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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.”

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head.

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-”

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions.

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going.

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away.

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.”

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you.

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you.

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin.

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

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bunnycvnts · 3 months

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new bf! rafe that is slowly, very very slowly, getting used to having a girlfriend that cares about him !!

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rafe was having a particularly rough day with ward screaming at him to be a better man and running out of gas three blocks from tannyhill, so when you came over that night, his attitude was at an all-time high.

every little thing was ticking him off. from the way his collared shirt was sitting against his skin to the crickets chirping outside, and to the way the tv was far too loud considering how close you were sitting. he was overstimulated, annoyed, and really just needed a fucking break.

when you got up to get a glass of water and your heels clacked against the wood floor, he sort of lost it. “can you- seriously? take the fucking shoes off.”

you paused at the entrance of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing as you turned around slowly to look at your boyfriend. “what?” you weren’t upset; you were just thoroughly confused about his outburst. you’d been together for three months now and had seen your fair share of him being dramatic or moody, but it was rarely ever pointed towards you.

“the heels, they’re driving me fucking nuts, clicking and clacking through the house, and the tv?” he paused to gesture angrily at the screen, “why is it so fucking loud? you’re sitting like six feet away from it.”

your teeth sunk into your lower lip, quickly slipping off your heels and heading back towards rafe, your feet now padding lightly against the floor, almost silently. “is everything okay?” the remote sat in your hand as you spoke, muting the tv effectively. you eyed him cautiously, now noticing the way his hands were fidgeting and his knee wouldnt stop bouncing.

his face scrunched. “yes, everything’s okay; that shits just mad annoying, babe. it’s giving me a fuckin’ headache.” your hand reached out to rub his arm soothingly.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know. how about we go to your room? it’ll be quieter, and you can change out of your clothes from today. i can go home too if you’d prefer. it’s okay.” your words were chosen carefully, bordering on demanding, and you tried to refrain from any tone that sounded condescending. it was easy to spot that he was overstimulated, and you only wanted to help.

“ye-yeah, yeah. let’s go to my room. don’t leave; why would you leave? i told you everything’s fine.” he didn’t know why you were acting this way, and it made his stomach feel weird. you guided him by his hand up the stairs and to his bedroom, speaking quietly as you went.

“i just know you need a minute, baby. that’s all. know you need some peace and quiet. maybe a nap. will help you feel better, promise.” he paused on the stairs at your words, but your hand tugged at his, making him regain movement.

once you both reached his bedroom, you pulled out some gym shorts and a loose t shirt for him to change into, shoving them into his hands. “here, put these on!” you smiled up at him before moving to his bedside table, where he kept matches. lighting one, you held it to a candle you had bought him a few weeks ago. he had noted how great the scent was but felt it was too girly for him to buy a candle— and he wasn’t girly. so, you took it upon yourself to buy it, and the trimmed wick and melted down wax covering the sides didn’t go unnoticed.

rafe changed quickly and leaned against the wall to watch you. the way you moved so efficiently and effortlessly through his room made his heart beat a little faster. you didn’t have to ask where he kept leisure clothes or the matches. you didn’t think twice before pulling the blanket up from the made bed and fluffing the pillows for him. you didn’t even need him to tell you that he hated sleeping with the top sheet, as you knowingly kept it tucked into the mattress. just watching you made his headache lessen, and he didn’t fight when you pulled him off the wall and helped him get situated in his bed.

“do you want some water or medicine?” his head shook at your question, denying it. all he felt like he needed was you. no one had ever paid so much attention to him or knew what made him feel better or worse. no one had taken the time or given the effort to care so lovingly for him. so when you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand running through his hair gently, all he could do was open his arms to gesture you closer. the blonde shuffled even closer to you, resting his head on your stomach, so you could continue massaging his head and playing with his hair.

“nah, just my girl.”

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ok this is my first writing post pls be nice

taglist: @sunkissedrafe

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reiding-writing · 6 months

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melatonin and oxytocin [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer pair up in an inn room that just happens to have one bed. Oh, and did you know that physical contact promotes better sleep? Well, that’s what Spencer says anyway. And he’s always right.

WARNINGS: literally none, crazy i know

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers

wc: 5.1k

masterlist!!

a/n: here’s my official apology for all of the angst i put you through in erotomania 😭 i dont write pure fluff like ever so please bare with me if it’s a little stunted 😭🫶 also this is very very loosely based of off 05X21 - Exit Wounds.

The team was currently in Alaska working on a case, set up in a small inn during their stay. The issue was, they could only provide 4 rooms despite there being 8 members on the team, meaning that everyone had to double up for the night.

Spencer’s first instinct was to turn towards Morgan, but before he even had the chance to open his mouth Morgan was profusely shaking his head. “Absolutely not,”

“Wha-” Morgan held up his hand before Spencer could question his decision. “Never again. You are some kind of vampire I swear,”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in Morgan’s direction, met with a shrug. “This man needs his beauty sleep,”

“Dibs!” Garcia leaned over the back of the couch she was sat on so she could grasp at Morgan’s forearm. “I call dibs.”

Morgan chuckles at Garcia’s enthusiasm, leaning over to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Alright, me and you babygirl,”

Garcia’s soft giggle is joined by a yawn from where you’re sat next to her, and you rub your eye with your knuckle as you lean your head against the back of the couch. “Can we just all choose quickly? I’m exhausted-”

The end of your sentence is cut off with another yawn, only further emphasising your point. Your words were definitely more blunt than usual, your tiredness most definitely making you more irritable.

“I uh- You can share a room with me if you want,” Spencer’s voice is timid as he speaks, and if he wasn’t stood directly behind you you’re not sure you would’ve heard it.

"Sure great, let’s go-" You drag one of the room keys off the small table in front of you as you stand, throwing your travel bag over your shoulder and walking around the couch, placing the palm of your hand flat on Spencer’s back to push him towards the stairs up to the rooms. “Goodnight.”

Your call back to the rest of the team is more of a custom than a genuine wish for them to get a good rest, and if you were more alert you’d probably hit yourself over the back of the head for being so blunt. But politeness wasn’t on your mind right now. You just wanted to sleep.

You fumble with putting the key in the door through your drowsiness, but eventually manage to push the door open to the room.

It’s about what you’d expect from somewhere small like this in the middle of nowhere.

The flooring was dark, with a small rectangular rug in a wine red colour in the centre, the walls an off-white with a slightly suspicious looking water stain in one of the corners. There was a dark-brown leather armchair leaned against the wall next to an ajar door leading to a bathroom, with a decorative pillow of the same shade of red as the rug on the floor. The arm of the chair had a noticeable rip, most probably from a child who’d got bored whilst staying there.

The room was warmly lit from the two lamps on the two side tables, the only other thing on them a basket-weaved mug coaster. The over head light was notably turned off, unable to be used at all seeing as it didn’t even have a bulb in it.

And of course, there was a single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, it’s frame the same dark wood as the floorboards and definitely just as worn.

Although, the duvet and its pillows seemed brand new, a clean, sparkling white that stood out against the dis-colouring of the wall behind it, a throw blanket over the end and two decorative pillows on top, again matching the other decorative pieces in their dark red colouring.

You didn’t even have to look over at Spencer to know that he was definitely a little perturbed.

With a sigh your drag yourself into the room, dumping your bag on the armchair and unzipping it to pull out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to change into.

Spencer however, remained stood in the doorway, seemingly considering whether it would be a better option for him to go out and sleep in the SUV.

His rational brain told him to just suck it up and get on with it, but he couldn’t help that subconscious voice in the back of his head that rattled on about how unhygienic hotel rooms are, especially in small rural areas like this.

Not only that, he was also battling the reality that he would inevitably have to share a bed with you, even if it was large enough to house both of you without any unintentional physical contact; He was at least grateful that it actually looked clean.

“Can I- leave the light on?” He breaks his own train of thought as he pushes the door closed with his foot, surrendering to the inevitability of spending the night in this dingy room with you.

You give him a short nod as your answer, joined by your third yawn in the span of five minutes. "God I genuinely think I could fall asleep standing up right now-"

Spencer chuckles at your yawn and nods at your words, leaving his bag on the floor as he takes a seat on the left edge of the bed, pulling out a copy of Les Fluers de Mal and flipping through it until he found the page he’d left on.

“It has been scientifically proven that it is physically impossible to fall asleep while standing, as your cerebellum would be triggered in response to the lack of stimulation which would cause a reflexive response to make you sit down.”

Of course Spencer would know something like that.

You rifle through your bag to find your toothbrush and travel toothpaste. "So what I’m hearing is I could fall asleep standing, but then i’d just end up sitting down," You zip your bag shut again once you’ve retrieved everything you need, pushing open the door to the small en suite bathroom, which thankfully, was much newer than the bedroom. "That sounds like falling asleep standing up if you ask me,"

Your voice muffles ever so slightly as you shut the door behind you.

“Yes, that is a fairly logical conclusion,” He nods slightly as he reads, not taking in the fact that you can’t see him from behind the door.

“Although I still believe it doesn’t quite count as 'falling asleep standing', as when you sit down your brain then activates its natural response to the loss of stimulation in order to put you to sleep. You see, it is impossible to enter the first stage of the sleep cycle within that split second between standing and sitting down, meaning that your body would still be awake.”

You chuckle lightly as you stick your head out of the bathroom once you’ve finished changing, toothbrush in your mouth as you dump your work clothes over the arm of the chair.

“The act of falling asleep occurs when your brain begins to transition from a state of wakefulness to a state of deep sleep. This is signalled by a spike in alpha-waves, which creates a relaxed feeling leading to…” He trails off as he watches you walk past him, figuring you’re not listening to him anymore.

"Why’d you stop?" You straighten your posture as you stop momentarily in your tracks, turning your head towards him.

“Oh, I- thought that you weren’t interested in listening to what I was saying.” His reply betrays his surprise at your engagement.

“I was simply going to add that when you are sitting and the spike in alpha waves occurs and you begin to fall asleep, your brain will automatically trigger a response that causes you to slump forward, hence causing you to sit down.”

Your body subconsciously mirrors your brain’s interpretation of what slumping over means as you walk past him again to spit out your toothpaste.

"Oh- like when you’re in a car and your head falls forwards-"

“Yes, that is a fairly similar example actually. Your brain receives the sign that you are beginning to fall asleep when your head starts to nod forward, and this causes a trigger within the brain’s automatic control system that in turn activates a response that makes you sit up straight so that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.” As Spencer speaks, he shuts his book, leaving it on the side table as he unpacks his bag so he can also change.

“It’s actually rather surprising how the brain is capable of performing such complex tasks that we sometimes don’t even realise,” He said with an astonished gleam in his eye.

"Huh, the more you know-" You give a satisfied nod at Spencer’s little exposition, taking a seat on the right side of the bed and leaning over to turn the lamp off, allowing Spencer to leave his on as he retreats into the bathroom.

You’d never express it verbally, especially not to Spencer’s face, but you quite liked when he’d ramble about topics he was interested in and knew a lot about, it was both educational and weirdly charming.

You let out another yawn as you pulled back the duvet to lie down, extremely grateful that the mattress of the bed was just as new as the bedding itself. Looked like you might be able to get a good night’s sleep after all.

"Did you know that the human brain has over 100 billion neurons making over 100 trillion connections between them. Each second, a 100 billion electrical messages pass from one neuron to another. It is really quite fascinating." Spencer continued his tangents as he exited the bathroom, now clad in a black t-shirt and a pair of tardis pyjama pants that you found oddly endearing.

"That’s a lot of electrical signals…"

"A lot is an understatement" He chuckled, moving over to the left side of the bed and carefully laying himself down, making sure he wasn’t accidentally making any contact with you.

"It is so complex that it is believed that only a portion of our neurons actually fire each second, meaning that there is potentially trillions of more electrical messages going to unused parts of our brain." He seems to get lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling as he considers the idea further.

You hum softly with a small nod at his assessment, turning to lie on your side so you were half-facing him as he looked up at the ceiling, and you couldn’t help but find yourself tracing his jawline with your eyes as you studied how the dim lighting from the lamp besides him gave it even more definition.

Spencer turns to look at you after a few moments and notices your sleepy expression, feeling a tinge of guilt at keeping you awake since you are clearly exhausted. “I should probably shut up and let you get at least a little sleep. “ He chuckles awkwardly, “Sorry for rambling on, I kind of got carried away.”

"It’s okay… I like listening to you…" You rub one of your eyes with your knuckle as you struggle to keep them fully open, eyelids fluttering as you blink repeatedly to keep them from closing shut. You weren’t done looking at him yet.

Spencer’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your confession of enjoying listening to what he had to say.

He then starts to talk again, his voice quieter as he tries to accommodate it to your tiredness. “It’s not the brain’s electrical signals that dictate if you sleep or not, by the way. It is actually a neurotransmitter called melatonin.”

“Melatonin is the hormone responsible for controlling your sleep cycle, and it’s responsible for that sleepy feeling we get when we're tired.”

"Mhm…” You nod softly against the pillow, that was one fact you were definitely familiar with thanks to the joys of university, although hearing it come from Spencer’s mouth just made you want to go along with what he was saying like it was brand new to you.

“Melatonin also helps to regulate your body’s circadian rhythm, which is basically your daily schedule,” Spencer explained.

“Our bodies are naturally conditioned to go through a cycle of sleep and wakefulness. During the day your body will release cortisol and adrenaline for stress management and focus, and during the night your body will release melatonin to help you relax, making you feel sleepy.”

“Well i’m certainly feeling the effects of melatonin right now…” You try to keep up your responses to what Spencer is saying without falling asleep, but you can’t help closing your eyes as you focus on the softness of his voice.

Spencer smiles at your response and nods as he looks at you and notices your eyes are closed. “I should probably stop rambling then, since I don’t want to keep you awake for any longer…” He spoke even softer if that was possible, his eyes trailing over your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.

"I like your voice Spencer, it’s calming…" Your words are half muffled as you mumble them against your pillow. "And your facts are interesting…"

“Huh?” He asked you with a raised eyebrow, having not quite heard what you’d said.

"I like hearing you…" You simplify your words a little bit as you repeat what you’d said, a little louder this time, and you force your eyes back open again to look at him.

Spencer’s cheeks immediately turn pink at the compliment, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He is then quiet for a moment as he tries to process what you said.

“You… like hearing my voice?” He asks, a tinge of confusion evident in his voice, to which you reply with a soft nod and a small hum of affirmation. "I hate it when people interrupt you…"

Spencer’s cheeks remain a light shade of pink as he tries to process what you said, and he stays quiet for a while, trying to think of how he could respond to your little confession.

“I… Well… thank you-” he replies, trying to stay calm whilst also hiding his flustered smile.

“No problem…”

Spencer smiles at your response, eyes studying your expression in an attempt to better understand your feelings. All that he can make out however is your hair, and your tired and half-closed eyes.

“You know, you should probably go to sleep.” He chuckles softly, “It’s quite late after all,”

“Yeah… that’s a good idea…” Your voice is quiet as you mutter out an agreement, but you can’t help from feeling a mild disappointment that your small conversation with Spencer was coming to an end.

“Did you know it takes an average of 7 minutes to fall asleep?” You murmur out the fact as a last resort, half-hoping that it will encourage Spencer to keep talking to you.

“Well, it depends on the person actually” His reply is soft and non derogatory, and his eyes remain locked on the peaceful tiredness in your expression. “On average it takes about 15 minutes of lying down in a relaxing environment to fall asleep, however for some people it might take 20 minutes or more. On the other hand, some people can fall asleep much quicker, with one study finding that it only took an individual 65 seconds to fall asleep.”

“I wish I was that person,” You shift slightly to make yourself more comfortable, pulling your right leg upwards towards your chest and incidentally brushing it against his in the process.

Spencer is lost in his emotions as he stares at you, and it takes you turning your head against the pillow for him to realise that he wasn’t fully listening to what you’d said. “Oh- Yeah, pretty lucky huh?”

His eyes avert from you after that, suddenly very intrigued by the water stain in the top corner of the wall opposite where you were laying down, trying to remind himself that it is inappropriate to stare at his colleagues like that.

But despite all the rationalisation, his heart continues to beat at an accelerated pace and he begins to feel strangely excited seeing you move around the bed. You might be tired, but he certainly wasn’t. Not anymore.

Spencer turns to look at you again as you cover your face with your arm, seemingly protecting your eyes from the light of the lamp on his side table.

He’s silent for a moment as he finds himself staring at you again, mentally punching himself for finding himself getting so lost in your facial features.

"Do you want the light off?" He asks you, keeping the tone of his voice gentle.

“No it’s okay,” Shake your head underneath your arm, “You can keep it on…”

You knew about Spencer’s phobia of the dark. The whole team did. It was pretty much a given after what he went through a few years ago with Tobias Hankel. And you wouldn’t mind sacrificing your comfort of sleeping in pitch black darkness if it meant that Spencer wouldn’t be uncomfortable or afraid.

Spencer gives a nod at your answer, and you can tell he’s relieved that you didn’t want him to turn it off. After a few seconds he speaks again.

"Can I ask you something?" He says, keeping his voice soft.

“Mhm?” You move your arm from your face to rest against your forehead so that you can look at him as he speaks.

Spencer's cheeks immediately turn a light shade of pink again as he meets your eyes. “It's… uh… Well, it's a strange question,” He replies awkwardly

“Would… you mind if I… uh….” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “Would you mind if I put my arm around you?” He eventually manages to say, keeping his voice soft.

“Huh-?” You let you arm fall back down to your side as you process his question, eyes blinking more awake and Spencer’s cheeks only turn more red as he sees your surprised expression.

“Well… You see… I- it's a common thing that people do when sleeping… to… uh… to hold one another..” Spencer replies, still keeping his tone soft and gentle. He begins feels incredibly stupid for even bringing up this topic, hastily trying to explain himself before it has the opportunity to become awkward.

“Is it?-” Your eyes flicker around his face, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as your exhaustion seems to momentarily disappear.

“Uhm… well… usually it’s for romantic reasons,” He replies, his face turning a light shade of pink yet again. “But… uh… I’ve … heard… that some people like to cuddle in a… platonic way… to help them fall asleep…” His voice threatens to waver slightly as he speaks, and he hides the lower half of his face in the bedsheets in an attempt to hide his cheeks, not wanting you to see how red he’s gone.

“Oh- Uh- Well, if you think it’ll help…” Your subconscious mind knew that Spencer was pulling those facts out of his ass, but you didn’t have the mind to care, not when he was practically openly inviting you to drape yourself all over him.

Spencer perks up when you give him the go-ahead, gently wrapping his arm around you and lightly pulling you closer to his body as he turns to look at your face. “Is this okay?”

His expression screams nervousness as he stares at you, praying that you don’t find his actions uncomfortable.

“Mhm…” Your response is short and direct as you nod, adjusting yourself to lie with your head resting under his chin, allowing your arm to drape over his torso like he’d done yours and bringing your leg up to rest over his waist.

Spencer can’t help but smile as he feels you make yourself more comfortable, sliding one of his arms underneath you and moving the other to hold the inside crease of your knee.

“Do you know that physical contact has a calming effect on people’s minds?” He keeps his voice gentle, as he always does.

You give a soft hum that gently vibrates against the skin of his neck, sending a small shudder down Spencer’s back.

He carefully adjusts the position of his head so that he can keep looking at your half-closed eyes, figuring that considering the two of you were practically intertwined like a pretzel that it would be okay for him to gaze at you again.

“You know that skin-to-skin contact promotes the release of oxytocin…. It… uh… it can help to make you feel calm and comfortable,” He says softly.

“Oxytocin…” You mumble the word under your breath as you try to remember what the hormone is, “…the love hormone..?”

Spencer’s voice turns to a whisper as he responds. “That’s correct. A lot of people refer to it as the ‘love hormone’ because it is released at high levels when people engage in romantic activities or are falling in love.”

“It is also responsible for the feeling of trust and comfort,” His hand on your leg begins to draw small circles against your skin, barely feathering over you to the point where you can hardly feel it.

“Would you believe me if I told you that we were producing this hormone right now?”

You sigh softly against his neck at the ghost of his fingers against your leg, only half listening to what he’s saying as you try to focus on the feeling, and Spencer responds with one of his own as he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin, leaving small goosebumps in it’s wake.

Spencer’s fingers slowly widen their ascent up and down the side of your leg, brushing along your thigh as his fingertips gently skim your skin.

“Comforting, isn’t it?” His voice is low and gentle as he feels just how comforting your presence is, slightly shocked by how excited he feels when being this close to you.

“Yeah…” You muster up as much of nod under his chin as you can, giving his torso a slight squeeze from where your hand is around it.

Spencer smiles at your gentle squeeze of his torso, noting how light it is as you barely manage to add any pressure at all.

“Do you know that physical touch also triggers a person’s serotonin and dopamine production?” He asks you softly.

As if to test his fact himself, he moves his thumb up and down your thigh with a little more pressure, his fingertips leaving behind a trail of almost unnoticeable goosebumps.

“Yeah… Yeah I knew that…”

Spencer smiles softly at your confirmation. “Then you know the feeling they’re giving you right now?”

You give him another small nod as he pulls you a little closer to him, stroking his fingers a little higher up your thigh. His arm underneath your side shifts to your mid back and starts to gently massage at the tense muscles formed over your last few days bent over a desk to work on the case’s profile.

The slow pressure elicits a soft groan from your lips, a pleasant release from all of the tension you’d been carrying over the last few days, slowly dissipating as his fingers worked their magic over your t-shirt.

Spencer can feel you starting to relax into his body as his fingers work against your skin, and his breath threatens to catch in his throat as your hand moves from resting around his torso to up over his shoulder, fingers curling closed against the fabric of his t-shirt.

Spencer leans his nose against the crown of your head, the trace scent of lavender entering his nose as he took a slow breath in, most likely a trace from when you’d last washed your hair.

By this point, the two of you were very aware that the position you were in was anything but platonic, his hand tracing patterns into your thigh, your head pressed into the crook of his neck, and your hand slowly tracing over the curve of his shoulder to take it’s place cupping his cheek, your thumb pressed against the front of his ear with the rest of your fingers splayed in the soft curls gracing the side of his head.

“I’ve run out of facts…” Spencer laughs nervously at his confession, breaking the small silence between you.

“you’ve run out of facts…?” You force your eyes to blink open again as you repeat his statement as a question, pulling your head out of it’s position under his chin to look up at him curiously as you arbitrarily trace your thumb over his jaw. It wasn’t at all like Spencer to just not have anything to say.

Spencer’s face turns a dark shade of red when he hears your question, made much worse at the feeling of your thumb on his jaw, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine. “I- Yeah….” He says quietly.

Suddenly a thought passes through his brain.

“I… actually…. I do have one more fact…” his voice turns to a whisper as he speaks, a tinge of nervousness still lingering in his tone.

“Hmm?” Your expression brightens a little, and he catches the small glisten in your eyes as the dim light from the lamp reflects off of your irises.

There’s a short pause.

Spencer then clears his throat before speaking.

“...Do you know that right now... at this very moment... I want to kiss you…?”

He remains facing away, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin as he mutters out his confession, trailing off at the end to the point where if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard it.

“...Is that okay…?” His voice was barely a whisper, scared that if he were to speak too loudly he’d scare you off and you’d never want to speak to him again.

“You want to… kiss me..?” His confession spurred you further awake, no longer struggling to keep your eyes open as you scanned his expression, your hand halting its movement against his jaw.

The sight of you gazing up at him makes his heart skip a beat and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Spencer then looks down at the space between your noses, and speaks nervously.

“…I- Yes, I want… to kiss you…” His eyes quickly dart over to your lips and back again as he waits for any signal of acknowledgement or refusal.

“Will it help us fall asleep?” The question leaves your mouth instinctively as a way to try an alleviate the mild awkwardness between the two of you, and you internally berate yourself for not taking the situation seriously.

Spencer laughs a small, nervous laugh when you ask if it would help you both fall asleep, moving his hands back over to your thigh and gently brushing his fingertips against it.

Spencer then looks down at your lips again as he speaks. “No, I don’t think so…” He says, his tone once again turning to a whisper. “…if anything it might actually wake us both up further…”

“Just say it will so I can kiss you-“ Spencer remains silent for a moment, face frozen in shock. He then lets out a nervous sigh as he looks down at your lips again.

“…It- Yeah- Yeah it’ll help us fall asleep…” he whispers, his voice barely audible, and he gives you a nod that’s a little too eager.

“Then there’s no harm in trying right?” Your hand cups the side of his face, gently encouraging it down towards yours so you can finally place a kiss on those perfect pink lips of his.

“Yeah…” He slowly leans forward towards you, taking in your faint scent, the warmth coming from your breath, the softness and moisture of your lips.

Spencer’s lips slowly press against yours, just barely ghosting them with the tiniest bit of pressure. He then slowly pulls back, his eyes darting all over your face before again settling on the stain in the corner of the wall. It was just so interesting.

You take his chin in your hand gently to turn his face back towards your own, your thumb gently tracing the line under his bottom lip as your eyes scan his cheeks, pouring over the extremely faint spotted freckles over his cheeks. You’d never noticed them before. But then again you’d never been close enough to.

“I’m not quite sure it worked… Maybe we should try again…” You watch as Spencer’s face erupts into a beautiful pink flush, a soft breath resembling a laugh leaving his mouth. “Yeah, we can try again-”

Spencer nods as he speaks cutting his own sentence short as he leans down to kiss you again, adding a little more pressure this time as he seemingly grows in confidence. The kiss remains chaste and short, and as he pulls away for the second time his eyes remain fixed on you, smiling alongside his mouth.

“Is it working now?” He laughs softly as he speaks, eyelashes gently fluttering as he places a kiss on the bridge of your nose, his fingers slowly sliding into your hair at your temples.

“I’m not sure yet…” You respond with a kiss of your own placed against the curve of his chin. “Maybe we should keep going…” You place another kiss right in the corner of his mouth, and Spencer sighs softly as it misses his lips by a hair. “For research purposes…”

He smiles lightly when you mention it being for ‘research’, and his voice grows even quieter as he speaks.

“Yeah… research purposes…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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mustluvcatz-reloaded · 5 months

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New fences and gates! :D There are 2 types of fences - one with a floor edge hider, the other without - both come in 12 colors, and 2 gates - a 1 tile gate and a 2 tile gate with 11 wood recolors and 5 metal recolors (all shown EXCEPT the invisible metal recolor, for obvious reasons, lol). The 2 tile gate is repositoried to the 1 tile gate and they both have 2 subsets.

To note: the gates have the usual in game wonkiness: they're darker on one side and depending on which way they're facing, there may be a bit of glitchy wonkiness when scrolling around that has nothing to do with the actual mesh. (I checked and tested, then checked and tested again!)

If you want all 24 fences in game at once, they all have different GUIDs so you can. The fences with the floor edge look odd when used on the ground - that's why there are 2 versions. Both gates will work with both fence versions.

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

These match the Simple Fences, Holy Simoly Victorian Porch Add-Ons and Numenor Wooden Stair recolors I made in the past.

#ts2cc #sims 2 download #build mode #fences #gates #new meshes #mustluvcatz

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months

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How adorable is this little hobbity 1960 house in Balnaca, Bihor, Romania? It has 2bds, 1ba and is only €200,000 / $217,390 and it's amazing.

Look at the inlaid details on the door. 2 story pitched ceiling with beams allows you to look up and see the 2nd level. Wouldn't it be lovely to lie and read or nap in this swing, next to the fireplace?

How cozy is this living room with the lovely wall of shelving.

What wonderful stairs.

On this side of the stairs there's a matching wood burning heat stove/oven and the kitchen.

This house is too cute.

This is so pretty.

The cabinets are made of frames with wooden crates in place of drawers.

Love the blue paint on the sideboard.

Step down from the dining room and there's this wonderful conversation pit. Clearly, mid-century modern conversation pits were popular all over the world.

Unusual bedrooms on the 2nd level are open to the main floor, and separated by netting.

Very private property.

Within the fencing it's so pretty. 1.8 hectares / 4.57 acres is quite a lot of land.

https://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-85560-xl4ht9/balnaca-other-bihor-bh?

#rustic homes #homes romania #hobbit houses #houses #house tours #home tour #unique homes #homes under $400k.

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toxicanonymity · 10 months

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birds of prey (one shot)

2600 words, dark RAIDER!tommy x f!reader

Summary: Tommy recently joined the raiding group that killed everyone in your family. When the group comes back to claim the house for their own use, he finds you in the basement. A/N: This is a DIFFERENT READER, not joel's reader. I wanna introduce raider!Tommy before raider joel crosses paths with him (we're not there yet). THANK YOU @dark-scape for the group name, symbol, and soundboard. Also to @romanarose for requesting Tommy in raider!Joel. WARNINGS!!: I8+ mdni, extremely dubious consent unsafe P in V and oral M receiving, dirty talk, pet names, dark/toxic affection- do not be fooled, degradation. NO USE OF Y/N.

The raiders first came a week ago and killed everyone but you–they never found you in the basement. They took everything they could use, so you aren't sure why they're back, but in your gut you know it's them when you hear the tires on gravel. You make your way down to the basement again. The entry is through a closet floor and it looks like more of a crawl space until you climb down into it. You told everyone it’d be safest there, but they thought if they begged for their lives and let them take everything, the men might be reasonable.

The short, dirty window at the top of the wall is open and their voices make your stomach turn.

"Den's big enough, got a kitchen 'n all. Hell, wood's already chopped." They laugh and the door handle jiggles. "Locked?"

"What? Y'all lock it when ya left?"

"Didn't think so."

They bust down the door.

"So this is it," a new voice announces calmly. "The new nest."

Someone corrects him, "That's lame, man. You don't gotta call it that when he's not around."

"Takes this Birds of Prey shit too literally," another man agrees.

They start showing the new guy around.

One of the men asks, "think the big guy'll like it?"

After a moment of silence, someone says "let's talk about the big guy. " It sounds like they're planning a coup. They agree to find somewhere in the house to hide the loot and leave one man behind to guard it overnight. They break up to look for a hiding place.

—-

Inevitably, the door to your space opens. "Crawlspace," the new voice says. Then he steps down. It’s just him. He hunches over and walks until the ceiling is higher. You're huddled in the corner under a desk. He scuffs his boot on the ground and a huge layer of dust gets kicked up. He looks around for a minute and says "alright, alright," to himself. You can only see his boots. Your nose tickles from the dust and you're trying to stave off a sneeze. When his boots turn back toward the door, You're relieved. But you can't keep the tickle at bay. You squeak ever so quietly into your shoulder, then the boots turn in your direction.

Your heart goes to your throat as the man slowly crouches down. Mustache, long, dark hair, denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Heavily tattooed, though you can’t make anything out. He raises his eyebrows and his lips purse in bemusement. He clasps his large hands and says “Well hey there,” like he’s speaking to a child.

You’re silent.

“What are ya doin’ down here?”

“It’s my house,” you say.

He nods thoughtfully and his brows knit apologetically, but his voice doesn’t match. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says ominously. “My friends said it’s our house, now.” He frowns exaggeratedly.

Your eyes sting with the dusty air and you realize you’ve had your eyes wide and not blinked this entire time.

"MILLER WHERE THE HELL ARE YA," someone yells.

He sighs and stands up.

“Don’t tell them,” you beg.

“Why wouldn’t I,” he asks, still standing up, out of view.

“I’ll do anything,” you say.

“Anything,” he repeats, then sighs. “Wouldn’t’ve taken ya for that kinda girl. Looked like an angel to me.”

“MILLER!!!!”

“Please,” you beg.

“We’ll see,” he says curtly then turns around and leaves. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he announces he found a crawlspace that’ll work.

—----

They unload the stuff, then someone asks, “Who’s stayin’?”

“New guy,” someone says.

“Can ya handle it, Miller?” another voice asks. “Place like this might get spooky at night.”

The men chuckle.

“I’m good,” Miller says.

“That’s the spirit, Tommy boy.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

—

Tommy starts bringing crates down, and the men get ready to leave. They continue to talk amongst themselves upstairs on their way out. Tommy crouches down to look at you, a little closer this time, about two meters away. He smiles at you then sits on the floor with his hands behind him, not saying anything. As the men leave, you both overhear their crude banter. Tommy looks at the window as he listens.

"Think she's ready for more?"

"I call back door first." Your heart drops thinking about whoever’s waiting for them back where they came from.

"Shit, you can have it. D'ya see the lips on her?" There’s no way she’s willingly waiting for this disgusting group of men.

"I wanna see what Tommy boy can do to that pussy."

“Not tonight!” one says and they laugh.

"He doesn't have it in'm," another one says.

Tommy seems to bristle at this. Then he dons a subtle smirk, looks at you, and slowly sucks in air though his teeth like he's breaking some bad news. "'m afraid I do," he nods. "Just don’t like sharin’." He sighs. His nose twitches and you don’t like it. He’s pensive, like he has something to prove. He says, “Hope they don’t do ya like that once they find ya.”

You hug your knees and bury your head to cry. “What do you want,” you ask.

“Why don’t ya come on out for a start.”

You look at him. He’s not moving from his position. He nods toward the wall as though to give you permission to sit away from him. He watches you like a hawk as you slowly crawl, still sniffling, and you sit against the wall with your legs out.

“Good girl,” he says gently, then begins to get up. You flinch when he stands, but he takes the chair from the desk and turns it to face you. He sits in it, only about a meter away now. At this distance, you can see his freckles and the sparkle in his eyes and you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty good looking. You look at each other for a few seconds. Apparently he’s thinking the same thing. “Pretty, too. Aren’t ya, angel?”

He leans back and his chest puffs out as he takes off his denim jacket. “Too hot for this,” he mutters and throws it onto the desk. His t-shirt lets you see how strong his chest and arms are as he settles back into the chair and manspreads with his hands on his thighs. One of his hands has a fresh tattoo of a talon on it. His jeans are ripped below the one knee. “So you’ll do anything, huh,” he says contemplatively. He smooths his hair and looks at the window, then around the room. “Guess I’ve got all night to find out what that means.”

You consider your options. If he really doesn’t like sharing, giving yourself to him is your best shot at staying secret from the other men.

“Can I have some water,” you ask.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, what else ya want? A cheeseburger?” He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and leaves. He doesn’t come back for hours.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s been the worst week of your life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to even care what he might do to you. You fall asleep.

—--------

You wake up to the sound of boots thudding down the stairs. It’s dark out now. “Got lost, sorry,” he booms. He’s carrying a short crate that has a lantern, a jug of water, a bottle of whiskey, and some jerky. He sets the crate down on the desk. He puts the water jug next to your feet, and he lingers. He squats down and caresses your cheek with his knuckle. You smell his sweat and you smell he’s been drinking. His lips part as he looks at you, and you try to ignore the sparkle in his eyes in the lamp light. He’s sweaty, and his masculine smell makes you tingle. He offers you some jerky with a little smile but you say, “no thank you.”

“Those manners,” he whispers with a smile. His mustache twitches charmingly. He takes off his boots and sits next to you on the wall and his large hand engulfs your thigh. He wets his lips and looks at you. “What are we gonna do?” he asks softly.

“Just tell me what you want,” you whine.

He shakes his head no. “I wanna know what you want.”

“I wanna live, I wanna not be gang banged, I want my family back, I want-” you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he gets up on his knees and forces you into a consoling embrace. You cry into his shirt and he says “Shhhhh, shhhhhh.” He pats your head. “You’re not gonna get gang banged if you’re mine, I promise.”

The most unsettling mix of relief and dread floods your upper body. Your lower body, meanwhile, is all warmth and tingling. Oh, god. He hugs you into his hair which smells like cigarettes, campfire, and something sour. “C’mere,” he says, and uses your hair to pull your head back slightly, gently. Enough to look at your face.

----

He dips his head, and at first all you can do is watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows. But then his face drifts toward yours, and you tense in anticipation. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are plush and gentle. Your lips remain firm and still until they don’t. When his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, they let him in. Your mouths are connected for a good thirty seconds before he breaks the kiss and looks at you. Then he wraps his hands around your back and lifts you up onto your knees so you’re both kneeling on the cold concrete as he licks into your mouth. He wraps his arms around you tight and attacks your mouth with his again, with more fervor this time, his suction making your lips tingle.

His cock hardens against you. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath against the side of your mouth. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, pressing his hardness into you. He sighs.

Then he lets go of your ass and his hands come between you. He urgently unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then pulls them down. You feel like there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, so you obediently take them off as he removes his own without taking his eyes off you. “Those too,” he nods at your panties. As you remove them, the damp cotton is cool against your inner thigh and you realize how wet you are. Warmth rushes to your face.

----

“C’mere, angel,” he whispers, and he sits down in his boxers. He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, hovering, at first. He reaches between your legs and groans as his fingers meet your wetness. He gazes at you with wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful girl.” He looks down and watches his hand as he slides his fingers through your folds, front and back. His strong chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He pulls you by the ass, grinding your crotch into the massive tent in his boxers and the contact makes you twitch. “Fuck,” he sighs when your loins are pressed up against each other. He makes space to get his cock out and you try not to stare. It’s thick. Suddenly, you’re salivating. You wet your lips and he notices.

“Lemme put it here, first,” he says softly and rubs your cunt. “Okay?” He nods for you as he positions you over his cock and notches himself for entry. He’s waiting for your go-ahead like it means something. You offer an almost imperceptible nod, then he pulls you down hard on his cock with a groan. You gasp as his girth parts your walls.

“Then—ohhh—then ya can suck it,” he says. He lifts his hips. “Maybe.” He moves you on his cock. “Shit this feels good.” He holds you close and wraps an arm around you. He moves his hips forward from the wall with a sharp thrust up into you. He gets enough space to lean back a little and pull you against his chest for leverage, with enough clearance to fuck up into you. “Yeah, ohh shit.” As your body adjusts to his girth, your eyes close in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp and deep. He’s strong, so strong the way he holds you. Tension knots in your gut as his girth fills you up over and over.

“Ride it, baby. C’mere.” He sits back down flatter against the wall again and manhandles you on his cock. “C’mon, baby.” You might as well get something out of it, so you move your hips and get close enough to him to grind your clit into his pelvis. “Aww, yeah,” he breathes, “Yeahh, like that.” He reaches for your head. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, then pulls your face into his again. His hips rock in rhythm with yours as he fills your mouth with his tongue.

You accidentally hum “Mmm” into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to say “oh you like it, huh,” pounding into you a little harder. “You like this big cock.” Each time he fills you, you’re less and less ready for this to end. “That’s good,” he rubs his nose against your temple. “gonna get a lot of it.” He holds the back of your head and reads your eyes in the dim lamp light then kisses you again. You break the kiss with a moan, feeling yourself on the edge.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Shit yeah,” He puts both his hands on your ass and moves you on his cock, determined to fill you with every smidgen of him.

You whimper at the stretch, the sheer fullness.

“You’re there,” he says. “C’mon, baby,” his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you, filling you like you thought you might never be filled, “C’mon, angel. C’mon.” The tension snaps and you groan as your cunt spasms around his cock. “Ohhh, yeahhh, yeahhh,” Tommy says, “shit, yeah.” Your body jerks into his. “Fuckin’ beautiful."

He slows you down and sucks in a deep breath as you keep spasming. “Shit,” he sighs. He stops moving and tries to compose himself. He’s trying not to come. He pulls you off before you’re finished coming. You look at him and he’s biting his lip, his eyes are smiling, his hand is wrapped around his cock. “Now suck it for me.” He reaches up and his huge hand engulfs the back of your head. “Now,” he says more urgently. He pulls down and you oblige, reeling in aftershocks and shame.

You take his tip in your mouth and his hips lift as you suck it. He forces your head down on his cock and you gag on it. “Ohh, shit.” He pulls your head down harder then explodes against the back of your throat with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. His hot spend paints the back of your throat. You swallow it then let him slide out of your mouth.

—--

Tommy catches his breath for a moment, then puts his dick away and gets up to put on his pants. It feels abrupt, but you’re not sure what you expected. Surely not pillow talk. He towers over you as he zips up. You look up at him and he tilts his head, looking at you affectionately. Then his face changes.

“Dumb slut.”

Your stomach drops as he walks away.

-------

--------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for updates.

Joel and Tommy are not in touch. When they cross paths it will have been a long time since they saw each other.

This reader will be Tommy's and he'll gain some power in the group.

#dark!tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #raider!tommy miller #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fic #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!tommy

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kanpaeki · 9 months

Note

Can you do where dominic and the reader have an argument and give each other silent treatment even though they really wanna talk to each other but they’re being petty

i changed it a little bit but i hope this is close enough to what you wanted, i got writer's block like 3 times trying to write this lmao

“how many times do i have to say i’m sorry? i couldn’t fucking be there, i don’t know what else to say.” dominic’s fed up by now, clearly done with the conversation if the flushed face and disgruntled expression is anything to show for.

“are you not getting this? that’s not the problem! but you should’ve talked to me!” and just like him, you're beyond frustrated. he's usually more communicative with you but you had an event that you really wanted him to go with you to and he straight up stood you up, no call, no text, no nothing. and you were furious. he didn't want to talk about it, claiming he was just was busy and with friends and lost track of time but you weren't having it. he needed to understand that he couldn't do that.

"i'm not doing this anymore." he abruptly stands up from his chair at the kitchen table and heads towards the doorway to what you assume is his makeshift home studio.

"where are you going?!" you shout, eyebrows furrowed in anger, "you're not doing what anymore?!"

no answer. he's retreating to the studio.

"dominic david fike."

he pauses.

but then he continues. and he's out of your sight within the next second. you hear the door slam.

you groan, running your hands through your hair. you don't think you've ever fought this bad. he was usually better at letting you know where he was or if he was going to be late, you don't understand why he all of a sudden stopped. it didn't make sense. something was weird. but at this rate, you were never going to find out why. you just wanted to talk to him, you don't even understand how it became a screaming match. sighing, you shake your head. maybe some time would be best for you both.

so you continue the day as normal, given there is quite a heavy and dark rain cloud looming over your head for the remainder of the evening, but you try your best. you get your work done, which was a nice distraction but the second you were done, your mind went back to dominic. so you tried to make dinner. you weren't the best cook but he seemed to enjoy it, especially when you make that one dish he really likes. he might even view it as a peace offering.

“dom? babe?” you call out, “dinner’s ready!” you plate the food at the stove, carrying them to the table. you wait for the telltale sound of a door opening and feet slapping the floor. it never comes.

“dom?” your heart starts to deflate. so maybe this issue was bigger than you thought. you stand there beside the table, watching the steam rise from the two plates. trying not to panic, you wring your hands together. maybe he’s just got his headphones on.

you think about texting him for a minute but you decide just to go knock on the door. if he's got headphones on, he probably won't hear his phone anyway. so up the stairs you go, putting your tail between your legs and knocking on the door. "dommy, dinner's ready. if you want to eat." pressing your lips together, you wait for the door to open.

nothing.

yeah, maybe this was worse than you thought. you give it another knock but still, no answer. resting your forehead on the cool wood, you exhale. usually after an argument, some time apart was all he needed. but it seems like this was going to take a little bit more than you anticipated.

"well, i'll be downstairs if you want to talk about it. i'll put your plate in the fridge." with that, you head back downstairs, thoughts racing through your mind. reaching the table, you just sit there. you don't even feel like eating anymore. you just pick at your food with the fork, frustrated more than anything. you know your feelings were valid, if anything, you should be the one giving him the silent treatment. you were willing to put everything behind you. why wasn't he? god, boys are so infuriating.

you stand up and just decide to wrap your plates and put them in the fridge. you didn't have it in you to eat right now and you're sure he'll be down to eat the second you leave the kitchen and shut yourself in the bedroom. and that you do. without even changing into pajamas, you just slide into the sheets in the darkness, left alone with your thoughts. you hated this silence. usually he was singing, showing you what he made, watching a movie with you, you guys even liked to online shop together. you loved his sense of style. you missed his nose. his cute button nose. you don't even realize you're crying until the feeling of something warm and wet on your nose bothers you enough to wipe it away.

you're half asleep when you hear padding around in the kitchen, socks shuffling on the floor and the sounds of the fridge opening. there's a sigh and muttering. more scuffling. and then it gets closer. you pretend to be asleep right as the door opens.

he seems to pause at the door but then there's a weight shift at the end of the bed as he sits on it. you carefully blink your eyes open, looking at him as he sits by your feet. his elbows rest on his knees and his hands are in his hair. you want to speak up, he looks frustrated but you don't know if you trust your voice after having cried yourself to sleep.

he takes a deep breath before he sits up, "i'm sorry." is all he says before he looks at you with an expression you've never really seen before. "i was trippin', i shouldn't shut down like that. i could've moved things around, i could've been there. i know how important it was to you and i'm sorry. it won't happen again."

you take a deep breath before sitting up, facing him. "i'm sorry i lost my temper. i know your schedule gets unpredictable. but you're right, it meant a lot to me." he nods and leans forward, resting his head on your chest. you run your hands through his messy curls.

"i love you." he murmurs into your chest, kissing you through your shirt. "will you eat with me please?" he looks up at you with shiny eyes and you just nod, smoothing the stray hair away from his cheeks.

he stands up first and you grab his hand as he outstretches it, taking his lead as he heads back to the kitchen. rarely did you ever eat without each other. maybe that's why you lost your appetite before. but sitting at the table with him now, smiling as you eat your dinner's together, all feels right again.

#dominic fike x reader #elliot x reader #dominic fike #euphoria x reader

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cinnbar-bun · 6 months

Text

Mornings With You… (Crocodile x Reader)

Scenario: How they enjoy a morning with you~

Rating: SFW, pure utter fluff

Word Count: ~1.8k

Note: GN reader, fluff. MENA! Reader and MENA! Croc but basically ignorable honestly if you want. Reader and Croc smoke lmao.

A/n: You can rip Middle Eastern Crocodile from my cold dead hands I swear to GOD I do not care what anyone thinks THAT MAN IS MIDDLE EASTERN!! I AINT LISTENING TO ANYTHING ELSE!!! As a Middle Eastern woman, I just want to have this win. Just let me have it. Let me live in delusion. Let me pretend I am his housewife 😩

Breakfast was always an important part of the day for Crocodile. No matter the time, no matter the day, no matter the weather- he would always partake in breakfast with you. It didn’t matter if he would be late or miss a meeting, he would never skip out on his daily morning routine.

Today, unlike many other days before, he slept in. He had always dedicated this day of the week to you, and only you. If anyone had dared tried to interrupt this day with you, death would seem like a more sparing result than whatever hell he would unleash upon them.

Thankfully, no one was stupid enough to call him on his transponder, yet.

He scrunched his face as he recognized the sensation of the bright Alabastan sun beaming down on his face. He covered his eyes and noticed the window was open, the red curtains you had lovingly picked out fluttering with the gentle breeze. The palm trees outside were rustling as his thoughts drifted to the taste of the dates they often produced. He yawned and swung his legs over the bed, forcing himself up. He stood up and stretched, sighing dreamily as he smelled the scent of freshly baked bread.

He slid his feet into his soft house slippers while he threw on his satin robe, the one that had matched yours, as you insisted. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, fixing many of the loose strands that had become unkempt after sleeping. He walked down the winding stairs of the large house. His eyes nostalgically glanced around the hallway and décor. Once upon a time, the hallway was barren, with nary even a rug on the floor.

But now, after marrying you, the house gradually became something entirely new- warmer, lovelier, lived in, and cared for. No longer was it simply a place he would crash at for the night, but a home. A home he had shared with you. Despite the many years it had been since the faithful day he had said “I do” at your ceremony, the fact his home had changed so much still would catch Crocodile off guard. On the wall, was a framed picture of you two in your wedding garb.

His lips twitched into a smile at the memory, as if that day were just yesterday. He didn’t look different, perhaps fewer wrinkles and gray hairs on his head, but his eyes were trained on you. You looked so beautiful that day, and the smile on your face made his heart race. You looked thrilled to be marrying him.

Crocodile chuckled to himself as he walked past the picture, stepping into the dining room that connected to the kitchen. You were there, plating olives in the wood trays you had gotten on one of your shopping trips. You glanced at him, smiling that beautiful smile that had him falling in love with you all over again.

“Habibi, good morning,” you greeted in your mother tongue, wiping your hands with a rag as you strode over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His functional hand gripped your waist, swaying with you gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s good because I see you, my love,” he replied, his voice still raspy from just waking up. You chuckled and kissed his nose, patting his shoulder a few times.

“Take a seat, breakfast is almost done,” you stated, and Crocodile complied by pulling out the wood chair to sit in. He watched as you went back to drying and plating the various olives you had bought yesterday from the market.

Once the tray was filled, you placed it in front of him and popped a pickled turnip in his mouth. He nodded agreeably as he chewed on the vegetable.

“Oh, these are sour,” he mused. The crunch of the turnips also showed how impressive this batch was.

“Mhm. Saleh’s crops have been wonderful right now,” you mention happily. “He also said he’s happy to set aside more for us for dinner next week. Oh, and before I forget, I need to visit his daughter soon. She just had her first child a while ago. Saleh was telling me it was a girl!”

Crocodile snorted. “Busy chatting it up as always?”

He was fascinated with how you managed to dazzle a room and become a friend to everyone. It did have many advantages in business, as many suppliers and partners had become friendly with you, enough to the point they would give him discounts or do special favors for him. But even beyond just business or how much easier your presence allowed him to get his goals achieved, he was amazed by how sociable you were. It was the complete opposite of how he behaved, often slinking to the background and watching below. But you? No, no, no, you were in the center of the room, chatting it up with a diplomat and a farmer as if they were long time friends.

He could watch you talk for hours, hear the stories of people he would never remember while you discussed their children with them. The laughs, the smiles, the curious looks, and even the short gasps at whatever one of his associates’ partners said to you- all of it was enthralling.

“Of course,” you laugh, placing a small oil cruet beside the vegetables. “You need to talk more, habibi, you can’t keep hiding away.”

He waved his hand. “No, you got that covered for me just fine. I doubt I could ever remember Saleh’s family tree. Tell his daughter congrats for me, will you?”

“I will, dear,” you say, stirring the contents in the pot. He sniffs the air.

“Foul?” He asks and you nod.

“Mhm.”

“What have I done to deserve you?” He dramatically asks. He grabs the furled-up newspaper by the table and is about to open it when you lightly hit his wrist with your spoon.

“No, no reading at the table. We’re going to eat!” You lectured.

“Fine, fine. No need for the violence,” he jokes, the both of you knowing damn well that little smack hardly did anything to him.

“Don’t be rude at breakfast and I will not need to do so,” you tease.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a smile. You respond by placing a plate of freshly baked pita bread and hummus with sumac and parsley on top. “My love, are you trying to fatten me up? Your bread is addicting.”

He takes one and tears it, dipping a piece into the hummus. He lets out a pleasured groan as he eats it.

“I swear to God, your food gets better every time.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “Enjoy it, my love.”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. He’s careful not to hurt the remains of his left arm, since he refuses to wear his hook in mornings with you. You gaze into his eyes, full of love, and he strokes your hair. You get more beautiful every day, in a way that he cannot help but fall helplessly on his knees for you.

You kiss him on his lips before standing up. “I’ll put you some foul,” you say, picking up his bowl and putting a dollop of hummus on the bottom of it. You scoop up the foul before crushing the legumes further for him. You put a bowl for yourself and walk to him, placing his bowl in front of him while sitting beside him.

He begins to put the vegetables he likes on top of it, as well as some oil and lemon juice, before he digs in. It’s always pleasant to eat with you. It makes his day brighter when he knows he can just focus on you today. He’s lost in your voice, hearing you talk on and on about anything and everything- something he finds so amusing and relaxing. It’s so different from hearing discussions of business for hours on end.

He pours himself more bowls of your delicious food, not even realizing how much he’s eaten until he realizes nearly all the hummus and bread have been eaten.

“That was wonderful, darling,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you have enough time for a smoke break?”

“I do, in fact, have time for one.”

“I’ll go make the hookahs for us,” Crocodile says, forcing himself up and grabbing the hookahs.

“I’ll go pour us the tea,” you grin, heading to the whistling kettle. He stuffs the top with the flavored tobacco- guava and citrus for him, (flavor) for you. He wraps the top with tinfoil and pokes many little holes into it with a toothpick. As you settle into your living room couch, he fills the bottom with water and heats the charcoal up. He gently places yours in front of you as you begin to turn on the snail to project your show.

An Alabastan soap opera is playing, and you watch with full attention towards it while Crocodile grabs his newspaper and sits on the couch across from you. He picks up the tea you just brewed for him, noticing its dark complexion.

“Good, it’s dark,” he comments. You roll your eyes playfully and click your tongue.

“Don’t drink it so dark like an old man, habibi. Not even my own grandfather drinks it as dark as you.”

“I find that hard to believe. Everybody knows a good chai is dark,” Crocodile retorts.

“Any darker and you might as well just eat the leaves itself.”

“Would you like any tea with your sugar?” He teases back.

“Fine. You go behave like a grandfather,” you chuckle, putting the hose of the hookah between your lips.

“You married me,” he reminds you. You exhale a puff of tobacco, your eyes glued to the projection. A male character comes on screen, talking to the female lead. You sigh and click your tongue again, this time from disappointment.

“This man, again? I can’t believe she even gives him the time of day. Eat shit!” You yell at the screen.

Crocodile raises a brow at you and laughs.

“What’s wrong with him? Why do you hate him so much?”

“Womanizing garbage,” you explain. “He went for her sister while he was trying to court her. And God forbid he take accountability when called out!”

Crocodile glances at the projection, watching as the man looks longingly at the female lead’s sister. “Could he be any more obvious?”

You two laugh as he goes back to reading his paper and smoking. You take a sip of your tea, not noticing how Crocodile’s eyes shift towards you. He lets out a quiet sigh in relaxation while you are engrossed in your show.

He thinks to himself once more how he adores those slow and loving mornings with you.

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #x reader

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hunnylagoon · 6 months

Text

Wayfaring Stranger

PREMISE: After your husband refuses to check a concerning sound outside, you do it yourself only to find a beautiful stranger bloodied up on the beaten road beneath moonlight. The events that follow soon after turn your once quiet world on its head.

DISCONTINUED

WARNING: Murder, mentions of violence and injuries

The night hung heavy over the isolated homestead, a sea of inky darkness punctuated only by the sparse glow of stars scattered across the expansive canvas of the western sky. You, wrapped in a weathered shawl, stepped cautiously onto the creaking wood floorboards leading to your bedroom window. The pristine planks groaned under the subtle weight of your movement, echoing through the stillness of the night. "Sawyer, did you hear that?" You ask, turning your head to look at your husband who lay with his back to you, His blonde curls falling upon the satin pillowcases. "Sawyer!" You hiss, trying to capture his attention.

"It's just some cattle," He dismissed, not bothering to look at you; in fact, he pulled the covers even farther up his figure to conceal himself from you.

"Can you go look?"

"Why would I do that?" He groaned, it was a genuine question. He couldn't figure out why you would want to investigate a concerning sound.

"Because it sounded like gunshots and screaming, someone could be hurt!"

"All the more reason to stay inside."

"Well, I'm going to go see what it is if you refuse to." You spat, grabbing the oil lamp from the bedside stand and using your shawl to clear it of debris. You swipe a match across its box, watching it ignite, small sparks dancing around your fingertips. You move the match to light the exposed part of the wick before blowing it out and discarding it on the spruce floors.

"Okay, don't get hurt," He said flat, nuzzling back into the feather pillows.

A solitary oil lamp, its flame shifting with every step, cast feeble shadows that clung to the edges of the wall like silent sentinels. Under the flickering light, you made your way down the stairs and slipped on a pair of worn leather boots, dusty from the day's toil. As your boots met the uneven wooden surface of the porch, you shivered, you hadn't anticipated just how cold it would be.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of sagebrush and the distant whispers of the unseen nocturnal creatures that inhabited the wilderness. A coyote's distant howl painted the night with an eerie soundtrack, a reminder that the untamed landscape surrounding your home was both beautiful and treacherous.

As you descended the porch steps, your eyes, accustomed to the darkness, scanned the horizon. The landscape unfolded before you in nothing but shadows and silhouettes, the distant outlines of distant hills and mesas barely visible beneath the cosmic tableau above. The isolation of your homestead, far removed from the flickering lights of the town, cocooned you in an otherworldly silence, a solitude that carried the weight of the untamed frontier.

You looked back towards your home as you moved down the dirt road; weathered limestone walls, adorned with ornate ironwork, bore witness to years of harsh sun, and dust storms, though the relentless passage of time wasn't easy to spot as Sawyer had constant maintenance on it. Standing proudly against the dark backdrop of endless prairie, the mansion's presence was a testament to opulence in the rugged west. The home sat on the top of a hill, the trip down being somewhat steep, though the main path was easy to trek, other ways down would send you tumbling.

A soft breeze rustled through the grass dunes, creating a gentle whistle that you liked to believe carried every secret ever whispered in the town.

With a deep breath, you ventured beyond the perimeter of the homestead, your silhouette becoming one with the night. The crunch of your footsteps on the gravel path echoed faintly, a lullaby for the wilderness that watched over you. You move with hesitation, trying to consider that your husband may be right and you should've ignored the clash and tucked yourself back into the king-sized bed, despite this, you keep moving, leaving only the echoes of your presence behind.

You were surrounded by almost nothing but darkness, you could only see the shapes of rocks and cacti reflecting the moonlight along with whatever was immediately around you, thanks to the shine of the oil lamp.

Writhing in the rocky dirt path you saw a figure. It hadn't been an animal or an article of clothing that somehow found its way to you, it had been the slender silhouette of a person, just as you suspected, someone was hurt. As you carefully approached you could hear their shaky breathes that made you sure it was a woman. Her chest rose and sunk as she shuddered in the cold air; she was soaked through with blood, you had never seen someone in worse shape. "Ma'am?" You ask, your heartbeat speeding up. She looked visibly startled, trying to grip the ground and crawl away from you out of fear. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, I can help you." Your eyebrows furrowed in skepticism at the sight before you.

"No," She shook her head, the woman could hardly get words out of her mouth, just ragged breaths.

"You're shivering," You slowly crouched down, gingerly sitting her up, she winced in pain when you did so "I'm sorry," You hooked an arm around her waist while she slid an arm behind your shoulders, she used her other arm to clutch at a wound in her stomach, you ignored your shaking at her additional weight leaning against your own, you just had to get her up the hill. "SAWYER!" You shouted as loud as your lungs allowed you "SAWYER!" You screamed again, waiting for your husband to be standing on the porch.

You hauled the woman to your porch just as Sawyer finally emerged "What do you- WHAT IS HAPPENING!" His annoyance quickly turned to panic when he saw who was clinging onto you, behind him the door was hanging open letting the light from the foyer break apart some of the darkness. In the light other than the moon you finally got a better look at her. You couldn't even tell what colour her hair was beneath the blood matting it to her head, streaks of red ran down her freckled face and soaked almost every inch of clothing she adorned.

"Ride into town, get the doctor and bring him back here." You ordered, pushing past him, into the living room where you laid her gingerly onto the white gold crested sofa, feeling relief of the added weight gone.

"Well, there goes my coach-

"Sawyer!" You yell again, urging him to leave, he finally does, slamming the door behind him. You run around, hastily lighting candles to brighten the room; you bring a bucket of clean water to her side, drenching a rag in the water, you bring it to her face and begin to wipe away the blood. You noticed her shudder at the touch of cold water on her raw flesh "It's okay," You muttered, in an attempt to comfort her. You weren't quite sure what to say, she must've been terrified but it's not like you were feeling okay with the whole situation, you just didn't want to worsen anything.

More than anything, you wanted to know what had happened to this woman. Of course, you weren't going to ask at that moment, you didn't have to ask though, it's like she read your mind.

"I'm, Ellie," She said between ragged heaves. Just when you were beginning to make up your own backstory for the wayfaring stranger. The picture you had formed in your mind was that her name was Maybelle and she had taken a loan from a gang, and gotten herself into some serious trouble. Nope. Her name was Ellie and what was most logical was that she had been robbed by bandits.

You smile softly, trying to put her at ease. You thought back to all of the ways your mother used to calm you and your little sister "Well, Ellie, doctors gonna be here any minute and you'll be stitched up, good."

Ellie could've sworn that she made you up inside her head. She had heard stories of people on the brink of death imagining an angel guiding them to security just to be told when they recovered that person never existed. She was sure that she would get some rest and would wake up in some clinic with you nowhere to be found. You looked like an angel too, features illuminated in the soft candlelight. "Are you real?"

Her words had you thinking she was ebbing closer to the brink of death, blood loss making her woozy. "I sure am," You said, indulging her "I can tell from your accent that you're from as far west as west goes."

"That you would be right about, ma'am," She smiled with half-lidded eyes, her head lulling back and forth from the spot it rested on the sofa arm.

You soaked the cloth again, wringing it out in the bucket, the once clear water already becoming a foggy reddish hue. You used your free hand to push hair away from Ellie's face, with your other hand you held the cloth and gently wiped the blood from her forehead, clearing the way for you to see more of her freckles. "There we go," You moved your free hand to the back of her head to support it, now using the rag to wash away at the grime on her cheeks and button nose. "I can finally see that pretty face."

"pretty," She murmured, eyelids fluttering.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls like ghostly spectres, and the air hung heavy with the metallic scent of blood. The wounded figure lay sprawled on the once pristine white sofa, the echo of a recent struggle still reverberating through the stillness. Moonlight filtered through tattered curtains, casting an eerie glow on the scene of desperation.

A crimson pool formed beneath Ellie, soaking into Sawyer's beloved couch. The rhythmic breathing echoed in the silence, a macabre lullaby that seemed to accompany the fading pulse of life. Ellie against the encroaching darkness, the battle for consciousness etched across a face pale and drawn.

Every breath was a laborious effort, a struggle against the body's betrayal. Her once vibrant eyes, now dull and distant, glistened with a mixture of pain and determination. Beads of sweat clung to a furrowed brow, evidence of the fevered fight within.

Trembling hands clutched at the wound, desperate to stem the relentless flow of a life's essence escaping through her fingers. Each heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain through the body, threatening to pull the fragile thread of consciousness even thinner. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of mortality, and every passing moment whispered of the inevitability of the abyss.

Amid this struggle, fragmented memories flickered like distant stars in a fading night sky. Faces and places, fragments of life now hanging in the balance, flashed before weary eyes. The pulse, once strong and steady, faltered like a distant drumbeat threatening to fade into silence.

Yet, amidst the darkness, a fierce will to survive burned like a defiant flame. The wounded soul summoned reserves of strength, drawing upon reserves untapped in ordinary times. Each laboured breath was a testament to an indomitable spirit, a refusal to yield to the encroaching void.

The room itself seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency, bearing witness to a solitary struggle against the inevitable. Shadows clung to the edges of consciousness, threatening to pull the wounded figure into an abyss from which there might be no return. She saw your lips moving but the words fell upon death ears, she couldn't make out whatever you were frantically telling her, all she knew was that she was tired and she couldn't fight to stay awake much longer.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Though Ellie had believed you to be an angel, you proved yourself to be real.

As the first rays of the Southern sun began to pierce through ornate curtains, casting a warm golden glow upon the opulent bedroom, she stirred beneath the layers of soft, embroidered linens. The mattress cradled her like a sanctuary, and the pillows plumped to perfection, offered a haven for dreams. The room itself exuded a rustic elegance, with intricately carved wooden furniture standing proudly against the walls adorned with rich tapestries. The air carried the subtle scent of cedar, a nod to the untamed wilderness just beyond the ornate windows. Lace curtains danced in the morning breeze, revealing a breathtaking view of the rolling hills and vast plains. The room, a luxurious oasis in the heart of the frontier, embraced her in a cocoon of comfort, providing a stark contrast to the rugged landscape outside. As she slowly opened her eyes, the lavish details of the room unfolded like a dream, and for a moment, she forgot about the events of the night before, until the throbbing pain of stitched wounds hit her once more.

Ellie was no longer in the drenched clothes from the previous night and was no longer nose-blinded by the sickly sweet stench of blood. Though she didn't remember everything from the night before, she remembered you

What had woken her up was the incredible smell filling whatever room she was in. Cast-iron fried bacon, its savoury perfume mingling with the tantalizing scent of freshly steeped tea that wafted through the air. The aroma of flapjacks, golden and perfectly griddled, hung thick, inviting all who caught wind of it to indulge in a culinary celebration of the morning.

A bounty of farm-fresh eggs scrambled to perfection, adorned the table alongside a bowl of vibrant, sun-ripened tomatoes and sliced avocados, their colours mirroring the vivid hues of the sunrise. A basket brimming with flaky biscuits, warm and buttery, beckoned with promises of melt-in-your-mouth goodness.

In the center of it all, a heaping pile of wild berries and succulent peaches offered a burst of sweetness, a reminder of nature's abundance even in the rugged expanse of the frontier. A jar of homemade preserves, bursting with the flavours of sun-ripened fruits, awaited its turn to grace the breakfast spread. All of it meticulously placed on the breakfast tray beside her.

She had never been blessed enough to get such a thoughtful breakfast, or meal, or anything for that matter. Ellie had grown up around ruffians who showed love through gunpowder and chewing tobacco.

Every bite tasted just as good as she had anticipated, most people wouldn't have thought it smart to eat a meal in a stranger's home that magically appeared to wake her up and maybe Ellie wasn't smart but she sure was hungry.

In the corridors, you hummed along to a song you used to sing on the piano when you were a girl while you rearranged and tidied bits and pieces of your shared home so everything was in its place. Your ears pricked up at the sound of rustling, it could have only been one thing. You knocked on the door of one of your guest rooms.

"Yeah?" She said through a mouthful of food.

You pushed the spruce door open, closing it behind you "Good mornin'," You smiled "Or afternoon, I suppose. Feelin' any better?"

She felt embarrassment well up in her throat, there you were looking so effortlessly stunning and she was a half-baked mess laying in one of your beds, swallowing back the food you slaved away to prepare. "Ma'am, I am so very sorry for imposin' on ya' last night, I will be out of your hair in no time."

"Stay as long as ya' need," You dismissed her "Truth be told, it gets a little lonely in this house, Sawyer goes away all day and when he's home he's too tired to speak, so it's just me."

She furrowed her eyebrows "You own a house this big and you haven't got a maid or servant or something?"

You shook your head "We used to have one but Sawyer fired her, said I needed some chores to keep me busy. We do have a stable boy, name's Jerry, nice kid just can't speak English all that well. He comes by a couple of days a week and has tea with me during his breaks. I won't keep ya' here if you don't want to though."

"I'd just feel too guilty eatin' your food and givin' you nothing," Didn’t seem guilty one minute ago. She moved the tray of food from its spot on her lap to the empty bedside table. She began to push the covers off of her, trying her best to ignore the ache in her bones. When her feet hit the ground she felt extreme agony course through her body like a million little knives swimming through her bloodstream. She crumbled over into herself on the ground.

You rushed over to help her back up "Easy," You say, your tone soft "You're hurt, remember?"

Ellie couldn't even stand on her own at that moment, her legs shook with each step she tried to take, you leading her gingerly. "Can't feel a thing," She lied through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?"

"Nope, I need to sit back down," She said and you helped her to sit on the side of the cushioned bed. She couldn't remember feeling that weak for a very long time, not since she had been a child. Ellie almost wanted to laugh at how stupid she felt, needing you to help her take a few steps like she was elderly, instead, she looked up at you "How did I get so lucky as to have you take care of me?"

"Sometimes we just meet someone at the right time." You shrug. You were no longer able to bite back the question that had kept you up all night "If I may ask, what happened to you last night?"

She sighed, scootching herself back in the bed to get comfortable "I'm nothing more than a travelling merchant ya' see, last night while I was headed out of Palecliff, I was raided by a group of bandits, took my horse, my wagon, everything I've ever known gone in one night along with my dignity."

Your eyes went wide and you clasped a hand over your mouth "What did they look like?"

You had a million questions for her and you didn't waste time in showering her with them. It had been so long since you had someone to talk to, not your stoic husband, not a fourteen-year-old who didn't understand your language, but a woman your age who indulged your questions and laughed at your jokes, adding her witty remarks to them. When you married Sawyer it was like you were thrown into the life of someone you did not know, it went from sixteen-year-old you playing piano every night, serving food, chatting up locals to being isolated in a stark mansion on top of a hill, watching the ghost of what your life used to be from what felt like a cage. You were allowed to enter town once a month, beyond that you would sneak off to the creek and the far-off forest where there was no one to report to your husband, his father was the mayor so out of fear they would never keep their mouths shut.

It only made you ecstatic when Ellie had agreed to stay with the promise of doing house and stable work when she recovered to pay you back in whatever ways she could.

Mornings with Ellie began with the aroma of herbal tea and the comforting crackle of a wood-burning stove. You, now a dedicated caregiver, tended to the injured woman's wounds with gentle hands, your touch a balm for both body and soul.

Conversations flowed like the pages of a well-worn novel, each chapter revealing the layers of their respective histories. Shared laughter echoed through the homestead, a melody that resonated against the backdrop of the vast wild wind. In the quiet moments, as the injured woman gazed out of the window, she found peace in the sight of the rolling hills and endless skies.

Through the nuances of daily life—shared meals whispered confidences, and the unspoken understanding that transcended words—the two women became intertwined, bound to one another almost.

Sawyer wasn't fond of how his wife had come to spend her time. Something about the sound of her laughter echoing through the halls had angered him, knowing that he wasn't the one who made her laugh.

Sawyer, a figure of striking contradiction to his gentle and nurturing wife, cut a commanding presence beneath the harsh sunlight. His tousled locks, framed a face chiselled with the unforgiving lines of both nature and a life forged on the frontier. A mane of wheat-gold hair fell over piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating like the steel of a Colt revolver. His tall, lean form moved with the languid grace of a predator, exuding an effortless confidence that bordered on arrogance. Dressed in the finest of suits, Sawyer's appearance belied an innate cruelty that simmered beneath the surface. A well-defined jawline, framed by the hint of stubble, spoke of a man who had faced the harsh realities of the untamed West, and yet, it was the glint in his eyes that hinted at the darkness that mirrored the vast, shadowed canyons of the frontier. In the presence of Sawyer, the air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone.

When Ellie had healed enough to hobble around the house and assist you with chores as well as join you and Sawyer at the dinner table, he had made sure to be vocal. "Ellie, I think you could ease up on the help a little as much as we appreciate it," He said across a table of food you spent hours preparing "I don't want my wife to forget to be grateful for the life that's been handed to her if she relaxes too much she just slips away into some progressive madness."

You look towards him, a subtle rage simmering inside of you "Sawyer, I'm not being ungrateful, I'm just tired from-

He raised a hand to stop your talking "I don't think we want those womanly emotions to get in the way, do we?"

You pushed yourself away from the table, slamming your serviette down and storming out.

Sawyer only chuckles at this, turning to look at Ellie who had found herself constantly having to bite her tongue around him "Just wait until she has children, she'll cry every day and make up even more things to complain about." Before Ellie, he had never felt such a sense of possession over you, typically he just treated you like an ornament.

All good things must come to an end and so they did; Ellie had healed almost completely after two months, the Southern winter had passed and spring was arriving. You both lied to yourself, pretending that it was still sensible for Ellie to be living in your house. You convinced her to let you take her to your favourite spot.

In the early embrace of spring, a hidden gem sat in the heart of nature—a beautiful creek that meandered through the landscape like a serpentine ribbon of liquid silver. The air, still sharp with the vestiges of winter, carried the invigorating scent of damp earth and awakening foliage. Along the banks, delicate shoots of vibrant green grass peeked through the remnants of melting snow, heralding the arrival of a season draped in renewal.

The creek itself murmured a gentle melody, a harmonious symphony composed by the bubbling riffles and the soft percussion of water cascading over smooth stones. The water, crystal clear and pure, reflected the azure canvas of the early spring sky, creating a mirror that captured the fleeting beauty of budding trees and the emerging wildflowers that lined the water's edge.

Beneath the surface, the creek harboured secrets—shimmering pebbles, polished by the tender caress of the water's passage, and tiny aquatic organisms that stirred with the promise of life. The sunlight filtered through the burgeoning leaves above, casting dappled patterns on the creek's surface like nature's stained glass adorning a cathedral of serenity.

On the banks, clusters of delicate wildflowers began to unfurl their petals, their hues ranging from the soft pastels of violets and blues to vivid bursts of yellow and pink, something you didn’t see much in the South. The air resonated with the hum of awakening insects, drawn by the allure of this watercourse oasis. Overhead, the first tentative flights of butterflies painted the air with ephemeral strokes of colour.

As the creek wound its way through the landscape, it carved miniature canyons and pools, inviting creatures to quench their thirst and revel in the burgeoning abundance of the season. The stones lining the creek bed, smoothed by centuries of flowing water, became stepping stones for adventurous critters and skipping stones for the whimsical heart.

The beauty of the early spring creek lay not just in its visual splendour, the soothing melody of flowing water, the caress of a gentle breeze, the fragrance of blossoming life, and the dance of sunlight playing upon its liquid surface. This pristine sanctuary embodied the very essence of renewal, inviting all who encountered it to immerse themselves in the sublime poetry of the changing seasons.

The pair of you just sat in silence, neither wanted to say what had to be said so you decided to drown beneath the weight of the words that went unsaid.

"I can't stay here anymore," Ellie said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She sat on the lush grass with her knees pulled into her chest. Her chestnut hair, the colour of fresh earth, cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, occasionally stirred by the whispering winds that danced across the plains. Almond-shaped hazel eyes, reminiscent of the vast prairie skies, held a depth that spoke of an untamed spirit. Ellie's sun-kissed complexion bore the subtle traces of a life lived under the relentless Western sun, and a scattering of freckles across her cheeks hinted at days spent amidst the open range. Clad in practical yet well-worn attire she had borrowed from you, her hands, calloused from the rigours of the mysterious life she lived before meeting you, spoke of a resilience that mirrored the vast landscapes she navigated. In the unforgiving wilderness, where strength and grace were as vital as the air one breathed.

"I know," You said back just as quietly, you both looked at the creek ahead of you, not able to meet each other's eyes.

"I don't want to leave you."

"I can't leave." You said, a newfound sense of sadness washing over you. It had just hit that you would return to the dull life you lived before her, days filled with nothing more than silence, loneliness, and regret.

"I wish you could," She picked at the grass, unsure of what to do with her hands.

Silence stretched between you like birds on a wire "Just stay, one more night and then I'll let you go for good, I won't pester you anymore."

She smiled softly "Sure, I'll stay another night."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

You had left town at the crack of dawn that morning to gather supplies for Ellie before she left, and the night before you had babbled on and on to Sawyer about how excited you were for your plans before you turned in for the night. You had used the only day that month that you were permitted to leave to do something special for Ellie. After paying a brief visit to your father and sister you began the trek back up.

After you returned home from the short trip you had intended to go into the house and bundle up your goodies for Ellie but you had been detoured by a sound from the stable. You hadn't expected Jerry to be there, it was one of your days to man the stables, not his. Despite the confusion, you followed the crashes and bangs from the stables.

As you approached the stables, the familiar sounds of horses' hooves and distant howls of coyotes were overshadowed by an unfamiliar murmur and groan. A knot tightened in your stomach, foreboding lingering in the air like an impending storm. Pushing open the creaking door, your gaze fell upon a sight that froze her to the core.

In the muted light of the stable lanterns, you saw your husband, a man you slept beside every. night, entwined with another woman. The hay-strewn floor became an unwitting witness to the betrayal unfolding before your disbelieving eyes. The flickering lantern light cast shadows on their entangled forms, revealing a scene that would forever alter the course of your existence.

The air hung heavy with tension, the silence punctuated only by the stifled gasp that escaped your lips. The two figures, caught in an embrace that spoke of deceit, turned to face her with eyes filled with shock. The other woman, a fleeting presence in your life until this moment, bore the weight of her transgressions. Horror pushed tears from your eyes "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" You screamed, watching as the two shamefully and frantically dressed themselves.

"Can you blame me?" Sawyer buttoned up his trousers "You're always sad or angry around me, I love you, I just need a break sometimes-

"You make me feel that way!" You felt sick to your stomach like you were going to vomit "I have turned myself inside out trying to love you but I don't even like you!"

You could see your words hit him when his jaw began to tense up, the familiar tell that he would be raging soon "I don't even think you like me!"

"I don't!" You shout "I hate you I wake up every morning and I feel so empty when I have to look into those dull eyes of yours!"

"You won't even touch me."

"You only show me a sliver of kindness when you want your dick taken care of." You spat, the look of complete rage on his face made you smile; that was when he struck you. His backhand landed firmly on the side of your face, forcing you to stumble back, shuddering at the stinging sensation.

He put his hands up, trying to show you that he wouldn't hit you again "I'm sorry-

Before you could finish your sentence you were screaming, grabbing the shovel from its resting place on the stable wall and slamming it across his head. Sawyer didn't even stand for a moment, the second the shovel made contact with his head, he flopped to the ground. You audibly squeaked, watching blood ooze from the newly formed gash in his head.

"Sawyer?" You crouched down, poking at his limp body with the shovel to see if he would shift. Nothing. His eyes fell lifeless along with the rest of him. The shovel clattered to the ground as you brought both hands to cover your mouth.

You stood over his body, your actions registering in your head, you had killed him. You had taken the life of someone.

You were only snapped away from your thoughts when you heard a thud. Your head snapped to where the sound had come from, only to find the black-haired woman he was cheating on you with stumbling back up from her fall, she cast a look back at you, terror written across her pale face.

Feet moving faster than your mind, you ran after her, she had already got a good headstart on you. She was beginning to rush towards one of the steeper sides of the hill, you knew you wouldn't catch her in time; so instead of pursuing her, you grabbed the gun off the front porch and aimed it at the woman.

The metallic tang of gun oil hung in the air as you cradled the shotgun, the weight unfamiliar in your hands, you were only going off of what your father had shown you all those years ago. The overwhelming sun cast long shadows across the open range, painting the world in hues of amber and gold. With trepidation etched on her face, you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath. The gun felt cool against your trembling fingertips as she aimed at a distant woman. The tension in the air was palpable as you squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the vast expanse. The recoil startled you, and a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty danced in your eyes. At that moment, as the echoes of the shot reverberated through the silence of the frontier, you felt a seismic shift watching the raven-haired woman fall, now rolling down the hill.

Still gripping the shotgun, you ran over to the spot where you had seen the woman collapse.

When you bore down the hill, her body was nowhere to be found.

Your head shot up to search the plains for her but you didn't see a sign of where she had gone, aside from the small pool of blood, seeping into dead grass where she had initially fallen.

"What's wrong?" Ellie shouted, running over to where you stood, frozen in fear for what lay ahead of you "I heard a gunshot."

"Ellie I-" You were stiff where you stood, grasping the shotgun so tight that your knuckles had turned white "Sawyer was cheating on me in the stables and I saw him and I was just so mad that I-I hit him with a shovel, I didn't think he would die, I just wanted him to be as afraid of me as I was of him. That woman he was with, she saw me kill him so I shot her but she got away and now I'm good as dead."

Ellie didn't seem as mortified as you thought she would be, she took the shotgun away from you, slinging an arm around your waist with her free hand and guiding you back to the house "It's okay, not as bad as it could be, you took care of me now it's my turn to take care of you."

"It's not okay, I'm gonna be strung up at the gallows in front of everyone, I killed the mayors son." A breath hitched in your throat "My dad's gonna watch me hang."

"Only if they catch us," Ellie said nonchalantly, steering you up the porch "Pack what you need, we'll be out of here in no time. It only feels fair to tell you now that I’m not actually a travelling merchant.”

#ellie williams #wild west #ellie williams x you #cowboy #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #the last of us ellie #tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #cowboy! ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader fluff

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Soul on Fire

Eris x Reader

Summary: You've been called to the throne room to speak with the High Lord...and you can't say you're mad when you find out he doesn't want to talk at all.

Warnings: Smut, face-fucking, choking, brief mention of voyeurism.

Word Count: 3,172

Notes: The Eris era is really Erising. 💅🏼

_________________________________________

The tall doors of the throne room loom before you.

Thick wood so dark it looks like it’s been scorched by the powers of many Autumn rulers before, black creeping up from the floorboards where the staff hadn’t been able to sand it away. The brass knobs are as clean as ever, polished frequently, the metal so pristine you can see the nervous sweat beading at your hairline, the flush to your cheeks, and the anxious look in your eyes.

You’ve been called to the throne to stand before the High Lord of the Autumn Court. For what, you only had an inkling of an idea, but your heart races a timorous beat as you flee from your rooms as soon as you heard word of the royal requesting your presence.

A steady breath in, and out, before you push your way into the room.

A gust of Autumn wind lifts your hair off of your shoulders. It’s chillier than you thought it would be, with the usually hot tempered High Lord this room was nearly always filled with the fiery heat of his commands. The new ruler of the Court is having a bit of trouble keeping his father’s men under his thumb. You wonder how long any of those single-minded old males will last before the breeze blows their ashes away from the palace.

The large room is silent and empty, except for the High Lord lounging upon his throne. Your breath stutters in your chest as you catch sight of him, looking every bit of the Lord he had always been destined to become.

“You called, your highness?” you ask when you reach the bottom of the dais. The intricate rug drapes down the many stairs leading to the large throne the High Lord is sat upon, sharp branches and leaves twining like that of the Autumn Court seal. The throne itself is luxurious and new, as Eris hadn’t wanted to sit on something that his father once had. He wanted the traditional umbers of the court that signified the burnt destruction Beron had caused throughout his reigning years removed. In its place sits a sleek throne draped in mossy greens – a new beginning – your High Lord sitting leisurely in his rightful spot.

He looks as effortless as ever, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. Eris is slumped back, one leg hooked over the arm of the throne while he stares you down with a lazy grin. His burnished crown shines against the ruddy copper of his hair, a strand hanging in front of his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to brush back.

Eris takes his time responding, instead he takes in the sight of you, a long lick of his eyes from your face to where your crimson skirts pool against the stone floors and back up again. He smirks when he sees the brightness to your cheeks, matching the color of the fabrics you don.

“Yes.” He sounds like smoked cinnamon and it seeps through your skin to settle in your bones. Your mind strays to the night before, when he’d whispered many pleasant words into your every limb. “Take off that dress.”

“Really?” you scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you called upon me for something serious.”

The caramel of Eris’ eyes burns, deepening to dark sugar. It licks up your spine, a sharp, hot, sear and your thighs clench at the sudden ache between them at his response. “Oh, fawn, I am deathly serious.”

You tsk, “Now isn’t the time to be playing, Er–”

“King,” he corrects, suddenly shifting in his seat. Your mouth goes dry as he swings his leg from where it was resting over the arm of the throne, planting his boot down to the floor with purpose as he leans forward to stare down at you, elbows resting on his knees.

“Your Highness, King, mate…” you drawl. His nostrils flare at the last term, pupils swallowing the molten sugar of his iris’ like a void. Eris loves this little game, a King playing with his loyal subject. Even though you are his queen–his equal–you love it when he pulls rank and takes charge.

“The dress, fawn,” he reminds you, nodding to your fine clothing. He'd had the gown made for you as a surprise, and it’s the first time you’ve worn it. Maybe Eris had had ulterior motives to speak with you before you’d waltzed into the room and took his breath away.

Swallowing harshly, you hold his heated gaze for a long moment. The burning flames flicker, and you know the longer you wait to follow his orders, the rougher he’ll be.

You want to wait until he cracks. Until he stalks down from his throne and drags you back up there with him. Until he slips your skirts over your head and stuffs them into your mouth and rips your panties from your dripping cunt. Until your ass and pussy are throbbing and raw from the lashes from his thick rings and open palm.

But you know Eris has more patience than anyone you’ve ever met. He had to, to be able to deal with his father being on the throne for centuries, and even now, with Beron dead, his people still hold powerful positions until Eris kills them in a hot-tempered conversation or finds replacements for them.

He smirks at you when your hands slip behind you, finding the tie of your corset and tugging it loose. He leans back in his chair more comfortably as you let the fabric fall from your body in a dreamy wave. The thick fabric brushes against your pert nipples and you have to stifle the moan that threatens to escape at the sensual feeling.

Just as you love it when Eris is demanding, he loves it when you are obedient. He thrives when you listen to his commands, always so eager and ready for him whenever he might need it. You know exactly how to edge him, toying with your long-term lover in ways that make his wild side come out to play, and you can see that scrappy, fiery fox writhing inside of him at your blatant display of refusing to obey.

You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the corduroy of his emerald trousers when he shifts. The sight of his long, hard cock sweeps up memories of only last night, when he’d taken you in the gazebo in the gardens twice over.

Eris had made it a plan to fuck you in every single room in the Woodland house. It had started even before he was High Lord, the both of you sneaking around the palace, fucking in closets, libraries, even in his father’s beloved war room.

Your cunt clenches as his eyes linger and you know that he can smell your arousal from all the way up there because he smirks wildly and it sets your heart racing.

He nods towards the ground. “Now get on your knees and crawl to me.”

You swallow roughly but this time there’s no hesitation, kicking your dress away and lowering yourself to your knees before your king.

The floor is cool beneath your hands and the plethora of necklaces grace the room with a rich sound as you move. The carpet of the dais burns into your skin, you know the roughness of it will leave your kneecaps tender and raw.

Eris watches you prowl your way up to him like a predator. The sway of your hips as you climb, the way your nails curl into the harsh rug. He imagines the same way your nails will rake across his pale skin and a full body shudder works its way through him.

You pause when you reach the top, sitting back on your heels like the good High Lady you are. You know better than to touch him, not while he’s still drinking you in, but the sight of his cock being smothered in those tight trousers makes you yearn to help him out of them.

A drip of your slick slips from your heat when he nods, allowing you to finally do what you’ve been aching for.

You waste no time helping him out of his pants. Eris helps you only by lifting his hips so that you can rid him of the offensive things, tossing them haphazardly over your shoulder as your gaze zeroes in on the way his cock springs from confinement. You hear the dull sound of his belt hitting the carpeted stairs behind you, but you’re much too eager to wrap your hand around him and feel him in your mouth.

He halts you, catching your throat in his hand as you duck down to taste the smooth skin of his cock with your tongue. You nearly whimper, but it’s cut off when his fingers tighten, pressing into the pulse points of your neck. You’re almost unable to look away from the bead of precum pearling at the tip of him, but he titles your head, wrenching your eyes to meet his own.

“Hungry for my cock, fawn?” He croons and you go dizzy with it. His tone sounds like a cruel tease and the fingers pressed to your throat only aid in the feeling, but it only makes you keen.

“Yes, my King,” you struggle to get out. You’re the perfect picture of begging, wide eyes and dripping for him.

Eris’ fingers unwind from your neck, instead sliding around to gather your hair in a tight fist. He guides you closer to his cock and your lips part, eager to taste him. When you lean in faster than his hold allows he jerks you back slightly by your knotted hiar and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation. Your fingers clench around his cock in response and he can’t help the grunt that slips.

“Not too fast now,” he growls, “I’m in charge.”

You nod but don’t back down. You slide your hand down his shaft as you battle with the melting steel in his eyes. You bite your lip at the sound of his breath catching in his throat, the shifting of his chest.

He allows you even closer to his cock and you pause before him, letting your warm breath fan over the head. You can see the way the muscles of his thighs are straining, how badly he wants to shove you down and slip himself down your throat.

Eris’ next words arrive on a shaky exhale. “Now be a good fucking girl and take it.”

His taut hold on you goes slack and like a moth to a flame you take him into your mouth. His precum tastes like everything you’ve ever needed, heady and smoky like the autumn fires he’s bred from. He gives you a choked moan before his hold becomes more firm, bucking his hips while pressing your face further onto his cock.

“Relax your throat,” Eris soothes, stroking a thumb across your neck where his cock is making it stretch. He groans, satisfied as you follow his directions and he shoves his way deeper. “There you are, fawn.”

You moan around him, lathing up the smooth sides of his cock, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the head. You know him like you know yourself, exactly what he likes and how close he’s getting to orgasming, and you’re so cumhungry that you use your best efforts to urge him closer.

He hisses through his teeth, figuring out quickly what you’re doing. The loosened grip in your hair tightens again and now he’s in control once more, pressing you so far down onto his cock it makes your throat burn and tears spring to your eyes, but Mother, is it everything.

“You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you, fawn?” he growls, bucking deeper down your throat. You gag, choking on his girth but Eris doesn’t let up and he doesn’t allow you breathe until you’re raking your nails down his thighs, leaving fiery red marks on his pale skin.

He rips you off of his cock after a final rough thrust. You splutter, spit dripping from your open mouth as you gulp down lungfuls of the heated air surrounding the both of you. He doesn’t let you swallow it, holding your mouth open with a thumb pressed to the tissue beneath your tongue.

“Come up here,” his tone goes a shade softer, like he’s begging for you now, but he’s still very clearly in control. “Come sit on my cock, fawn. Ride me on my throne.”

You scramble to your feet, wiping your chin as you go. Eris leans back in his chair, cock standing at attention. It’s glistening with your spit, shiny in the setting sun drifting through the large windows that overlook the orchard. The tip is an angry pink and looking more than inviting.

You straddle his waist and the softness of his throne stings against the rug-burned skin of your knees.

They’re going to absolutely kill tomorrow.

You waste no time in aligning his cock to your cunt. The wetness coating your thighs only adds to both of your arousal, and you press your mouth to Eris’ in a desperate manner as he moans loudly when you slide your slick cunt against his cock, coating it further.

His warm hands slide up the outside of your thighs, drifting higher until he can grab palmful of your ass. His blunt nails sink into your skin and you nip at his lip in response.

He opens his mouth when you pull away, to give another demand no doubt, but you’re quick to press down onto his cock, shuddering and keening like a kit as you take him in.

“Fuck, fawn,” he grunts. The veins in his neck pop as he strains to hold himself back from fucking into you. He can barely help himself, your wet heat is deliciously tight and swallowing him so deeply he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You hum in agreement because it’s the only sound that you can make. His cock has shoved all of the air from your lungs and your fingers twine into his copper hair, twisting and pulling as you throw your head back in pleasure. Your necklaces chime as Eris mouths over them, enjoying the metallic taste mixed with your skin as he sucks bright red marks.

You bounce a little, testing how you feel from the stretch of him inside of you. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to feeling this full, dripping like a whore onto his lap as you sit up on his throne with him and he clings to you like a lifeline.

Your eyes flutter shut as you begin moving and your mind drifts for a fleeting moment, filling your head with the thought of Eris fucking you like this as the entirety of your court stands behind you, watching their High Lord own you.

His hands travel across your skin, pausing at your breasts to tease and twist at your nipples. You clench around him and he groans in response, the sound pulling from the depths of his chest like a wave, and he tips your chin down to see you. The sight of him makes you tingle and the fiery feelings of love he sends down the bond spur you further, swirling your hips before grinding down on his cock, sharing a moan and a breath together.

His freckles stick out harshly in the warm sunset, like embers had graced his skin as a child. The burnt umber of his eyes can hardly be seen with how large his pupils are, as if they’ve grown to be able to take in as much of you as possible.

“That’s it, fawn,” he praises, voice strained as you shift again to take him deeper. Your thighs are burning with effort, and it feels like being consumed by his powers, hot against your skin, burrowing its way beneath your delicate flesh. “Just like that.”

“Eris,” you hiss, unable to help yourself. A whimper leaves your mouth on a panting exhale as he twists your pebbled nipple in punishment. A reminder that you know what to call him right now, and his name isn’t it.

The motion only heightens your arousal, and you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, clawing at his clothing, tearing through the buttons, desperate to feel his chest beneath your own.

Eris notices the slight faltering of your movement, how your bounces go from fluid enjoyment to distracted desperation as you chase that euphoria.

“King,” you whimper, and it sounds like you’re in pain. Eris’ fingers immediately find your clit and you melt into him, body shaking and muscles seizing as he works the sensitive bud with flame licked fingers. It drives the tingling through your body, the burning in your gut, but without your movements, it’s not enough.

His free hand clamps around your waist, the bulging muscles of his arm tense where your hand is wrapped around his bicep. He plants his feet, and holding you tightly, with his fingers still torturing your clit, he jackknives up into you.

He’s strong. Fuelled by the pleasure-filled adrenaline he takes you from his spot under you, pistoning his hips to meet yours in a frenzy while he circles your clit with equal amounts of fervor. You release a shuddering breath that pitches into a series of pleading moans as you cum, riding out the waves of your orgasm as he jerks inside of you.

“‘M going to cum, fawn.” Eris’ breath is hot against your skin, voice gravelly and strained. The chains around your neck are no longer cold metal cooling your heated skin, but are now as molten as you feel against him, your cunt clenching around him as if to keep him there forever. You slide your hand up his chest and hook them around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss because you so desperately want to taste your name as he cums.

You feel it all the way in your bones, you mating bond shoving to the surface to twine with his own. It feels like you’re metals melting together, burning bright on his throne, Eris’ power rumbling throughout the room. It makes the necklaces you’re wearing rattle but you cling to him tighter, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that you can hardly breathe. He is your everything, and you his.

A knock on the door startles you from your post-orgasm haze. You share a look with your mate but he doesn’t let you up, enjoying the feeling of his cock and all of his seed stuffed into you more than he should.

“You’re not going anywhere yet, fawn,” he murmurs, and the wicked smirk that curves his lips has you tightening around him again. “You may enter!”

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris/reader #acotar #eris smut #acowar #acomaf #azsazz

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

Text

Sunscreen

Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob burns. Your daughter gets very paranoid when he forgets his sunscreen one morning and insists on bringing it to him.

wc: 1.4k

a/n: ahhh my first bob fic. I just love the idea of him as a dad!

“Do you have everything?” You called from the kitchen, the rustling of objects from upstairs perking your ears.

“I got it, darlin’,” Bob told you kindly as he trotted down the stairs while zipping his tan backpack.

Beach football had become a tradition since the first game almost seven years ago. One football emoji from Maverick in the team’s group chat would have everyone rushing off base or nearby homes and gathering on the beach across from the Hard Deck. Bob would smile every time but quickly turn off notifications and grimace as Phoenix and Hangman started their taunts.

The blond wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek, “Don’t come home with a bloody nose, please,” you jokingly pleaded, pushing up his aviator glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Your husband chuckled and draped his backpack over his shoulder before walking over to the other side of the counter. His hand playfully grabbed hold of one of his daughter's space buns and pulled her closer. “Be good for your mom, Ames” he told her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m always good, daddy,” the six-year-old sighed dramatically and looked up at him, her matching aviator glasses slipping off the nose that also matched her father's.

“I know, but as your dad, it’s my job to say it,” he reminded her matter of factly before offering a quick ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ll see you later’ to his favorite girls.

Amy returned to her coloring book, her cheek resting against the palm of her hand as she meticulously colored her half-finished page. You leaned against the counter and watched as he walked towards the front door, casually eyeing him up and down with a smirk appearing on your face as his yellow shirt rose slightly. “Gross,” Amy mumbled under her breath after hearing the door shut.

You playfully scoffed and tugged on her other bun before kissing her forehead. “One day when someone catches your eye, baby, the payback will feel so good,” you chuckled before leaving her to her coloring book.

The house was still.

Like her father, Amy was a quiet child and her soft voice only ever rose when she was in distress or angry, which wasn’t often. “Mom!” she cried. Your blood turned cold at the shrill tone of her light voice, the basket of clothes collided with the wood floor.

“Amy,” you breathed as you hurried into the room, your heart pounding against your chest. The little girl stood in the center of the kitchen, tears filled to the brim as she looked down at the cylinder spray bottle in her hand. You came closer and got down on your knees, instantly looking for scrapes. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, moving the can towards you. “Daddy left his sunscreen,” she told you meekly.

Your face instantly softened as she passed it to you. Amy was never the same after last summer when the sunscreen was left in the room while you were out in the hot weather. Bob came back a bright blinding shade of red. The sounds of his pained groans and restless nights still haunted Amy. She hated to see her dad in any kind of pain or even slight discomfort.

“He’ll probably borrow Aunt Nat’s sunscreen,” you tried to reassure her, taking your finger and pushing up her glasses.

“But it’s his special sunscreen,” she grumbled, her eyes slowly narrowing. “We have to go give it to him!”

You looked down, the bold labeling reading: up to 110-degree protection. A laugh threatened to escape your poorly concealed smile. Bob swore by this stuff, proudly taking it with him everywhere during summer outings since the incident. “Ok,” you gave in, “we’ll go.”

The salt air was refreshing, the seagulls wailing loudly from above and the testosterone-fueled shouts were not any less quiet. You took a quick glance inside the windows of the Hard Deck, sending a quick wave to Penny before Amy pulled on your other hand.

“I see him!” Amy gasped excitedly, seeing Bob sitting in the sand with some of the other aviators while they reset for the next game. She let go once she noticed you watching, taking off towards Bob. “Daddy!” she called.

Bob’s eyebrows knitted together as he heard the familiar voice, he looked up to the sun wondering if he was overheating. The voice called to him again, the voice huffing and puffing before standing in front of him, her little shadow blocking his slightly pink face from the blazing sun. He looked down in surprise, “What are you doing here?” he asked with a grin.

“You left your sunscreen at home,” she said as she pulled away, showing him the can.

“She was adamant about bringing it to you,” you chimed in from behind. Bob’s torso turned and he wrapped his arm around your calf to pull you closer to his side.

Bob chuckled and took the can, pressing his kiss to her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, darlin’,” he hummed. Amy put her hands on her knees and inspected his face, noticing the small patch of red forming on his nose. There was only one way to get her to relax. Bob popped open the lid and removed his glasses before spraying it all over his face. “Is that better?” he asked, one of his blue eyes opening to see her reaction.

She was about to tell him to spray his face once more but a gasp left her throat as she was hoisted into the air and seated on broad shoulders. Her eyes were screwed shut and her arms had a death grip around the person’s neck. “I didn’t think I’d get to see my favorite girl today,” he said.

Her eyes opened once she heard his Texas drawl. “Jake!” she giggled, her eyes opening widely and a bright smile forming on her lips.

“Come to save your old man from losin’, baby bob?”

Amy blushed and shook her head bashfully. It was no secret to the team that Amy had a little crush on Hangman. “No, daddy left his sunscreen at home. I didn’t want him to get burnt.” Jake looked down at Bob and tsked, teasingly shaking his head in disapproval before carrying Amy off towards the water.

You took a seat next to Bob and looped your arm around his. “You know I just borrowed Natasha’s, right?” You couldn’t help but smile at the small laugh he had in his voice, it was your favorite sound in the world.

“I know,” you sighed, resting your head on his clothed shoulder. “You should have seen her face. She was worried you looked like a lobster.”

“I was doing just fine,” he hummed, turning to kiss your temple. “I promise.”

You looked down at his sand-ridden forearm. Raising a single eyebrow in suspicion, “You’re looking a little pink there,” you smirked, nudging him with your shoulder. Untangling your arms, you moved to sit on your knees, taking the can from its spot in the warm sand. “You could always…” your voice faded off as you eyed him up and down, hoping he’d get the hint.

Bob noticed the slight change in your tone and watched as your thighs clamped together while your eyes examined his clothed chest. “Baby,” he said in a low voice.

"Lift," you said sternly. He did as he was told and lifted his arms so you could spray his strong arms. You looked over, Amy was still sitting on Jake’s shoulders as he ran her down the beach, her little arms held the red football tightly to her chest, and giggled as the guys tried to reach for it. “She’s with her fan club,” you murmured before dragging in your lower lip.

The blond gave in and took off his shirt, gently placing it over his backpack. “This is what does it for you?” he joked, pointing at his pale skin.

“Very much so.” You nodded happily and started to spray his chest and back. Goosebumps started to form from the cold mist, naturally flinching to get away from it. “You should keep your shirt off,” you told him, sending a wink in his direction.

He pulled you in for a kiss, “You would like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” he mumbled against your lips.

“You guys are so gross!” Amy whined as she trotted towards you, plopping down right in between your bodies. Bob rolled his eyes and took back the sunscreen, spraying a little on his finger and dabbing it on her nose. She pouted, yet still nuzzled against his bare chest. “Thank you,” she sighed, scrunching her wet nose.

Amy shifted into your lap after the team called for Bob. He groaned and stood up from his spot, instinctively reaching for his t-shirt. A low hum of dissatisfaction rumbled from your throat, his head whipped towards you and caught your knowing expression. “Fine,” he sighed before walking back towards the beach, looking back to see your grin. He looked down at Amy and pushed up his glasses, making his daughter giggle and do the same.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fluff #top gun #top gun maverick

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