?
Your bubbly smile returns and his breath hitches as you take a step closer.
"I'd say I haven't seen it yet. Besides, underneath the scariest fighters is usually a big softie that's misunderstood."
Rafe's chest squeezes, and he can't believe how in five minutes you've got him figured out better than his lifelong friends.
"You're something special, you know that?"
And he means it. There's a gravitational pull that calls out to him, and despite his usual attempts to push people away with a giant wall lined with barbed wire, he doesn't want to do that with you for even a second.
"So I've been told. Though to be perfectly candid, it means a little more coming from you."
He goes to respond when your attention is ripped away by one of your friends telling you it's time to go.
You turn back to him with an apologetic smile and even though you're still right in front of him, he already misses you.
"Can I get your number?"
He's nervous as he asks, another new revelation. Usually, he's smooth and practiced. However, the idea of you turning him down makes his stomach lurch.
"About time."
He pulls out his phone and watches as you text yourself a heart so you have his number as well before you turn away and saunter off into the night.
Rafe doesn't even make it thirty minutes before texting you, any thoughts about it being too soon overpowered by his desire to see you again.
His heart soars when you respond almost instantly, equally as eager to talk to him.
How's the rest of your night going?
He shoots it off without a second thought, genuinely interested in the answer. He frowns when you text back immediately.
Shitty, to be honest. Got dragged to this party and I'm bored, but don't have a ride home.
He types out his reply and hits send without considering that it may be creepy.
Send me your location, I'll come get you.
He watches as three bubbles pop up and then disappear, that new nerve-racking feeling overtaking him once again.
At the party, you stare down at the screen and contemplate your options. You're really not having a good time, but letting a man you met two hours ago pick you up doesn't seem wise.
Still, something in your core that you can't explain trusts him and you finally answer. You don't bother telling him he doesn't have to, something in you just knows that he doesn't mind.
Rafe jumps off the bar stool and beelines toward his rover when it pops up that you shared your location and he starts toward the address that's wedged between the cut and figure eight.
He hops out and is instantly hit with the stench of beer and weed, loud bass causing his chest to vibrate.
His face scans the crowd for your face as he weaves through drunk idiots doing keg stands and yelling a little too loudly.
He finds it in seconds, and his feet carry him forward as if they have a mind of their own.
You smell him before you see him, his expensive cologne that smells like vanilla and whiskey cutting through the sweat and vodka.
"Hey, pretty girl."
Your heart leaps at the pet name, and you have a feeling it's just the first of many.
"You actually came."
Part of you believed he was bluffing, but you're beginning to realize that when Rafe says something he means it.
"You called."
Something about the simple statement gives you goosebumps. He said it with such conviction; as if he'd find you even if you were across the ocean on another continent.
You shoot your friends a quick text to let them know you're leaving before grabbing your bag and standing.
You try not to focus on the way your skin burns as he places his hand on the small of your back to lead you away, the gesture feeling too natural for someone you don't even know.
Rafe drives you home, comfortable conversation flowing with ease the entire ride.
You try, and fail, not to swoon when he walks you to your door and kisses you on the cheek. You're not usually the type to kiss on the first night, but if he'd asked, you'd have taken him straight up to your room and let him do whatever he wanted.
You fall asleep easily, your psyche filled with images of a blue-eyed man that swept you off your feet.
The next week is filled with non-stop texting and time spent surfing as the two of you grow closer.
You've come to the conclusion that you were right; Rafe is massively misunderstood.
He's confided in you about things he's never told a soul, and as ridiculous as it sounds, you could easily find yourself falling for him.
He's told you all about his abusive father and the pressure he's under, about how his mom died when he was ten, and how he feels like he's always the second choice.
You don't tell him that he'd never be your second choice, how you'd choose him first in a crowd of a hundred million people.
Instead, you lend a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, something else Rafe has never done before you.
You're sat on the beach between his legs now as sand digs into your bare thighs, but it's a small price to pay to be in his arms.
It's an unusually hot day, the sun rays beating down harshly on your glistening skin. You've just finished surfing, now relaxing as the two of you hydrate with ice-cold Gatorade and much on cheez its.
Your back is pressed into his firm chest comfortably, his free hand snaked around your front and resting just below your belly button.
"You know," he starts and you shift to lay your head so you're peering up at him. His eyes stay focused on the waves ahead, eyes swirling with an emotion you don't recognize.
"I've never met anyone like you. You make me feel safe and calm. All the noise in my head fades away and I'm at peace finally."
He pauses and you wait patiently for him to continue, pressing a chaste kiss to his bare pec as silent encouragement.
"You make me feel special. Like I'm worth it."
Your heart clenches at the admission and you turn around fully so you're seated in his lap. His arms wrap around your waist as if it's second nature, and your hands come up to gently grasp his jaw.
"You are worth it, Rafe. I'm sorry the people who are supposed to love you have made you feel like you aren't."
You don't miss the way tears gather on his waterline and you lean forward slowly, giving him time to pull away.
When he doesn't, you continue and the world stops on his axis as your lips mold with his.
Everything else melts away and your mouths move in sync, only the two do you existing in this little bubble.
Your ears tune out the sounds of seagulls crying and screaming kids, the heat from the unforgiving sun giving way to electricity that sparks every nerve ending in your body.
His tongue tangles with yours, the flavor of spearmint and fruit punch mingling on your tastebuds.
You pull back and give him one last short kiss before returning to your original resting position, both of you desperately attempting to catch your breath.
One month is all it took to officially become Rafe's girlfriend. You told each other your darkest and silliest secrets, quiet whispers and unspoken promises in the dark of the night. He became your best friend and boyfriend, consuming all your senses.
Two months is when you gave yourself to him completely, sweaty bodies writhing in unison under fairy lights and the glow of the moon. You would have given in much sooner, but Rafe insisted on taking it slow, wanting to do it right. You're glad he did, the wait was worth it.
Three months in, you introduce each other to your friends and family. Ward actually took a liking to you immediately, boasting about how good you've been for his son. You found a sister in Sarah, the two of you having girl's days regularly and laughing at Rafe's expense. Your parents and friends accepted Rafe with ease, him finding the father figure he always craved in your dad.
Four months is when you finally said what you've both been feeling since week five. A quiet confession while tangled together as a movie played in the background.
"I'm in love with you." You whisper it so quietly, your voice thick with emotion.
"I'm in love with you too. So much so that it's maddening."
Five months into your whirlwind relationship, the two of you moved in together. Rafe was itching to get away from Tannyhill, and in a shock to you both, Ward offered up one of the estates to be your new home.
It's your safe space, a perfect combination of the two of you with carefully chosen throw pillows and pictures lining the walls.
Six months is when you knew without a shadow of a doubt you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Rafe by your side. The two of you are well established now, the honeymoon phase long past and replaced with a much sturdier and ironclad love and respect.
Seven months in, Rafe surprised you with a two-week-long vacation. It's an all-inclusive trip to Italy, the time spent sightseeing and eating local cuisine that still makes your mouth water.
Eight months is how long it took for him to convince you to quit your job and let him take care of you. It doesn't take much persuading by this point, you know that he's not going anywhere and you trust him when he says you'll never lift a finger again.
Nine months in, he takes you on another trip; this time a month-long adventure in Greece. You see the world and he buys you anything you show the slightest interest in. You're happy and comfortable, more content with your life than you ever imagined.
Ten months after your chance meeting, he buys you a new car. He'd absolutely insisted that you deserve the best of the best and your old beat-up Civic doesn't meet the mark. You cried, and the two of you drove up the coast for a blissful long weekend.
Eleven months is when Rafe planned an elaborate party and dropped to one knee. You nearly collapsed with joy as he placed the four-carat Cartier diamond on your left hand and celebrated with your closest friends and family.
That night was spent in bed talking about the future, shared desires of having kids, and settling in OBX. It took you a while to wrap your head around the fact that at just twenty-one and twenty-two years old, you'd found the one you belong with.
Twelve months after your friends forced you to go out, you eloped and married your best friend. One year is all it took for you to believe in soulmates, and become a Cameron. In 365 days, your life did a 180 and you're married with a new Lexus and a house that's more than you could have dreamed of.
But really, all it took was ten seconds for your life to change forever.
#Rafe Cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron#outer banks imagine#outer banks fic#outer banks
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can we get some rouge facts? pretty please 🤲🏼 she’s v interesting and i know nothing about d&d so i’m a little clueless about her role in the team. love your world building btw
— 🪐
cw: cisfem reader, reader has a set background and personality, MENTIONS OF GROOMING AND ABUSE!
"Why don't you join them?"
The fiddle swelling and dips and the dancers do the same. You watch where your friends have blended into the crowd, their elbows crooked into the arms of strangers as they prance about. The alcohol has wiped away their inhibitions, but only strengthened yours.
Obsidian has left his partner on the dance floor and returned to you, arm outstretched. He must have seen you watching him and misunderstood that forlorn look in your eyes as something else.
"I'm alright here," you dismiss with a laugh.
"Let me teach you." Obi gestures again, "Or is our fearless leader afraid of the dance floor?"
He hums along to the song, hitting none of the correct notes. Even when he's making mistakes, he's undeniably charming.
"I'm okay, really." You try to laugh again, but the sound is tight in your throat. The crowd spins and laughs and jeers and the sound of it all stuffs your ears. Obsidian steps towards you, closer than a friend should be, with a chuckle on his lips.
"I insist."
Your stomach sours a bit and you aren't sure why. This is familiar in ways you don't want to admit. "Obi, not tonight."
"I simply wish to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room," His fingers loosely wrap around your wrist, but the pressure makes your mouth go dry. There's an ache, deep in the narrow of your bones, radiating out as he lightly tugs, "Come, it will be-"
You rip your hand from his with all the force you can muster. It's much too forceful-- you end up smacking yourself and knocking over your stein. Beer fizzs and bubbles across the waxed bartop, spilling down and over your legs.
"I said no." Your voice aches with the way to rips from you, "Why does no one listen to me when I say no?"
Obi's face drops. Green eyes wide with shock, he simply watches as you push off from your stool and weave out through the crowd. You bump elbows with a poor halfing halfway out the door, only offering the briefest of apologies.
The crisp night air brings you a bit of clarity, but it aches in your lungs. The cotton of your shirt suddenly feels much too tight and you cant help but tug on the edges to free yourself.
You're aware of being followed. It's like a stray dog, tailing behind you just fair enough to avoid any possibility of retribution. He continues until you stop and settle, sitting in the dew soaked grass. It doesn't matter- you're already soaked.
Obsidian stays quiet for a while, rubbing his sleeve against his nose sheepishly.
"Can I sit with you?" he says after a while.
You glance up at the dragonborn. The spot he rubbed is significantly shinier than the rest of his scales, catching the moon shine as he speaks. Your anxious settles just a bit at that; it even tugs a smile onto your face. You pat the ground next to you and the man settles down on to his knees.
"I am sorry," Obi says after a moment, "I should not have pushed you."
You're very aware that wasn't a normal reaction. The shame makes your stomach curl. "It's alright."
"Clearly, it was not." He rubs his snout again, "I should have listened to you."
He places his hand gently on to your thigh- no pressure, just reassurance. "I'll listen now, if you want to speak about it."
The truth is heavy on your tongue. You know better than to speak of it, and yet:
"Adam saved me. I know that," you say carefully. Your husband is always the elephant in the room, waiting to be addressed, "He took me off of the street and gave me a place to live. I'd be nothing without him-- I know that."
Obsidian prickles a bit at that, just the slightest flash of teeth, but he doesn't interrupt.
"He'd bring me to galas. The prettiest dances you've ever seen. I'd wear the nicest dress I could find and he would dance with me until my feet bled from those god-awful shoes." You flex your foot. The thick leather boot barely gives to the pressure.
"I hated them. I hated every minute," you say, "I'd beg him to let me stay home. I'd //beg.//"
You close a hand around your own wrist. Your body has changed over the years, almost to the point of unfamiliarity, but the pressure of a palm against the inside of your wrist always snaps you back to the brittle age of eighteen.
"And he still made you go?"
Eighteen was the first time you started measuring your steps, walking in the shadows to avoid drawing his attention. Eighteen was the first time love felt sour on your lips.
"All anyone would ever say to me was that I was so lucky to be his wife. How he loved me so much." You take Obi's hand from your leg and intertwine your fingers with his. The span and width of his grip are so much different than anyone else you've ever known. "And all I wanted to do was tell them how scared I was of him.'"
"Why didn't you?" He's asking, but its not a question. It's a door, open just enough to let you keep going. "Someone surely would have listened."
"Where would I have gone?" You almost laugh at how ridiculously pathetic you sound. "I didn't have friends, and he was the closest thing I ever had to a father -"
Obi's grip stiffens, and you know you'd made a mistake. His eyes narrow and he knows//.
"Father?" he repeats, voice dark, yet trying to stay even, "He wasn't-- you--- what do you mean by father?"
Those sharp, kind eyes watch you, unblinking, as if he closes his eyes, you'll disappear.
"What do you mean by that, my dear?" he repeats, much softer.
The bar behind you clambors with din, the night is rich with the cicada song, and yet you feel like the world is so, so quiet. All of your words feel earshakingly loud.
"He didn't pursue me romantically until I was eighteen," you whisper, "But Adam took me into his home when I was thirteen."
You brace for what's coming. The anger, the disgust. By the time you realize you've closed your eyes, the silence has stretched out too far. It takes an effort to look at him and face the music.
Obi doesn't seem mad, he's just... sad.
"You were just a child." His voice is so brittle, "I-- Why didn't anyone protect you?"
You wish you knew the answer.
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VH - Divide And Conquer
(Tw: attempted torture)
“I can't believe we finally have caught the legendary Vampire Hero”, said Villain.
The two Heroes glanced at each other and shrugged. The taller one frowned.
“Legendary ?” he repeated.
Villain looked at him with interest.
“Oh yes,” he said. “Many have fallen before your might, Vampire Hero. At least two or three of my opponents are behind the bars because of you.”
“Two or three and you call that legendary ? You're easy to impress.”
The other Hero was nervously following the exchange. Compared to his companion, he seemed much younger and frailer. His eyes were shinier and shinier with tears that did not quite fall. When at least it looked like he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped between the two, saying:
“Stop ! It's my fault ! It's all my fault if we got caught. Hurt me, not him!”
Villain gave the young Hero an amused look:
“Why is that little thing with you, Vampire Hero ?”
His interlocutor shrugged:
“You know. He's new. I'm supposed to show him the ropes or something. You have to teach them some way or some other. ”
“Is that so.”
Villain lift the smaller Hero's chin with a finger:
“My dear little one, how can I hurt him ? Many have tried and many have failed. I'll just make him have a nice little sunbath so he's neutralized. But since you've asked so nicely, I will take care of you.”
“Surely there must be another way ! I'm sure you can do better. I-I'm sure that deep inside, you're a little pure of heart.”
“ You heard your protector, you need to learn.”
He grabbed Hero by the arm, who turned his head toward the man who accompanied him. The latter just shrugged.
“Do you think he cares ?” simpered Villain to his ear. “Oh, he doesn't. He might be on your side, but Vampire Hero is evil. You're better off with me.”
Hero whimpered but didn't resist as he was dragged into the stairs.
“There are seventeen steps. Do you hear the sound they make ? There's an echo, so the prisoners down there can hear me coming. It’s all in the anticipation.”
In a sweet voice, he kept describing their surroundings while they were both descending into his torture room. During all the way, the small one didn’t dare fight back. He soon found himself tied up to a chair, helplessly squirming, his eyes giving a pleading look more than ever.
“So, young Hero,” purred Villain, “as it is your first time, I will make you a favor.”
“R-Really ?”
“Yes. Do you see all these instruments in the shelf in front of you ?”
Hero looked at the whips, the canes and the nails, and shuddered so violently it almost looked fake.
“I'm going to let you choose one among them. If not, I will choose, and you won't like it very much if I do.”
“You don't have to do this ! I-You just will make Vampire Hero angry and you don't want to !”
“You think he will rescue you?”
“I know he will.”
“How touching. But for now you're mine. So make your choice, before I get impatient.”
Hero pondered for a few seconds, then whispered:
“Um – the taser ? Yes – the taser, please.”
“If you ask so nicely.”
Villain delicately took the black rectangular shape in his hand and switched it on.
“Why, if I might ask ? Do you think it will hurt less than the others ? Let me prove you wrong.”
The half-hour that happened then looked much more pleasant for Villain than for Hero. And yet, as time passed, Villain felt somewhat uneasy. That had nothing to do with torturing a man, of course. He liked the thrashing, he liked the begging, he liked the naive faith of the innocent who was certain that he could be saved. Maybe that had something to do with the other Hero. While Villain was amusing himself, Vampire Hero was out of his sight. He might have been careless. He glanced at his watch, but Hero making a rather unconvincing whimper forced him to turn his head.
Perhaps that was the problem. Villain was used to the sounds of pain – the gasps, the moans, the howls, the cries and the pleas. He loved all of them without distinction, and of course he knew that they were a little different with each person. It was a familiar melody that Hero was singing, but thinking about it, it was slightly out of tune, and it got progressively worse. It was getting on his nerves. These rookies these days – they didn't even now how to scream right.
“Let's have a break,” he said.
“Oh well, I guess I’ve held that long.”
Villain raised an eyebrow, amused:
“Getting defiant, are we ? Careful, you sound like you’re disappointed.”
He stared into his prisoner’s eyes, hoping to get a look of terror, but all he got was a frown. Hero...genuinely looked displeased.
“Sorta”, he said. “In my time I didn’t have this kind of toys to play with. I guess having a little blue spark in your hand looks fun, but that doesn’t look like it does that much damage.”
“In your time ? What are you talking ab- wait.”
Hero tilted his head. For a moment he sounded impassible, but he broke soon enough. A loud, loud laugh resonated in the room, while the prisoner was squirming in his chair for a very different reason than before. His way of moving betrayed no pain at all.
“Are you shitting me,” said Villain, whose voice was now icy.
Hero grinned:
“You tell me, pal. I can’t believe you swallowed my “pure of heart” bullshit. I was laying it on so thick.”
Villain glared at him.
“Not that you were especially subtle either”, Hero added. “Oooh, the anticipation !” Do that again?”
Villain stood up and went to the door as fast as self-respect allowed. There was no one left under the sunlight. The guards were on the ground, unconscious.
“How -”
He turned back. Hero was now standing up, neglectfully throwing away the remnants of the straps that held him a moment before. He dramatically exclaimed, a hand on his heart:
“Oh no, he got away ! My, my. Poor little me. Tell you what, though. If Vampire Hero were so legendary, you should have bothered to know what he looks like. I didn’t mean to pass for someone else, but you’ve so graciously given me the opportunity.”
“It can’t be ! How could the – the other have escaped then ?”
“I hate to break it to you, but they are several heroes with super strength.”
Villain blushed and stayed quiet, his lips pursed. Hero picked up the taser, looked at it with curiosity, and switched it on. With a smile – a very worrying smile - he got closer.
“Hey, I warned you. I told you that Vampire Hero was going to rescue me.”
*
Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.
Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.
#hero x villain#villain and hero#hero villain community#writeblr#writers on tumblr#original fiction#my writing#writing snippet#writing drabble#writing dialogue#creative writing#vampire#vampire hero#hero and villain#heroes and villains#a little whumpy I guess#sorta I mean Villain tried hard#I wondered what it’d be like to classically whump a 100% pure innocent cinnamon roll whumpee#Vampire Hero just invited himself because nope#he chose the taser because most tools would have blown his cover immediately#no Zdiiiiiiiingbonnng was heard that day#truth is out: VH is a short#well I don’t wanna say “king” in his case but#”evil ex-empress’s husband” would be accurate#try to fit that on a business card#anyway. Shortie.
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Toxic and Infidelity AU for Slimeriana.
I’ve given them way too many sweet and fluffy prompts and AU’s. It’s about time I feed into the toxic couple agenda™️ lol
—
Charlie and Mariana are childhood sweethearts.
They loved each other as long as they’ve been friends since kindergarten, ever since Mariana shared him his food since Charlie didn’t have any. Sometimes his dad forgets to pack him food, but that’s alright. Mariana soon ends up asking to pack food for two.
Ever since then, they became inseparable. Attached to the hip. You rarely see them without the other.
No one was surprised when they got together in middle school. They were each other’s firsts. First kiss, first date, first boyfriend, even losing their virginities to each other. At some point, they have exchanged promise rings, vowing to replace it with a shinier and more meaningful bands of gold in the future.
Unfortunately, they were also each other’s first heartbreak.
Charlie had to move away.
For some unexpected reason, Charlie is moving an entire ocean away and he is being taken away from Mariana, his everything slipping from his fingers.
They both thought of doing long distance. But they were discouraged by what happened to Quackity and Wilbur, a relationship like theirs turning sour the longer they kept the unattended phone calls and forgotten anniversaries.
So, they decided on one thing.
They’ll wait.
They’ll have to wait.
Mariana promised he could wait for Charlie, even if it takes forever. And Charlie promised the same.
Forever only took five years.
But five years is enough for everything to change.
Charlie comes back to his hometown, to his childhood bedroom and to the same people who welcomed him back with wide open arms.
He asks about Mariana.
The crowd turns quiet.
That’s not reassuring at all.
It was Quackity who stepped forward and told him he’s on his way with his fiancé.
“Fiancé?” Did he heard him right? The music was too loud inside and traffic isn’t any better outside. He was going to ask again, because he honestly just misheard.
Before he even opens his mouth, the front door swings open.
It’s Mariana.
He surely grew into his features, taller and more handsome than ever, but the same exact guy Charlie is still in love with.
“Mariana!” He drops whatever he was going to say to Quackity, choosing to tackle him into a tight hug instead.
The same warmth, the same scent, the same body. Everything felt all too familiar. It’s the first time Charlie felt truly home.
At the same time that he’s tightening the grip around his waist, Charlie fails to notice the stillness of the room and the other man next to him.
Mariana pulls away first, taking a firm step back, which is weird. Charlie was gonna quip and say he promised he didn’t bring any sickness with him.
But then his eyes landed on the other hand Mariana is holding and it stays at the different ring on his finger. And it burns and it burns and it burns.
Mariana is talking. Charlie can hear him talking, but it’s like he’s submerged underwater. He can’t hear anything besides his own blood pounding in his ears.
Suddenly, Charlie remembered his own hand. He hides them behind his back, casually removing the promise ring that he still wore. Suddenly, he can’t find his place in the small town he grew up in. Suddenly, he feels like disappearing, quickly regretting his decision of ever coming back, getting mad at himself in the process for being so naive.
Charlie forces a smile on his face.
“Quackity told me,” He doesn’t have to elaborate before regarding the other guy. Also taller, also more handsome, also better than him in every way. “Congrats to you both.”
He excuses himself quickly. Mariana’s calls falling into deaf ears as he left his own welcoming party just like that.
Charlie ends up at a bar. Of course he does. He wallows in his self-pity. Ignoring the worried calls of his friends. It doesn’t matter. They’ll probably say the same thing and tell him to move on.
That’s not what he needed right now.
He just got back. And this is how he finds out that the love of his life is someone else’s.
Out of his own volition or maybe he’s just so drunk, he ends up wallowing to the bartender like he’s a therapist. Charlie cries for being too late, he cries for the one love that matters to him, he cries for how much he still desperately loves.
But one thing was certain. It wasn’t his fault that he was threatened into cutting ties with everyone, that he was made to believe the future of the people he cared about would be ruined if he doesn’t follow. His grandfather is just the right type of rich and powerful to pull that off.
With a deadbeat dad who has died and the reason for why Charlie had to move, he had hoped for a silver lining that was Mariana.
Maybe he’s been in this bar for hours, maybe he’s been complaining too much. But the bartender gives him a piece of advice that for once sticks right through the marrow in his bones.
“He’s not yet married, isn’t he? He’s engaged, sure. But coming over to see you when he didn’t have to? There’s still something there,” The bartender, a blond and muscular man with a thick Brazilian accent pours him another glass. “If you love someone, you fight for them no matter what. Even if it makes you crazy, even if it makes you the bad guy in the story. You fight for what’s yours.”
Cue Charlie’s attempts to rekindle things with Mariana. Cue infidelity issues because even if their trust is broken, their attraction is so much stronger. Cue their secret affairs, the lies they tell everyone just to keep each other. Cue pretending to be friends while in public, but drive each other mad with jealousy and lust in private. Cue being found out, the decisions and sacrifices they have to make. Cue the dramatic confrontations, the slamming of doors and the tearful drives and breaking of plates. Cue tragedies and happy or sad endings.
Would Charlie and Mariana make it?
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My borrower headcannons:
There are four main subgroups of borrower which coincide with different human styles of living. Culture and appearance range widely between the types. Borrowers living in the suburbs and the city have different lifestyles with some similarities, but borrowers living in rural places or completely in the wild have entirely different ways of life, and even different adaptations; they’re nearly two different species. (Kind of like how polar bears and grizzly bears are technically the same species with different adaptations for their environments)
All borrowers have at least a semi-human appearance, and stay under a foot tall. (The largest recorded borrower measured 10 inches tall). They all come from a common ancestor: the feral subgroup, which adapted to an easier lifestyle of thievery over hunting.
Urban subgroup:
They can care less if they’re spotted, most humans just ignore the sighting after a moment anyway. Being caught is a different story, of course. A caught urban borrower can let out a deafening shriek loud enough to startle whatever’s caught them to drop them. They can fall a good 30 feet without serious injuries, so being dropped is completely fine.
They’re practically tone deaf, but have heightened visual senses and can even see in blinding light.
Have a type of sign language to communicate, and rarely make noise other than to show displeasure or affection (depending on the sound).
The smallest type; usually grows about 2-3 inches tall.
Homes look like nests stashed with every kind of material imaginable. This type of borrower is a collector and will steal anything they want without need for it. The shinier the object, the more valuable it is to them.
Body structure is nearly identical to humans with enhanced reflexes.
Many choose to live solitarily or with a small close family, but some live in larger groups for protection.
Suburban subgroup:
They have a type of sign language that they use between eachother, though most also learn whatever language the humans around them know to at least a basic level.
Homes look drastically different depending on how practiced a borrower is. A normal home looks like a mix of an underground colony system and a den. However, the better they are at stealing, the more resources they have to make things aesthetically pleasing. Thus, borrowers who’ve perfected their skills have homes whose interiors are similar to human ones.
Their average height is 4-5 inches tall.
This is the largest subgroup, and also the most interconnected; they often have hidden meeting places spread out like small towns to come together and share stories, trade materials, get help, find mates, etc. These are few and far between. A borrower will consider any place close to these meeting areas prime housing, as living in these meeting areas is forbidden.
Many things are forbidden. This group put together a series of codes that keep them in ‘perfect’ safety. They also have professions they take on in order to help the community as well as themselves. These range from perfecting ‘borrowing’ supplies (this is where their namesake comes from), practicing medicine and healing, crafting tools, becoming strong fighters, studying humans and other animals, etc.
These borrower codes contain many fascinating rules, including a contingency plan if they’re ever caught. Upon capture, they are to “play dead, play dumb, then run.” Closer studies have found that these borrowers can vomit bile on command, and use the stench to make themselves seem dead and rotting. If they’ve been caught in the act, this trick fails and they move to playing dumb. Using their surprisingly expansive knowledge of small animals other than themselves, they are able to mimic the actions of mice or even bugs to appear less intriguing to humans. If both ruses fail, they will bolt at speeds seemingly impossible for their bodies to move at, and can maneuver with pinpoint accuracy.
They have longer and wider ears to hear potential danger, double-jointed limbs for maneuverability and manipulation, lankier legs for faster strides.
Rural subgroup:
These borrowers usually live outside the houses they take from, preferring natural burrows and tunnel systems than the walls of houses.
If the home has a garden, there’s a large chance there’s at least a small borrowers’ burrow there to stash items.
Some learn a human language as a second language, but most speak in their own language, which is a mixture of animalistic noises and human ones. Their relations work more animalisticly; body language is a huge part of understanding one another.
Unlike the first two subgroups, these borrowers will attack when threatened rather than bluff. Their pronounced canines can leave small needle-like holes in the skin, which can easily heal over and become infected. When biting down, these borrowers’ jaws can lock into place, making it impossible to remove one without killing it. Even shaking it does no harm due to its swiveling neck, which can turn 360 degrees in either direction.
Average height is 5-6 inches tall.
Their ears are long and pointed, they have thin tails to help balance their quick movements, and slightly padded feet and palms.
Feral subgroup:
These are, as the name suggests, the most wild of the subgroups, and also the oldest subgroup. They live entirely away from humans and are completely independent, relying on the things they gather and make themselves.
They are the largest subgroup with an average height of 6-7 inches.
They live in long tunnel systems underground or inside trees. These tunnel entrances can be told apart from other creatures’ by the rudimentary door system.
If you see these burrows, DO NOT DISTURB THEM. There can be as many as 30 borrowers per burrow and they are aggressively protective of their homes. Springing open a large burrow will lead you to be swarmed. Mind you, these are creatures that can be nearly as long as your forearm, and a dedicated group of about 5 or 6 can kill you if you don’t fight them off or run. You will not be able to fight off 30 of them. If you survive the initial attack, seek medical attention. Their saliva has a good chance of carrying infectious bacteria.
Another caution: They can and will lay traps. Usually they aren’t strong enough to capture a human, and will likely only stun you. However, again, do NOT stick around or you will be swarmed.
They have clawed fingers, long thin tails, and are capable of running on four limbs for faster movement, as well as the longer ears and padded hands and feet of the rural subgroup. Their pupils can dilate widely enough to have fair night vision, which is useful for getting around burrows.
They are omnivores that can eat raw meat, and their teeth are sharpened versions of other subgroups’.
Due to the sheer amount of space between the habitats of different subgroups, it’s not often that they meet. When they do, the stories are often chalked up to tall tales. Most subgroups view the other subgroups as cryptids of sorts.
(quick ref I made for body structure & height, penny for scale)
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Clove: Part 13 - Play?
GUESS WHO'S BACK! IT'S THE BOIIII!!! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist.
Masterlist
Part 12
Content: Werewolf whumpee, fear, ignorant comments about his scars, mentions of past abuse
...............................................
Ephraim had to leave to help make the house safe again.
Hyrum knew he was safe, he knew Ephraim would be back, he had his bird toy and he was full, huddled under the blankets as snug as a hibernating creature…. but every new sound scared him. A subtle creak of the house settling had him clutching the blanket and toy closer, his heart pounding. He just wanted to be home. In Ephraim’s house.
He pressed his face into the pillow, taking a deep breath to fill his nose with Ephraim’s scent. It was like warm raspberries picked right off the cane, undertones of bread and flowers firmly carrying home the feeling of safety.
He slowly relaxed again and got more comfortable, pulling his toy out of the blankets to get a better look at it, running a finger over the carved features of the bird, ears twitching as the ball rolled around gently inside of it.
He sighed and tried to relax, closing his eyes again.
That went away when he heard footsteps and voices and the front door opened. He sat up quickly, the scents of the werewolf children from the trip to see the merchant reaching his nose.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” said one voice, which Hyrum completely agreed with as he slipped out of the bed on the opposite side from the doorway.
“Oh, stop being such a pansy.”
Hyrum silently dropped down and wiggled under the bed, cupping his hands over his face to muffle his breathing as he heard the two sets of footsteps come down the hall, stopping at the door. He closed his eyes as it creaked open.
“Is he in the bed?” the younger sounding voice asked.
The older one approached and Hyrum flinched as he patted the bed.
“No, doesn’t look like it.”
“Is he still in here?”
“Course he is. Can’t you smell him?”
Hyrum opened his eyes in time to see knees contact the floor and a face peering under the bed, right at him.
“Aha!” the grey haired werewolf said, tail sweeping the floor. “There he is!”
Hyrum scrambled back out without thinking, getting to his feet and backing up quickly enough that he banged rather loudly into the wall, hands searching the blank space behind him as his tail tucked itself between his legs and he ducked his head to protect his throat.
The other wolf, a younger kid with darker hair, though not quite black, stared at him while the older came around the bed, slowly and steadily, like he was stalking Hyrum.
Hyrum felt his heart beating faster, and he whimpered as the wolf took another step towards him.
The wolf froze, head cocked to the side for a moment. He took another step and Hyrum started seeing spots from how quickly he was breathing, none of the air actually making it anywhere.
The wolf froze in place, halfway through another step. He backed up a bit until Hyrum felt like he could breathe again, still shaking like an aspen leaf and gasping for air, tears escaping down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong with him?” the younger one asked.
“I don’t know,” said the elder. “Here, back out of the room. Maybe he’ll be less scared with just one of us.”
The younger wolf pouted, but did as he was told.
Hyrum did not feel any better, pinned down under the gaze of the older wolf. Was he older? He looked older. He was bigger than Hyrum, with broader shoulders and shinier teeth and flesh on his bones. He would be a real weapon.
Not that it mattered. Hyrum wasn’t even supposed to be a weapon anyways, apparently.
“You’re Goldenrod, yeah?”
Hyrum relaxed a little upon hearing the nickname and nodded faintly.
“I’m Isaac.”
Hyrum watched nervously, not certain of what the other wolf wanted. Isaac seemed to be waiting for something before looking around a little, confused.
He looked back and asked, “What are you so scared of?”
Hyrum didn’t know how to answer. Wasn’t it obvious? There was a bigger, tougher wolf in the room, blocking his exit after breaking into the house he and Ephraim had been staying at. How was that not terrifying?
Isaac stared at him for a long time before taking a slow step forward and all of Hyrum’s muscles which had relaxed even the slightest were tight again, sweat breaking out down his back.
Still, Isaac didn’t stop until he was a few steps away, leaning closer. Hyrum could hear him sniffing, could see he was open and relaxed.
“Wh… What do you want?” Hyrum whispered hoarsely, terrified.
Isaac leaned back again and frowned. “I haven’t seen another werewolf in a while that’s not from my family. I just wanted to see what your deal was.”
Hyrum didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and didn’t respond, which, to his horror, seemed to frustrate the other wolf.
“I mean, what is your deal? Mum said there was an intruder in the village and Ephraim has been staying here and you haven’t even left this house once! Don’t you want to go outside? Don’t you want to see other pups and play?”
Hyrum shivered. Being in the sun sounded nice. It always did. But playing with pups? Isaac talked about it like it was a normal thing. And Ephraim was expecting him to be here when he got back. What if he went outside and Ephraim thought he’d been taken? Just the thought of Ephraim worrying over it for even a moment freaked Hyrum out. And what if he did get taken?
“‘M scared,” Hyrum said softly, head tucked in still. He was afraid that Isaac wouldn’t like his answer and would lash out at him and hurt him. Jack always did.
“Why? We’re not going anywhere crazy. Me and my sibs are playing out in Mrs. Julien’s yard. It’s basically across the road from here.”
Hyrum was beginning to consider the idea, if only because he loved the feeling of sun on his skin. Isaac seemed genuine as well.
After a long moment he nodded. “Okay… and I can come back here whenever I want, right?”
“Right,” Isaac said, impatient now. “You should bring your toy. It’s almost Angie’s turn to play and she always wants to play house or rescue the princess or sacrifices to the demon lord. Come on!”
Isaac left, leaving no context for what he’d just said, but Hyrum carefully scooped up his bird and left the comfortable room. He saw the two wolves go out the front door, talking to one another. He passed the table in the front room, giving it a wide berth as feelings of panic and fear stirred around him, as though he’d left them under there when he had been hiding there a few nights before.
He very slowly stepped out of the house and onto the front porch, the wood rough under his bare feet and the sun like a blessing on his skin.
He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of it in his curls. His curls! He’d never had curly hair before. Ephraim had told him that now he was getting more food and sleep and he wasn’t covered in mange, he was getting his ‘real hair’ in. Hyrum didn’t fully understand it, but he was glad for it as a sign of being taken care of and fed.
He stepped down onto the dirt path and quickly crossed the road, smooth rocks poking up through the dirt and pebbles here and there.
He got to the other side and hesitated on the edge of a yard of soft grasses and small wildflowers, four wolves gathered together in the center of the yard where another brother and a sister had been waiting.
Isaac waved him over and he approached carefully.
“This is Goldenrod,” Isaac said, and the girl nodded, eyeing Hyrum’s toy a little bit, making him clutch it a little tighter. “Goldenrod, this is my brother Simon, you’ve met Lionel, and this is Angie.” Lionel was the wolf who had come to the house with Isaac, it seemed. Simon and Angie both had black hair and fur and Simon nodded, a little intrigued, though it was Angie who spoke first.
“What’s wrong with your face?” she asked, tilting her head.
Hyrum felt a swoop of… what was that feeling? Like he was anxious, but in an entirely different way. He didn’t realize that the way Isaac had talked to him had given him a new idea. One of being accepted by more than just Ephraim, and now he felt like that was dashed. Destroyed by Jack because of the scars on his face.
He could feel his eyes watering and he looked down quickly, glad for his curly hair for another reason now.
“Hey! Be nice, Angie,” Isaac barked. “Seriously, mum taught you manners! I was there for it!”
Angie huffed. “I just wanted to know,” she whined.
“It really isn’t nice,” Simon said in a quiet, slow tone.
“Oh, come on! Scars are cool!”
Cool? What could possibly be cool about the pain and starvation he went through? What was good about that written across his entire body? For no good reason? There was no reason for it. None of it. None of the silver or knives or ‘training’ or the initials in his arm. No reason for the burns or the broken fingers or the bleeding head wounds or the mange.
Hyrum turned to go back to the house, wrapping his arms tightly around his body causing the toy to be shoved harshly into his ribs.
“Wait!” Lionel said, running up and coming around to stand in front of Hyrum. He was shorter than Hyrum was, but he still looked stronger. He looked up into Hyrum’s face earnestly and said, “Please can you stay? We can make her go home! We want to play with you!”
“Hey! You can’t make me go home!”
“We will if you don’t apologize,” Isaac nodded and Simon added, “A real apology, Angie.”
She huffed at both of them but she came over, a rather worn doll in hand and she took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Goldenrod. I shouldn’t have asked about your scars and I won’t ask again. Will you play with us?”
Hyrum was puzzled by her tone. It was strange but he didn’t recognize it enough to put a finger on it. Still, hesitant and feeling a little bit pressure from their eyes all on him, he nodded.
They all seemed very excited and had him kneel in the grass to play where he lived the strangest hour of his life giving a personality to his bird toy and helping rescue a princess from a demon who wanted to play house with her.
Part 14
Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10
#werewolf whumpee#scars#mentioned abuse#anxiety#fear#boi is socializing!#look at him!#he's so freaked out about it!#there are going to be consequences for playing in the sun for too long when he isn't used to it
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Fic Prompts: Snippet Tuesday
Continuing from Monday's Snippet, now we come to the bit with Spy Tess. Now, there's a variety of ways she could've gotten here -- @sparguscityangel had an idea of Tess actually being there to report to the spies who trained her, and those spies being loyal to the deposed king of Haven. Other contexts can involve Tess trying to blend in with Wastelanders like in @sonicringnoise 's Friends in Low Places, or there to bring Jak intel (and shiny new guns) from Haven.
"Tess!"
Jak stretched up, waving her over from a circle of men and women at one of the cookfires dotting the courtyard of the temple.
"Sit over here!"
Jak really wasn't the outgoing type, and he never had been for as long as she'd known him. But after navigating around more Wastelanders than she'd ever seen in her life, Tess wasn't about to pass up a chance for some information from a friendly face. The circle parted, a little begrudgingly, to let her through, but this seemed more related to having to move while eating rather than an objection to her presence. She dropped down to sit on an overturned crate beside Jak, who pulled a paper-thin circle of some kind of bread from a rack by the fire and handed it to her.
"Dax just schmoozed one of the Foothill Wastelanders into trading a pound of peppers for a sack of rice," he said, flashing a quick smile, "I haven't had rice since I was a kid!"
He pointed Tess to a blackened old pot a woman was stirring with a heavy paddle. Rice piled up high on the paddle, and the weatherbeaten warrior jerked her head meaningfully at Tess. After a second, Tess realized what she was meant to do and obediently held up her flatbread. With a squishing sound, the rice was spread across it in a thick carpet.
"Rice from Foothill, shrimp and pepper from Spargus." Jak pointed to each ingredient in the small bowls Spargans were passing back and forth to add to their rice.
"And," Daxter interrupted, suddenly appearing between them, "Corn from Longstump, for just one tomango!"
The king -- Precursors within and without, that was the king! The actual head of the House of Mar was alive! -- shook his head and laughed as he took the ground corn from Daxter and added it to the pot. "You're a wonder, small one. In another life you must have been a master trader."
"Whaddya mean past life? I'm a master now!" Daxter puffed out his chest, soaking in the praise and approval like sunlight.
About time someone gave Daxter his due, in Tess’s opinion.
She sat and watched them all, allowing the food to cover for her observant silence. Not everyone at this fire was from the desert clan, the Spargans. One of the blue Lurkers from the mountain group had seated herself in the circle, humming something in a quavery old voice as she placidly worked a drop spindle. Foothills Clan mostly traded in cloth and metalhead pieces, as far as she could tell. The folk who lived down near the old Precursor Basin made beautifully intricate guns and staves -- and jewelry that doubled as weaponry in a pinch. Tess had haggled for twenty minutes to get a pair of razor sharp bone earrings from one of the Longstump Clan.
Seemed like Spargus was the gang producing all the Precursor artifacts, by and large. Tess blinked as a thought struck her: did this mean the former king of Haven was indirectly funding the Underground? Was he aware of that?
Daxter settled next to Tess comfortably, wrapping shrimp into the flatbread. Periodically he straightened to bark orders at whoever was manning to cooking pot at the moment -- even when it was King Bloody Damas Himself. Daxter took campfire cooking as seriously as he took the menu at the Naughty Ottsel. Tess bit back a giggle as she watched hardened soldiers grumble and comply with every recipe adjustment Daxter demanded.
Obviously, Daxxie knew what he was doing. His coat was softer and shinier now than it had ever been in the city, and he'd even put on either weight or muscle. He was actually getting nutrition out here in this ghastly desert, and that told Tess more about Spargus than any of its taciturn people could. Jak was just as obviously changed by his months in the Wasteland. His face was no longer pale and sunken -- he'd seen enough sun for a smattering of freckles to dance across rosy brown cheeks -- and his clothes didn't hang so loosely off his shoulders anymore. Like Daxter, his hair looked softer, and about as well-kept as the ocean breeze would allow.
Spargus was in better shape than much of Haven, clearly. Maybe it would be worth it to attempt an alliance.
A tankard began to be passed around the circle, breaking Tess from her thoughts. One by one, Wastelanders took a swig of a bitter alcohol, spiced with cinnamon. Tess managed to get a sip that burned like fire for a second before dulling into a warm glow. Definitely better than what Wastelanders usually carried, although not really to Tess’s tastes. She snorted when Jak's turn was swiftly curtailed by Damas deftly lifting the tankard from his hands.
"Not for you, young man." He took a draught and passed it back to the right.
Tess half expected Jak to be angry about this -- a teenager he might’ve been, but Krew never cared about Tess serving him whatever was watered down the most as long as he paid. And since it wasn't safe to drink the water in most of Haven, there wasn't much else Jak could drink without getting sick. But to Tess’s surprise, Jak only shrugged with a goodnatured laugh.
"So close! I'll get it next pass."
"Good luck with that," Damas snorted, leaning an elbow on one knee and pointing. "I've got eyes on the back of my head."
Jak almost seemed like he was going to argue that, but then he appeared to remember something. He grinned boyishly and settled back into his seat.
"It's true, he does," he said conversationally to everyone and no one.
The elderly Lurker looked up from her spindle with a croaking harrumph. "Little one is too little for grog," she scolded. "Too little for Running the Spire, too!"
Damas took this in stride. "Our rites of passage in the desert are more closely monitored than up north," he assured the old Wastelander. "Any trouble he gets into is wholly of his own making. Isn't that right, Jak?"
Jak snorted. "You're really not gonna let that Arena thing go, are you?"
"You took out a wall with a half dead metalpede," Damas answered dryly, "Lava clean-up took two weeks. No I'm not letting "that Arena thing" go."
Well, Tess mused, clearly some things hadn't changed.
#fic prompts#writing prompts#snippet tuesday#jak and daxter#dadmas#king damas#adopted dadmas#jnd tess#spy tess#wastelander ocs#jak and daxter ocs#the old Lurkers in Foothills Clan all see Dark Jak as a juvenile Lurker and all insist that he's too skinny and must be freezing#Jak accidentally acquired like six Lurker grandparents#Daxter owning an apparently successful pub makes me think he knows something about food and drink prep#Daxter is unquestioned king of the kitchen and he rules the campfire with an iron paw#headcanon that Tess waters down anything Jak drinks in Jak 2 because he's A Kid and also nobody wants to see Inebriated Dark Jak#adopted dadmas au
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TOUCH ME AND LOVE ME
words: 500
genre: mostly fluff and slightly suggestive
pairing: gn!reader x geto suguru
summary: you were tired from the day and wanted nothing more than sleep until you opened the door and saw geto’s beautiful smile.
THE RAIN poured down as the thick drops hit the window next to Suguru who wondered when you’d be back home. As if you knew he was missing you, he heard you putting the keys on the lock, turning around to see you.
But he wasn’t prepared to see a tired version of you, that was looking so drained and without the usual stars you carried on your eyes.
“Baby… What happened?” He quickly approached you with worry in his eyes, the fading light from outside making his eyes shinier than usual.
“Just a bad day” You mumbled as you gently put your hand on his soft cheek “…But it’s better now that I am here with you”
After saying these words, the brightest and most sweet smile appeared on his face “Come here”
He pushed you into his chest, as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You sighed, listening to his peaceful heartbeat while your hands traveled along his back to make sure you wouldn’t miss a thing from this moment.
He removed himself from the hug, making you frown “Do you want me to cook something for you? You must be starving-“
You stopped him, placing a finger on his lips “I don’t want anything else except for you”
A laugh escaped his lips, a joyful laugh that echoed in your ears and made you smile as well “I see even when you’re tired you just can’t stop being a natural flirt”
His hand went to his head as he untied his hair, shiny black long hair falling to his shoulders.
“That’s not fair” You pointed out. Suguru knew too damn well that your weakness was seeing him with his hair down and now he was teasing with it.
“What’s not fair?” He asked innocently as you let out a gasp when he grabbed you by the waist with a strong grip.
“This whole thing” You said “But two can play that game”
Your hands quickly grabbed his hair, smashing your lips on his. He hummed in response, as the grip he held you in got tighter. His lips were soft on yours, he tasted like mint, probably because of his favorite gum that he always carried with him.
While you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, you two didn’t even notice you had been walking until you two fell on the bed.
“Ow!” You both said at the same time, as Suguru hit his head on the wall and you hit your hand that tried to attenuate the fall.
You looked down, your face an inch away from Suguru’s. He raised an eyebrow and you two just started laughing, the whole situation making you relax and lose some tension.
Taking the chance, you laid your head on his chest as one of your hands caressed that area, tracing the outline until reaching his collarbone. He let out a soft sigh, pulling you closer to him.
“Nothing feels better than cuddling with you after a long day” You whispered, feeling yourself start to drift away to dreamland with the comfort of the man beside you.
“Sleep well, my love. You deserve it” He kissed the top of your head but you were already in a deep sleep, his words seeming far away.
#suguro#suguro geto#geto#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto x y/n#getou suguru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#anime imagines#anime#getou suguru#geto headcanons#jjk geto#suguru fluff#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jujutsu kaisen fanfic
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Touya being a prostitute in the time in between his stay at the hospital and joining the league. His hair would still be its natural snow white and the markings on his skin still light, especially since he just got out from hospital care. I think it would be pretty fun if he met a younger Hawks at that time and the both of them forming a connection, where Keigo was just a starting hero with nobody that knows his name and Touya being an overworked teenager trying every job available to make ends meet.
The two would meet every week without fail to either fall into bed together or spend their time talking about the most random shit. Just lighthearted things, Keigo finding out that turtles were Touya's favorite animal and Touya learning about Keigo's fascination of golden things after that time he wore a golden mesh top. Touya got railed so hard he wobbled around like a baby fawn for three days straight. Keigo gave him a a golden and very very shiny dangling earrings in the shape of a feather after the encounter, and Touya would always wear it to their meetings together just to see the Keigo's bird like eyes prick like a predator about to go on a hunt.
The meetings keep happening for months when suddenly Keigo just dropped off the face of the earth, no show of his face or even a single text. Eventually Touya accepted that it was another person he cared about abandoning him but then he saw the news about pro hero Hawks breaking the top 10. The utter hurt he felt when he realized he got dropped yet again when something better and shinier came along, in this case it would be the spotlight of being a top hero for Hawks.
Oh, or them meeting again in the League but Hawks wouldn't recognize Dabi with all the scars and staples, the hard edges of the man so far from Touya who was soft spoken, showing nothing but care to his favorite bird. At first they'd both be untrusting, both for different reasons. Hawks sees this as nothing but a mission but in Dabi's case this was the man he thought cared for him, yet the hero didn't even recognize him on their multiple meetings. The inevitable attraction eventually winning out though and the both of them falls into bed but Dabi would be reluctant to be touched because he's so, so tired of being used for something. A body to warm the bed, an in with the league, a placeholder, a replacement.
I still don't know how to end this but I'll probably write a 5+1 with Hawks noticing all the clues and how horrible Hawks would feel when he realized this was the man that he met all those years ago, now hardened by time and experience. The man he abandoned after the commission forced him to focus on being a top hero. Touya, who he looked months after getting into the top 5 but all that was left was an empty apartment where traces of his almost lover lingered - one half of the feather earring he gave to Touya sitting at the drawer, the edges looking like it got melted off - but he wasn't there. And now here he was, no. 2 hero and still using Touya(Dabi??) to get an in with the league, like nothing ever changed from their teenage years.
(gosh I wish I got the motivation to actually write this fic because im a sucker for reconciliation stories, especially when there's a lot of history and angst between the characters haha)
#dabihawks#dabi x hawks#touya x keigo#takami keigo#pro hero hawks#todoroki touya#dabi#drabbles#mha#bnha
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Some fem!harringrove smut because I'm in a mood for it. (I should really focus on putting the finishing touches on my next Perkingham fic instead but 🤷♀️ it's mostly done so Ishould have that up soon.)
Billie is at home in bed, head buried between Stevie's shaking thighs. She finds peace and safety here that she has never gotten anywhere else. The hand in her short cropped curls making heat shoot through her belly as Stevie whines, wordlessly begging for more.
Billie gives it to her, tongue working faster, pressing in and out as her thumb works Stevie's clit. Two fingers pressing in alongside her tongue, muscles clenching down on them hard, almost as hard as the thighs clenching against her ears. Stevie moans and shouts her pleasure to the ceiling, fist tightening almost painfully in Billie's hair as she shakes and cums in messy squirts that are eagerly lapped up.
Billie shifts, hands dig into soft thick thighs, leaving marks that will show beneath the hem of Stevie's shorts tomorrow. She pulls her tongue from inside of Stevie, firm and flat as she drags it over her labia, tip flicking against her clit making her shake and moan again. Billie grins, the slick of Stevie's pleasure shinier than lip gloss, dripping down her chin.
She rubs a thumb down from navel to dark wet curls before laying her hand flat and resting her chin on it enjoying the way Stevie's stomach quivers as she blows against the sweat slick skin. Brown eyes flutter open after a long minute, head cocking. "What are you thinking about sunflower?" Stevie asks, hand shifting from curls to the shaved side for Billie's scalp and then lower to her cheek.
Billie leans into it, content and happy, smiling as she turns to drop a kiss against that palm. "Just how lucky I am pretty girl." Stevie gives her a bright smile, shifting onto an elbow and making the cami that has been rucked up under her armpits fall down over her breasts stopping halfway down her nipples, unable to go further with out a tug.
Billie reaches up, flicking a nipple and watching her breast jiggle as Stevie groans jerking under her, calf rubbing against her ribs. Stevie hooks her foot over Billie's back like she is trying to keep her close like maybe she might leave if she does not. Billie leans to the side and kisses the two moles on her inner thigh before she leans back into that palm eyes soft as she stares up at Stevie. There is no place Billie would rather be than here between her girl's thighs.
Stevie's eyes are soft, the heel of her foot rubbing against Billie's spine, thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Seems I'm the lucky one tonight, you've been ravenous."
Billie had come home rearing to go, soft and hot in the gut after realizing they have been practically living together for nearly a year now. Billie catches that thumb with her lips, teeth grazing gently over the pad. "Can never get enough of you." Billie murmurs honest and raw, something she is safe to be here.
Stevie takes a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering like the very notion is getting her even wetter. Her thumb presses in and draging Billie's bottom lips down as her dark eyes full of soft liquid heat fluttering back open. "How about you give your jaw a break and come sit on my face. Let me get a taste of you in return. You're not the only one wanting."
Billie grins shucking off her panties and shorts as quickly as possible without dumping her full weight onto Stevie's stomach. Stevie laughs, hands coming up to steady and slow her movements down. Hands lingering, mouth wandering and working Billie into a frenzy.
There is one thing that might be better than being between Stevie's thighs and that's having Stevie between hers.
#harringrove#jellyghostfic#fem!harringrove#fanfiction#st fic#it spicy#not sure why I bother sharing#habit I guess
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