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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 3 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!rafayel, hints of switch!rafayel, reader is hesitant with intimacy, descriptions of self-esteem issues and general insecurities, mentions/implications of toxic relationships, implications of dubcon (not with rafayel), praise and reassurance, kissing and making out, heavy petting, first time sex (with each other) (no virginity loss), masturbation (f), oral (m. receiving), vaginal sex, cowgirl and missionary positions, unprotected sex, creampie, soft sex, use of pet names "cutie" "princess" "baby", references to card "fiery undercurrents", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 7.9k (help me)

youtiful masterlist

a late birthday os for our favorite deep sea painter! ✨

You jumped at your phone, nearly gasping at the caller ID that flashed on your screen.

"Rafayel!"

Your grip on your phone was tight, held against your ear with an immediate burst of excitement.

It had been days.

You knew how it was, of course—an artist's inspiration was often sporadic and fleeting, and you'd even lost count of the number of times Rafayel had told you that. How essential it was to grab the spark of creativity before it you lose it; how paramount it was to focus on your flow before it disappeared... It was ingrained in the forefront of your mind, by now.

And even more than that, if Rafayel had always been one to speak of the elusiveness of inspiration, then Thomas had always been one to insist you leave him and his stroke of genius alone whenever he called for it.

You didn't understand much about the world of artists, so it was natural for you to take their words to heart, but it hadn't been easy.

Rafayel, being Rafayel, would always send you texts and updates, never failingly missing a single day... But it had been days since you'd last heard his voice at all—much less seen him. Now, marking a week sinve you'd been to his studio at all, you were pacing back and forth in your apartment, wondering how long you had to wait, and if maybe you should take a chance and visit him yourself—

But you didn't want to be selfish.

In fact, you quite despised being needy at all—with a quiet laugh, you thought, that was usually the role that Rafayel would play in your relationship. You wouldn't think to take it from him.

Yet, now, your phone rang, and the ever-familiar sound of his voice brought on a wave of butterflies in your stomach that had your mood lifting in seconds.

"Heeyyy there, cutie!"

In the background, you could make out the faint sounds of metal against concrete in the background, and your ears perked.

"Is... that your ladder? Have you finished your painting?"

"Yeah! It really took a while, this one... But Thomas'll be happy to know that it's finally finished! ...That is, if I could get ahold of him..."

You carefully sat on the edge of your bed, swinging your legs in sheer happiness at his little ramblings.

"...And, actually, I kind of need your help."

You blinked.

"Hm? Help? With what?"

"Well, you know how I told you it's been kind of a while since I last cleaned this place...?"

"...Yes..."

"Are you free now?"

"Rafayel, you can't mean...?"

"Yeah! Can you come over and help me clean?"

You couldn't believe his first thought with this call was to ask you for your cleaning services. You strained to hear the familiar tease in his voice, even waited for a moment for some kind of "Just kidding!" or whatever else that could tell you he wasn't being serious—

You felt your eyes narrow in disapproval when you found nothing.

"Rafayel, I'm not your maid, you know."

Not even an "I missed you", not even a " Want to hang out later?".

"Yeaaahh.... But you're my bodyguard, right?" The hopeful tone in his voice now would have made you laugh.... In other circumstances.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" There was a laugh, then, on the other side of the line, and you huffed. "Rafayel, don't joke with me—"

"Look! I told you, right? Thomas won't answer me, and, seriously! The studio's a mess. I really need some help... Please?"

He was laughing completely now, and the sound brought over that same, very familiar ripple of butterflies, despite all the odds.

You caved.

"This is labor abuse, Rafa. Of your own girlfriend, might I add!" You hmphed, but stood up from your bed, haphazardly gathering your things into a purse and walking out of your flat. "Fine. I'm on my way there."

"Oh, you really are the best girlfriend I could ever have wished for! Thanks, princess! See ya!"

Not even a "stay safe"!

You wondered if this was what Rafayel felt whenever you were late to receive his calls or to reply to hia texts, and you sighed.

Is he just trying to get back at me...?

Regardless, he made up for his actions by immediately twirling you over with a kiss the minute you knocked on his door, and you smiled.

"Nice to see you again, princess," he grinned.

You thought you could never have wanted to see his smile as much as you did now—

But you couldn't bring yourself to admit that to him.

"Would've been better if you said that when you called me, huh?" You rolled your eyes playfully, shoving him aside and scanning the space in front of you.

He hadn't been lying.

Paint had been scattered around, well past the patches of safety paper he usually had lying all over his studio. While you were used to seeing the place mostly messy, anyway, this seemed a lot less like the organized mess you were used to. What's more, the painting wasn't even in this room anymore, and god knows where he'd put it now to dry.

You turned towards him with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Geez, Rafayel... This place looks like it's been through a hell hole. What were you doing?"

"Painting."

He shrugged, ever nonchalant and casual, only as if stating the obvious—that clearly being so engrossed in your painting would result in such a mess, and that clearly—he handed over a bundle of cleaning supplies—this was a very normal way of greeting your significant other.

You sighed.

You supposed, nothing was ever truly normal with him, anyway.

By the time you had finished, the sun that peeked through his windows bathed his studio into a golden glow. You settled onto the couch beside him, silent as he rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder, your head resting contently on his shoulder.

"You're rich, Rafayel," you mumbled, a little tiredly. "Why can't you just hire a maid if you don't want to clean things yourself?"

"And where do you think I'd find one I could trust enough to let near my paintings?"

The scoff in his voice made your lips quirk into a smile, and you tilted your head up to look at him.

...Ah.

Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes met, the gentle mix of red and purple hues in his eyes once again having you transfixed. His hair was slightly unruly from the work you'd both done, but the sunset rays streaming in from the window had little specks of sunlight painting his tresses in such a way that had you utterly mesmerized.

He chuckled slightly.

"Cat got your tongue, princess?"

You could barely bring yourself to mumble a response when he leaned in, shifting your positions just enough to have you lying on your back against the couch. Half of his weight rest over you, and you could feel it; his heartbeat against yours. You could almost amazed feel at the comfort in your synchronicity.

He sighed, brushing your hair out of your face. "...Why haven't you been to the studio?" he mumbled.

His words pulled you out of your reverie, and immediately, you felt your heart sink.

"...I thought... I thought you'd be busy..." Your voice came out meek, already searching his eyes anxiously. "Thomas told me not to disturb you, a-and I thought, maybe, you didn't want to be interrupted? I know how hard it's been for you to finish that painting..."

You swallowed thickly.

"Yeah, that might be true..." Rafayel nuzzled your nose affectionately, succeeding in soothing your nerves down to a certain degree. "But what if I wanted to see you, too?"

"...You... You usually just ask..."

Your words were met with silence, and you squirmed under the intensity of his gaze.

"Rafayel—"

"But you can't expect me to be the one asking for you all the time, right?"

Something at the back of your mind told you he didn't mean it that way, but his words stung nonetheless. The disapproval in his pout made your stomach churn. The atmosphere had, to you, become a little weightier, and your chest felt heavy with guilt.

You promised you wouldn't make him wait... But didn't you, in the end? Some useless game of seeing who'd cave first?

Your gaze shifted away from him, and you played with the hem of your shirt.

"Sorry, Rafa, I didn't mean to upset you... I-I don't know much about art, and I didn't want to bother you, and—god, actually, maybe it was stupid of me to just rely on Thomas' words instead of asking you, I'm such a terrible girlfriend—"

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you spoke, but before you could proceed any further, you felt the soft sensation of lips upon yours.

You blinked your tears away rapidly, refocusing to meet his, parting your lips slightly in shock when he pulled away.

"Don't say that, princess." He shook his head, and there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "You're not a terrible girlfriend. You're perfect, actually, and... I'm partly to blame. It was wrong of me to test you like that... You're right. I should have just asked."

You drew in a breath.

Perhaps, it was because your roles had been reversed today; perhaps, it was because you'd been so anxious to see him again that even the slightest signs of any conflict had you feeling like walking on eggshells. But it was rare for you to see him take the situation at hand so maturely, and it did well for the tenseness in your shoulders to melt away.

He moved his hand back into your hair, soft, gentle strokes, if only to soothe you further away from your worries.

"...Well, actually, maybe we both are a little stupid. I... kind if made the studio messy on my own."

Your ears perked up with that, and you looked at him curiously.

Rafayel laughed.

"It wasn't that bad when I'd finished! And I wasn't lying, I had been neglecting the studio, I just..."

When his voice trailed off, you found the courage to speak again.

"Did you.... Make an excuse to bring me here?"

He smiled, bringing his lips over to the top of your head, another one on your temple, and then another one over the corner of your eye.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I missed you a lot. I guess I just got creative... A little too much, anyway."

His lips were on yours again the next second, soft pecks that made your heart soar with glee. You wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, barely registering the way he'd pulled himself over you, feeling safe under the weight of his body—you liked this. And you missed it, being close with him, having a few moments to yourselves just to revel in each other's warmth.

With half-lidded eyes, he pulled back for air, panting softly over your skin.

"...You really could have just asked me," you whispered, gazing into his eyes and allowing yourself to get lost in them once more.

He let out a soft laugh. "Hm, yeah. Buuuut, maybe I thought this would be more interesting... And maybe, then, you could stay the night, too..."

His eyes flickered closed as he ran his hands through your hair once more, bringing a lock up to his face and letting out a sigh.

"You used that shampoo again."

You faltered slightly at his words, but he pressed you against the couch, capturing your lips into a deeper kiss.

...That shampoo.

You knew exactly what he was referring to.

The last time he'd noticed this scent on you, the way he'd pressed his lips against yours had been anything but innocent—it was one of the first times the both of you had made out together, the hairdryer and towel that had started the whole ordeal then long-forgotten beside you. The mere thought of that night brought an undeniable flush to your face, an all-too-familiar tingling sensation breaking throughout your body.

And you knew what he was insinuating. Even as he continued to kiss you, and even as you felt yourself easily melting into him the way that you would.

His hand began to roam your body, slowly stroking down your sides, making their way to your thigh and inching closer, closer, to the heat of your clothed core—

Your breath hitched.

You couldn't control it.

It was like instinct, whatever this conflict of mind and body really was—

You immediately reached out to grab his wrist, and his reaction was immediate. In an instant, his lips were off of yours, and he froze in place, wide eyes searching yours.

"Shit," he whispered. "Princess, I'm sorry— Did I— Did I go something wrong—"

Though breathless and panting, your lips quivered, and your grip on his wrist tightened.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Slowly, you felt him peel himself off of you, sitting up carefully... And you took in a deep breath.

"R-Rafayel, I..."

The waver in your voice and the alarm that had found its way into your eyes weren't missed by him, and you turned your head. "I'm sorry," you swallowed thickly. "I... I don't think i can do this right now..."

You felt feeble and small as you moved to draw your knees up to your chest, almost as if with the intention of hiding yourself away. "I... M-maybe, just... Not tonight...?"

When you sneaked a glance back up at him, you could see it. That glimmer of hurt in his eyes, perhaps just barely there, but more noticeable to you than anything else. You were also made painfully aware of the sun that had set, the studio now darker into the night—a cold draft blew in through the windows and made you shiver, and now, you felt incredibly small.

Rafayel, however, gave you another soft smile, gently moving to sit with your legs over his lap, resorting to holding your hand in his gently.

"Okay," he said.

And it was so simple the way he accepted your rejection, so devoid of judgement, that it made you feel...

Guilty.

Even guiltier than you already were to begin with.

"...I'm sorry, Rafa, I—"

He shook his head, giving your hand another squeeze.

"No, that's... Well, also on me. I should have asked you about this first, too..." The regret in his voice made you want to hit something. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything today. I'll wait until you're ready, princess."

...He'll wait?

Quietly, you moved to crawl back towards him, snuggling into his chest.

This wasn't the first time he had tried to go further with you. That night, after drying your hair, had been one of such times, and it wasn't as if you didn't want to take the next step in your relationship.

In fact, you wanted it just as much as he did.

You've fantasized about it for nights on end, laying on your bed, fingers playing with your clit and imagining how well his hands would have worked you, how well his cock would have stretched you out and filled you up far better than your fingers ever could. You lost count, how many times you'd come undone, alone on your bed, having his name spill from your lips as you did.

You wanted so badly for him to ravage you.

But thinking of it was incredibly different from having the situation at hand right in front of you.

You were nervous.

There were so, so many things that could go wrong from just exposing yourself to him as you would have if you did go that far—just as so, so many things had already gone wrong the last time you had, with other people.

You buried your face into his chest, pressing against him, drowning yourself in his warmth.

"...Are you mad?" You whispered.

"Me? Why would I be, when you're cuddling me like this so tightly?" The playfulness in his voice chased enough of your worries for you to let out a little laugh. "Just so you know... I'm perfectly fine with this."

You shifted, tilting your head to look up at him.

Rafayel gently poked at your nose.

"I can't be mad at you, princess, just because you said no to me. There are other ways for us to be affectionate, and I don't need to have sex with you, you know?"

"...But you want to?" Your voice remained meek, still very obviously wanting to hide yourself back into his shirt. And you would have, if he hadn't pried you away, hands firmly over your arms, leaning down to study your gaze.

"R-Rafa—"

"I want to, princess, but only if you want to. And I need to make that super, suuper clear to you, because I won't be forcing you into anything you don't want. 'Kay?"

His words sent a flurry of comfort into your stomach.

"...But... But what if I make you wait too long? You dislike waiting... A-and it's normal, anyway, right? For couples to have sex? If we don't, then..." As you spoke, you noticed a frown frown gradually form over his face, and you faltered.

"You... You expect me to leave because of this?"

You turned your gaze away in silence.

"Princess... You... May I ask where that's coming from? Do... Do you feel unloved with me? Am I doing something wrong?"

It was like a trigger—the way his voice dropped into a soft whisper, his hands falling back down to take yours in his, lacing your fingers together.

He was so gentle with you.

You felt the unwelcome sting of tears in your eyes, and you shook your head—"N-no," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. "You've done nothing wrong, but... But you're so—so nice to me, Rafayel..."

"...Baby? Of course I'm nice to you! Aren't you my girlfriend?!"

The nickname switch made your heart jump, and you nuzzled yourself further into his embrace.

"...I don't deserve you."

A pause.

You felt as if you could drown in the silence, even though you knew that he was just thinking of what to say.

"I'm sorry, I just made things worse—"

"...Deserve me? There's... there's nothing for you to say that—princess, that's my line, you know. You deserve everything—every little good thing out there, and so much more than me."

"But—! You—you're so good to me, and I'm—! How many times did I disappoint you? This whole week, and even just now, and—"

You felt yourself sniffling, and Rafayel once again brought you to look up at him. You chewed on your bottom lip, a flash of insecurity in your eyes that made him sigh softly.

"No, no, no... Don't cry, princess... Nothing's going to change just because of this, yeah? You know I love you. And nothing in the way that I love you is tied to... whatever ways you'll allow me to love you. I get it, you know? If you're not ready to go there yet, then that's fine. I promise. I don't make promises without reason, princess."

His gaze, now, was firm, and his words were warm. Genuine—like he always was with you. In the silence that followed, you felt yourself calm down slightly, your breath easing, the tears in your eyes blinked away in your insistence not to cry in front of him.

And more than anything, you found thr conviction in his words to be something you could... Trust.

You took in a deep breath.

"I've... I've done this a couple of times before," you spoke, slowly, quietly. "It's been a while since the last time, but— it's— it's just scary, Rafa."

Your voice trembled, and you hung your head.

"And I feel like it's so silly to be scared of it. It's always so obvious that I am, because I get too focused on trying to relax that I never really do, and then in the end I can only ever make up for it by letting them finish. So I— I don't know. Everyone says that couples always do this, like it's supposed to be a staple... Or else, what are they for, right?"

You let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, but it almost came out as if you were scolding yourself.

"Wait—hold on. You... You've never orgasmed?"

You blinked in surprise this time, looking up at him with a confused frown. "Huh? Only on my own, I guess... Never with them, no, but—"

"Oh, princess..." he began, almost like a whisper. "You've never enjoyed it, have you...? To call it a staple... Gosh. It's not something necessary to maintain a relationship, let's get that out of your pretty head first."

You watched him bring his hand over to the side of your face, a gentle caress.

"I don't know if humans really do think such fickle things, but I wouldn't leave you just because you won't go further with me. I want you to be ready before we go there. Okay? God, who have you been with?! They sound like the worst kind of humans!"

Despite yourself, you laughed at his indignation, watching him fall back against the couch with his arms crossed.

"No, seriously, baby—doesn't it sound wrong to you?! You know, I wouldn't have stopped until you came. In fact, I bet I could make you feel so much better than they ever could—" He paused, ears turning slightly red in telltale embarrassment. "...Sorry. I'll be totally patient, I really mean it. I was just, you know... saying..."

You giggled.

Rafayel was always cute when he was embarrassed, even if just a few moments ago, he'd so obviously reduced you to just a puddle through his kissses alone.

But his words, once again, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When you looked at him, his eyes were as gentle as the waves of the ocean you'd grown to love almost as much as him, and you couldn't help but feel... safe.

You'd never really felt safe before—not with anyone else.

Any time you opened up about this, your previous partners would have scoffed in your face—would have told you there couldn't have been a basis for what you felt, and that there was nothing more irrational than all of these needless worries of yours.

It was silly.

You had always believed that.

Yet you couldn't help feeling the way that you did.

Whenever you experienced sexual intimacy with anyone else, though you had let it happen in the end, you had never... associated it with anything special. Like you'd said, it only ever felt a mandatory part of any relationship. It was like going through the motions, and then you'd find out that you'd been a terrible experience—no matter how pretty they said you were, no matter how much you'd always be told that they were looking forward to it.

You were disappointing.

That was what conclusion you'd come up with, after several times of the same result.

And you always envied your friends, too.

Whenever the topic came up, they'd speak of how magical it was—how sweet, and how loving, and how good it felt... Yet you'd felt none of that. If there was anything good you associated with sex at all, it had been you—by yourself—in your room.

You really didn't know how to reconcile all of these feelings together—

And, yet, Rafayel had been the very first one to let it slide in a way that put your feelings first.

You promised him you wouldn't make him wait...

Yet here he was, adamant on letting you do exactly that.

You looked up at him, again, listening to him guide the conversation elsewhere, talking about how his week had been, and how painful it had been to get that painting done.

"You haven't seen it yet, have you? Hmm... I'm thinking if I should show you. I guess my girlfriend can have early access to it before the exhibition, right...?" He had one hand resting on your back, the other brought up to his chin in thought. "What do you think? Do you want to see it now?"

You stared, silently, as his eyes were back on yours.

That familiar, adorable tilt of his head, the inquisitive gaze in his eyes bringing that familiar shine to it that you loved, loved, loved, so very dearly.

You watched a small smile form on his features, and he pulled you close enough to have your foreheads touch.

"Hey. What's on your mind, cutie? You're spacing out again. Everything okay?"

God. You really loved him.

Even the simplest phrase had the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around almost mercilessly, and if you hadn't known better, you thought you were very likely blushing in that moment.

"Just you," you spoke, softly, quietly, barely even registering that you'd spoken so honestly in front of him before you recognized the look of surprise on his face. "Shit—I mean—"

"Nuh-uh, no take-backs! I like it when you're honest," he cut you off with a laugh, placing a quick peck on your lips.

Though he didn't say anything more on the subject, you knew he was thinking it—even if you'd tease, endlessly, of Rafayel's own clingier habits, you knew that in the end that you could easily eat your own words.

Rafayel was so good to you.

Sometimes you'd think he was too good to you—too good for you.

But admitting it out loud was always so difficult to you; your honesty of your own overwhelming feelings for him often more than you could speak to him yourself.

He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ears.

"Maybe we should go to sleep, yeah? It's pretty late. You've worked hard!"

Slowly, you moved to straddle his lap, and then buried your face into his neck.

"...Princess..."

"...Are you really okay with this, Rafa?"

"Me? I told you, I'm perfectly fi—"

"I just—I could make you feel good, at least..."

Maybe you'd let him consume your thoughts more than you'd intended, or maybe the guilt was simply eating away at you, having never been truly placated. You didn't know which side of emotions you were acting upon, and perhaps, it seemed as if he'd sensed that.

"Baby... No. We're not going to do it tonight. I want you to set your mind straight first."

"But—"

"No buts!"

He lifted you off of his lap, another firm shake of his head. "I want to ease you into this. And that means I won't be taking any pleasure for my own just yet, because I want you to feel good."

"...Wh- What do you...?"

He smiled, before poking your forehead.

"I mean, I want you to be comfortable around me first, before you even think of trying to give me an orgasm." Rafayel gave your hand another squeeze. "I'm hoping I can at least show you that it's not supposed to be a bad experience. So we'll sleep on it first, clear our heads, take things slowly... Then we'll see how things go from there. 'Kay?"

"Rafa..."

"Baby, relax. No rush. I'm not going anywhere."

Rafayel was always so good to you.

Even through your biggest insecurities, there would be no exception.

It had been quite some time since that conversation, and, sure enough, he had been adamant on taking things slower with you. You could feel it, how he'd constantly hold himself back with you. The way he would be sure not to take it too far when he kissed you, always respectfully lifting you off of his lap whenever he felt like it would get too much if you continued...

He took things step by step, just like he said he would. From kisses, to slowly dipping his hands beneath your clothes—You had found, over the past couple of days, how warm his hands were around your breasts, cupping and kneading them like a perfect fit. It was comfortable. And it had become almost a staple to your cuddling sessions over time.

Those nights in his bed slowly, slowly became less than innocent as weeks passed by.

And then one other night, you'd finally gained the courage to let him go even further. His fingers were long, able to reach deeper inside of you than you ever could, and the stretch in your walls felt more than welcome after so long. It was just as you'd fantasized—he'd buried his fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, slow thrusts gradually picking up the pace until you were trembling around him, his arms holding you safe as you released. Even now, when you thought back to that night, you felt tingles all over your body. It was the first time anyone had made you cum, the first time anyone had bothered to cradle you in their arms afterwards, the first time anyone had cleaned you up without you having to do it yourself—

You hadn't known that this could really feel so intimate.

So loving.

That Rafayel could ease all your worries away, so... naturally.

It had gotten to the point that you began to notice a boldness in both of your actions—you were growing more comfortable with him, like he'd intended you to, and now, you found yourself gladly on your knees, feeling the drag of his cock against the walls of your mouth.

He'd gotten you to cum from his fingers and his mouth multiple times over the past few days, and you had promised him—promised him—that you were only returning the favor because you wanted to. Because through the past weeks, Rafayel had been gentle with you, and patient—always asking for your consent, never pushing you to do anything you didn't want to, never even giving a thought to his own pleasure as long as it meant focusing on yours.

And this, you thought to yourself with a smile, was now a reward for for him just as much as it was for you.

Your eyes closed as you swirled circles over the tip of his length, taking your time with him as he often did with you. Your tongue ran up and over his cock, wetting him fully becore taking him in again, keening at the way his hips would stutter and his moans would reach your ears in a well-received melody.

"Fuck, yeah—Just like that, princess—" Rafayel's words were broken, his eyes half lidded as he watched you work him. "So good for me, baby—ngh, shit—"

You found his praises go straight to your core, eager to please him, eager to hear more. And in effect, your pace quickened, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, stroking and sucking him with a new hunger. His hands tangled in your hair, the sensation more than welcome as he guided you into a rhythm, hips bucking upwards to meet your mouth.

"So, so good— Feels so good, princess, don't stop—"

Another tug on your hair had you moaning against him, feeling him throb in your mouth at the extra stimulation.

He was close.

Determined to take in the sight, you watched, fondly, as his head fell back into the pillows, the skin of his thigh hot to the touch, your eyes drawn to the way his mouth hung open, his own eyes squeezing shut.

"Shit— M'gonna—! Gonna cum, baby, pleas—"

He arched his back, his hands fleeing from your hair to fist into the sheets beneath him. It hit in an instant, then—the sheer intensity having rendered him silent, mouthing curses, eyes still shut as streaks of cum shot out of him and onto your tongue.

You were familiar with the taste; warm in your mouth, and salty—thick. There was a certain discomfort to it, swallowing every last drop, but it couldn't compare to the thrill of it. Having Rafayel finally cum in your mouth, finally come undone for you... Your eyes locked as you released him with a wet 'pop', licking your lips and then hastily wiping your mouth with a little smile.

"Damn... That was..." He was breathless, chest heaving, barely moving to allow you to climb back up on the bed and reach for the bottle of water on his nightstand. "You're really... Really good at that, princess."

Feeling warm at another word of praise from him, you exchanged the bottle for the washcloth beside it, and crawled over to gently pat him clean.

"...Baby, I can—"

"If you won't let me do it when I finish, then I won't let you, either."

Your gaze was firm, and he laughed.

"Well played. My habits are growing on you, huh, cutie? That's good."

He pulled you up into his arms for a kiss, and you snuggled into his embrace. The heat from his skin was comforting—another thing you'd slowly gotten used to, having your activities now easily practiced without the need for any more clothes on.

"...How are you feeling? Was that okay?" He mumbled into your hair as you buried your face into his chest, lifting your leg over him as if to draw him even closer to you. You nodded quietly, and a soft sigh escaped his lips when you brushed your wetness against his still-sensitive cock. "Princess... Did sucking me off get you all wet?"

You could hear the laugh in his voice, and you whined.

"You— you made me wait to do that!" You protested, and you didn't need to look up to know he had that ever-present smirk on his face. "...I wanted to make you cum, too..."

He only replied with a chuckle, trailing his hand down your back to settle upon your waist. "I know. And thank you, by the way. Your mouth feels heavenly. Did you know that?"

You swat at his arm playfully. "Rafayel!"

"What? I'm only saying the truth! And, anyway..." You squealed when he leaned over to nip at your earlobe, completely sure of how flushed you were in that moment. "You're drenched, so which one will it be? My tongue? My fingers? My thigh?"

When you didn't reply immediately, he gently gave you squeeze. "Or do you want to sleep it off? We don't have to do anything if you—"

"N- no!"

You looked up, pouting, and found that the mirth in his gaze had melted away into one of pure adoration.

"I... I think..." You gulped, your eyes traveling downward to where you rest over him.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You would have been lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about it on a constant—how he would feel inside you. And though you'd thought about it generally before, you found yourself warming up to the idea. Craving it, even, in a way you hadn't before.

You raised your head to meet his eyes again, holding your breath as you moved to straddle him, sliding your folds over his cock gently.

The moan that he let out was music to his ears, but when his hands gripped your waist tightly, you stopped.

"Fuck, wait—are you sure, princess?"

You smiled slightly at that.

Truly, Rafayel had been nothing but gentle with you; nothing but patient.

You nodded.

"I-I mean... Only if you want to? But you just came, right...? S-so, maybe not... Sorry, I don't mean to be needy, you can just—"

"Hey, hey. Deep breaths for me first, baby, yeah? Relax."

Immediately, his hands were rubbing soothingly into your sides, and you fell forward onto his chest, holding him close.

"Don't you worry about being needy with me, I don't think I'm any less needier than you, anyway," he laughed. "I want this. I really want this. But, princess... I need to know that you aren't forcing yourself into it."

You remained silent, only managing a nod.

"Look at me?"

Compliant, you raised your head once more, and Rafayel reached over to thread his fingers through your hair. He smiled.

"Verbal consent, princess. I've given you mine. Now, I need your confirmation before we do anything. Have you decided? Do you want me?"

Your heart swelled in your chest.

You didn't know how Rafayel could be so selfless with you.

None of the others you've been with would ever treat you this way, and it was... new.

It was true, what he said—it wasn't a secret to you how much he wanted you. Though he wouldn't say it, so determined not to make you feel pressured, you'd see it in the way he looked at you. The way he touched you. Even the way he spoke with you—always the more vocal one in terms of clinginess, even though you, yourself, secretly enjoyed his attention.

You'd understood from the start that he was doing his best to stay firm in his self control just for you, and it made you feel warm—Loved. Appreciated.

Even now, as you were sitting on his cock, readjusting your position only to have it poke against your back—he was patiently waiting for your answer. He was waiting for you to be sure about this.

You thought it ironic, almost.

It wasn't as if this was your first time, and yet... you'd never experienced someone be so gentle with you.

With another determined nod, you sat back up, placing your hands on your lap.

"Okay," you said, and took a deep breath. "I'm sure, Rafayel. I want you."

You swore you could feel the way his cock twitched at your words, and couldn't help the way your lips quirked into another smile.

He read your expression, and laughed. "You really drive me insane, princess."

His hands remained firm on your hips, gently lifting you off—"Do you want to stay on top? Set your pace for me?"

"...Um... Do you?"

"Baby, don't turn this back to me! Doesn't matter what I want right now, I wanna make this about you. In case you haven't noticed, I'd be more than happy to take you in any way you want me to."

You almost rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "...Okay, then... I'll try it like this. But, Rafayel, sometimes it's concerning how much you pay attention to my needs..."

"Me? Concerning? Says the one who's had some of the worst sexual experiences on the planet!" He scoffed. "Listen, princess. I say this a lot, but you understand, right? I'm not in this relationship for your body. I'm not using you for your body. I love you, because you're you, and not just so I get to fuck you some day." He paused, then, and you saw a flash of contemplation in his eyes, "...Which miiiight be today, but that's besides the point."

You laughed, this time, and perhaps in any other situation, you'd playfully hit his chest, and tell him to stop being so silly. But the lighthearted atmosphere was welcome, and you felt your shoulders slump in some sort of relief.

"I know, Rafa. I..." You bit your lip, steeling yourself, willing yourself to say it. "I... I-I love you, too."

Immediately, you watched his eyes widen, a certain shine in them that almost could have made you melt.

"...Seriously?" he whispered. "You mean it?"

You flushed at the way he sounded so much in disbelief, despite what you were about to do. But, perhaps, you understood the shock that he displayed. While he would often use the words around you—having made it clear that they were his feelings, and that you didn't have to reciprocate them immediately—you had yet to say it back.

You did love him.

Of course you did.

And you have, for a while now.

But it wasn't easy to speak these feelings out loud; wasn't easy to make yourself so affectionate and so vulnerable around him. At least, not as easy as it has been for him. It had been long established that Rafayel was the more expressive one—though he would tone things down with playful jokes and banter to match your pace of things, you knew that his feelings had been nothing but genuine for you.

And you'd always struggled to make sure that he knew you felt the same, but...

You nodded.

You could do it, this time. Give back all the love that he'd always given you.

Slowly, you reached behind you to guide his cock to your entrance, letting out a slow breath at the feeling of his tip—hot, and wet, and stiff—prodding your hole.

"I love you," you whispered, feeling confident, now, as you spoke.

His fingers dug into your skin as he gasped, finally having you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock. "Fuck," he muttered. His eyes closed—you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You feel so... so..."

A loud whine rattled past your lips when he finally pressed all the way inside of you, so big, and so filling, like nothing else you've ever had before.

"Shit," he continued to curse under his breath. "So—so good, baby."

His hands, shaky, massaged your hips in reassurance, eyes opening to reveal a hazy glimmer of lust that you had yet to see on his face before. The image before you made you shiver—every ounce of self control was slowly slipping away from him, and he was trembling with the little bit of patience he still had left in his body.

"M-move," he whimpered, looking up at you with pleading eyes that made you gasp. "Please, princess—please—can you do that for me?"

Your jaw clenched, and you obliged—how could you resist?

You rocked your hips slowly, at first, getting used to the feeling of him in side you. And, you found—you were enjoying this. Whatever you'd imagined could never compare; he felt good inside you. Every sensation you felt of his cock against your center was pleasurable, every moan that fell from his lips having you swirl your hips with a need to hear more.

You bit your lip when he slowly began to rut his hips up to meet your pelvis, now finding the strength to guide your hips gently up and down his length—

"Fuck, baby, don't hide from me, please," he moaned, eyes locking with yours with an air of desperation. "Haah—Let me hear you—hear how good it feels—'s it feel good, princess?"

You found yourself obedient.

As his tip knocked up against your sensitive spot, a loud moan spilled from your lips—immediately, you rest your hands on his chest as your head hung, feeling yourself bounce to his rhythm, hips moving in sync.

"F-feels good, 'fayel— Ah—!"

"Yeah? Like that, baby? That spot, huh?"

You grinded down on his cock, eyes screwing shut at the sound of your arousal slicking around him. His words guided you through your motions, whisperes of praise and reassurance that had you soaring—and you could feel it. The tightness that had gathered in your stomach, slowly, slowly building into something more—but so far away, so unobtainable, that it had you whining.

"R-Rafayel!" You cried as you leaned forward, burying your face into his chest. Even as he planted his feet on the bed and thrust up into you, picking his pace up a little and grunting into your ear, you shook your head— "M-more, please— I— I can't—"

"Oh, fuck, princess—"

He groaned when you clenched tightly around him, and with quick movements, he had you lying on your back, caged between his arms as breathless pants fell from his lips.

"I—fuck, baby... Are you okay with this? I'll—Shit— Sorry, I m-moved—"

He'd snapped his his hips back into yours the minute you wrapped your legs around his waist, but when he looked at you, your own eyes filled with a desire that dared to rival his own, he let out a slow breath.

"...Okay?" he whispered.

You nodded. "Please."

Rafayel laced his fingers through with yours, holding them against the pillow. At your consent, he resumed his pace, fucking deep into your cunt with thrusts so precisely rubbing against your spot that you closed your eyes with another loud moan.

"Ah, Rafa—Rafayel, s-so good—"

Any thoughts of holding back your sounds were lost in the pleasure raking through your body, feeling the way his cock would brush against all the right places. So thorough, and so loving—and so, so good.

Rafayel was making you feel good.

Better than you've ever felt—better than your fingers, and better than his, and you thought—

Fuck.

You wished you'd gotten to do this sooner.

"P-princess," he whimpered, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead against yours, drowning a myriad of moans of your name with the way he kissed you. So needy with his touches, you melted into him like you always did, easily following his thrusts and receiving everything he could give you.

"Princess—are you—are you safe?" he breathed.

You could feel the way he tensed inside you, his hips slowing slightly into a pace that had you whining as he waited for your reply.

"Can I... Can I cum inside? If—If you—"

It almost seemed like he could barely form coherent words, and you smiled slightly. Your arms wrapped around his neck; "I'm safe," you mumbled. "Go ahead, Rafa."

The moan that he let out sent a shiver down your spine, and then his lips were on your neck, kissing and sucking—you didn't even mind, anymore, whether or not he'd be leaving marks on you by the time you were done. Groans spilled from his lips between his kisses, and you felt yourself moaning along with him. The pace he'd set picked up, no longer as gentle as you'd started with, but you found that it was more than welcome.

"C-Cumming," you shut your eyes, breathing out his name in endless chants into his hair. "Cumming, Rafa, I—!"

You felt it.

The throbbing of his cock as he spilled rope after rope of cum into your cunt, just in time with your own release. Your nails dug into his scalp as you clenched sporadically around him, throwing your head back with a drawn-out moan of his name, feeling yourself drown in the sheer intensity of it.

"Rafayel—!"

"Fuck—Fuck—Take it, princess— Shit—" He hissed into your neck, pumping his cum into you, moans falling back into whimpers.

A moment passed after, and you smiled contentedly as he hugged you, pulling out of you but still so determined to keep you close to him.

"...R- Rafayel?" You whispered, soothingly stroking his hair. And only then did he look at you.

Your breath caught at his expression.

Tired, undeniably, but so... tender.

"Hey..." he mumbled, slowly moving up to give you a quick kiss. "Can you say it again?"

"H-huh? Say what...?" You felt your face grow even warmer at the mere thought of all the things you'd possibly moaned in the midst of your lust.

But he only smiled. "What you said, earlier. Say that you love me."

A giggle bubbled at your throat, and you pushed him onto the space next to you—

Naturally, he only pulled you back against him, arms wrapping around you, tucking you under his chin.

"C'monnnn, baby. Please?"

It was so hard for you to say no to him like this.

You turned around to face him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Rafayel," you mumbled with a smile.

His expression relaxed.

"...And, thank you. For always making me feel so loved. I've never... I've never thought it could feel like this, a-and..."

"Did you like it?"

"More than liked it! I... I enjoyed it. Really. Thank you."

He grinned, then, gently setting you down on the bed and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Then, mission accomplished! So... Let's clean you up before we sleep, yeah? We can have another round in the morni—"

"Rafayel!"

"I'm kidding!"

⁺₊ / an: holy shit this took an eternity to write??!?!?!! nearly 8k words, what do u know... all this love for the birthday boy, this is an insane amount of special treatment for rafayel fr 🍰

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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stevesbabysittingservice · 8 months

Text

MIDNIGHT LOVE ✨;✩°𓏲⋆💤.*

steve harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] steve didn’t expect to have fallen madly in love with you, much less for his confession to be whispered in the dead of night after another nightmare renders him sleepless. (16+)

Sleeping was a privilege Steve Harrington lost a long time ago.

Finding himself sitting in his kitchen at half past two, his bruised knuckles tap against the marble countertop in time with the faint ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s a steady sound, one that still lingers with an uneasy sense of worry thanks to a man named Henry Creel, but Steve still tries to keep in time to catch his lost breath.

Steve woke up in a sweat, chest heaving and heart racing after yet another collage of gruesome, disturbing images infiltrated his dreams. The sound of your piercing screams, one so loud that it could shatter glass, the amount of crimson pooling at your stomach and seeping through his fingers, the pain rattling in his chest, the light draining from your pretty eyes.

Even now, after being awake and stumbling aimlessly through his expectantly empty home, Steve’s still not really sure how much of it was real. In any other circumstance, Steve would like to say he’s pretty good at handling the aftermath of the catastrophes in his head, but something about this time felt different.

Steve can’t seem to decide what’s worse; the fact that his dream felt so real because, in some way, there was a significant level of truth to it, or because it hurts him that little — a lot — more since he’s almost certain he’s fallen in love with you.

He wasn’t prepared for that. He isn’t prepared for that.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his voice shot and rugged from what little sleep he managed to get. His hands, ones covered in calluses and surface-level cuts, shake a little as he runs them through his bed-messed hair and down his face. “Fuck.”

Hot and cold flashes shock his body like a lightning strike, goosebumps rising on his uncovered legs and his chest rising with heat beneath his old Hawkins High Phys. Ed sweatshirt. Everything aches. The muscles in his arms and his legs, his head, the gashes and torsions littering his waist.

It’s only been a few days since the world fell apart and got stitched back together and Steve can’t seem to find any peace of mind, can’t even seem to relax for just one, measly second.

The weight of the world crushing his shoulders for the past three years, the physical toll his body has had to endure time and time again, all whilst trying to balance the necessity to protect the people he cherishes like family. It’s a lot to bear at 19. He’s almost certain he’s destined for every good thing in his life to turn to ruins.

“Baby?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve swivels on the kitchen stool at the sound of your voice, warm and doe-eyed. The light of his life, the one thing keeping him sane, his version of heaven. Steve was starting to wonder if tonight would be the first time you didn’t notice the absence of his figure beside you in bed.

What a stupid, stupid fool he is to think you wouldn’t notice.

Steve’s features soften at the sight of you, groggy and sleepy and far too adorable for someone who’d have just woken up. Even though he’s bone-deep tired and still a little shaken up from his nightmare, the boy finds himself smiling faintly at your arrival, anyway. You always manage to make him grin, even without trying.

You're in his shirt, like always, the fabric light against your skin and the hem of it stops just short of your hips. Your sleep shorts are barely visible beneath, the only proof of them being the satin ribbon glinting in the moonlight, the once-tied bow now hanging, unravelled, at your thigh.

Like oxidized copper, day-old bruises stain your skin, shades of yellow and moss-green replacing the once burgundy and deep purple splotches that painted your knees. Scabbed cuts in the shape of a Demobat’s jaw litter the expanse of your calf like a fucked up puzzle, and the no-doubt scars waiting to form make Steve feel terrible all over again.

You’re alive, thank God, but that’s yet to be enough to ease the pain of wishing he could’ve done more.

Shades of blue and indigo paint over you like an oceanic kaleidoscope, a capsize of darkness making your cheekbones, your jaw, the muscles on your biceps and your thighs nothing short of a Goddess-like vision. As you further step into the kitchen, your presence alone makes Steve feel like the entire world has been set on fire and glittered sunshine and warmth.

Fuck. He really might be in love with you.

“Hey, baby.” Steve says a little guiltily and his voice is an octave or two lower than normal, almost like he’s afraid that breaking the silence that once accompanied him might ruin the heavenly sight of you.

“Steve, it’s.. it’s two in the morning,” you chide softly, voice a little raspy but Steve can still hear the worry seeping between your words. Your knuckles rub at your eyes, a weak attempt at knocking away the evidence of sleep and waking yourself up simultaneously. “What’re you doing up?”

It’s closer to three than it is two, and Steve’s been up for much longer than that. But he won’t tell you that. Not when he knows it’d get you even more worried.

“Thirsty,” he says, and the word comes out tougher than he meant it to. His throat honestly feels like sandpaper. “Needed a drink, s’all.”

Steve tilts his head towards the cup of water he’d poured that sits on the counter. However, in retrospect, the boy wishes he hadn’t given it much attention at all because the glass he motioned to is obviously untouched, condensation dripping down the sides and there’s a lack of lip or finger marks.

Your eyes flit between the glass and your tired boyfriend, an unconvinced look lacing your features, and it’s not long before you silently tread towards him. Steve knew it was a weak attempt at getting you back to bed. He knew you wouldn’t. Not without him, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question comes out more of a grumble than anything, but the concern is still there, still genuine. You know him all too well, and Steve was an absolute idiot in thinking he could get away with such a pathetic lie.

It’s like he’s in a hypnotic state whenever you’re with him because Steve isn’t quick enough to come up with another lie. He just watches you in awe. You draw close like a magnetic force, and the boy’s legs part automatically. In all honesty, he’d be a liar to say he didn’t expect that you’d crowd his space sooner rather than later.

Your hands find his in the dark and your fingers run across the bumps of his knuckles. The glitter in your nail polish catches the light peeking in through the window above the sink and it makes it seem like shooting stars are dancing across his bruises.

You’re so tender with him, he’s come to notice. Like he’s an expensive China doll, or a glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. You always stare at him like you're admiring him, too, even when Steve feels exceptionally unattractive, and you always make him like a teenager all over again.

“Bad dream?” you eventually answer the question Steve had forgotten about after a few moments of comfortable silence, mumbling against his temple.

Earlier on in your relationship, Steve felt nothing short of a burden. He’d keep you up at night, come stumbling upon your front door bloodied and bruised and in need of help, and drag you along on adventures you’d have never signed up for if you knew what they’d entail.

But, even amongst the terror, you never complained, not once, and Steve often thanks the God he doesn’t believe in to have found somebody as patient and understanding as you.

So, Steve can’t see a point in lying anymore. Not when you know him so well— not when you’ve seen him at his worst and stayed.

“Yeah,” Steve admits through a shallow breath, his lungs still constricting themselves even after he’d steadied his breathing maybe ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Much to his delight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders before pressing yourself into him. Steve returns the favor instantaneously, your body still lingering with warmth from his bed as he slides his hands beneath your shirt and around your torso. If he died in this position, he’d die a happy, grateful man.

Steve basks in your company, his eyes closing briefly, and part of him thinks he could fall asleep like this if you’d let him. His face presses against your collarbone and he lets out a faint, satisfied hum when he feels you place a soft kiss on the top of his head. You’re so soft and warm and Steve practically melts against you.

Another kiss from you, a wordless I’m sorry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve barely shakes his head, but it’s enough for you to notice. “Don’t wanna keep you up.” he says.

You pull away, then — not far, but there’s just enough distance between you both that Steve can glance up at you with ease. You give him a look, one he’s become far too familiar with after being with you for so long; eyes soft, but narrowed.

“I’m already awake, Steve,” you dismiss the boy gently, hand moving to card through his dark locks. You push them out of his face, forcing Steve to meet your intense, but kind gaze. “What happened this time?”

In any other circumstance, Steve would persist in his refusal to talk about his nightmares. He knows that any time somebody had asked, it was out of pure concern, which he appreciates, but it’s just hard. Sometimes Steve thinks talking about it might make it more real, more plausible.

Robin, when he’d shown up with dark circles under his eyes at work and she’d nagged him in her Robin-esque way; Eddie, during their weekly smoke sessions at his trailer in a lazy, off-handed way in hopes to come off as carefree as he’s known to be; Nancy, because once upon a time, she knew him better than anybody.

It’s difficult for Steve to open up to them, because, in his mind, they still harbor this idea that he’s the strong knight in shining armor they expect him to be. Admitting that he’s weak, troubled, and unable to move past the shit he’s dealt with in the last few years would break that façade, and Steve isn’t sure he can handle that kind of disappointment.

But you? You’ve seen it all, even despite his trying to conceal it from you out of everyone, and it’s never phased you. His weakness has slipped through the cracks of his porcelain walls, and you still like him, he thinks. He’ll never understand what he did to deserve your kindness.

“We were at the lake again,” Steve starts reluctantly. It honest to God feels like he’s tugging at an open wound. “You got pulled down, and I chased after you, but the bats..” he exhales sharply and he runs a hand through his already distressed hair, a telltale sign that he’s been restless for a while now. “I didn’t get there in time.”

The thought of you not being here with him stings, and it’s the kind of hurt that’s far worse than any real pain he’s ever endured in his life— though, Steve considers the idea of losing you to be as real as pain could possibly be.

In reality, Steve knows your getting gravely injured couldn’t have happened with the way things went at Lover’s Lake. Not when he insisted on diving for the group, not when he refused to let you go down with him, not when he made Eddie swear on his life to keep you safe if things went sideways. It wasn’t foolproof, not by any margin, but it was enough.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare him shitless, though.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you say as you press another kiss to his head, but it’s a little longer than the one you’d given him earlier.

“It’s okay,” Steve dismisses, and when your eyes meet again he tries to force a smile. It’s unconvincing, like always, but you don’t further pry about the nightmare, which he’s ultimately grateful for. He doesn’t want to relive it any more than he already has. “It’s just— shit, I don’t know.. annoying. It’s like my brain loves torturing me, or something. Never wants me to get any fuckin’ sleep.”

“They’re just nightmares, you know,” you remind him with a frown, and Steve wonders if you’ll ever get tired of sounding like a broken record. The amount of times you’ve had to piece him back together after he’d woken up a panicked, broken version of himself is probably in the hundreds, thousands. “They aren’t real. Henry can’t trick you anymore.”

He likes that you call him Henry instead of Vecna. It somehow manages to make his mythical, supernatural powers.. smaller than they seem. Like you aren’t scared of him. Steve wishes he has that kind of confidence.

But they are real, in some way or another. There are hints of truth mixed within the already existing storm of terror causing a riot in his head. Because, regardless of the outcome, Steve’s brain consistently morphs his reality into something far more sinister and tragic.

Sometimes he finds himself so deep within the jungle of contorted memories that he can’t decipher whether you're really sleeping beside him or if it’s another one of Vecna’s tricks.

“Feels pretty goddamn real.” he huffs out an exhausted laugh, one so humorless it’s almost as sharp as a knife’s edge. God, he’s exhausted.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize for what feels like the millionth time, and Steve feels guilty you need to fix something you didn’t break. “I wish I could make it better.”

You do. In ways Steve could never replicate. The feeling of your heartbeat rattling against his, the warmth your body provides, the lingering remnants of your floral perfume, the taste of your mint toothpaste against his lips, the sound of your voice and the purity in your laugh; it provides Steve sanctum within a place that hasn’t had any peace or grace in a long, long time.

“We’re okay, you know,” Steve knows you’re not necessarily asking him for an answer, even if it’s framed like a question. “I’m okay, and you’re okay. So are the kids, and Robin, Eddie, Nance.. it’s just your brain’s way of trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Pretty shitty of it to make me relive all that crap.” says Steve, another humorless laugh sneaking past his tongue.

“I know, but they’ll stop eventually,” you murmur, and Steve knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything, but it warms his chest anyway. “It’ll just take time.”

Steve’s grip tightens around your waist and he shudders at the image flashing behind his eyelids. “It’s just scary, y’know?” he breathes out. “Thinkin’ about what.. what could’ve happened because we weren’t careful.”

“We were as careful as we could’ve been, baby,” you tell the boy, and Steve knows that’s somewhat true. It wasn’t like you guys had days to sit and think of the perfect way to defeat an evil, child-murdering guy with tentacles, but it was enough. “You just.. you can’t get stuck on the what-ifs, Steve. It won’t do you any good.”

Steve hums, then, because you’re right, but he doesn’t say much else. He still feels deflated, even in the comfort of your presence.

“Besides,” you start with a little shrug, your body more energized than it had been when you initially found Steve drowning in his own dread. “There are things that are way scarier than what ifs, anyway.”

Yeah, Steve thinks, like how I think I’m falling in love with you.

But instead, the boy exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mumbling against the material of your — his — shirt, he asks, “Yeah? Like what?”

When living in a shithole like Hawkins, a handful of supernatural things come to mind. The Demogorgon he saved you from in 1983, the Demodogs he was almost eaten by in ‘84, the Russians who almost beat him to a pulp in July of last year, the herd of Demobats you managed to beat up like Sigourney Goddamn Weaver—

“Taxes.” you blurt, and Steve doesn’t even have the chance to register what you’d said before a surprised laugh rumbles from his chest.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes snap up at you, and with wrinkled brows, he manages to half force out, half laugh, “What?”

Fuck.

“Any paperwork, really. Or me trying to cook,” you hum softly, the apples of your cheeks swelling as you let yourself drift back into the countless memories of kitchen mishaps you, and Steve, have shared in this very room. “I mean, you remember how Thanksgiving went. It was a total shitshow.”

One undercooked turkey, a load of burnt potatoes because you forgot to turn the oven down, and pumpkin pie that, oddly enough, had no pumpkin in it. It was a hot mess, really, but it’s probably one of Steve’s fondest memories— even if that's totally and utterly lame to admit.

He’s definitely in love with you.

“That..” Steve’s breath is shaky all of a sudden, and his voice wavers. “Yeah, you trying to cook is pretty scary.”

“Clowns are scary, too,” you add, almost for good measure. Your nose crinkles and Steve feels his chest bloom with heat at the sight of it. “They’re always smiling. It’s.. I mean, what’s scarier than that?”

Steve doesn’t mean to blurt it out, not really, but the compulsion to spill his flourishing feelings for you was far too burdening to ignore. Your hands were twisting in his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp and you were staring down at him with your God-given smile like he’s a national fucking treasure or something.

If there’s one thing to know about Steve, it’s that he feels a lot. He’s passionate about a lot of things, and a lot of people, and trying to smother and conceal that part of himself only amplifies his emotions until he’s fit to burst. He throws his heart out on the line and lets it teeter like a trapeze artist and hopes that someone, somewhere, is ready and willing to catch it when it falls.

Most of the time it ends in tragedy and heartbreak, but Steve thinks that this time, you could be that someone to pick up the broken pieces with fragile hands and stitch them back together. He really hopes you’re that someone.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your body stills and your features contort into something Steve can’t decipher. You blink once, twice, before quietly muttering, “What?”

For a long, long time, home was just an idea that Steve was never quite able to grasp. A figure of his wildest, incapable dreams. His house, one that only seemed filled because of the old photos on the mantle and from the light bouncing off the chandelier, was never home. Hell— Hawkins as a whole isn’t home, either. Not anymore.

Steve hadn't known that home could be a person. Not until you.

“I think I love you.” Steve repeats, all his attempts at keeping his composure slowly wilting away with every second that passes.

Your gaze flickers across the expanse of his face, eyes soaking in every scar and every mark, every freckle and mole that litters his sun-kissed skin. One of your hands gently moves to cup the side of his face and your thumb slides almost methodically against his cheek, feather-like grazes across a silver scar he’d gained back in July 1985.

Steve can feel the warmth blooming beneath your angelic touch, a match to his body of flames, and barely above a whisper, you ask, “You think?”

His heartbeat begins to ricochet from his chest and into his now trembling fingertips. Steve’s veins feel like they’re pumping with acid, a new wave of anxiousness coursing through him like he’d been burnt from the inside out. It’s painful, in a way, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind he never wants to stop feeling.

So it takes Steve a moment, but he eventually shakes his head, his dark brown eyes flitting down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. He can’t help but notice the aquatic pools filling your lash line.

“I know,” Steve corrects himself, his tongue moving to wet his now dry lips. “I know I love you.”

Your breath hitches, then, and if the world hadn’t become a muted track in Steve’s ears, he might’ve missed it. You’re so, so quiet, all of a sudden, and there’s a large part of Steve that can’t help but start panicking because he’s convinced he’s already fucked this up.

“And that’s scary?” you ask him with a crack in your voice, words wobbling.

in a low voice, he admits, “Terrifying.”

Steve’s driven through heartbreak avenue so many times that his heart is probably more scar tissue than muscle, been dealt a bad set of cards after gambling his love away and left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ghost of his ex-lover clawing at his chest.

He was black and blue most days, the haunting of what he could’ve done better always following him around like a fucked up shadow when he’d finally move on, only for him to just fall back into that same pit of regret he’d become oh so acquainted with.

It sucked, because getting his heart ripped out and stomped on time and time again was worse than any other pain he’s ever experienced in his 20 years of living.

But, what’s so scary, in Steve’s mind, is the fact that he’d do it all over again in a blink of an eye. He would take every punch and every jab, every insult and every ounce of hurt ten times over if he knew it meant that he’d find his way back to you.

Steve isn’t expecting you to say anything, much less do anything, so you can imagine his surprise when your hand is gentle as it cups the side of his face. He can’t help but lean further into your palm, his chocolate brown eyes unable to break away from your glassy ones.

In a soft, almost shaky voice, you tell the boy, “I don’t think you should be scared about that.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You don’t?” he asks, almost unsure because the uncertainty of your answer hangs heavy in the air.

“No. Because I..” you shake your head and lick your lips, too, pretty dream-like eyes darting across his features. And, with a faint, tired smile, you confess, “I love you, too, Steve. More than anything.”

Steve’s heart starts up again, quicker than ever before, because shit, that'd be enough for him.

Then, with unwavering confidence, Steve surges forward and captures you in a hurried kiss. Mouths slotting together in a heavenly disarray, the boy’s hands tighten around your frame and his mind goes entirely blank on everything that isn’t you because you’re his world he’d die orbiting around.

Steve’s kissing you with a level of fervid he didn’t know he had locked within him, and if the two of you were on display, it would seem like he’d been deprived of your admiration entirely. Your hand, the one splayed across his cheek, moves to his jaw and tilts his chin up ever so slightly and you deepen the kiss.

The boy can’t stop himself from trying to pull you impossibly closer, a new wave of determination washing over him as his desire to feel every ounce of you burns hotter. His tongue soothing over the accidental scrape of his teeth, Steve’s hunger only grows when you muffle out a faint moan against his lips.

You’re both panting when you pull away, a soft click sounding at the departure of your lips from Steve’s. Your forehead rests against his and Steve can’t help himself from trying to steal another kiss from you. You pull back, though, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks and Steve forgets entirely about the way the edge of the counter is digging into his spine.

“Can we go back to bed?” you ask him in a faint voice, eyes still closed and your nose bumps against his, your breath shallow against Steve’s face. The boy is left dizzy from your surging kisses, lips still tingling despite the loss of yours, and Steve almost misses the salacious hint in your request.

Almost.

The boy can’t bring himself to speak, but Steve nods, sneaking another kiss from you before he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the safety of his bedroom, socked feet padding against the floor sounding just as loud as the thumping his heart bounces off his ribcage.

And there, between rumbled sheets, Steve proves how much he loves you til the early signs of morning peak through his blinds, slivers of pink and orange rays mixing and painting your features gold.

Gentle kisses and rough hands, crescent moons adding to the constellation of freckles on his back, moans mixing with whispered sweet nothings echoing between his bedroom walls; a faint mantra of I love you, I love you, I love you encompassing you both.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #hurt/comfort #stevesbabysittingservice

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 month

Note

Hey! I hope you're good! I saw that requests are open, and so I wanted to send one in. It's totally fine if you'd rather not write it, but I'll just shoot my shot xD. So I was wondering if you could write something about Gojo being the nicest guy when he falls in love with someone? I just had my heart broken by someone and it was stupid and everything so I'm just really in the need of some fluffy Satoru where he knows how to value his partner. Because he's at the age where he knows it's not time to mess around, and also because he's already lost so many people he doesn't take his partner for granted? (Could also be kind of something where he's just a little older than reader maybe, so he knows when to be more serious. Lmao ik it isn't actually Gojo if he's being serious but you get what I mean)💙

hey! I hope you're doing okay ❤️ thank you for this request and I wish you all the best, you're gonna be okay, you got this ✨

summary: gojo satoru shows you what real love is pairing: gojo satoru x female reader genre: fluff content warnings: ooc gojo satoru, fluff Masterlist

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Falling in love is easy.

The hard part is where you choose to stay.

You have to work on it endlessly, each and every day. For some people it's easier to walk away, while those who gets left behind don't get a say and is left to deal with what once was theirs.

It took you a minute to move on from your ex. Looking back, it seems so stupid, so careless, so meaningless, sometimes you wonder why you dated your ex in the first place.

For character development, you convince yourself. You learned some lessons from it, so hopefully in your next relationship, you'll know better.

Which is why when you first met Satoru, you felt a little scared.

A little scared because it's happening all over again. After a few dates, you realize you do like him, and you do want to have something serious with him.

It's the way he'll open doors for you, makes sure you're drinking enough water, prepares vitamins on the kitchen counter -- they all sound like tiny actions that don't matter, but it touches your heart.

It's not only that, though.

It's also how he'd return your kindness tenfold, how he makes sure to text you he's a bit busy so you won't be left waiting around all day, how he'll always book a reservation even though it's just a regular date night and not a celebration.

Sometimes you wonder what did you do to deserve someone like him, and without even asking out loud, he'll reassure you that he's with you because he wants to.

There is no other shoe.

"You feel like going out today?"

You hum, considering it. "Not really. Says it's gonna rain. You wanna stay in and cook? I can make pasta."

"You cooked yesterday, it's my turn."

"Yeah, but you got home late yesterday from work. You must be pretty tired."

Satoru looks at you like you're silly. "You got home late too! What are you talking about?"

"Well yeah, but your job is more difficult than mine-"

"No, no, no." He stops you, "We're not doing this. The agreement is that we switch every day-"

"-or every other day-"

"-if the other person is exhausted." Satoru finishes. "I'm not exhausted, so I'm cooking."

Noticing you're about to argue again, he pinches your nose. "End of discussion. Now go relax, I'm making something delicious."

Rubbing your red nose, you smile and silently follow him to the kitchen. Satoru knows that no matter what he does, you'll always try to show him how much you appreciate him -- it's been your thing since you first started dating, and Satoru has given up trying to tell you that sometimes you don't need to always return the favor. Sometimes he just wants to do something nice.

You, of course, will never listen, so he decides that he'll just have to one up you every single time.

"I'm gonna make a side salad." You say, taking out the romaine lettuce.

"Okay, then I'll make dessert."

You can only smile appreciatively and shake your head. That's Satoru for you.

Your mind suddenly travels to the past, remembering how you'd spend hours alone in the kitchen to prepare a meal for your ex boyfriend, and how he'd come home late, and turns out he had eaten. He didn't even tell you.

And you chuckle to yourself, thinking how foolish you were to have stayed that long. Look at you now, spending time with your lover who showers you with love, shows you how much you mean to him, and never needing to ask "are we okay" if you happen to have an argument.

"Why're you laughing to yourself, hmm?" Satoru nudges your hip with his.

You smile at him, "Just... Just want you to know that I'm really grateful for you, Satoru. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Satoru visibly blushes, his lips shaking, "Hey, you're being too sweet now. That's my job."

He circles his arms around your waist as you continue sprinkle some cocoa powder on the tiramisu you made together (of course you insisted on helping make the dessert).

"You're the light of my life," He says, resting his head on your shoulder. "Hope you know that I- Achoo!"

You gasp and can't help but laugh as Satoru chokes on the cocoa powder. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"F-fine-" He coughs and laughs at the same time.

You hand him a glass of water and chuckle as he downs it. "Who knew Gojo Satoru's nemesis is now cocoa powder."

"Hey, you try inhaling that, it can be dangerous." He clears his throat a few times.

Giggling, you hug him tightly and press a kiss gently on his chin. "I love you, Satoru."

"I love you too, sweets."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x female reader #satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #satoru x female reader #satoru x female reader fluff

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flynnriderishot · 6 months

Text

screw up pt.2 - n.d

it had been a few days since yours and larray’s party and people were still posting pictures of the event.

you were lounging in your apartment, having just finished cleaning the entire place, when your phone started going off like crazy.

you had a ridiculous amount of people tagging you in something that nathan, the triplets friend, posted.

you didn’t get the opportunity to speak to the boy very much as chris was just too thrilled that his best friend was in LA and wanted him to meet literally everyone. you had spoken briefly with him after running into each other a second time, but that conversation was cut short.

you weren’t too upset about it, but you definitely wished you could’ve spoken more than just a few words with him.

you smiled at the post of you and nate that was no doubt taken by either chris or larray. you had an idea that if nick or matt took the photo, it definitely would have come out a little better.

your curiosity got the better of you, your thumb clicking the comments before you had the chance to stop yourself.

(if you aren’t white, i apologize. i’m not white either but it’s so much easier to find pics)

ynswife omg! they met ?!

sturniolosbae nathan knows yn? @/nicolassturniolo wtf?

>>> nicholassturniolo what’d i do?

mattswifey cool?? did he just call the yn ln cool? oh he’s def in love

>>> christophersturniolo 🤫

>>> nathandoe8 seriously?

matthew.sturniolo i’m cooler tho, right?

>>> nathandoe8 idk bro. she’s pretty cool

>>> matthew.sturniolo pretty or cool? 🙄🤨

ynslovely lmaoooo not them exposing him 😭

you hummed thoughtfully. quickly commenting a simple white heart under the post before exiting the app completely.

just as you were about to get lost in the dangerous world of your mind, a text message from nick startled you.

nicolas 🤓:

nate wants your number

huh?

nathan wants your number. are you hung over or can you just not read?

no need to be rude 😔

i was just confused.

why are you telling me?

it’s called ✨consent✨

do you just want me going around giving your personal information to anyone that asks?

id appreciate it if you didn’t 😘

but nathan’s your friend and i trust that you trust him, yk?

i don’t 😐

but if that means you’re ok with me giving him your number then ok.

okay :)

does that mean you’re ok with me giving him your number?

yes, nick.

while through text you could pretend you weren’t completely freaking out, on the outside, you were completely freaking out.

nathan was gorgeous, that much was obvious. so what the hell did he want your number for?

you weren’t given much time to respond to your own question before an unknown number messaged you.

hey, it’s nate

nick gave me your number. but i’m sure you know that already cause he refused to text me back until he got your approval.

lmao 😭

hi, nathan

hi :)

a word so simple, yet your heart fluttered as you imagined what it would sound like coming from his mouth.

im in LA for a few more days…

do you maybe wanna hang out before i go?

sure

just us, right?

if that’s okay with you?

i didn’t wanna sound weird 💀

it’s perfectly okay with me. what’d you wanna do?

i’m okay with anything

an indecisive person meeting another indecisive person

i’m from boston 😭 idk whats around here.

jesus, nate 🤦‍♀️

i’m sorry 😔✌️

it’s completely up to you. i’m willing to do whatever crosses your mind.

really? okay then…

we’ll go ✨thrifting✨

from the triplets couch, nate’s head fell back when chris read over his shoulder and gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder.

“good luck, bro. the thrifting world is crazy.”

#chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe x reader #nathan doe #nate doe #nate doe x reader

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slickfordain · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐢'𝐚𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 💀💀

Male!reader, cult AU, done with everything reader, Unknown God is called Asmoday— Yandere themed, Khaenri’ah lore theory from diff people implied in by yours truly ✨me/Fyu✨. I made male!reader because fuck I lost all my ask inboxes 😭

Nothing could be more terrifying, than the creator himself finding out about the destruction of Khaenri’ah that had the Archons immediately down on their knees. They were horrified, because, most likely the Archons never wanted to destroy it in the first place— it was Celestia! Surely you’d understand!

…

But all you were doing, was chugging down your cola/Pepsi down your throat, your eyebags being visible;; which was easy enough for you to make a bitch resting face. ❝That was my favorite nation… Took me four years, now it’s ruined…❞ You sounded oh-so Godly upsetting, it’s tearing the Archons’ souls at this. ❝Your grace no! We didn’t mean it, I swear!❞ Barbatos was clinging onto your waist, Beelzebul was clinging onto your arm;; and Morax clung onto the other arm, gently trying to make sure you’re not choking from the drink by now.

❝Your grace we promise it wasn’t our doing…!❞

❝Yes!! Listen to the Shogun! It’s Celestia’s doing! That filthy palace, right?! Asmoday deserves a punishment too!❞ Barbatos agreed with the electro Archon’s words, for the first time, as you gave out a huff at their antics. You’re too tired, too exhausted. ❝Jesus… What’s the point in living if my four years creation is already ruined…❞

Just by hearing that made everyone in Teyvat absolutely mortified. Yes, mind you that not only can the Archons hear this;; but everyone around Teyvat. Since you exist, your voice is simply in everyone’s ears;; especially the unknown God’s.

❝And why the fuck is everyone killing the monsters- my babies used to be humans, everything was so normal— what happened when I died??? 💔💔❞

The Archons couldn’t take it anymore, and bursted into … A waterfall. Their eyes were crying out I tell ya.

❝WAAAAAA— OUR GRACE NO!! I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE I SWEAR;; IT’S ALL MORAX’S FAULT!❞

❝Pardon me? I believe the drunken bard was the one who demolished every single men and women who tried running away, and don’t get me started on the Raiden.❞

❝You dare accusing my sister?! Your grace! I’ve always been loyal to eternity and kept my promise! Do not trust these fools, they’re lying about my sister Makoto!❞

Even their crying was spread throughout Teyvat. And never in anyone’s life in Inazuma, had they thought the Raiden Shogun would be so… Whiny and, well, emotional. Especially in Liyue who has never seen Rex Lapis’ Archon form being this emotional as well. Childe was at the brink of choking and almost dying. /real

Snezhnaya was so close to victory if you took their side as well. The more the Archons fought one another for you, this means you’d love them more. And the more you love them— the more you could destroy Celestia with Tsaritsa!! Hold on I think Tsaritsa is going love love crazy with a huge blush—

But in all honesty, this makes Dainsleif so fucking angry. They DARED casually talking and whining to you as if they can order you around to punish someone! As much as he hates Celestia’s guts, your appearance came first. Filthy Archons… He knew he should’ve tried killing them the day Asmoday’s attack went feral over Khaenri’ah…

And as for Kaeya and Albedo, those two were definitely going to grab Venti and attack him like feral men who’d do anything for their divine. You.

Everyone was so unsure of how to feel about the Archons. Killing a nation because of what? Their nature? If Celestia truly did send them off to kill the innocents… Then that meant… They’ve been killing humans this entire time.

Xiangling and other children are definitely going to throw up from the thought of it, as they have to be comforted by other people who gave them a light pat on the back. Even for Xiao, who has been more traumatized for realizing that the robots were also made from Khaenri’ah to not destroy nations, but to destroy the heavenly principles and Celestia. All this time… They’ve tried attacking innocents who didn’t even try bothering them, they bothered them first.

Yeah. Horrified nations is definitely set upon the place. And I think, Aether is going to take his frustration out on the Archons once they get back. Not only did they not help him to find his sister, Aether has been completely lied to!

But no worries… Aether will be helped by you right? You must be so… Soooooo tired of them… He will do anything in your hands, he will obey, if it meant he could be helped by you. He’d be so blessed if that were to be the case.

If his sister leaves him for the Abyss one more fucking time, he wouldn’t blame her— but would give up at this very point seeing that Lumine wouldn’t choose him over Abyss. Nahida was right. She belonged to this world, and he was just a traveller through different dimensions.

But then… Who was he truly, if Lumine was never from his own world from the beginning? Who was he to you?

He has heard about your story, your tales… How you always wore a cloak with designed hood over your head;; how you died by such brutal creatures who tried taking over Teyvat. You were a pretty boy, that he wasn’t going to lie about. You were strong, a bit too strong. You’re too overpowered that you didn’t even need to lift a finger, just say in your head that you wanna delete someone and boom. Deleted. Completely erased.

(And you don’t even fight, 💀 lucky bastard)

No matter… That was not the time to think about, right?

The nations aren’t even sure anymore if they should forgive the Archons. For they have sinned and destroyed your favorite creations, Khaenri’ah and it’s people. There was no way they’d ever get your forgiveness.

Which is a lie because you would forgive them but you will be so frustrated trying to remake Khaenri’ah ahahaha— oh yeah while also beating Celestia up by deleting it.

Also ew I’m stuck in a restaurant

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #sagau genshin #genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #sagau cult au #yandere sagau genshin impact #sagau x reader #sagau brainrot

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just-a-creep-babe · 10 months

Text

A Demon’s Ache — Part 16

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Dedicated to @cookiereblogss — tysm for all the support you’ve provided! ❣️🫶✨

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

The work is slow and tedious

Most of it consists of waiting things out

They have to wait for instructions, wait for their target to make a move, wait for the days to pass and the nights to come

Jack’s main priority is hunting

The target hardly leaves any traces behind, but with Jack’s tracking abilities, it’s nearly impossible for them to get away

It takes a few days, but they eventually get to the point where the target has exhausted all other options, and they’re essentially cornered

Jack’s antsy for this whole mission to be over with already, and he can tell by the way Toby’s losing focus that he’s also growing tired of it

Both want to confront the target, put an end to things one way or another, but they get word that under no circumstance are they to engage

Which brings both the demon and the human back to square one—back to playing the waiting game

The lack of stimulation doesn’t help keep his mind off of you

You’re what his thoughts naturally default to, and while he realizes it’s not healthy, he just can’t help it

Between his instincts wanting to claim you as his mate, the memory of your body in his hands, and his sheer unbridled infatuation with you, you make him so utterly weak

Over a week into the mission, the demon finds himself in bed, his hand propped up behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling

Toby’s in the next bed over, catching up on some lost sleep, but Jack doesn’t feel the need to rest, and they’ve been told to wait things out, so there’s not much he can do except just… lie there

With a sigh, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand

He puts his passcode in, lowers the brightness as dim as it goes, then taps and swipes at his screen in hopes of finding some kind of distraction

Before he knows it, he ends up in his messages, looking at none other than his conversation beneath your contact name

Reading back some of the things you said to him brings back a flood of memories, and he finds himself cracking a smile

How’re you always so charming?

He thumb hovers over the text box, but he hesitates

He thinks back to your last interaction, and then, with a sigh, he closes his phone and rests it on his chest

The ceiling is dark, the room is bleak with its lacklustre decorations, and he feels entirely alone

He plays with his bottom lip between sharp teeth, weighing his options

After a minor internal debate, he opens his phone once more, returns to your messages, and presses on the text box

The keyboard pops up, and he stares at it for a few seconds

But then he shakes his head, puts his phone back down, and tries to ignore the temptation of texting you

Except it doesn’t take long before he picks his phone back up again

Why can’t he make up his damn mind?

He types out a few words, trying to sound casual, and then he rereads what he wrote as his thumb hovers over the send button

No, that doesn’t sound light-hearted enough

He erases everything, tries to type something else out, then deletes that too

He writes out a “hey” nearly pressing send, but with a sigh, he erases it all over again

He doesn’t know what to do

He wants to reach out to you, but he’s already on such thin ice after that last interaction

You’re going to think he’s so clingy, so pathetic

But fuck, he misses you

Pursing his lips, he realizes he just needs to suck it up, and puts his phone down yet again

The seconds tick by, stretching out into slow, long minutes, and with another sigh, he reopens his messages

He doesn’t plan on writing anything, he just intends on reading through your chat history again

But then his heart nearly jumps when he sees those three familiar dots on your end of the conversation

You’re texting him?

He looks to the top of the screen, 1:03 AM, and then his mind is a frantic mess trying to figure out why you’re texting him in the middle of the night like this

Did something happen with Jeff? Did you see his failed attempts at texting you, and now you wanna tell him to back off? Are you about to say you want absolutely nothing to do with him anymore?

He swallows thickly, keeping his thumb as far away from the text box as possible—just so that you don’t see him creeping on your contact

It feels like one panic-induced eternity later when the dots finally disappear, and in the brief milliseconds when your message doesn’t show up, he’s both relieved and disappointed, thinking you’ve decided not to text or confront him

But then the picture loads in

You’re in a set of lingerie he’s never seen before, the colour of the delicate lace a perfect compliment to your skin tone, and you’re kneeling on the bed with a pillow between your thighs

Even in the dim lighting, he can see the obvious evidence of your arousal on your panties, even soaking onto the pillow

He never thought he’d get jealous of a fucking pillow, of all things

You’re holding up your phone with both hands, the angle pointed down so that he has a nice eyeful of your cleavage

And be can’t see the top part of your face, but he can see your gorgeous lips, parted and swollen, like you’ve been biting at them, and he’s reminded of how plush and soft they feel against his own

Without thinking, he groans out loud

He immediately feels his dick start to harden in his pyjama pants

He’s still taking it all in when the three dots pop up again

Thinking of you

Fuck

He takes in a sharp breath through his nose

And then he hears Toby mumble something, and in a panic, he slams his phone down onto his chest, screen facing down, and tries to act natural

Crap

A second goes by, followed by another, and another one after that

He strains his hearing for another sound, but all he hears is the proxy’s deep, steady breathing

He quietly releases the air he was holding in

As inconspicuously as possible, he reopens his phone, trying to tilt it as far from Toby’s line of vision just in case

My god, you’re gorgeous

He’s practically salivating at the photo

And that fucking text you sent him afterwards

Would it be wrong for him to save that picture to his phone?

He thinks about it for a second, and then it’s like he just can’t resist clicking on it and saving it—for his eyes only

He takes a moment to savour every detail of your body; every curve, every angle, every beauty mark, stretch mark and every single flaw that makes it so perfect—so wonderfully you

Fuck, he wants to wreck you

He can just imagine you riding that pillow, rolling your hips against it, trying to satisfy your aching clit

He can imagine you moaning all breathlessly as you reach up to toy with your nipples, trying to get as much stimulation as you possibly can

Are you touching yourself right now?

Are you doing it to the thought of him?

What a filthy, filthy girl, he thinks

Subconsciously, he reaches all the way down to the bulge in his pyjamas

And, as if acting on its own accord, his hand starts palming himself to the sight of you

He tries to keep his breathing neutral, tries to be as discreet as possible because Toby’s right fucking next to him

But my god, how can he resist touching himself to such a lewd photo of you?

He tries to match the pace he imagines you’re going at, rolling his hand over his bulge as if it were you on top of him instead

He almost loses himself to his fantasy, to the thought of all the dirty, filthy things he wants to do to you

Until he sees the three dots pop up, linger for a second or two, and then vanish once more

Shit

He’s keeping you waiting on an answer

What if you think he’s not interested?

He racks his brain trying to think of a reply, the seconds ticking down making him increasingly nervous until he eventually decides fuck it

A quick glance next to him shows no sign of Toby being awake

So, as sneakily as possible, he frees his length pressing up against his boxers, slips his phone beneath the sheets, and snaps a picture

He winces as the flash goes off

Fuck fuck fuck

Good god it’ll be nothing short of a miracle if Toby doesn’t notice any of this

He strains to hear the proxy’s breathing again, and although it’s concerning how light it is, there’s really not much Jack can do about it at this point

He slowly brings his phone back up, checks that the photo looks decent enough, then hits send

Look at what you do to me, he types

He doesn’t have to wait long for your reply to come in

I need you

I want to feel you inside me

He hisses in another sharp breath of air, his dick throbbing for attention beneath the sheets

He wastes no time stroking his stiff length, trying to be as discreet as possible, but he’s getting so riled up at the thought of you wanting him that he hardly even cares if Toby notices at this point

With one hand busy, the other tries to fumble out a reply on the keyboard, but before he can hit send on the depraved text, you send him something else

A video

His abdomen clenches at the preview, heat pooling to his groin like his body’s on fire

He hits play, and sound immediately plays out from his phone

“Shit,” he hisses a quiet curse beneath his breath, spamming the volume button to mute the video as quickly as possible, and then he’s utterly transfixed by the show you’ve put on for him

Your thighs look so soft, so perfectly smooth as you grind back and forth on the pillow

Your free hand trails up and down your form, tempting him, teasing him, and all he can imagine is how good he could make you feel if that was him touching you right now

Your touch moves up to the lacy bralette of the lingerie set, and there, you give the fat of your chest a playful squeeze before pulling at your nipple

Lips falling open like that, he can only imagine the sounds you’re making—and it’s driving him wild

Your hips stutter briefly in their movement as you toy with your nipples

And then, still teasing him, you slowly lower the fabric over your chest to reveal your tits to him

It’s almost too much

As embarrassing as it is to admit it, he nearly jizzes himself right then and there—with Toby just a few feet away from him

He can’t take this—he needs to hear the sounds you’re making

Pausing the video, he shimmies the band of his pyjamas up his hard erection, then gets out of the bed and, as inconspicuously as possible, he makes his way to the bathroom

The door locks behind him with a firm click

He knows if it wakes Toby up, he’ll be very suspicious about the whole thing, but Jack doesn’t want to risk him hearing anything, so he turns the shower on

The running water is enough to conceal the sound of the video is he plays it just low enough for him to hear

And, surely enough, your moans are divine

The way you work your body against the pillow, the way you whimper and mewl as you touch yourself, occasionally begging to feel him—you’re just as mouthwatering as always

The video comes to an end much too quickly

He’s left in the bathroom, panting as he desperately ruts himself into his fist

Do you even know the effect you have on him?

He thrusts his hips forwards as if it was you on the end of his cock and not just his hand

He imagines bending you over the sink, fucking into you from behind as he yanks your hair back, forcing you to look at yourself getting absolutely wrecked by the demon

The mental image has him snarling, and he’s not so certain the water’s enough to conceal his sounds anymore

But god, he really, really doesn’t care by this point

Still jerking his length into his fist, he types out a mess of filthy nothings

I’m going to ruin you the very next chance I get

I’m going to fuck you senseless, make you all mine

He scrolls up, replays the video, and imagine shoving your head down into that pillow, ass up and exposed to him, all for him to abuse however he pleases

He throws his head back with a low groan, utterly obsessed with the way you touch yourself

Your answer’s nearly immediately and he can only assume you’re just about as desperate as he is right now

Jack, please, I need you so badly

Feel so empty without you

He snarls, losing control of his hips pumping his twitching cock into his hold

I’m gonna mark you, breed you

I’m gonna fill you with as much cum as I can fit inside that perfect little cunt

He doesn’t know if he’s being too forwards

He just can’t contain himself

If it wasn’t for Toby in the other room, he’d call you right now just to hear your little whimpers, just to be able to describe in exact vivid detail what he wants to do to you

M so close, Jack, need you to fill me up

He can practically imagine your body shaking right now, your thighs all slick and messy as your cunt spasms on the verge of your orgasm

Good girl

Cum for me

Be a good little slut and cum for your master

It’s like he can almost hear you orgasm—that beautifully melodic sound he fucking adores so much

It reminds him of all the times he’s had his face buried between your thighs, the way you squirm beneath him, the way you pull at his hair, your taste, your smell—everything about you

You’re worse than any drug on earth

He snaps his hips all the way forward, his dick throbbing, and thinking about you cuming against his mouth is enough to push him over the edge

He bites into his palm as he cums, sharp teeth piercing through his own skin, but the pain and the taste of blood somehow only intensifies his own orgasm

Cum spurts out of his twitching cock, coating his fist, making a mess on the poor bathroom floor in front of him, but he’s too lost in the euphoria to care

He imagines ejaculating on you instead—your thighs, your tits, your face—and then he thinks about how fucking good it feels when you’re milking him with your cunt, and it all has him shuddering in the aftershock of his orgasm

Once his high dies down, he’s panting, the shower still running, and it’s ironically convenient that he can now clean up so easily

One last text comes through, and it’s a picture of your hand, your fingers spread apart to show the slick webbing clinging to your skin

He bites back another snarl

Filthy, filthy girl

He snaps one final pic of himself, showing his own mess you caused him to make

He’s about to start cleaning up when, much to his absolute horror, he hears a knock at the door

“Hey, y-you almost done in there? I gotta—I gotta take a piss, dude”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless Jack #eyeless Jack x reader #eyeless Jack x reader smut #creepypasta x reader smut

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amplifyingtrace · 2 years

Text

@ofdetonation asked: “so i got roped into makin’ the idiots in both classes a sorta christmas dinner, but i can’t go ‘n makin’ all of it by myself. can’t trust anyone else in the damn kitchen ‘n i need someone who knows how t’make decent desserts.” many hands make light work, after all, but katsuki did not enjoy having so many people in one space. “you in?”

By roped in, does Katsuki mean that he was told he was going to not only make a christmas dinner for his class, but her class too and that’s final? That’s a lot for just one designated person to prepare all by themselves for so many people. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him on how this was all decided, but those questions can wait.

He had come to ask her for help which she wasn’t about to refuse, not only because he is a dear friend of hers as she would help anyone who asked. However Katsuki didn’t ask just anyone for help, only those who he trusted wholeheartedly and felt comfortable with.

“Of course, I’d be more than happy to help you!” Leia beamed widely, bouncing on her toes a few times in excitement. They were going to make an amazing team in the kitchen together and get to hang while having fun at the same time.

“If you need any help with any of the other dishes, please let me know and I’ll do the same.” Not that she doubted they wouldn’t be able to handle their own tasks perfectly fine on their own, but she still wanted to offer her help if he needed it.

“Are we going to ask our classmates what they’d like to eat too or are we going to make this more of a surprise?” Perhaps a surprise as this was the first time she was hearing about this christmas like dinner. “There are so many things I can make, let’s see….” Leia paused, tilting her head to the side in thought for a moment. Holding up one of her hands to count on, bringing a finger up for each dessert she mentioned “Gingerbread cookies, cakes, brownies…”

#ofdetonation #{Awww so proud of him being comfortable enough to ask for help from Leia <3 which she is so happy about #x;;ofdetonation;{ Diamond in the rough };#✨ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ｀ You lost your mind in the sound | There's so much more | You can reclaim your crown | You're in control / bond: ofdetonation

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ashtavula · 4 months

Note

Hi, there! :D🌼

I saw that I could order here so I want to try to make my own (I hope I do well)

Type: Fic (Romantic)

Reader: Female but Neutral it's okay too 👍

I really liked the first kiss scenario but what if we upped the ante with some angst?

Scenario: What would the kisses with Silver, Deuce and Ace be like?

When they see that their partner (the prefect) almost died due to an Overblot from their dorm leader? How would they kiss their lover after a tragedy almost happened to her?💕💔

I imagine it would be a very emotional and painful moment but relief. If my request does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you ✍️✨💐🌌🌠

Thank you so much for your request!

Silver, Ace, and Deuce kissing you after they nearly lost you

Silver:

-The world spins as you slowly try to sit up, and you wince at the pain that wracks your body. In the midst of his overblot, Malleus had flung your defenseless body into a stone wall. You hear someone running, and then you're suddenly crushed against Silver's chest. You open your mouth to say his name, but his lips crash against yours before you can make a sound. He's never kissed you with such fervor before, and you feel a few tears land on your cheeks. When the kiss ends, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and tightens his grip. You feel more of his relieved tears on your skin, and you hear his solemn vow. "This is the last time I'll let you get hurt. I promise."

Ace:

-As your surroundings start coming back into focus, the first thing you hear is yelling. Blearily, you realize that it's Ace's voice. "Please, c'mon doll, talk to me!" Your eyes flutter open, and he heaves a relieved sigh. His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. When he kisses you, his lips linger for longer than they should. And when he finally pulls away, he hugs you tightly, and mumbles, "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear?"

Deuce:

-The first thing that you notice is the feeling of hands gingerly lifting you up, and then someone's head pressing against your chest to hear your heartbeat. You slur out his name, mind still foggy, and you hear how loudly he gasps. In his frenzy to kiss you, Deuce nearly headbutts you, but he reigns himself in at the last minute. Still, the kiss is sloppy, and when he breaks away for air, he presses his forehead to yours. "You're okay. We're okay..." You're not sure if he's trying to reassure you or himself more.

#twst silver #silver x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst reader insert

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lvlyghost · 7 months

Text

In the Midst of War: III

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: blood, descriptions of wounds, an old friend shows up. feelings! attempted fluff. mind the english🐸!

A/N: this GIF is my new fixation and i will not stop posting it in a long time so be advised 🤩 things are hitting the fan next chapter💗as usual thx for reading 🍁🩵

Masterlist✨Masterpost

"𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔?"

Heavy boots, a ragged breathing caused by adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping inside his ears, those are the things that Ghost can hear as he approaches the white van. Price shouts behind him but he can't make out what he's saying.

The blood... crimson blood that spills from her wounds is frightening. He's a man accustomed to witness horrible things. Seen the worst the world had to offer. Experienced in the flesh what evil can do to a human being. And simply because the woman that he holds in his arms is supposed to be his enemy that didn't mean he wanted to see her bleed out to death. Especially when they learned the truth.

Ghost had a moral code. Things he never wanted to see people go through despite being consequential to their own decisions. She had decided to join the army. She had decided to join the Shadow Company. It was bound to happen. Still it was hard for him.

That very moral code was to not hurt women nor children under any circumstances, and may God —if it even existed— help him when he'd have no other choice.

"Open the fucking door!" He yells, accent becoming more prominent; the door instantly sliding open, readjusting her near dead body in his arms to get them inside. "Gaz, give me everything you have." He commands the Sergeant, who's quick to open his medical pouches as well as the first aid kit they had loaded just in case someone needed it. The eyes of the woman flutter shut and then open slightly again, drifting back and forth between consciousness and the arms of the reaper. Ghost barks again at Gaz, so he helps him undoing the straps of her vest so he can check the wound properly.

"There's another one on her leg, Lt." he points out, moving around him as much as he can with the vehicle moving. With no time to waste he rips the lower part of his shirt, long and wide enough for his Sergeant to work. "Tourniquet , now." Gaz nods, at the harsh and cold commands of his superior. He then turns, lifting her shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet is still lodged inside her stomach, he notices sucking in a sharp breath; part of Ghost wonders who could've been the one who shot her? What if it was him? Taking the disinfectant from the kit he poured a generous amount on her wound. Her face scrunched, lips pouting and a low whine leaves her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid." He muttered, before pressing down on her wound every single gauze he found only to slowly start tainting red. He knew well she couldn't hear him her mind far away from where she physically was.

"We're back." one of the Vaqueros announced, as the van comes to an abrupt stop.

"We need to get her to the helo as soon as possible. She's lost too much blood." Price orders.

The three men get down, military doctors rush to them.

"We'll take it from here." One of them declares, patting Ghost on the shoulder, he nearly growls.

"Let's go. This isn't finished yet."

So Price dragged him in the opposite direction where they were taking her. He didn't know if she'll make it. But that was everything they'd do for her.

Stepping out of the room, showered and changed into comfortable sporting clothes you look around for Ghost. The safe house is silent. Deadly silent.

You wonder if he's even here, and you wonder if escaping would be a good idea. But as for now this was everything you had, at least a bed to sleep and a roof above your head. Sighing you walk to the kitchen just to find it as empty as the rest of the rooms.

The chilly air of late November causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps the moment you step outside, the backyard stretches farther away in the distance and as if on cue, the tall broad form of the Lieutenant appears walking through massive pines, wearing nothing but the jacket and his mask.

Ghost gradually stops when his eyes land on you standing still right outside the back door, arms crossed over your chest to protect you from the weather. He remains silent for a long minute before taking another

step closer.

"All set. Come with me." He orders you.

Biting on your lower lip, stopping your mouth from saying something you'll regret.

"Are you always this bossy?" Despite not liking his tone you oblige and begin to follow as he turns on his heels. If your question annoys him he doesn't let it show in fact he ignores you completely. "Where are we going, Ghost?"

Suddenly a wave of fear washes over you, steps faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if this was it? The end of everything. You didn't want to believe Ghost could kill you like you were nothing you just don't do that to someone you've taken care of for the past month. Why bothering? Why tending to your wounds and worrying for your wellbeing, even if he was forced to do it. You wanted to believe that at least he didn't hate you. Not the way he hated your former Commander. You thought something had changed between the two. He had seemed more relaxed around you; like he somehow had lowered his defenses around you.

"Silence." he hushes you in a low mutter. "M'not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about."

His words are cold and measured, as if he doesn't want to be here at all and the feeling, the knowledge that you're a burden to him makes your heart ache. A tiny pang of sadness that that's all you've ever been. All you could ever hope to be. So you ball your clench your hands, head hanging low when the so familiar lump in your throat becomes unbearable.

Both of you make it to a clearing, birds faintly chirping on the horizon. The sun no longer greets you, a storm announces itself with heavy clouds appearing in the sky above.

And then you're not alone. Another person stands in the middle. Hands clasped behind. Your heart skips a beat.

The only person that cares enough to save you. Blonde hair in a low tight bun.

Kate turns around, eyes going wide when she finally sees you. She's about to say something but words die because you're practically running to her, ignoring Ghost's warnings on being careful.

A smile appears on her face when you finally hug her and tears roll down your cheeks.

"What took you so long?" You sniffle. Kate's arms hold you tighter.

"I came as soon as I could. Forgive me, Vesper."

Shaking your head you try to stop the tears. It's honestly humiliating but she's known you since you joined the military. Kate Laswell was the closest thing you had to a family just like Graves. "I hope Lieutenant Riley has been good to you."

You huff, making her chuckle.

"He's taken care of me. For that I am grateful."

So now you knew more about him.

Riley.

Better than just a callsign. And it suited him.

Ghost stands a few feet away, despite this being a secure area he can't afford himself to relax. He can still hear everything you say to each other.

He can hear you crying on her shoulder and bloody hell if that didn't made him feel all sorts of distressed. It was a rare thing. Something he wouldn't have thought when he first scooped you up back on that forgotten highway.

But he guesses that happens when you spend too much time with someone you were supposed to look after. It didn't help that just last night you had asked him to stay the night in your room. All kinds of wrong.

Although he had refused he could sense what was happening and he needed to stop it. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan, and it would end terribly.

Deep in his thoughts he misses the look you send him.

"He really is something else." You murmur to Kate who keeps you know at arms length. "If it wasn't for you, I'm sure they'd have killed me." A sad smile appears on your lips.

"Let's not think about what happened darling, but rather what's gonna happen, yeah? Things have taken... a turn. No, hear me out." She says, interrupting you with a soft smile. "You're not alone. Never have been." Another quick glance at Ghost confirms the both of you that he's heard you.

"You know I don't like it when you say mysterious things, Kate." She sighs, giving you another hug although this one isn't as long as the first.

"Trust me. That's all I'm asking, and hey..." he levels you with a serious look. "Ghost may seem frightening but he's a good man." A low confession that doesn't reach his ears. Your cheeks turn red and you don't know why, leaving you mortified when she notices.

"Yeah..." you mumble.

"I don't have much more time. There's matters that require my attention but you'll hear from me again sooner than you think."

"What's that stance?" He gruffly asks as he stands next to you, eyes sliding up and down your body. His arms are tightly crossed over his broad chest. You turn to look up to him and away from the scope of your sniper rifle, blinking rapidly not understanding the disapproving look in his brown eyes.

"Uh, this is how I shoot Ghost." You answer like it was obvious what you were doing. You notice the way he furrow his brows beneath the balaclava.

"Bloody Christ." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He comes behind you. "Widen your stance." He kicks one of your foot so it slides along the dirty soil.

Yelping you lose balance for a second before he steadies you with a strong hand to your waist.

"Hey! What was that about?"

Ghost tilts his head eyes narrowing.

"That stance was utter shite. Your legs were not separated enough, you'd get knocked down easily by a waft of air."

"I've been doing it like this forever."

"Well you've been doing it wrong."

"But that's..." squinting your eyes you stare at him, fuming. "My legs are not as long as yours, they're like five damn kilometers long." Ghost snorts. "What's so funny?"

"Shocked you know what a kilometer is." Shaking your head you decide to ignore him and readjust the grip on the rifle. "One of his best soldiers, I heard." He points out. He returns to his spot next to you, trying not to think of how you felt under his touch.

"You've never seen someone like me, Lieutenant Riley."

Ghost freezes, heart skipping a beat at the way you say his name. It's soft and endearing. He watches you closely, you're focused on the target one eye closed and the other fixed on the green bottle.

Breathing slowly and steadily, the exact moment when the sky rumbles you press the trigger. The bullet sound echoes through the lone forest as it hits the target, sending birds flying away from their nests. A wide grin makes its way to your lips, turning to look a Ghost who remains silent merely watching the near-perfect shot, the average size bottle shattered in a thousands pieces.

"Bullseye." you comment in a casual tone. "Your turn."

Offering him the rifle you stare at each other for a long time before he shakes his head, refusing to take it.

"Mine's better." Unfazed by his refusal you wait as he goes to the black duffel bag that he previously placed on an old wooden table. He takes out his preferred weapon. Your was... lethal, but his own, the sheer size and way it was customized for him left you speechless. You even doubted you'd be able to hold it still. "And just so you know." coming back to where he was, Ghost readies himself but not before taking off his leather jacket. Only left with his black hoodie he offers you the jacket, eyes serious. Hesitating for a second before grabbing it and putting it on, it smells like him. It's soft and warm around your body. "We're going out tomorrow."

His body prepares to take the recoil of the gun. Yet another perfect shot is made that day; body barely moving, barely flinching when he fires. You hold your breath at the sound of shattering glass and then everything goes silent. Ghost turns to look you in the face, the way his clothes hang around your body swallowing you whole. A sight he finds himself liking too much for his own bloody good.

"Taking me out on a date I see." His lips twitch although you can't see it. "Where to?" You ask rolling your eyes.

Laying down the weapon he motions you to follow him back inside, he'd clean up afterwards.

"Your first mission. Laswell wants you back asap." The air gets stuck in your throat. "Don't look at me like that. We could use a good soldier. And don't worry too much. I'm coming with."

Teaming up with Ghost was the last thing you thought would happen in your lifetime, even if you had before needlessly to say not directly. For all you knew, they considered you a hostile for your connections with the Shadow Company. But your commander was off the equation. Gone forever.

With a final glance to your way he starts to cook dinner for two so you join him.

Your new life starts now.

"When does this end, Laswell?" He asks her, it's not that he doesn't want to be around the girl. That is exactly why he's desperate to put an end to this, enjoying her company wasn't a part of the plan.

She breathes the cool air, and tries to calm him.

"Don't tell me you've grown to care about her, Lieutenant."

Ghost doesn't answer but the CIA agent notices the way his shoulders tense.

Part 4

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sunnycanvas · 7 months

Note

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

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deathbyathousandspiders · 11 months

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hello!! ive been scrolling thru ur work and i am instantly obsessed. can i request a meet cute of peter? :( maybe they meet post nwh and she’s like wanda and she’s doing lessons w strange like america chavez 🥹 something like that :D thank u!

do u also happen to have a masterlist? i’d love to read more of ur work ure really amazing! ❤️‍🔥

you’re so sweet!! i just published my masterlist and pinned it :)

but here’s the link too !!

✨masterlist✨.

this is just a quick lil blurb :,) i hope you like it !!

800+.

The chill of winter rushed down your spine, causing a subtle shiver to follow along your goosebumps. You should’ve known that the old ass windows of the Sanctum would be drafty, but the view of New York covered in snow was somehow a sight you couldn’t pull your focus from. It was breathtaking.

Strange trusted you to house–sit the Sanctum Sanctorum while he and Wong went out to visit Kamar–Taj. It was a little day trip for them, so you didn’t mind the task. Besides, it was the least you could do to make it up to Dr. Strange for letting you stay there. You couldn’t exactly remember how you’d lost your family, but alas, it brought you here anyways. You were left lonesome, with powers you could barely summon on command.

He was training you on your telekinesis abilities, and giving you sanctuary from the blistering wind–chill outside. Watching the Sanctum for a few hours felt like a reasonable task for you to take on. You were more than capable of protecting it.

The sound of the doorbell stirred you from your people watching, immediately grounding you from your thoughts while you trekked down the steps. The doorbell rang again just before you got to the large door, opening it with a slight twinge of irritation. All your annoyance melted away when you realized who had disrupted the peaceful afternoon.

A boy, roughly your age, stood on the steps in front of you. He looked at you doe–eyed. Stunned. It seemed like you both anticipated a greeting from different people. His brown eyes pierced your soul, making a mental note to remind you that you had to see them again. His hands dug into the pockets of his winter coat, hesitant to break the silence.

“Is, uh- Is Dr. Strange here?” He asked, voice on the verge of breaking. It almost seemed like he was too scared to hear the answer.

Your head turned into the building, about to call out for the doctor before you realized how much of an idiot you were for forgetting. “Um, no. Sorry, he’s out today.” Your brows creased, feeling a little sympathetic. You weren’t sure why your powers were picking up his energy so adamantly, but his energy was something that drew you in. “Do you want me to deliver a message?”

It seemed like your words carried a weight that only he knew the gravity of. He suddenly seemed lighter. Hopeful. “I, umm.. No, that’s okay.” He turned on his heel, stepping down the steps again. “Thanks anyways–”

“Wait.” You cut him off. You couldn’t figure out why, but you didn’t want him to go. Part of you knew he was more significant than he was leading on. A part of him lived in the barren sanctum walls, and you knew it. “What’s your name?” A small smile touched your lips, “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

The boy froze dead in his tracks. It was almost like you’d said something wrong. Shit. Doe eyes turned into the stare of a deer in headlights. He didn’t seem to know what to do.

Your brows creased a little more, concernment sewn in the crevasse this time. “Are you okay?” He didn’t reply. He didn’t even move. You weren’t sure why he started malfunctioning, but you knew you had to do something.

“Maybe it’ll help if I tell you my name first?” Even you didn’t sound too sure, but this was better than nothing. You leaned into the doorframe more, trying to present yourself in less of an intimidating way. “I’m Y/N.”

You watched him mimicking the deep breath you took, easing into his posture. He gained some color back, and found his way back to his body. A nervous smile tickled the corners of his mouth with a breathy laugh, awkwardly glancing down at his boots.

“Sorry..” He spoke amid the anxious laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” His smile grew at the way your name fit with his voice. “I’m, uh.. Peter Parker.” It was like his name was some forbidden tongue. Getting it out seemed to lift the weight stuck on his shoulders though. “My name’s Peter Parker.”

Smiling back at him, you stood upright. “Well, Peter Parker, it’s nice to meet you too.” You sent a reassuring nod in his direction. “I’ll be sure to let the doctor know you stopped by.” Your brow arched at him, unable to shake the grin off your face. “Alright?”

Peter took steps away from the door, but kept his eyes on yours. “Thank you!” He beamed a little. It seemed to be the first light to hit the boy’s eyes in a while. “Happy holidays, Y/N.” He chimed, walking off into the street.

You hollered the same thing back in his direction before shutting the sanctum doors. You couldn’t quite dismiss the odd energy that your powers sensed from Peter, but it wasn’t a negative feeling. In fact, it was fascinating to you. And walking back to the drafty old window you’d been stuck at all day, you realized you wouldn’t be forgetting about Peter Parker anytime soon.

You hoped you’d be lucky enough to see him soon.

#🪷 .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒.#🕊️ .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕽𝐄𝐐.#marvel imagines #marvel mcu #mcu imagine #mcu peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #blurb #mcu #imagine #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland

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ivanzplaid · 2 years

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Could you please write Vance x reader (GN if that's alright) where reader is new in town and beats his high score in Pinball? Kinda like a enemies to lovers kinda thing?

✨Please and thank you ✨

this sounds so good omg, i really wanna make this a longer drabble bc writing for the enemies to lovers trope, esp for vance it seems more fitting, but tysm for this request!! i literally searched for vances record but damn i couldnt find it, so im gonna assume it was 1500, im sorry abt that💔

for some reason my writing has been feeling off for the past few days, so if this is unpleasant to read ill redo it🙏🙏 if it is good & ppl like it, i might do another part, or i may just keave it as it is, up to the imagination :)

requests r open! masterlist is up :)

Vance Hopper x Gn Reader!

Warnings: Slight fighting, Language

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The sound of chatter around you was drowned out, your mind too focused to pay attention to anything but your game. Hands gripping the machine infront of you with precision, a steady breath accommodating you while you watched your numbers rise, hitting 1,400 from your last move.

The world that existed outside of your game began to get even louder, some kids crowding around you, it was quite odd, but you assumed that the kids here were just very enthusiastic, supportive of their peers. You didn't catch much of their talk, as if you lost focus, you wouldn't be able to make the next shots, hoping to set a new record, maybe having a chance to meet new people, and become a somebody in the unfamiliar town, but the words that you did catch had a pattern, the loud voices were shadowed, but each time the name was spoken, it was clear as day, the unknown yet popular kid kept popping up,

Vance Hopper.

Whatever, whoever they were you were sure you'd meet them soon enough. Their name was never being brought up in a positive light, which admittedly made your hands sweat & heart speed up, but as of now, you were interested in the metal feel that immersed your fingers, and the thrilling 'Ding' noise that informed you of your score.

Going unheard from your deaf ears, the door to Grab N' Go rang, a boot stepped in harshly. The aura shifted in the store. Where as before the cashier was lenient, she soon became alert, standing by the phone, the kids talk was demoted to a whisper, and an opening where kids stood previously started to form. Yet your mind was trained on the game, you'd already gotten to 1,500 points, and if you were to make this shot, you'd get another 300 points. Once again, unbeknownst to you, the footsteps were clearing their way to you, squeaking harshly on the tiled floor, shouldering kids who happened to be in the way. Two things happened, a moment after one another.

Your eyes stared at the ball as it coursed through the bumpers, striking each one, easily placing you as the new record holder. But you found yourself still holding your breath, if it were to roll of the holder it was on, it would set your score as 1,900, giving you the clear, reliable pinball holder. The nerves in your body ran swiftly, breathing hitched as you followed the ball in its final moments.

The boots pushed their way through the diminishing crowd, which was left of anxious & anticipating watchers. It was pitiful of how unaware you were, this was his store, his legacy, his pride. The boots soon stood right behind you, examining your work from behind your shoulder. He saw the way you thought out each move, body bent just so you could balance your weight & keep a stable figure. His eyes were glued to the ball, even more intensely than yours. But as he saw the score that you'd put in, the room became colder, his clothes tightened, putting a pause onto his hatred. The new fucker in town beat his score, and then some.

You were dead before he saw your face.

The rush of aggression soon pranced in, instinctively balling up his fists, and taking a step toward you, going in to fuck up your score the best he could, needing the release of anger that you instilled to him. In his mind, if you were to mess up now, he'd have a chance to reclaim his title, the joy that he got from being above everybody else, and you were no exception.

The moment you didn't even know took place was slowed, it all was coming at you quickly. Your body reacted to winning your next move by getting even closer to the machine, watching as your score replaced the older one, conquering it. Your eyes widened, laughing to yourself as you turned around, expecting to see the group of kids that hovered over you like fruit flies. However, what met your intense joy was a buzz killer, the pesticide to your happiness. None other than the top boy, Vance Hopper.

He was exactly like what you imagined, down to the hair & choker that added to his intimidating glare, his hands eventually finding your shoulders, slamming you to the wall that chipped and cracked under your pressure. The crowd around you two flooded back easily, betting on what would happened. The boy didn't look it, but he had the strength to lift your body weight up, feet grazing the dusty floor. Taking in his looks, you noticed how the veins popped out from his arms, but you couldn't decipher if it was from anger, or from the hold he had you in.

"Listen man, what's your deal?"

Not your classiest moment, but he would deal you one lower.

"No you listen, fuckface. Don't mess with my game, do you think your better than me?"

The words he spat were like fire, angry and violent, but you picked up that that was his whole demeanor, troubled and difficult.

Soon, you found yourself being dropped to the ground, your legs being caught by surprise as you well on your ass, closing the space between you and the wall once again. Dust shot up, obscuring your vision, and at that time, the boot that sat threateningly next to you connected to the side of your lower chest, causing a sharp wheeze due to the blunt force of the kick. Your breaths were sporadic and uneven, leaving you dazed. When your eyes worked their way up to the figure above you, you saw him just standing there, looking over your pathetic self. He towered there for what felt like minutes before bending down and shoving you towards him, emphasizing his already proven point.

"I'm Vance fucking Hopper, remember it."

What a douche.

Your ribs certainly bruised, you were sure of it. Pushing open the schools doors made you wince, and an accidental elbow from a passing student made you lose your breath. It was a sticking reminder of that cuntbag, the memory of Vance standing over you was ingrained to your mind like a warning.

Hallways were filled, the students worked their ways to their rightful classes, some clearly drained from the new school year while others chatted to their peers. It was all irritating, as when you finally reached your homeroom & 1st period, it was 3 minutes after the bell rang, and most seats were already stolen, leaving you singled out by the teachers rude observe. You offered a sorry smile, and looked at what desks were available, soon seeing what would be your current demise.

"Well? Going to sit down or would you rather waste more of my time."

You would've given more of a shit, if the only empty seat wasn't next to the only kid you were acquainted with, the bastard as you remembered. Your feet moved nimbly, but your gaze was hardened, you could feel the shit eating grin that Vance had on, ad much as he loathed you, he would enjoy making your life a living hell, looking forward to the rest of class. Vance would let no time go unused as you sat next to him, visibly upset.

"Just the kid I wanted to see."

He spoke in a hushed tone, but that soon was ended as well when the teacher assigned ice breakers to the class, deciding it would be best if the class went in pairs & spoke with one another. With a stroke of luck that you didn't have, you were lazily paired with Vance, as he sat next to you. The class was handed a sheet of paper that had prompts to questions, and while other kids started right away, you put your energy into sitting in silence, eyes on your desk, admiring the cold wood that would be your most familiar feeling for the next year.

Your peace would never last long, as a hand snapping to catch your attention came into your view, taunting you.

"What, Vance."

"Well are you just gonna sit there like a dick, or are you gonna introduce yourself? Have some spirit."

Of course he was mocking you, but it was better than getting yourself beat up. You angled yourself to put him in your line of sight, peering on how he holds himself, them you spoke.

"You don't already know me? You know I'm new, you know that I'm more skilled than you at arcade games, I feel we've already done pretty well."

The response was seeping with smart-ass, but thats what he deserved, the fair treatment. You could see his fist tighten like it did before, his smile dropping st the ends ever so slightly, you struck a clear nerve. While the class went on happily, you were trapped in what seemed like your own world with the boy you found intolerable.

"Of course I know who you are, I'm not a dumbass, but tell me something I don't know, like the fucking assignment says to do."

His teeth, while oddly perfect for a kid with a reputation, bared at you, like an angry dog. Another warning to you. Treading lightly, you decided to just give the basics, something to scrape the tip of the iceberg.

"I'm 16, I just moved here, I enjoy going out and having fun. Is that enough?"

Sneering at him was meant to make him back off, but you saw his eyes slightly light up, and his body leaned forward, arms supporting his weight while he calmly looked at you.

"How charming, thanks for the biography Einstein. We have some things in common, how shocking is that?"

While you could tell his tone was laced with sarcasm, he didn't make another advance to terrorize you, and for a moment, he seemed like you piqued his interest.

Your first school week was over, a week of living through hell was stopped kindly, giving you the brief days of the weekend to recuperate. It was a Saturday afternoon when you set up a casual walk, coming to know your new town in the ways you loved most, a quiet, sunny day. The chipped sidewalk gave you a nice path around the neighborhood, accompanying the long yellow grass on the sides, the scenery wasn't half bad. Your shoes brought you a ways away from your house, trying to submerge yourself in a good time to prevent the foreboding feeling that latched onto your back. Turning the corner, you reached a street with delicately placed stores aligning it, a diverse selection it was. Seeing how busy the street was, cars flying by with unpleasant smells following, you made the executive decision to trudge behind the stores, making yourself known by the way your steps were the only noise apparent.

The foreboding feeling only became stronger as you ventured on, and while it was nearly 80”, the alley still had a certain chill to it, making your hair stand up.

"Shit dude, I have to ask, how are you scoping out all of my spots?"

The agonizingly familiar voice rang through the alley, and you sighed, turning your back to look in the direction where Vance spoke. He stood there harmlessly, hands in pockets with his his head cocked slightly, staring right through you, he once again proposed his frightening manner, like a lion puffing its chest out. The shoes he wore made light sounds as he strode over to you, eyebrows raised while his dull blue eyes kept the eye contact. A sigh emitted from you, just trying to savor your last bit of tranquility from your Saturday evening.

"Just taking a nice walk, peacefully. Something you've probably never heard of."

He chuckled, swiping his golden hair out of his eyes.

"I haven't even done anything yet, don't be a dick."

Silence came over you, annoyed at his casual aura, you knew he wanted something, the question was what.

"Vance, what do you need from me. Are you gonna beat me up or something? You aren't mandated to track me down and talk to me."

You broke the eye contact, which internally made Vance even more excited.

"I just found you here in my area, not my fault. But since you are here, why not?"

You couldn't tell if he was bluffing, he did seem like a pathological liar, but you weren't about to instigate a fight. Nodding your head, you signaled for him to go on, the summers heat beating off of you.

"We have a project we need to do, did you forget? The partner reading project?"

Shit. You may've forgotten about it, but it wasn't due till next week, and you had class with Vance every day. What was his rush? It's not like he's a star student.

"So? We have time, why do you care?"

Rolling his eyes like you were the weird one, he went on.

"What a shitty question, you'd know why I care if you followed the icebreakers the first day, but thats your damn problem. It'll be better if we do the project sooner, so we have extra time in class."

It came out mockingly, but you didn't care. He made a point, and he wasn't bullying you, so why not get it out of the way, make it so class is easier without his idiotic questions.

"Fine, where do you wanna start it?"

His exterior was smooth, but on the inside, Vance was heating up all over. You were playing right into his charm. He knows your still getting to know him, but this was just perfect. He wanted you to know he isn't just a dickhead, he wanted to show you how kind he can be, but his first impression he laid out wasn't exactly boyfriend material. While he did hate you then, wanting to beat the shit out of you, treat you like every other kid here, your mutual hatred appealed to him, he didn't admit it, but he studied your pinball techniques, and adored your persistence. It was fun to have someone snap back just as he did, he considered you an equal, to him, a rare title. Something about you enveloped him, and he wanted to spend all his time with you.

"Why not your house?"

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this was a cliff hanger ish, but i knew it was getting long and i just loved this idea sm🫶🫶 hopefully its alright to read :)

requests r open, masterlist is up!!

#black phone #the black phone #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper x you #vance hopper #enemies to lovers #the black phone x reader #the black phone 2022

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