#and the feeling of not knowing for how long will i be able to keep drawing

[jamespotterismydaddy]

On the Brink

joel miller x reader smut

description: you’ve been wanting him for so long but joel can’t bring himself to give you what you want, what you deserve. a near death experience makes him realize how much he needs you

WORD COUNT: 4,2 k words

WARNINGS: smut, angst, age gap, semi-public sex, it’s also fluffy and cute at the start so no complaining about the angst

Your eyes watch him from across the yard with that same look you’ve had for the past few months. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is- he’s not an idiot… but that doesn’t mean he can ever acknowledge it. You’re young. Not a child by any means but for god’s sake, you’re half his age. There will be no entertaining these longing glaces you throw his way.

It was innocent at first, or at least he thinks it was. You would knock on his door, ask for his advice when it came to things like shooting and whatnot. He liked being helpful, useful. He liked that it was him that you came to, not Tommy even if he was known to be a sharpshooter. He thought that you looking up to him was the part he liked; he’s starting to realize that what he really likes is your attention.

“You need some help there, Mr. Miller?” You ask sweetly as he pulls in the planks of wood. He didn’t even see you walk over.

Joel rolls his eyes. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that. Makes him really feel his age. “Not from you, trouble.”

He was getting the supplies together because part of his front porch was rotting and he’d be damned if he fucked his knee up some more stepping through a weak plank. He could use the help, but he just doesn’t want your help.

“You getting sick of me already?” You say, giving him that ‘kicked puppy’ look that would make any man’s heart melt. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel more than sympathy.

“Course not.” He grumbles. “I did just see you this morning though.”

“What can I say… i’m clingy.” You shrug and grin at him with a smile so bright it could light up the sky.

“Go be clingy with somebody else.” He waves you off as he picks up his pencil and ruler to start marking lines on the wood. “I’m sure any man in Jackson would appreciate it.”

You stop for a moment, like you see something underlying in his words. “That seems to imply that you don’t think my attention is purely friendly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs but doesn’t give you any more of an answer.

“Besides, are you not a man in Jackson?” You ask teasingly, wanting to get more out of him.

He tries to keep his focus on his work so his attention doesn’t feed into your teasing. “That’s different.” He grumbles.

“Why is it different?”

He sighs, keeping his head low but letting his eyes rise up above his glasses to meet yours. “It’s different because i’m an old man in Jackson.”

You frown a little. You know what he means but you want him to explain it anyhow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ that I can’t entertain…” He gestures with his hand. “... whatever this is that you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”

He knows. Of course he knows; you haven’t been exactly subtle. You just never thought you would be able to make him say it out loud. “And what have I been doing?”

“Askin’ too many damn questions.” He grumbles under his breath and grabs his ruler to check his cut lines again. What is it all those carpenters say? Measure twice, cut once? That must’ve been a rule he would live by.

“What is it that i’m doing, Joel?”

He stops with his work now to look up at you properly. He seems like he’s about to speak but pauses for a moment, knowing that if he addresses this then it’s out in the open. He won’t be able to neatly pack up this conversation and put it in a safe where nobody can find it. Whatever is going on between the two of you… it’s pandora’s box.

But in the moment, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“You’re flirtin’ with me, sweetheart.”

“I am.” Is all you say in reply, looking into his eyes far too deeply.

He’s a little surprised and was half expecting you to deny it. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“How come?” Your quick little replies are irritating him now.

He rubs his forehead with his thumb, feeling frustrated. You’re not stupid and you know he’s twice your age. You know why you shouldn’t. You know it makes him feel wrong. So why act so clueless?

“It ain’t right.” He grumbles. “I’m too old for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly. “I would still like you if I was 10 years older.”

“It’s not about you liking me. It’s about what’s good for you.” He sighs. “And an old man ain’t it.”

“I hardly care about pre-outbreak morals, Joel.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you deserve. A man that can keep up with you, take care of you even 20 years from now. I can’t be that.” He looks almost nervous now. He feels the same way he did when he asked Tommy to take Ellie to the fireflies. It’s a different sense of care but he still doesn’t feel worthy for you in the same way that he didn’t feel worthy for her.

“It’s you that I want.”

He sighs.

“There’s plenty more age-appropriate men in Jackson who’d be chomping at the bit for a chance with you. You should go and take your pick of them.” He continues, trying his best to push you away. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Christ, he really wants you. But he also cares about you and that means he’s gotta try to nudge you in the right direction.

“I took my pick. Currently, he’s being difficult.” You say and he scoffs as he tries not to think about how endearing he finds your quick wit.

“I said age-appropriate.”

“Well there’s no other man i’m interested in.” You understand why he’s trying to convince you that he’s not somebody you should spend your time on. Maybe there was a time when things like age were more important but it feels miniscule now in the great span of things and besides, you can tell when he’s being self destructive. “So it hardly matters how many there are to choose from.”

He furrows his brows. Joel can hardly understand why it would be him you would want. He originally thought whatever you were feeling was a passing fantasy due to proximity, but it’s starting to appear as if it’s more than that. You’re just so full of light; he doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Y’know I can probably finish up here on my own. I ‘preciate your help though.” It makes him uncomfortable to realize your attention isn’t going to be quite as fleeting as he thought. He doesn’t know how to react to it. It’s not that he wants to hurt you. He’s just never been a man of many words.

“Um… yeah okay. No problem.” You try not to show how upset you are but it hurts for him to brush you aside so easily. “Bye.”

You walk off, regretting trying to push his hand, regretting the conversation in general… and most definitely regretting that you agreed to fill in for Tommy on his patrol shift with Joel in the morning.

~~~~~

When he walks into the stables the next day, Joel’s ready to grumble to his brother about how he has no damn coffee left and slept like shit, but is stopped in his tracks when he finds you tacking up Bellard.

You don’t turn around to look at him, you already recognize the sound of his heavy footsteps and besides, who else would be in the stables at 8am?

“I promise i’m not trying to stalk you. I already agreed to cover Tommy’s shift. Ben’s still not feeling well.” You tighten the cinch on the horse, not wanting to have any more whoopsies involving your saddle half slipping off like when you were just learning to ride.

“Didn’t think you were.” He says, already able to tell how your voice is colder. You’re more closed off to him now.

You put your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over so you’re sat on the saddle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel.” It’s ironic really, they way you sound so vulnerable when you speak even though you are literally sitting up on your high horse.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He says as he gets up onto his horse as well, giving her a light nudge with his heel to get her moving. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

His false mirror words don’t fool you, the illusion shattered like glass by his nervous mannerisms. You know your conversation with him yesterday made things weird and you’re starting to wish you’d just ignored the whole thing like a normal person. You’d just really felt the need to defend yourself, never wanting to chase a man who doesn’t want you. Even if you have a feeling that he does.

But he ignores it. For the whole patrol he ignores it. The slight crack you saw in his demeanor has melded itself back together and he is back to the gruff man he usually is.

What you don’t see is his watchful eye, ever on you, protectively. You don’t know that it’s the same way that he watches Ellie and Tommy. The only people he would risk everything for, the only people that he makes sure are safe before himself. But it isn’t quite the same, is it? There’s something more in his gaze as it’s cast upon you, a hint of the same longing you have when your eyes fall on him.

“Did you hear that?” Your question puts him on alert right away. He tries to listen and he thinks his old ears are failing him before he hears the crash. It’s coming from a cabin east of Jackson, one that’s been checked through multiple times, even by Joel himself. While patrol routes are changed often, buildings are still checked regularly for anyone that might be hiding out. Clickers are of course dangerous but thinking, intelligent humans are much worse.

“Stay here. I’ll get closer and see if it’s anything to worry about.” He says, like it’s a command.

“I’m your partner, not your sidekick. I won’t let you go in there alone just because you don’t think I make good backup.”

“Jesus, woman ya really think that’s why I want you to stay behind?” You give him a look that says that’s exactly what you think but he doesn’t have time to validate you when there’s a chance that something dangerous is in that cabin right now. “Just follow at a distance then at the very least.”

That’s enough for you so you nod and the both of you hop off your horses and tie them up, not wanting them to spook at the first sign of whatever is in that cabin.

The two of you approach slowly and you try not to flinch at the crashing sounds so you can hold your gun straight. You also don’t want Joel to sense your fear. It’s not helpful for him to be worrying about you. You won’t be a distraction. He moves around the side of the cabin to look through the window and mouths the word ‘infected’ to you, holding up three fingers. You nod to show your understanding and he starts to make his way back, likely to come up with an action plan.

Though he barely makes it two feet when one of the horses whinnies. You both freeze. It wasn’t that loud, right? How good could an infected’s hearing possibly be?

Your answer comes moments later when they burst through the front door, but they don’t hear Joel. You’re the one who is in direct line of the horses.

“Shit.” You breathe out as you aim your gun and make a shot for the one in front, missing the head but hitting it in the shoulder. A shoulder shot doesn’t stop a runner.

“Goddamn it.” Joel acts quick, putting a bullet through the one closest to him with easy precision. The infected drops to the ground.

The one closest to you is still moving fast and you know you need to make this shot because if Joel misses, the last one will be on you before you can even think. You keep your hands steady, too pumped full of adrenaline to shake like you were before, and you pull the trigger.

You hear a gunshot, but it isn’t yours as Joel takes down the other runner. Your gun never fired.

Because your gun is jammed.

You pull the trigger again, and again, frantic now.

It’s no use so you drop the useless weapon. You look down for a moment to draw your knife but it’s too late as the infected tackles you to the ground.

“Joel!” The call rips out from your throat and Joel is sure he’s never heard such terror in anyone’s voice before. Well… not so sure.

You hold the infected back as well as you can, knowing that it’s over if you’re bitten, but you don’t have to push it back for long.

Joel’s gun fires and the shot rings true as the mindless flesh creature falls off next to you. A headshot taken from just the right position so the bullet wouldn’t graze you.

“Are you hurt?” The fear in his eyes matches your own as he kneels in front of you and seems to check you for injury over anything else.

Then he pauses.

“Are you bit?”

The thought comes to you at the same time. You were so dazed during the attack that it’s something you actually have to think about.

“I um… no.” You stumble over your words for a moment before speaking more confidently. “No, it didn't bite me.”

“Good.” He nods and moves on quickly, helping you to your feet.

He starts to move around, checking the infected, checking the house. He’s not focused on you anymore, like he wants to be distracted from the thought.

“One of them probably got bit a day or two back. Didn’t tell his friends and then…” He trails off, gesturing to the bodies. “This happened. Don’t think it’s something to worry about too much though. Probably an isolated event.”

He explains, but he’s rambling. Joel Miller doesn’t ramble. The near death experience is brushed under the rug, but you won’t have that.

“Joel.” You start but he cuts you off.

“I can write up the report for it. I know that’s something you’re not a fan of.” It’s idle talk, nothing of value.

“Joel.” You say his name more firmly now and he looks up at you. “I almost died.”

He clenches his jaw, the tenseness in the conversation now unavoidable. You walk closer and it takes everything in him to not step away. He wants to leave, wants to push it down, but you almost died. He can hardly wrap his mind around it. If he had shot that runner a second later, it would have bitten you, at the very least, and his next bullet would’ve been in your head.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Do you? Because you won’t look me in the eye.” There’s desperation in the way you look up at him and it’s like he’s staring through you instead of at you.

He lets out a breath and it kills you because you can’t tell what he’s feeling. There’s emotion in his eyes but you just don’t know which one.

“Please don’t shut down on me.” Your hand rises to touch his shoulder and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

His eyes finally flicker down to yours and then to your lips for just a moment. He should think about what he’s doing, he knows that. Your age should be enough to put him off, but he almost lost you only minutes ago.

He won’t deny himself any longer.

Joel’s hand lifts to your chin and your eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion as he tilts your chin up. You part your lips to speak but don’t get the chance because his mouth is now on yours. All his hunger and need and desire finally come out as he kisses you harshly. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you against him, never breaking the kiss. It’s like he doesn’t need air to breathe as he pushes his lips against yours and walks you back until a tree stops you. His tongue pushes into your mouth and he groans when feeling yours push back.

He pulls back and you worry that he regrets it, thinking he acted irrationally or emotionally. Those worries are quelled when he focuses his attention on your neck, leaving gentle kisses and sucking on the soft skin just the right amount so it won’t leave any marks. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips graze up your thigh before gripping it firmly and lifting it up against him.

“I need you, Joel.” You whisper so softly that he’s not even sure he heard you correctly.

“Hm, honey?” He still isn’t fully focused as he trails kisses up your jawline.

“I need it.” You whine a bit and he frowns.

“No.” He murmurs against your skin, kisses so soft and featherlight that you can’t be convinced he’s even touching you. “Not here. You deserve better than here.”

“Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.” You slip your hand under the hem of his shirt. “Been so patient.”

A hint of a smile graces his face. “Patient? Sweetheart, you’re begging me to fuck you in a forest in the middle of our patrol.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” Your hand slides up his chest. “You gotta finish the things you start, Mr. Miller.”

His hand grabs your other thigh and he lifts you up so you’re pushed against the tree. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of him lifting you up with ease, like he’s got something to prove. “I know.”

“Then you should learn to watch your mouth.”

You smirk, knowing just how easy it is to rile him up. “Why don’t you watch it for me?”

He huffs as if your bratty little comments annoy him, but you know he likes it. It’s easy to tell by the way his lips find yours once again. His moves are messy and imprecise. It’s so unlike him to be so reckless but it’s you that brings it out of him.

Hands are pulling at clothes and you’re quickly at a point where your pants are off enough for him to touch you. His fingers waste no time pushing past your underwear to tease you. The movements are slow now, just enough to leave you wanting for more.

“Joel.” You try to scold but it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“Hmm?” He’s not focused on your face anymore, no matter how pretty it might be. He’s more concerned with how many fingers he can push inside you before you start to whine.

“Joel.” You pout again as he feels your wetness pooling in his palm.

Three then. He thinks to himself, calculating how long he’ll have to wait to let you adjust to his cock before he can fuck you how he wants. But he already knows he’ll be pushing your limits.

“Shh, baby. Clearly, you’re not as patient as you claim to be.”

You can’t even reply, not with how good it feels when his fingers start to curl inside you. Joel continues the motions for a minute or so but it’s not what you want. It feels so damn good but this isn’t the way you want to finish.

You start to push him away and he stops as soon as he sees the hesitation.

“Everything alright?” He asks and your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice.

“I wanna feel something a little bigger.”

He rolls his eyes. “No damn patience.” He unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. “I’ll give you what you want then.”

He pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs- his very nice thighs- so he can pull himself out of his boxers. There’s no more slow, teasing actions. He wants to show you what your impertinence gets you. Lifting you back up with just one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

As the head pushes in, he watches your face so he can see how you struggle to take it. You won’t speak up though, not after you whined and begged for him to fuck you. He might be a lot bigger than you’ve had before but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it.

Joel doesn’t want to miss the look on your face as he pushes in but can’t help but glance down. The sight of your desperate pussy sucking him in more and more is almost enough for him to finish there and then, but he holds off. He won’t let this be something you regret.

“Fuck.” He groans as he pushes the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. You whimper, hiding your face in his neck. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your cheeks heat and he starts to pull himself back out again before you hear the slick squelch of another deep thrust.

“Shit, Joel.” The stretch stings but it’s a good hurt.

“I know. I was trying to prepare you but you never fucking listen.” His words sound sympathetic, no matter how harsh they are, but the way he punishes you with his dick seems to contrast that.

His hands hold up both your thighs as he leans you against the tree for more leverage so he can pull his hips back and fuck into you deeper and deeper.

“Mmm.” You moan, unable to form thoughts, let alone words.

The way the head of his cock hits just the right spot before slipping up to kiss your cervix makes you feel pleasure in a way you couldn’t previously fathom. You’ve never been fucked like this before and it just makes it oh so better because it’s him fucking you.

Joel’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul with the way he’s watching you. He lives for it, your reactions, every little sound you make. It all makes him harder as he slams into you rougher with each thrust.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Taking me so damn well, finally learning how to listen.”

“Dick.” You grumble and he chuckles.

“I’m not the one who begged for this.” His hips push against yours. You didn’t think he’d be able to get even deeper but he does. “Fucking begged, honey.”

“I’m not the one who let go of all my morals for it though, either.”

It’s a dangerous thing for you to point out, almost threatening enough for him to stop. But it’s also another thing he likes about you. You always bite back. There is even some part, some sick part, of him deep down that enjoys how wrong it is. It enjoys that you, being so beautiful and smart and full of life… and so young still want him. You could have any man between your thighs but it’s Joel whose fucking you.

“I’m close, Joel.” You say after his fingers have crept down to rub between your legs. He needs you to finish first, needs it bad.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing around me. Wanna know how you love it.”

His pace never falters as he leads you to the edge, drawing in and out of you with a pace that you didn’t think a man his age could hold. It just feels so good; you want it to last forever, but all good things end eventually.

“F-Fuck.” You moan and he feels it as your walls tighten around his cock. It almost makes him cum instantly but he pushes through enough to lead you through your high.

You’re panting now as he pulls out, spilling himself onto the forest floor. You look up at him as he lets you down gently. You’re scared, scared that it’s over now, scared that this was a one time thing. And he just won’t fucking look at you.

“Joel?” Your voice cracks. God, you hate how you can’t control it.

His head snaps back right away and when you look into his eyes… it’s not regret that you see. “It’s okay, trouble. You did good.” There is something more in the way he comforts you. “We’re good.”

It’s not much of an explanation but it relieves you. You understand him and though he didn’t speak many words, you know what lies between the lines. This isn’t the end of what’s between you.

comment to be added to taglist

@grayandthyme @littledes1re just thought I’d tag my new moots because y’all’s writing inspired me to get back into it :)

[morgannalefey]

These aren't quite the same because I don't have a lot of things (we moved a lot when I was a kid) that survived. With my parents i have memories.

My mother taught me how she made several dishes, but my favorite is her sage and onion dressing for thanksgiving. I will always insist on making it as long as I am able because it brings her to me. Every time I make it, I hear her voice telling me "Listen, that's what it needs to sound like, don't put any more milk in" or "Here, can you smell that? That's how it needs to smell before you bake it." I lost her 23 years ago.

My father taught me how to drive, and one thing he did was took me to a giant parking lot on a super icy day and had me do spin outs and fishtails until I was confident that I could identify what they felt like and could safely get myself out of them. I think about him doing this every time the weather turns icy in our area. Daddy is also on the window sill next to me right now, he was cremated and I have his remains my brother has Mom. When Daddy was ill the final time I was distressed because I was on the outs with my brother (because of how he'd treated our father) and worried that Daddy wouldn't be happy being separate from her when he was gone. He said not to worry because she was always with him, and her ashes being with my brother was good. Daddy passed ten minutes after I cast my primary ballot for Obama the first time. He'd have been massively please to know Obama won.

When I stayed at my maternal grandparents house as a child I always had to sleep in one of Grampa's white under shirts (he was the sort of man who always wore a white tee shirt under his plaid button down shirts). When he died, I took one of his plaid shirts and one of his white undershirts just to keep in my closet. They're still there 15 years later.

I loved my great grandmother. So much. She loved me. When we were at her place, she and I were inseparable. I was just barely forming memories when I lost her. I was inconsolable in a way only a 5 year old can be sometimes. My mother inherited a lot of her christmas ornaments. When I started my own household, and I got my spouse, I told my mother that we'd decided to buy one ornament a year so eventually all our ornaments would be special (we now have 36 years of ornaments on our tree), and she said she knew it was time to pass great gramma's ornaments on to me. So now I have three precious old ornaments on my tree each year. One was a fuchsia ball and it fell and broke, but I gathered up the pieces and glued them to the outside of a clear glass ball of the same size and then sealed it. So I still have it.

These things build up over the years and as I type this I'm crying because I still miss all of them so much. The wounds remain but they get sealed up and don't hurt so much when things like this come along to remind you. I'm crying but I'm feeling very loved, too. I am 60 years old this year.

I saw this post on tiktok and as soon as I opened the comments I started sobbing

[wendichester]

⋆˚✿˖° say my name,

summary. sam has you captive. or a resemble of who sam used to be. he's not in his right mind. and neither are you.

pairing. demon!sam winchester x gn!reader genre. dark, weird, nsfw

wordcount. 1569

notes / warnings. captivity (reader is restrained), dubiously consensual vibes (very much a tension-based fantasy setup), morally grey dynamics, corrupted!sam, powerplay, heavy tension, implied dom/sub energy, degradation (light), reader is conflicted and into it, seriously filthy in a twisted kind of way — reader is fully into it, even if they hate themselves for it

You don’t know how long it’s been. Days, maybe. Or maybe it’s only been hours. Time feels weird in this place—too quiet, too dark. You're tied to the bed with soft leather straps that look expensive and feel… weirdly personal. Like they were picked out just for you.

Which, knowing him, they probably were.

The door creaks open and your breath catches before you even see him.

There’s a heaviness that hits the room first. That twisted sort of energy that makes your spine straighten and your lungs forget how to work. The air gets hotter. The space gets smaller.

And then he walks in.

Sam. Or… the thing wearing Sam.

You used to be able to tell the difference. You think.

But now? God, it’s hard. It’s so hard.

He still looks like him—tall, broad, hands in his jacket pockets, that slow walk like he’s got all the time in the world and nothing to fear. His hair falls into his eyes, and his lips curve in that little smirk that used to mean he was about to kiss you. Or pin you down.

Only now, it means something else entirely.

“Well,” he purrs, voice like velvet and smoke, “someone’s awake.”

You don’t say anything. Not right away. You try not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how fast your pulse kicks up.

He stalks closer, lazy. Controlled. A predator with nothing better to do than play with his food.

“You've been so quiet,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle. Too gentle. It hurts.

“I miss your voice, sweetheart.”

You glare, but your throat’s dry. You’re too warm. The way he looks at you—like he wants to ruin you, like he already has—is making it hard to hold your ground.

“Not gonna say anything?” he tilts his head. “Not even a ‘screw you, Sam’?”

“You’re not him,” you manage to whisper.

That earns you a grin. Full teeth. Sinister.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, breath ghosting your jaw. “That’s the fun part.”

He drags a finger along your collarbone, slow and deliberate, like he’s tracing his name there. “You think you can tell where I end and he begins?”

You hate how your stomach flutters.

He’s too close now. And you can smell him—Sam—earthy and warm and familiar, like he just stepped out of your memories and twisted them into something filthy.

“Maybe I’m just pulling what was already inside him to the surface,” the demon muses, fingers sliding down your arm. “Maybe he likes this. Maybe he’s been waiting for a reason to stop being the good guy.”

Your breath hitches.

Because deep down, you’ve wondered that too.

You’ve seen the fire in Sam’s eyes before, the hunger he tried to pretend wasn’t there. The way his grip would tighten on your hips, on your waist, like he was barely keeping something chained.

What if this is just… him, unfiltered?

No guilt. No leash. Just raw want.

“Poor thing,” the demon says, tilting your chin up. “You can’t even decide if you want to fight me or fuck me.”

You flinch. But only a little.

He smiles.

“You know what the best part is?” he says, almost giddy. “He can feel all of it. Every sound you make. Every little whimper. Every time your thighs press together.”

He runs a knuckle down your sternum. “He likes how much you want this.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, but your voice is barely a whisper.

He just laughs. “Why would I, when I’m finally getting the truth out of you?”

He climbs onto the bed, straddling you, moving with that maddening grace. Like he owns you. Like he’s entitled to this.

His face dips lower, lips ghosting your ear.

“Say my name.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not him.”

A pause. Then a soft, dangerous hum.

“Maybe not.” He traces your jaw with his mouth, barely touching. “But I sound like him. I taste like him. And if you let me…” He presses his lips just below your ear. “I’ll make you come harder than he ever did.”

Your body shudders. You hate him. You hate how much you want him.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say my name, and I’ll let you scream.”

You bite your lip. You try not to let the moan escape—but it does. Just a tiny one. His grin sharpens.

“That’s what I thought.”

You look up at him, breathless. Torn. Thrumming with need and shame and something far too dark to name.

“Sam,” you whisper.

He stills.

Then he smiles. Slow. Sinister. Triumphant.

And you swear you see the glint of something real—not just the demon. Him.

You don’t know who you’re begging for anymore.

And honestly?

You’re not sure it matters.

Your wrists ache, but you’re barely aware of it. Not with him hovering over you like that—his weight caging you in, mouth dragging heat and ruin down your neck, breath warm against your skin. You can’t tell where the demon ends and Sam begins anymore. It’s all tangled up: the voice, the touch, the hunger.

And worst of all? It feels good. Too good.

You don’t know what you were expecting when you said his name—Sam—but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the way he stilled, like you’d yanked on a leash. It wasn’t the way his hands trembled, like he was fighting something off… or fighting to stay in control.

But now?

Now he’s kissing you like he’s starving.

And not just the demon. Him.

“Sam,” you breathe again, dazed.

He groans into your mouth like it hurts to hear his name in your voice. Like it’s pulling him back up through the black sludge of whatever’s holding him under.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he rasps against your lips. His voice is rough, strained. His voice.

“Then tell me to stop,” you whisper.

He kisses you harder.

You can feel it—feel him clawing through the surface. His hands tremble where they grip your hips, and when he pulls back to look at you, something flickers in his eyes.

That softness. That guilt.

But underneath it, still there, still hungry—the demon.

You don’t know who’s kissing you anymore.

Sam’s mouth crashes into yours again, deeper this time. Like he’s trying to memorize you, consume you. He groans against your tongue like he’s just found air after drowning.

“God, you’re so—” he breaks off, panting. His forehead drops to yours, his grip on your body bruising.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. But his hips are grinding down against yours and he’s not stopping.

“You already are,” you whisper.

He snarls, half-demon, half-man. “You think I don’t know what this is doing to you? The way you squirm when I get close? The way your thighs press together when I speak?”

You gasp, but he doesn’t stop.

“You like this. You like me like this.”

“Sam—”

“I’m still me, sweetheart,” he says, dragging his mouth down to your throat. “Still the one who fucked you in the back of the Impala. Still the one who made you cry on my tongue.”

Your whole body shudders.

“I’m just... better now.”

You shake your head, chest heaving. “This isn’t right.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good,” he growls, biting down gently on your pulse. “Tell me you don’t want it. Lie to me. I dare you.”

You open your mouth. You try. But nothing comes out.

Because you do want it. Want him.

Whatever this version of Sam is—drenched in darkness, wild and unfiltered—it’s him. Just more. Less rules. Less hesitation.

Still the same hands. Still the same mouth.

Still the same ache he’s always pulled from you like it was his.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

He laughs, dark and dangerous. “No, baby. You hate how much you want me.”

His fingers wrap around your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look at him.

“I could let go,” he murmurs, eyes boring into you. “Let him come fully back. Let just Sam fuck you. Let him be soft.”

Your lips part. Heat coils deep in your stomach.

“Or,” he adds, voice dipping into a snarl, “I could stay right here and break you open myself.”

You whimper.

“Yeah,” he purrs. “That’s what I thought.”

But then—suddenly—his grip falters. His expression changes. Something in his eyes shifts. Softens. Flares.

And then, just like that, he’s Sam again.

Fully.

Panting. Shaking. His hands are still on you. His mouth is still red from kissing you.

And his eyes are horrified.

“I—I didn’t mean to…” he breathes, looking down at your restrained form like it’s the first time he’s really seen you. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never—fuck, I didn’t want this.”

You stare up at him, chest rising and falling. Your lips are red. Your wrists are raw. And you’ve never wanted him more.

“Then don’t stop,” you say, voice low. “Do it as you.”

Sam blinks.

You tug on the restraints. “You’re already in this deep. Might as well make me yours.”

His jaw clenches. “I’ve always been yours.”

And just like that, his mouth is on you again—desperate, messy, real. No demon. Just Sam.

But god help you, it’s worse. Because it’s better.

Because it’s him—and you’re still tied up, and you’re still wrecked, and now you’re crying out his name like a prayer.

And he’s answering every single one.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[c4tluver02]

party mishaps

wc: 3.2k

summary: You and Steve go to Tommy's party, it's fun and you two have a a great time. That is until a drink is spilt on you and Steve gets flashbacks from the last time this happened.

cw: r wearing a bra, r being shorter than Steve, drinking, partying, being drunk, hurt/comfort, slight fight (so small barely), happy ending, fluffff

When Steve told you about the party happening tonight you immediately agreed to going. It would be the first outing you have as a couple. 

Of course people knew you were dating, and it wasn't like you hid it from the world. Anyone who walked past you could tell you were dating– Steve always had an arm around you  or a hand shoved in your back pocket. 

But for the people who see you around school, the girls who talk behind your back about how Steve used to be, it meant something. Because you would be able to finally show off how strong you and Steve are. The relationship being somewhat new but solid nonetheless. 

You knew about his past relationships, how the meaningless sex made him feel, what Nancy did to him. None of it was lost on you, the things Steve has had to put up with. 

That's why when he calls you asking you to come over you do. And when it’s just you and him in his empty house he finally starts to feel warm. Like the feeling of another being is bringing him back to life. What once was a house with bones is now filled with a heart and soul, something it severely lacked without you. 

And when it’s late at night, your legs are tangled with his, he finally asks. This party he wants you to attend would be hosted by Tommy and Carol so you wouldn't be alone. You think he knows that's barely a selling point, not really friends with them, but still him letting you know was nice to hear. 

Steve doesn't really go to parties anymore, and for him to ask you to come felt like a big step. You know Steve, if you aren't into it he has no problem leaving. Plus it would be nice to have a fun night out with him, one that involves you getting into a cute outfit and hearing compliments on how pretty you look.

–

As you got ready for the party you heard Steve open the door, his keys make a loud noise when they hit the glass bowl. 

“Baby?” His voice booms even louder.

“M’upstairs!” 

The staircase is just as loud, the old wood creaks with every step he takes. 

“I just talked to Tommy, apparently people are already getting there, whatever happened to being fashionably late?” He stops at your door with a hip pop and a hand to rest there. 

You are putting on a necklace in front of your mirror but your hair keeps getting in the way, making it hard.

“Want help?” 

“Please.” You give him the necklace as you lift up your hair. Once he clasps it together he gives your shoulder a small kiss. 

Your outfit consisted of a tank top and a jean skirt, not wanting to be too uncomfortable but still look presentable. Anything that shows you legs will have Steve begging for you so it’s a win either way. 

“You look really pretty.” He says as he gives you a full look up and down. He’s leaning against your bed frame and you won't lie he looks even better. 

“Thank you” You turn around giving him a long awaited kiss. “Are you ready to go?” You never do your lipstick until you’re in Steve's car for this very reason. 

“Yeah, let's go.” His hand gives your hand a small squeeze before you turn to walk towards the door.

Steve opens the car door for you like the gentleman he is, and even gives you another kiss once you’re settled in with your seatbelt on. You can see him stare at your legs for a split second. 

“You feeling some Beatles or maybe Madonna?” You ask sorting through his many tapes. He’s already getting into the driver's seat as you ask.

“Whatever you want honey, it’s not too far away.” His hand is already on your thigh. 

Despite his comment about the distance his humming to the songs is loud. Long fingers drumming against your warm thigh, soft from a lotion he always says is his favorite smell. Steve loves to sing in the car, and thankfully he’s not bad at it. On your third date he sang you a song from a tape he made and you felt your heart double in size. 

When you turn into Tommys street you can already hear the loud music. Multiple cars park around his house and Steve gets lucky that his car is just small enough for a spot. As he helps you out of the car you can hear a loud whistle come from the other side of the street. It’s two old guys who are sitting in plastic chairs with a beer in hand– other alcoholic drinks surround them. 

Steve flips them off and walks behind you the whole way to the door. When walking into the house the music only gets louder and colorful lights appear on the walls. It’s not pitch black but it certainly isn't brightly lit, allowing people to make out in corners without being spotted. 

“D’you want a drink?” Steve asks, hand grabbing onto your own. 

You give him a nod as you run your nails up and down his arm. The last thing you want to do is be separated by Steve, even if it’s to get a drink. The old guys already got you in a bad mood. 

Steve is really great at making drinks, he always knows exactly how much you want or what flavors you would like. As he makes it you take a chance to look around at the people dancing. Sweaty bodies grinding against other sweaty bodies, not a care in the world. You see some girls from your english class, if all else fails you could always talk to them. 

Steve’s hand on your waist brings you back to him, a pinkish drink is in his reached out hand. 

“I added pink lemonade, if it’s still too bitter let me know.” 

You give him a small ‘thank you’ that he 100% doesn't hear but his eyes were already on your lips, easily reading them. He grabs a beer for himself, using the edge of the counter to take the lid off. 

The drink is a little bitter but not anything you can't handle. When you see Carol walk your way you already know you’re gonna need a few more of these pink drinks. She’s wearing an extremely short dress, one you’re sure Tommy yelled at her for wearing. She’s probably only wearing it to rebel against him, the way it pushes her boobs up and together looks extremely uncomfortable, like it's just a size or two too small but still she fits. 

“Hey you two! Have you seen Tommy?” The slur mixed with her speech tells you all you need to know. 

“Nope, we just got here. He’s probably smoking out back.” Steve answers, sipping on his beer. 

“He quit smoking, no way he’s back there.” She says looking through the crowd of people. It gives you a second to look at Steve as he shakes his head at you, as if to say ‘no he didn't’. 

Her drunk state probably isn't helping her look so you take her hand and make your way through the crowd. Steve is talking to some guys in the kitchen but his eyes are still on you. 

“Where did you last see him?” You are already almost done with your drink, the small glass plus ice did not give you much. 

“I went to get us drinks and he walked away.” She holds up the two bottles of beer in her hand, both opened ready to drink. 

Thankfully she isn't looking at the staircase because when you finally spot Tommy he’s with a blond girl walking down the steps. She presses a kiss to his cheek, lipstick leaving a print, and in seconds you are trying to think of a way to get Carol away so you can pull them apart. 

But her head turns too fast, her gaze follows yours, and she's already caught them. Her hand rips away from yours as she stomps over to the two people. The blond is quick to walk away, not wanting to be part of the whole fight, probably just wanting a guy to take home. When Carol dumps the beer on Tommy you walk away too, something you also don't want to get involved with. 

Steve is still in the kitchen talking to the same people you saw him with when you left a few minutes ago. But this time a new pink drink is sitting next to his beer, all perfect and ready for you. Putting the old glass in the sink you pick up the new one, it doesn't have as much ice, or maybe it’s melted from your time away. This one is stronger, the alcohol hits you quickly, making your eyes pinch together as you shake your head. 

“Too much?” Steve asks with a laugh. His arm snakes around your waist again. 

“Nope, perfect, thank you.” This time he hears you say it, faces so close together he just has to give you a kiss. 

Before you can deepen it he lets go. “Did Carol find Tommy?” You’re practically leaning your body against him, going completely limp into him. 

“Yep, with another girl.” His eyes widen and then roll. The shock lasted about 2 seconds before it wore off. 

You don't even give him a chance to say anything back, going in for another kiss. This time it’s deeper, longer, and says more. But the sound of another person entering the kitchen forces you two apart, Steve grabs your glass off the counter. 

“Hey, if you two need to use my room you can.” Tommy says with a wink. His shirt is completely soaked from the beer Carol dumped on him, the kiss print still bright on his cheek. 

Steve just gives him a small nod as he takes your hand to get you two out of the kitchen. Now that it’s taken over by Tommy you need a new spot. He nods when you point to a couch in the corner of the room, a nice lamp stands next to it, meant for a reading nook. It’s quite small, really only fitting two people or maybe one person who puts their legs out. Still it works for you both, turning on the lamp is a huge plus. Every other light in this house, besides the kitchen, is multi-colored so the nice warmth is appreciated. 

The more you and Steve talk in that corner the more the drinks flow. Every once in a while you’ll get up to get two beers, when Steve gets up he comes back with a beer and a new colorful drink. The longer you sit on the couch the less you care about the drinks and more about the effect it gives. 

You start to get up again, ready for another drink but this time Steve pulls you back down. He says something as you land back on the seat but you can't hear it, it makes you tap on your ear hoping he gets the gist. 

“No more okay?” He yells into your ear, the current song playing is way louder than the others. 

And the pout he receives is deadly. Your already glassy eyes become more prominent, the lip you stick out is lightly red from your leftover lipstick, and the whine that leaves you isn't missed on him. He should really cut you off but when has Steve ever been able to deny that face? 

Although you were originally trying to get it, he decides it’s best you stay seated. Your body is loosey goosey thanks to the alcohol, not a good way to walk around a crowded room. 

When he comes back with two drinks the smile is back on your face. After this Steve will man up and say no to you but for now he lets you chug the bottle down with no argument. He wants you to have fun after all, tomorrow you will hate yourself for it but right now the smile on your face is so pretty. He wishes he brought his camera you look so good, even all drunk and messy with your legs thrown over his lap. His hand is warm on your thigh keeping your skirt in place so it doesn't roll up and when you notice he isn't even touching his new bottle you make grabby hands for it. 

He lifts it up high so you can't reach, shorter than him sitting down and your arms are not as long enough to grab it. 

So when you swiftly move your legs off of his lap and stand you can reach it with ease. Grabbing onto the neck of the bottle, trying to get it your way. It all happened so quick, Steve was just playing around. But when you yank too hard on the neck it tips and all of the liquid falls out onto you. Similarly to Tommy, it soaks your chest, the white shirt you have on becoming see through. You’re left sticky and shiny with tears filling your eyes. 

You forcefully push yourself away from Steve and he catches you before you tumble backwards. His hands grabbing onto your wrists tightly. This only makes you angrier. You struggle to get away from him but his grip is too tight. 

Steve is getting the worst flashbacks from his last party of spilling a drink on his date. The way it ended, the words said, it all came back to him so fast. If you were in a normal state of mind you would be aware of this, probably not even mad about a drink spilt by Steve. But with the alcohol coursing through you and the drunk state of mind none of that comes through. 

“C’mere let's go to the bathroom.” His hands move from your wrists to your hips, pushing you both through the crowd. He’s too strong for you to pull away from, especially in your wasted state. 

It’s crazy how much the bathroom door blocks out the loud music. It’s like you can finally think again and you can even hear his sigh as he looks at the two of you in the mirror. Despite the slight smudge of mascara and the loss of lipstick you look pretty much the same. Except your shirt is now showing your bra and the shine from the beer is glowing from the light. 

“Will you let me help you clean up?” He’s still looking at you through the mirror, you stand there with your arms crossed thinking. You really aren't terribly upset, it’s not like he was mad at you like Carol was with Tommy. It was an accident, but still it happened and you were just trying to have fun. There was no need for him to be such a party crasher, even if he was just looking out for you, you know when you need to stop. 

Still you give him a nod as you turn to face him, he brings his hands back to your hips. You know what he's doing from your few times of making out in bathrooms. He says a little ‘jump’ as he lifts you up onto the sink counter. Slipping himself into your legs, all in your personal space. 

He grabs a hand towel from below the sink and wets it. Neither of you are talking and the fact that you're so drunk your boyfriend has to clean you up is making you want to cry again. This was not how the night was supposed to go, you two were having such a nice time talking and dancing to the music. 

“I'm sorry baby, I really am.” He gently lifts your chin so you can look at him. His eyes are downturned, the sad expression that takes over his face is enough to have you break as well. 

“I’m sorry too, I didn't mean to drink so much. I was just having fun.” 

Steve can't help but think about how different this is to him and Nancy. Both of you apologizing even though nothing was done on purpose, neither of you have done anything wrong. No mentions of how your relationship was bullshit or you that weren't actually in love. 

The towel is nice and cold against your burning skin, he’s being so soft with you in this moment. You want to kiss him, the only time you are put onto bathroom counters is to kiss so it’s weird that you feel like you can't. 

“I’ll grab a shirt from Tommy’s room, you wanna wear mine?” The last thing Steve wants to happen is for the old pervs outside to see your completely see through white tank top. 

“Yeah, good idea.” He gives you a small smile and you feverishly give one back. 

He pats your thighs as he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You hop back down on the ground and take your shirt off, allowing you to get more of the beer that is still on you. Now that a million people aren't surrounding you, you’re getting really cold. Goosebumps litter your skin and at the moment all you want to do is go home with Steve. 

When he comes back he is wearing a plain black shirt, the one he just had on in his hands. 

“Are you okay?” His voice comes out heart achingly sincere.

“M’okay, thank you.” Your arms wrap around him as you pull him into a hug. The beer also got your bra and he can feel how cold it is through his t-shirt. 

His hands rub up and down your back in hopes to warm you up and you giggle. 

“That tickles.” It murmured into his chest. 

“Let's get this shirt on and we can go yeah?” 

You nod letting go of him and he puts the shirt over your head. Each arm slips in their respective place and he opens the door, music and lights hit you immediately and it makes you even happier to get out of here. 

An arm wraps around your shoulders and both of you make your way to the car. It was a good idea for Steve to give you his shirt because the old men are still there, this time with even more bottles around them. 

When both of you get settled into the car you turn towards Steev and it makes him pause. 

“Kisses?” You ask, puckering your lips. 

He breaks into a smile, the famous Steve Harringotn one that took your heart the second you first saw it. His hands grab onto your cheeks and he pulls you into him. The kiss is passionate and strong, you are still drunk though so when you let out another giggle Steve doesn't hold you to it. 

He starts the car and puts it in drive as you kiss along his neck. You’re a big distraction when he’s driving home but it doesn't matter. When you get home he’ll run a bath for you and the spilt drink won't even be thought of. 

[mona-risms]

mira x Reader where Reader is a civilian and Mira's friend before the Fame. (Reader knew about Mira being a demon hunters ) but to to a demon attack, Reader managed to survive from the attack but an accident happen causing reader to go to hospital in critical condition. A chance Losing Reader makes Mira realize her feelings and she doesn't want to lose Reader and visits Reader, wanting the first person Reader will see after surgery.

◆ MAIN COURSE: Mira x gn!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: Hospitals, comas.

◆ NOTES: None? Tbf I didn't know how to take this, my bad gang I tried my best 😓💔

Through all the bs she's gone through as someone who's often been looked down upon as the 'black sheep'—a title she still held high to this day but also became lonely as a consequence—you were the only person who's been with her as a constant as the years went on. You never judged, you never told her to conform to any sort of expectations her family or anyone wanted to put on her, you never expected anything from her. You were just.. there, happy to be with her in any way, shape, and form. And she'll be damned if she ever fucking lost you

She doesn't hide things from you as long as you don't hide things from her, and she can tell if you are. But if not, then it's the most refreshing thing ever, and honestly you're the one she will EVER trust the most, even WITH HUNTR/X involved. Hell, even though Hunter training requires her to keep it a secret, she's like "alr I'll keep it a secret.......to everyone else but [Y/N] but Celine doesn't need to know that". Honestly you've most likely helped her even more BECAUSE you know, and she appreciates it so much. She doesn't know what she did to really deserve you but she wouldn't wanna trade you for anything either way

This carries on WAY into the fame as well!! You're basically Mira's number one fan and she agrees, but for the sake of your privacy and peace she doesn't really bring any spotlight on you—her being swarmed by people without a disguise in public is one thing bc she probably would have a security detail AND she can handle herself anyway bc of her training, but you being swarmed just for being associated w her is another. She's very protective of you and doesn't want you to feel bothered by anything :3

Whenever they all feel a ripple in the Honmoon, Mira's first move is to call you while they're on the way Every Time. She always calls you just to make sure that you're okay, and every time you don't answer she leaves a voicemail/text (depends on the type of person you are, bc I never listen to my voicemails personally) asking you to check in if you're okay. To you, this is just random lil bouts of wanting to talk to you, which :((( that's so cute of her :(((((( but to her she's gen trying to make sure you're okay

Zoey has like mini cuteness aggression every time and channels it into killing off the demons while Rumi's giggling and reassuring Mira that you'll be okay. Mira rolls her eyes but also goes like "she better be" bc why would she ever hide her concern for her best friend from her found family ok :(

She def won't be able to even tell she has any feelings at all at first fr. You've been best friends for so long that it's like. Why would you be anything BUT best friends? She doesn't really think about the possibility of becoming something more with you because....honestly she doesn't even need to. Though if you try to confess to her at some point she might pass it off as a joke and not get its partly bc lol you funny asf but also she likes what you two have rn 🤷‍♀️ why ruin it yk you're gonna spend forever w each other anyway

WELL. Until that Fateful Day 😜

The Honmoon ripples purple, and the trio stop their rehearsal bc oh shit another attack!! But before she even takes out her phone as they all start moving to the source, her phone rings—it's you, and you are fucking terrified because you know exactly what's in front of you on your end rn bc it's the exact thing Mira warned you of. Her blood grows cold, and the three of them hurry over to the source bc oh god oh fuck she has a very bad feeling about this

By the time they get there, you're trying to fend off these demons, probably with some other people, and they're even laughing at you before HUNTR/X rushes them. But at some point Mira gets occupied w fighting one demon already that she doesn't see the one charging at her side......so you run to intercept it, at the cost of getting REALLY hurt and your soul quite possible almodt sucked out before Mira kills it and HUNTR/X wipes the rest out. Seems like the demons have to siphon souls gradually rather than just taking it, so you're basically still safe but you're Also in a coma rn bc of critical condition (yes your injuries but also bc you just had a bit of your soul sucked away but it's not like they know that 😓)

It's around this time, when she visits as much as she can (she'd do it daily if she could but unfortunately she does have responsibilities ☹️), that she ends up reflecting on a lot of things. How she shiuld've been faster or more attentive, how you took a blow for her without hesitation, how she didn't really know how to function without you. Or, well, she did, but she feels so fucking Hollow without your presence, even when you're right in front of her on the hospital bed. She reflects if she could've done smth to change things, she reflects on whether she should've even told you about this whole Hunter thing at all, she reflects on if she really should've stayed friends w you or if she should've just spared you via pushing you away too

And then she realises that oh. Wait a minute. She like likes you. She couldn't tell, not like she even had the time to, but somewhere along the way when she considered you as someone who she couldn't ever part from without feeling like there's something missing, she had fallen for you. It just took too late to realise that :(

So she visits you as much as possible, the visitation log mostly being her with the exception of the other HUNTR/X members, your friends, relatives, whatever. But it's mostly her

Mira's hands were clasped tightly onto yours, gloves taken completely off to feel your skin, as tears ran down her face. Despite her whole 'tough-girl' thing, she was always sensitive to tears—something that you would've laughed about as you wiped her tears with your thumbs or your sleeve.. if you were responsive anyway.

"Wake up, idiot," the idol rasped out, her words muffled by the hospital sheets as she wept for who knows how many times it's been, "you've been asleep for a while and-- and we kicked Gwi-Ma's ass so.. so you don't need to keep sleeping anymore."

Mira had never really been childish, not even when she was a child. That was all taken away from her the moment her own family had judged her for being too blunt, too harsh, too unladylike to be anything but a problem. But when it came to you? Somehow it was as if that wasn't the case at all—here she was, pleading for you to come back for the 5th day now, and god knows how many times she's actually been like this in total.

Yet as she raised her head to look at you, you gave no answer, and your eyes stayed blissfully shut.

Mira felt her face crumple as another sob threatened to climb her throat before she swallowed it. Instead, she got up and leaved over so very carefully.. to press a soft kiss on your forehead—her lips were hot against your cold face, and she could recall the way that you had often spoke of her warm, 'cuddle-certified' body.

"I'll be here when you wake up, yeah? Always will be," Mira whispered as if the silence, only broken by the medical monitors, was fragile, "because you didn't leave me back then, so I won't leave you now.. or ever."

She slowly drew your hand to press a kiss on your digits before leaning her forehead on your knuckles, "Come home."

..There was the slightest twitch of your fingers, so brief yet so significant at the same time.

She'll keep waiting for you no matter what :(

And if you wake up from your condition? If she sees you wake up? The first three words you'll hear from her mouth isn't anything teasing or anything, no. It's something she should've said more, something you need to know, from the bottom of her heart

"I love you."

[ivoryand-gold]

Spoilers for The Apothecary Diaries 2x23 “The Shi Clan”

I’ve seen a few people confused by or mad at Shisui’s motivations for scarring Jinshi. While I understand that protectiveness as someone who also loves Jinshi as a character, imho it is in alignment with who we know Shisui to be and makes perfect sense to me narratively.

The first reasoning, Shisui has been conspiring against her mother for a long time. From the abortifacients to all she confesses to Jinshi in this episode, she hasn’t merely been her mother’s doll for a long time. There’s still a guilt she likely feels for betraying her, even if she saw no other way. She sees the hatred and jealousy that founts from her mother like venom, and she refuses to become her, but also she never denounces her as her mother. Like when she talks about the ghost stories episode and how Suirei’s grandmother Taihou may have tried to kill her from the grave because she’s her mother’s daughter. Plus, despite her plotting, she has fawned for 17-18 years and that doesn’t all just go away in an instant because her mother is dead. Shisui still has love for Shenmei whether she deserves it or not, and can likely live with the rest of her choices by at least granting one of her mother’s wishes.

Secondly, Shisui always tried to take care of her family in her own way. She’s always been loving, and became “the doll Loulan” as her first attempt to fix things. If she was an obedient enough daughter, then maybe she’d be able to heal what had been so thoroughly broken within her mother. She sacrifices her sense of self both to survive—but we know that’s not her only/main priority given her repeated abuse when she disguised herself as a maid to see Suirei— and to protect and heal her family. It’s only when this doesn’t work that she moves on to plotting.

Shisui took care of her family, everyone got a version of what they wanted in the end. Obviously the main thing Shishou wanted was Shenmei’s forgiveness and love, but that was never going to happen. Both Jinshi and Shenmei had the chance to take the feifa from Shisui, and because of who they were, those cards fell where they did. Shenmei died as a consequence of her own actions, which Shisui didn’t want to happen but knew would. She always did what she could though, and gave her family what felt like very fitting parting gifts to me:

For Shishou, her final gift was seeing their plan through and making sure not only someone, but Jinshi knew her father served their country to the end. She also spoke up for her father to Shenmei in her dying moments, something Shishou had failed to do for himself the last 20 years.

For Shenmei, her final gift was violence, a final act of destruction towards something beautiful. Her wrath and pettiness given a small revenge. Immortality, even, to live on through Jinshi’s scar and become this “once in a generation evil” who wounded the once in a generation beauty her mother was so jealous of. Both continuing and ending the cycle of their families, with Jinshi’s consent.

For Suirei, her final gift was a smile— the promise that she was happy. A seed of contentment for Suirei to build the rest of her life on now that she’s lost her family. A second chance at life she was only given because of Shisui’s favor. That smile conveyed Shisui’s own freedom.

And in that is also Shisui’s gift to herself. She couldn’t help the circumstances she was born into, nor could she change the tides of fate to keep her family from being embroiled in scandal. But at least she could rewrite the ending. After so long hiding behind her makeup and mother and the role of Loulan, Shisui could finally have a voice. She could take up space. She could be a savior.

She could be the villain of a generation.

She could dance.

[bluebnny]

Can u make a luffy x reader smut friend with benefits?

monkey d luffy x reader

contents: luffy fucking you in the storage room at your work :) – reader has a vagina, but gender is not specified

warnings: smut, P in V sex, maybe slight voyeurism?, MDNI

a/n: yes, anon, yes i can :) thank you for the request! I didn’t make reader a pirate, as i always find that dynamic to be a little more interesting. Also, sorry if you wanted me to get more into the "friends with benefits" aspect of it. This is more focused on the smut than their specific relationship. Anyway, hope you like it! <3

(Dividers made by me)

word count: 1.020

Luffy is the same in every area of his life: messy, spontaneous, and carefree. But he is also the most enthusiastic person you know, burning with an intense passion that shines through in everything he does.

Even if that “thing” is you.

“Ahh- fuck. Luffy, more, please…” Here you are, in the storage room of the bar you work at, with your face pressed up against the wall. You’re doing your very best to keep your moans under control, trying to end the night with both your job and dignity intact. But he is not making it easy.

“Sure you can handle more?” Even when he’s breathless and panting, he somehow manages to joke around, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning.

Luffy snaps his hips roughly into yours, mesmerized by the way your ass and thighs shake with every harsh thrust. He’s impossibly deep now, using so much force that his hips still for half a second before pulling back again. You feel him pressing himself all the way inside, and the way it hurts so deliciously has your eyes rolling back in your head.

He goes on for what feels like forever and at the same time not long enough to your dizzy mind. All you know for sure is the pleasure building inside you, making you let out a string of whines and whimpers at the intensity of it.

He’s ramming himself into you from behind, keeping a steady pace. One hand is on the back of your head, the other on your hip to keep you from squirming away, his feet firmly planted on the ground.

You’re a whole different story. Hair messy and mouth half open, you’re barely able to contain your whimpers of pleasure. You have a hand on the wall, trying – and failing – to steady yourself, as your shaky legs are not helping much at the moment. Your other hand is placed on Luffy’s abs, whether to make him slow down from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, or to ask for more, you couldn’t even say yourself. All you know is that you’ve been craving this ever since you heard this morning that the straw hats had docked at your town again.

You and Luffy had met not too long ago but quickly considered yourselves friends. However, it didn’t stay like that for very long, as your friendship had swiftly evolved into something a little… more.

It had happened on a drunken night a few months back. Luffy and the straw hats had visited your island for a quick stop to restock and have some fun on land, going to your bar for a few drinks to catch up with you. You had joined them, seeing as you were off work that night. One thing had led to another, and you had found yourself under him on his ship, just about coherent enough to pant and moan out as the breath was repeatedly being knocked out of you by none other than the captain himself.

Ever since that night, you were addicted.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly.” He groans into the back of your head, bending over a little from the delicious feeling.

You honestly couldn’t tell anymore from how blissed out you are, no longer in control of your body. Retaining just enough sense to be aware that your boss is tending the bar on the other side of the door, and remembering that you were trying not to be too loud.

But Luffy gives a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping out despite your best efforts. You’re beyond grateful for the deafening music playing throughout the establishment. Without it, you’re sure everyone would hear exactly what you two are up to.

“Careful, or everyone out there will hear you.” He teases.

“I- I can’t.” You breathe out. How the hell are you supposed to keep any sense of control when he’s making you feel this good? But the mortifying thought of someone catching you like this sends a shiver down your spine and you clench down harder around him.

“Fuck, you like that?” He’s chuckling, but it’s coming out a little choppy from his rapid movements.

“Luffy… I’m close. Ah!” You let out another squeak when his hand moves from your head down to your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles that have you breaking on the spot.

Your mind is reeling from the orgasm crashing through you, your entire body shaking and convulsing from the intensity. Both your hands are now planted against the wall from the effort of holding yourself up.

Your pussy is helplessly spasming around his thick cock, which Luffy is still slamming into you. But you can tell he must be close from how desperate his thrusts are getting. It doesn’t take much before he’s cumming too. With a groan, he releases into you in thick spurts, his pace slowing down for the first time.

You both start to come down from the intense sensation, and you feel like you might actually fall now. Your legs start shaking even more violently as the tension leaves your body. But just as you’re about to collapse, you feel Luffy’s steadying grip around your middle, and he helps you sit on a spare chair in the corner of the room.

“You alright?” He asks you after a moment, his mind clearly still reeling from everything.

“Yeah. Just got to regain my breath.” How the hell was he already so energetic again? You feel like you’ve just run a marathon. At least your legs do.

“Yeah… fuck that was hot!” Is all he says, and when you look up to se his characteristic smile back on his face, you can’t help but mirror it.

“It was. Alright I’m good now I think.” You search for your pants which are somewhere on the floor of the storage, meanwhile hoping that your hair doesn’t look too much of a mess as you don’t have a mirror to check. But judging by how Luffy looks, your hopes are not too high.

Thanks for reading! And thank you so much for the request! Also uhhh this one doesn't have a title. It's midnight here and i am in no state to think of a good one lol.

(This is my fic, don't repost or use in any AI training programmes! Reblogs are always appreciated <3) Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

[karikitdemonrp]

-----

Core purred softly. "Well, I am a kitsune. We're known to be crafty and dangerous." He teased with a slight smirk. "I'm just happy to be able to pamper you since you never pampered yourself. But, then again, we have that in common." The fox gave a she chuckle, letting out a soft sigh.

"I always get mixed emotions when I see your scars. But I still love them." He hummed softly. "Just like with mine, each one tells a story. A story of survival, of endurance, strategy,, and then some. They're lingering moments that brought you here. Sure, you were hurt, some nearly killing you most likely, and I hate the thought of you in pain... but at the same time, without them you might not be here, with me, being pampered."

The kitsune gave a chuckle and continued to pamper Kohaku lovingly, peppering gentle kisses all over the demon slayer's body with a gentle passion. "I may not like the thought that you got hurt, but I'm grateful you survived to be with me. I love you fully and completely, I hope you never ever forget that." Core's voice was soft and filled with a genuine warmth. Core kept massaging Kohaku, taking note of Kohaku's suggestion and gave a slight snort.

"Always the flirt. But I'll keep it in mind. Wouldn't want either of us to get riled up again. We'd only serve to make ourselves sore. But I doubt either of us would mind a round two. I know I wouldn't." The kitsune stifled a laugh, moving to carefully massage Kohaku's sides, noting that the demon slayer's wound was healing up nicely. "Your wound is probably gonna leave another scar. Another story for the books." Core hummed softly, being careful around the surrounding area then moving to massage Kohaku's legs.

"The way I see it, strength isn't just about being strong physically. It's about being strong mentally too. Which includes knowing when to rest, when to back down, admitting hard truths, and so on. It's easy to lie, but it takes real strength to admit the hard truth. You're so strong yet you refuse to rest and recharge. It hurts to admit but I do the same. We over work ourselves so much. That's why I love to pamper you so much. I get to see you relax. I know it's weird to say but I love seeing you like this, resting without much to worry about. I'm not sure why, maybe the content look on your face or just knowing that you feel that comfortable in my presence. I'm not sure how to explain it."

Core moved to massage Kohaku's feet now, applying firm pressure but being sure not to hurt the demon slayer. Core was focused now, just letting words spill from his mouth as a gentle, thoughtful expression crossed his face. "I know you don't relax while we are outside much, so when we travel we're both always on edge. Which makes sense, if we aren't we could be jumped and robbed or killed. But when in a village we have numbers and at least some protection. But even then I always notice you're at least a little tense. Though I suppose that helped us out earlier with the durian. It still bugs me a bit about those kids. Some of the villagers are very kind, but others are... like that. I know why they do it, it's how humans had to survive for so long. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." He sighed softly only to blink a few times, blushing a bit.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Guess I was rambling." The fox gave a nervous laugh then moved to curl around Kohaku, kissing his cheek with a gentle affection. He pulled Kohaku closer with a gentle tug then draped his fluffy tail over the demon slayer's side. "I love you so much. My beloved warrior." Core purred softly, his chest rumbling rhythmically as he closed his eyes to get some rest.

=K

Kohaku let out a slow, almost indulgent sigh as Core’s hands worked across his shoulders. The tension, what little remained after their passionate moment, melted away under the fox’s skilled fingers. “Mmm… you’re dangerous like this,” Kohaku murmured, eyes fluttering shut as Core’s lips brushed against the base of his neck. “You’re going to spoil me beyond saving.”

His voice was low, edged with a playful growl as he tilted his head, giving Core more room to explore with those kisses. When he felt Core’s lips detour toward his scars, Kohaku’s breath caught. The gesture—reverent, gentle—hit deeper than any teasing or flirtation. “You really mean it when you say you love all of me,” he whispered, voice hushed by something far more intimate than touch. “Even the pieces most wouldn’t want to see.”

He turned slightly so he could see the kitsune from the corner of his eye, his smile softer now, tinged with gratitude. “You always say I’m the strong one, but you’re the one making me feel like I can truly rest for once.”

Then, as Core continued with the pampering—his tail swishing and body moving with devoted care—Kohaku let out a content chuckle. “Suggestions, huh?” he hummed, his voice returning to that familiar flirty tone. “Well… I wouldn’t mind your hands lingering lower next time. But for now, just stay close like this. Let me feel you.” He reached back to run his fingers along Core’s arm, a grounding touch full of appreciation.

He turned his head slightly to press a kiss to the fox’s wrist. “We’ve both been through so much. So if tonight is about peace, about pampering… then this? This is perfect.”

[thelawfulchaotic]

What is very funny about being a specialist in juvenile law is that I never... actually liked children?

(Ok there is some possibility I am fooling myself about this, given that there has never been a single child client I got to know that I didn't love and root for and 100% support, but.)

I'm not a "kid person." I don't have the gift of running around and imagining with them. I babysat much less than equivalent older-millennial girls.

I just got into court, and I --

Okay, let me back up and talk about my first public defender's office. It was a rural office that covered several geographical jurisdictions, including multiple cities and counties, five total. Each of these had three courts that regularly needed to be covered: a juvenile/domestic court, a general court, and a slightly higher and fancier level of court. They all operated to varied schedules (general court A was on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but general court B was on Wednesdays and Fridays; juvenile court A was on Wednesdays and Fridays but juvenile court B was on Mondays and Wednesdays).

So, fifteen total "courts," and there were... hmm. 8-10 attorneys. And a boss who wanted us to be able to substitute for each other, and thus rotated us through the courts every month. On week 1, I might be doing general court A on Tuesday and general court B on Friday. On week 2, I might be doing general court A on Thursday and juvenile/domestic court A on Wednesday. I might have one day a month where I do general court C.

So on.

The court schedules cases not according to our schedules, but according to police officers. Do you see the problem yet?

Public defenders were fungible. For those who don't know that very academic-specific word, it means that we were exchangeable units. One case could go through four different attorney's hands because it would get continued, show up on someone else's date, get continued again, show up on someone else's date, and so on. Juvenile cases were particularly bad about this because they tended to linger in court for a long time, while the court monitored the juvenile's progress.

Here's another fun problem: the department in charge of things like child protection, custody, etc., would only come to court on Tuesdays. We did not have a spare attorney to cover an extra day on Tuesdays in which criminal cases would happen with children who happened to also have custody issues or a foster care prevention plan in place. They would put the criminal case on the next day, Wednesday. Effectively, this meant that we were not present for the decisions about where our clients went and what programs they would have to do.

So I'm dropped into this, a baby attorney, having watched a DVD about How To Juvenile Law. I feel my training is wildly inadequate, and I'm doing reviews on cases that have never had the same attorney twice. Zero trust between me and the kids, and why would there be?

I complained loudly until my boss gave in and ordered me the several-hundred-dollar Juvenile Practice In This State book, and then I read it cover to cover. I learned a bunch of really interesting things! Like all the stuff we'd been doing wrong!

My boss was shocked. "You actually read that?"

"What did you THINK I was gonna do?"

"Well, you're the juvenile expert now, I guess."

oh shit, I thought. oops. fuck.

But I leaned in, and not in the ambition way. I proposed a way to rearrange my schedule so that I would always be free on Tuesdays for DSS cases. Instantaneously, there was a change in the environment of the court -- before, it was the guardians ad litem, juvenile probation, and the attorney for DSS deciding what to do with kids. Now I was there. Making suggestions. And arguments.

We changed how we did the schedule, and how we put individual cases on that schedule. Keeping them on our days became a priority.

I instituted a weekly detention center visit, for myself. (I made it about half the time.)

I went to trainings. This area of law is wildly unpopular among a lot of public defenders, because it's complicated and sad and you don't get to do jury trials about it. Every new thing I learned just pissed me off. It wasn't that I liked kids. It was that kids deserved better. So I got to take over pretty much everything with regards to juvenile law in the office.

But like, I stumbled on this, I didn't know shit. I didn't have a passion for protecting children. It's just that every bit of law I learned made me go, "What? REALLY? Fuck off!"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Boy toy

Written for @switcheddieweek, day 6, and for round two of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Exposure | Switch, Sugar Daddy, Sub!Eddie

Relationship: Steve x Eddie

Rated: E

Words: 1,290 [also on AO3]

Tags: Switching; Sub!Eddie; Dom!Steve; Rock star Eddie; Movie star Steve; Modern AU; Blindfolds; Lace; Lingerie; Toys; Collars; Humiliation; Dirty talk; Finger sucking; Dry humping; Blow jobs

“Eddie Munson’s newest boy toy.”

Steve reads out the headline in the same bored drawl that he recited the last two articles in, but a faint tremble of amusement is creeping in. Even without being able to see, Eddie can picture him perfectly: phone balanced in one hand, the other fiddling softly with the remote on the armrest, the barest of smiles grazing his lips.

“Subheading, wait for it: … Who's the face behind that ass? God, who comes up with these? Do you think this is serious or some silly joke?”

Silence settles over the room, only disturbed by the low hum of the toy buzzing against Eddie’s prostate. Steve lets it linger, just long enough for the warm coil of arousal in Eddie’s belly to settle back in. Just long enough for the dull, painful tingle in his knees to start bothering him again, now that there's nothing to distract himself. Just long enough for him to start wondering if he should answer the question.

Then again, Steve was pretty clear in his instructions.

Kneel.

Head down.

Don't make a sound.

It's a bit strange. For all that Steve loves to test Eddie’s patience when their positions are reversed - always wiggling and whining and pleading at him with those big, wet eyes of his - he has no tolerance for disobedience when he's the one calling the shots, not even on a good day.

And today is not a good day. Today, Steve is pissed.

“It's common knowledge by now,” Steve reads, casually turning up the vibrations of the toy, “that Eddie Munson has a type. Corroded Coffin’s frontman likes his men young, athletic and shapely. And what can we say? His newest catch, spotted recently at luxury BDSM club The Hideout, clearly ticks all of those boxes.”

There’s another beat of silence. Eddie hears how Steve fiddles with the remote again, and this time, the pattern of the vibrations changes. Not a constant buzz anymore, but a slow ebb and swell, each crest sending delicious shockwaves of pleasure into his leaking cock. His fingers twitch, longing to touch himself, but he keeps his arms crossed behind his back just like Steve told him.

“There’s pictures, too,” Steve says. “I don’t need to describe them, I think?”

He doesn’t. Eddie has seen them approximately a hundred times since the first article came out this morning - and even if he hadn’t, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Steve looked that night. How the lace hugged his legs and thighs. Dark, shimmery black contrasting beautifully with his tan skin, matching the color of his shorts and collar. The broad lace blindfold - the same one Eddie is wearing right now - making his lips look all the more shiny and pink. Eddie still remembers how he begged and pleaded against it. Steve doesn’t like having his vision impaired, least of all when they’re out in public. He says it makes him feel exposed and helpless, but Eddie was feeling a little mean that day, so he stayed firm.

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing. Paired with the low light of the venue and the distance from which the pictures were snapped, the blindfold makes it near impossible to make out features - apart from Steve’s strong jaw and the spectacular swoop of his hair, maybe. Steve should be happy about it, truth be told.

Except he isn’t.

“Fans are, of course, dying to know who Eddie’s newest sugarbaby is,” Steve continues. “Knowing him, it’s probably only a matter of time until we find out. … Well, I’m sure they’d fucking love that, huh?”

A long, slender finger hooks itself through the o-ring of Eddie’s collar and pulls. Not very harshly, but since Eddie doesn’t see it coming, he still yelps in surprise and struggles to maintain his balance, not daring to bring his hands forward to support himself. The sudden shift in position nudges the toy a bit more firmly against his prostate. The next vibration comes reliably and relentlessly, and he moans, precome dribbling onto the fabric of his lace stockings.

“You told me,” Steve says, voice suddenly very close to his ear, “that place was discreet. You told me I didn’t have to worry about it, and look where it got us. What if anyone recognizes me, have you thought about that for a- … Are you smiling?”

Eddie shakes his head as well as Steve’s hold on the collar will allow, biting the inside of his mouth to get the treacherous little tug of his lips under control.

Did he plan for this? Fuck, no! The Hideout is discreet, usually. They’re probably moving heaven and hell as they’re speaking, trying to figure out who snapped the pictures and sold them to the press. Whatever poor bastard did it will rue the day he ever set foot into the club.

But no place is ever truly safe, and they both know it. Steve better than him, probably. Being the only child of Hollywood’s most beloved celebrity couple, he was practically raised on the big screen. Steve had his first movie contracts under his belt before he could even walk, way before Eddie ever dreamed of picking up a guitar. Hell, if anyone is anybody’s sugarbaby here, it sure as hell isn’t Steve.

“Well,” Steve sighs. His hand has released its hold on the collar and is travelling up, tracing the shape of Eddie’s bobbing throat, the curve of his jaw. “At least one of us seems to be enjoying himself. Now, how do you plan on making it up to me, huh?”

Eddie turns his head, searching and finding Steve’s thumb and sucking it into his mouth. Steve makes a low, pleased sound from somewhere deep in his throat and Eddie’s neglected cock twitches.

“That’s your solution to everything, huh?” Steve murmurs. A foot pushes itself between Eddie’s thighs, and he moans, swirling his tongue around the finger in his mouth. “Sucking my cock? Well, I don’t think you’ve earned that today, have you?”

Eddie hollows his cheeks, bobbing up and down on Steve’s thumb while he grinds himself against Steve’s leg. If he looks pathetic and desperate enough, maybe Steve will change his mind.

Steve, as if he read his thoughts, laughs softly.

“God, the sight you make. Wish the fucking tabloids could see you like this. Maybe that’s what we should do, huh? Maybe I should get the leash and take you out. Maybe I should let them see what a dumb little slut you are.”

He won’t. Eddie knows he won’t. Unlike him, Steve still cares about both of their reputation. It's cute, in a way.

But God, the thought of it? The thought of Steve parading him around like this, naked and exposed for everyone to see? Feeling a dozen and more eyes on him, even with the blindfold on, burning into his skin while he kneels at Steve's feet, the perfect picture of discipline and obedience?

“You're actually getting off on that, huh?” Steve’s voice is a low, awed rumble. Eddie whines when the finger slides from his mouth, but Steve makes a soft shushing noise, cupping a hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer. The scent of his arousal is strong and heady, and the tip of his cock is slick as it nudges Eddie’s bottom lip. He opens up and eagerly presents his tongue. Waits.

Steve sighs, and the grip of his hand on Eddie’s neck goes a little gentler. “Alright already. You know I can't say no to you when you're like that. If you make it worth my while, I might consider letting you come.”

Eddie has every intention of making it worth his while.

He always does.

More Steddie Bingo

Ko-fi

[noctiva]

okay but how would the guys react to the reader breaking up with them?

aha! the flip side!

Toby: Goes through four stages of grief in the span of like, ten minutes. everything except for acceptance. he won’t ever truly accept it. it could be literal years later and he’d still be dreaming of you, still touching himself to the thought of you.

the day it actually happens, he’ll try to play it off at first. hit you with a ‘th-that’s not fuckin’ funny’ with a soft snort and a roll of his eyes. like you being serious wasn’t even an option. but of course, you’ll insist - and that’s when the dam breaks.

first comes the anger. his eyes sharpening into a glare as his jaw sets. accusatory in every word he spits at you. throwing every single thing that he’s every done for you back in your face. glossing over everything he’s ever done wrong. hoping that maybe you’ll fight back - maybe you two can just get into another fight like you always do, and end up tangled up together in his sheets by the time night falls.

but that doesn’t happen. you just take it. just listen silently as you pack your things - already detached. and that’s when it really sets in. the anger will simmer, and then he’s apologizing profusely. offering up things he can’t even give you, all in the hopes of changing your mind. and when that doesn’t work? he just breaks. a mess of ugly sobs and hands trying to pull you to him. pleading. begging. borderline grovelling at your feet.

you’ll leave him a mess of tears. he probably won’t move from his spot on the floor for hours. days maybe.

- “W-What do you want? What can I d-do to make you stay? Just name it - I’ll g-give it to you.”

-

Jack: Just so incredibly cold. Like the moment you utter the words, every ounce of affection he held for you fizzled into smoke. You can practically see it when the switch in his brain flips, how his entire body tenses up, how his lips set into a firm line. He won’t say anything for a good long while. He’ll just stand before you, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to take it back.

‘Jack? Did you hear what I said?’ To which he’ll just reply with a snippy; ‘I heard you.’ And barely elaborate further.

He won’t let you in. Won’t let you pry into his mind in an attempt to figure out how he feels about all of it. He’ll keep it all locked far deep down, under a shroud of bitter nonchalance. If you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he didn’t care - but the slight tremble in his fingers proves that otherwise.

He won’t fight you. He knows better than that. Though he loved you to the ends of the earth, he knew he wouldn’t be able to continue on with you after this. Knowing that you don’t wholeheartedly want to be with him.

He’ll leave silently. Give you short, simple answers to every question you ask. Leave you second guessing if this was even the right decision at all.

- “What? Did you want me to scream? Beg? Cry? I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

-

Brian: Horribly toxic. Blackmail supreme over here. You sit him down, tell him you want to break up with him, and the first thing he’s saying is, ‘are you sure you want to do that? with all the shit I have on you?’

And you know he’s right. He has drawers full of tapes depicting you in the most compromising positions known to man. Taken with the promise that they’d only be for his eyes. But, that was on the basis that you’d stick around. He’ll be patronizing, cruel, dangling this threat over your head with a raised eyebrow - daring you to have the guts to still go through with it.

Promising you that no one else will ever want to be with you after him. A little too calm, a little too composed. Like he’s so sure deep down that you’ll cave under the weight of what he’s saying and just roll over.

But if you don’t? If you hold your ground? You can just barely see him crack. A little twitch in his jaw, his gaze hardening over. The way his eyes flick away from you like he just can’t the sight of you any longer. He’ll freeze over until you gain the courage to pack up and leave. All that confidence lost, swapped for a silent resignation.

Won’t say a single thing to you on your way out the door.

(And he probably won’t actually make true on his threats, he was just really banking on that working).

- “Fine. Leave. See where it gets you.”

-

Tim: Just resigned acceptance. He saw it coming from the start, never really expecting you two to be in it for the long haul. He hoped that maybe you’d go against the odds, but he was smarter than to bank on that. Your life didn’t mix with his. He took a risk letting you in. He had set himself up, and he knew it.

It’s his shoulders slumping. His expression dropping. The slight quiver when he lets out a deep sigh and lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment like he’s trying to shut it all out. He doesn’t ask why, because he knows why. It’s everything about him. And he’d rather spare himself the burden of hearing that fact come from your lips.

He’ll be silent for a good long while. Reach into his coat pocket with trembling fingers, pull out his pack of smokes, light one and take a few drags before he speaks a word. And when he does, it’s just all apologies.

Apologies for dragging you into this in the first place. Apologies for wasting your time. For getting your hopes up. For making you believe that you could be the cure for everything that plagues him.

He won’t look at you the entire time, because he just knows he’ll break - and he doesn’t want to burden you with that too.

- “‘Bout time you smartened up. Always knew you deserved someone better.”

-

Cody: Really doesn’t know how to handle it - and maybe that was the issue all along. His good with the physical aspect of humans. The blood, the flesh, the chemical reactions. What he’s not good at, is the mind. The emotions. The inner workings of relationships, and person to person connection. He really tried with you, broke out of his shell in an attempt to let you have that closeness you craved.

It feels like an insult to have it thrown back in his face. He’s not upset, he’s offended, a silently brewing anger simmering in his veins with every word you speak. It just feels like he wasted so much time. Put in so much effort into something that ultimately proved fruitless. Like a failed experiment, but this time it affects him deeply. Like you were taking one of his limbs with you when you left him.

Asks you so many questions it makes your head spin. Why are you leaving him? What specific thing did he do? What could he have done better? Do you really truly believe there’s nothing that can fix this? Why are you giving up? Why don’t you want to try?

He’ll let you leave. He won’t beg and plead, but he will borderline interrogate you before he stalks back to his lab and shuts himself in there for the next week and a half.

- “All that time wasted. Such a needless distraction.”

-

Habit: Laughs in your fucking face. Cruel and mocking. Near doubles over with it. The type of laughter that absolutely stuns you, with the way he wheezes and cackles, wipes a tear from his eye and shakes his head like you’ve just performed a comedy special for him.

To him, you have. Because that’s fucking rich. You leaving him? As if you had that choice. It’s comical to him how you’d even entertain that thought, that you thought it might just be as easy as showing him the door and expecting him to walk through it. It’s not happening. Not by a long shot.

In fact, when you call him cruel, he’ll show you just exactly how cruel you can be. You hate him now? Let’s see how much you hate him when he chains you to the bed and leaves you there. Chuckling under his breath about how stupid you are. How you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, and appreciated the fact that he was being easy on you this whole time.

So, no. You will not be breaking up with him. This relationship ends on his terms, and his terms only.

- “That’s cute. You think you get to make that choice?”

[brooklyn-duo]

Bucky tries to keep up with everything Tony was saying, it was hard to stay focused when he kept touching the metal arm and hand and he was getting overly focused on the way that felt. He hadn’t expected this but the way Tony trailed a finger down his palm tickled a little, which made Bucky smile as he’s listening, nodding as he understands the point about what the neuro receptors did and the way his brain figured out what those signals were for.

He grows serious as Tony explains the potential drawbacks and side affects, or the fact that there might be side affects and they had no idea what they were. He swallows uncomfortably the mention of being a test subject, that was what he had been for HYDRA and essentially in Wakanda when they were figuring out how to break his conditioning. He knows that Tony didn’t mean it like that and if he hadn’t been masking the other fears and insecurities already it wouldn’t have mattered as much but it made his stomach turn even if he refused to show it.

“I..I’ll keep a close eye on how it feel and if I noticed anything out of the normal although..that might take a second to figure out what even is normal since this is new to me too. I..I’ll try though, try to keep track of things and I’ll keep you updated too,” he offers softly, looking down at his black and gold hand for a long moment.

One thing that did help cheer him up internally was knowing that the next time he touched Tony, even just held him, he’d feel him with both arms now. And he hadn’t realized it since he’d been having the other one for decades, but he had felt like sort of a machine with a missing part when it came to his senses, since he couldn’t feel with his hand or arm. Being able to now, even if it wasn’t totally the same as the feeling in his regular arm, he felt a little bit more whole than he had before and that makes him smile again.

“This..Tony, this means so much to me, all of it, thank you for…i mean if it wasn’t for that first appointment I don’t think this would have happened so..so thank you. And seriously…I’m buying dinner next time,” he chuckles even though he’s dead serious. He had no idea how to thank Tony for being part of this and for helping him, what do you get or do for a guy who had everything he possibly wanted and if he didn’t he just got it for himself? He would make it a point to figure out the food delivery apps sure but maybe there’s something he could do for Tony, something small, it would have to be heartfelt because that’s something you can’t buy.

Bucky’s eyes widen, “No! No that’s why I asked, it’s so much better than anything i’ve ever had from that cafeteria, I thought maybe you had a special connection in the kitchens and got the good stuff,” he grins, taking another bite and its quiet while he chews and swallows, “You made me a sandwich for after surgery? That’s real nice Tony, thank you,” he says with a warmer, sincere smile, tempted to reach out his hand but he didn’t know how Tony felt about that now that Steve was around.

Steve knew about them sure but Bucky was used to tamping down the affection in front of anyone, so he busies his hand with reaching for the cup of ice. He picks it up with his metal hand, eyes widening as he could feel the cold beneath his fingers. He sets his sandwich on the wrapper and pours some water into the cup, unable to resist the urge to dip his finger in it, staring in awe as he was able to feel the wetness of the water, and the chill from the cold.

“Jesus..I ain’t felt anything with my left hand since I fell..” he mumbles, trying to come to terms with the fact that he would be able to feel with both hands now. His flesh hand travels up to his shoulder to feel the skin at the base where the prosthetic connected to his arm, “and my shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, the Cradle must’ve done it’s job..”

[muli-wam]

⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo was unhinged. Unfiltered. Extremely forward.

Sure, he was able to be serious, but 99.99% of the time, chaos followed him like a fly on shit.

Starting drama was his specialty, something he never failed at—though, Satoru Gojo never fails, period (His words not mine).

Like when he's in the middle of a game. His team is winning and he's sprinting across the field, kicking the soccer ball with him.

Opponents are flying here and there, legs just barely missing on attempt to steal the ball but Satoru was just too fast.

And the entire time he's running, there's only one guy who can keep up with him, which kinda pisses Satoru off.

"How are you able to keep your huge head up while you run?" Satoru shouts mockingly.

His opponent ignores him, but Satoru is unrelentless.

"Is that a shit stain on your ass?"

"Y'know you're really fast for a short guy."

"Oh, you look tired there bud. Need a break?"

He says all of this while running. Which is something only Satoru Gojo can do.

He ends up scoring the goal and his team wins, once again, adding another point to their winning streak.

The guy he was verbally harassing—bless his soul—was just about ready to strangle Satoru.

He just laughed and walked away in typical Gojo fashion—its hereditary.

Although, Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo's off-field dramatics was even worse.

Which is why he's here, laying right in front of your feet after Chiyo, his elderly team manager/Jujutsu tech's Soccer team Grandma, told the boys she would be retiring from team manager, now passing the baton to you.

Satoru did not take this information well, he was yelping and clinging on to Chiyo's fragile frame, begging her not to leave.

In the midst of his meltdown, he swung his leg too high and tipped over the Gatorade jug, him going down with it.

Satoru stared up at you, wide eyed and drenched in Gatorade, like he's just seen God himself.

"Mommy?" He breathes.

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo can't believe his beautiful blue eyes.

How can someone be so beautiful?

So kind?

So perfect?

I mean, you literally offered to help him up despite him calling you mommy 10 seconds ago.

You gave him a towel, and plucked grass out of his hair, all while Chiyo was scolding him and hitting him with a clipboard upside the head.

You truly were an angel.

Or he's delusional.

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo hears your name and immediately puts his last name behind it.

Y/n Gojo ♡

Mr. And Mrs. Gojo ♡

Y/n, the wife of Satoru Go-

"Gojo." Chiyo says, flicking his forehead.

"H-huh?"

"I said, I hope you all will be very agreeable to her. She deserves your utmost respect," Chiyo beams up at you and clasps your hand in hers.

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo assures Chiyo that he'd be more than agreeable.

Which is why he pulls you to the side, away from his other teammates, with one goal in mind: bragging about how amazingly awesome he is until you fall to your knees begging him for a chance and making him feel less vulnerable because his ego was insanely bruised...

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo who decides the best ice breaker should be, "Did y'know that I once scored 10 consecutive goals in only 8 minues?"

You raise your eyebrows, amused.

"Yup. Fastest match recorded in history actually. It was 15 minutes long," Satoru boasted.

"Wow, good for you Satoru," you chuckle.

He frowns, realizing that his plan wasn't working, and decided to take a different approach.

"Do you like boba?" He blurts.

"Um...yeah, why?" You furrow your eyebrows in confusion from the abrupt change of subject.

"Wanna like- go get some? I'm parched," he moans, dramatically bringing his arm up to his forehead in faux exhaustion.

"You know, normal people drink water when they're dehydrated," you laugh.

"Well I'm not 'normal people', I'm Satoru Gojo and I want boba. With you," he mumbles the last part.

"Liiiike a date?" You tease, smirking at him while rocking back and forth on your feet.

"No, no, pfffft, not a date. That's...unprofessional," He smirks, pausing before adding, "okay maybe like a date..."

"Well, I have some stuff to finish up with Chiyo—y'know, Team Manager Duties," you laugh.

"But we can meet up after?" You ask.

If Satoru's brain was put on a screen projector right now, you would see him prancing gracefully in a field of wildflowers, giggling and singing in pure bliss because life is so good right now.

Who wouldn't be happy? His adorable team manager said yes to a boba date with him and you guys barely just met less than 30 minutes ago.

At this rate he might just get down on one knee-

"Sure! Yeah, totally, uh—I'll just meet you back here in say..." he briefly glances at his non-existant watch.

"An hour and a half?"

"Sure," you smile softly, backing away slowly, your eyes not yet leaving his.

"M'kay, see you then," Satoru tilts his head, smiling.

"'Kay," you say before turning to walk back to Chiyo.

"Who knew someone was able to tame the wild ferret," Suguru says as he approaches Satoru from the top of the bleachers.

"Shut up Suguru," Satoru rolls his eyes.

"Oh? No snarky comeback? You're not gonna tackle me this time?" Geto laughs.

"Oh what about that girl you saved at the pool? You in love or something? you talk about her an awful lo- AHH HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME," Satoru screams when Suguru lunges at him, chasing him across the soccer field.

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo knew that Suguru was right. You had an effect on him that was foreign to satoru.

But he didnt try to run from it, no. He craved that feeling you gave him and he was going to chase it until the day he died.

⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: srry for the long wait 😓 I hope you guys likeee, and boxer toji is coming out next 😌↕️

Series Masterlist

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[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet x Reader: how L handles pregnancy

Wrote this because I need fluff! Enjoy!

Lets get one thing straight, L would never expect himself to be a father

He's too busy

He's too closed off

He's too much of a target

But, on the other hand, he thought the same exact things about dating before he met you

And all you've done is bring him more joy and peace than he's ever experienced

On the other other hand, babies were entirely different

He couldn't find himself growing attached to a clump of cells, or a screaming raisin with hands

They were a lot of work, and while he had plenty of free time when he wasn't working, when he was he had to be able to devote himself to it completely

They also were loud, and smelly, and entirely uninteresting

But...you did want one very badly. He's not stupid, he can see how you look at toddlers on the street, or ads for baby bottles, or women pushing strollers

It was something you gave up in silence when you committed yourself to him, along with things such as weddings, and settling in one spot, and seeing your family often

All of that to say, his narrow success with the kira case has given him much to think about considering what he wants, what you want, and the value of his own life

He could have died

He could have died.

And what would you be left with? He didn't give you very many options, he's accidently turned you into quite the dependant person

it was the day he sentenced Light Yagami and all of his accomplices to death that he set up a will concerning everything to do with you, essentially setting you up for life. You don't know about this.

Weeks later, something that almost seems like fate strikes. You come to him, nervous, holding a pregnancy test.

You didn't want to alarm him, but your period was late, and most recently you've been experiencing morning sickness.

Turns out you're pregnant, about 4 weeks given the symptoms.

Now, you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom, test in hand, wide-eyed. He can't tell what it is, fear or excitement, or a mix of the two, but you're looking to him for solutions

"L...look..."

"What do I do?"

It's the first time he's been at a true loss for words.

It was a very good question.

What do you do?

"What would you like to do?"

He knew it wasn't that simple, but it would be nice to know your thoughts

"I...I don't know..."

"Would you..." he almost didn't want to ask

"Would you like to keep it?"

And then you were crying

it took quite a while to calm you down

But after a good, long talk, it was decided

You would keep the child

He doesn't know why he agreed or offered

He doesn't find himself to be good with kids

Maybe it was because he wanted something other than cases to do

Maybe it was because he wanted you to be happy

Either way, it wasn't a particularly good reason

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have agreed so easily

no matter what, he was now determined to at minimum be well-read

you found that within a week, he was bombarding you with facts and questions

"Did you know ginger tea is extremely helpful with nausea? Would you like to try it?"

"The fetus should be about the size of a grain of rice, if we've calculated correctly."

"Are you feeling any tenderness around your breasts, or any mood swings?"

by the second month, he's asking questions you couldn't possibly answer

"How often did your mother pump breast milk? It would be useful to know about any aunts or cousins as well."

"They say a woman's intuition is the best tell of a baby's gender. I'm not one for superstition, but...do you have any feeling one way or the other?"

"It should be about the size of a raspberry by now."

As endearing as it was, his excitement could get a little tiring, especially when these questions were asked at 12 in the morning

That said, he more than made up for it with his patience

every time you rushed to the bathroom to throw up, he was padding after you to hold your hair and rub soothing circles across your back

Every time you had the oddest, frankly disgusting cravings, he was there to bring you pickles wrapped in ham and pepper jack cheese, or fill the sink with dishsoap so you could obsess over the smell while you ate ice

every time you sobbed over the fact that the puppies in the adoption commercials were "too cute to live in a place like this," he was there to run his fingers through your hair and assure you that puppies don't understand social injustice

he, to his own surprise, enjoys watching your belly grow, and your body change to accommodate the life inside

He swears you're glowing

In his own head, of course

He's also keeps you on a very strict schedule

at least 9 hours of sleep, three meals a day, all with the proper vitamins and proteins to support your health

You swear he worries too much, which he quickly bites back with a cool, "many things can happen during pregnancy. We must keep our odds high."

he's made part of his routine resting his head on your stomach every night before bed, with the excuse that he enjoys your fingers on his scalp

To his surprise, about 4 months in, he feels something

Like a little push, tiny and right against his face

"Oh, the baby kicked," you cooed

"Fascinating..."

Ever since then, he's kept his hand or face on you any time you sit down

When the gender reveal comes, you don't have anyone to celebrate with, besides Watari

You decide to do a cake reveal just between you and L

"What do you want? A boy, or a girl?"

"I want a baby."

Typical of him

You let him do the slicing, and at the first peek of blue, you were already screaming

"It's a boy! L, its a boy! We're having a baby boy!"

L knows you well enough to know either sex would have the exact same reaction

Despite his indifference, the reveal does solidify how real it all is

He would have a son

His son, baking inside of you, right now

It's jarring to think about

months later, 5 to be exact, L was rather nervous

"Do birth defects run in your family?"

"C-sections?"

"Have you been hydrating properly?"

You have to reassure him every time that things will be okay

It's best to distract him with questions of your own

"Do you think he'll have your eyes?"

"What should we name him?"

"I bet he'll be just as curious as you are."

The night your contractions start is the night he finally gets to put everything he learned to use

He and watari take you to the nearest hospital, go-bag and carseat already loaded, all while you pant and moan about the pain

Getting you settled in the hospital was the easiest part, luckily they had an available room

The hard part was watching someone he loved go through so much pain

The total time you spent in labor was 12 hours

L held your hand all the way through, even if he's sure you probably broke one of his fingers

"I read breathing slowly is helpful with-"

"SHUT UP, I'M PUSHING A GODDAMN WATERMELON OUT OF MY CUNT"

Needless to say, you didn't really care about facts while in active labor

When the baby finally escaped, L made sure he was handed to you as soon as possible, after all skin to skin contact is highly important for bonding

It was covered in blood and gunk and all other things, by any objective view it was utterly disgusting

But the moment it was cradled against your chest, all wrinkled and small and helpless...

He felt overwhelmed with more love than he's ever felt before

Pure, unending love

Somehow, there was a creature on this earth he loved more than you

When it was finally time for the baby to be taken for cleaning and check-up, he only sat beside you, still holding your hand, quietly waiting for his son to return

"L...we have a baby..."

"We do."

"How do you feel?"

"How do you feel?"

"...answer the damn question, I just gave birth."

"I'm worried for the future. But hopeful, as well."

When the baby finally returns, and he's offered the chance to hold him, he panics, just a little

What if he drops him?

He has to support the head

Remember to support the head

And the body as well

And don't hold him too tight

Or too loose

It isn't until he's actually in his arms that L can relax

Just a tiny thing, with a mess of black hair at the top of his coconut head

And when his son opens his big, black eyes?

L will do anything and everything for this child

For his son

[phantomofthemountain]

LOCAL TIGER BOY CRASHES OUT OVER PHARMACEUTICAL COMPANIES

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

Y'all, it's been TEN(10) DAYS!! since I was prescribed T. AND I HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN ABLE TO TAKE MY FIRST DOSE.

First it was "oh we're working with insurance to get this covered so you don't spend nearly $400 on fees, needles, and the medication itself!", then it was, "huh, weird, your insurance says they covered it. Try again.", AND NOW ITS "OUT OF FUCKING STOCK"

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

Ughhhh I'm just fucken sad, man. I've waited SO LONG to start taking T because I was so afraid of transphobia, and change. I was afraid no one could love me, that I'd just become this unrecognizable monster to anyone who knows me. Doesn't help that my ex I dated for an entire year kept guilting me into not taking it.

I can't stop randomly crying. I am SO CLOSE to being myself. SO CLOSE to changing things around. SO CLOSE to ending the cycle of letting other's determine what I want and who I should be. And it feels like the universe is trying so desperately to keep that away from me.

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

I'm just thankful that my parents are so supportive. Every time My mom needs to check on one of her prescriptions, she has them check on mine too. She is fighting SO HARD to make sure I get this. She's been so comforting and understanding this whole time. She knows just how long I've waited, and how hard I've thought about this, and she just wants me to be myself.

I just hope this fighting ends soon. I just want to take my first dose, IDC if I have to wait months or years for the next refill, I just want to get it done.

[angel06babysworld]

cowgirl w military!rafe?

military!rafe x bratty!reader

a/n: i hope you meant the sex position and not an actual cowgirl cus…

Built to Handle Her

⟨⟨⟨ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ⟩⟩⟩

She knew exactly what she was doing the second she climbed on top of him.

The look in her eyes was pure challenge—chin tilted up, lips curved in that infuriating smirk she always wore when she was about to push him too far. She straddled his hips like she owned the space, like she wasn’t wearing his shirt and nothing else, like she hadn’t been begging for it just ten minutes ago.

Now? She was taking her sweet, sweet time.

Rafe lay back against the pillows, bare chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His dog tags clinked softly where they hung over his sternum, catching the light every time she rolled her hips just a little. He could feel the heat of her, soaked and snug around him, but she wasn’t riding him. Not really. Just slow grinds, shallow little motions that did more to piss him off than satisfy either of them.

And she knew it.

“You’re quiet,” she teased, voice soft but smug. Her palms flattened over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles like she had all the time in the world. “Thought you’d have more to say, soldier.”

His jaw flexed.

“You’re not gonna last long like this,” she continued, bouncing once—shallow, lazy, not nearly enough. “Getting a little soft on me, huh?”

He grabbed her waist in a flash, strong fingers digging into her skin. She gasped, but she didn’t stop smiling. Not even when he sat up just enough to bring his mouth to her ear.

“You talk too much.”

His voice was low and dark, laced with warning. That tone that always made her stomach flip and her thighs squeeze tighter around him. He didn’t have to raise his voice to scare the shit out of her—and turn her on at the same time.

“I let you on top because I thought maybe you’d behave for once,” he muttered, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But you’re not even trying, are you?”

She bit back a grin. “I’m trying to make it last.”

His fingers slid up to her throat, not choking—just resting, claiming. He tilted her chin down so she had to look him in the eye.

“You don’t make anything in this bed last,” he said coldly. “I do.”

Her smirk faltered. Just a little.

Rafe leaned back again, hands behind his head now, a taunting smirk of his own curling on his lips.

“Go on, then. Prove me wrong.”

God, she hated him.

Hated how he looked at her like he already knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Hated how calm he stayed while she tried to work him up, hated how her body betrayed her first—tightening around him, breath catching, thighs already starting to tremble from the strain of holding her pace.

He just laid there and watched. Patient. Knowing. His abs flexed every time her hips rocked forward, but his eyes stayed fixed on her face. Waiting for the cracks to show.

She tried. She really did.

Tried to keep her rhythm, to grind faster, bounce harder—but the build was too slow, too thick. Every movement drove him deeper, hit that spot that made her back arch and her hands grab at his chest for balance. The smirk was long gone now, replaced with parted lips and soft, desperate noises she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, voice like gravel. “Getting tired already?”

She whimpered. Tried to shake her head.

He sat up fast—one arm around her waist, the other fisted in her hair. She gasped as he pulled her flush against him, her chest pressed to his, breath coming in quick, shuddering bursts. His mouth was at her ear again, hot and punishing.

“You wanna act like you’re in control?” he growled. “Then ride me like you mean it.”

She moaned, grinding down harder, trying to meet his demand—but it was too much. Her legs burned. Her rhythm broke. Her body trembled in his lap.

“Thought so,” he muttered, dragging his lips across her jaw.

And then he took over.

His hands gripped her hips and slammed her down onto him, hard enough to make her cry out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. He set the pace she couldn’t keep—rough, relentless, deep. Her head dropped to his shoulder as he fucked up into her, using her body like it was his and his alone.

“You don’t get to tease me and think there won’t be consequences,” he hissed. “You come up here acting cocky, running that smart little mouth—now you’re gonna take every goddamn inch.”

She could barely breathe. Could barely think. Her whole body clenched around him, desperate and twitching, pleasure building fast and sharp in her belly.

“Rafe,” she gasped, “I-I’m gonna—”

His teeth grazed her neck. “Not yet.”

He slowed just enough to torture her. Let her feel it, hold it, teeter on the edge until she was begging under her breath, nails raking down his back, tears slipping down the corners of her eyes.

“Now,” he whispered, voice soft and deadly. “Now you can come.”

She shattered in his lap, loud and shaking, mouth open in a moan that barely sounded human. And Rafe held her through it, fucking her through every aftershock until she collapsed against him, limp and used and completely wrecked.

He laid back, dragging her with him, one hand stroking over her thigh like she hadn’t just tried to out-stubborn a soldier ten years older than her.

“You done being a brat now?” he asked, tone casual, cocky.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t have the breath.

And Rafe? He just smiled.

Because she’d try again next time.

And he’d ruin her all over again.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby