#About his voice being naturally quiet and all that - that even when he laughs really hard it's still on the quiet side | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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Leftovers [1/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series |

part 2 | part 3

warnings: unhealthy thrupple relationship, hurt/some comfort, slight dub-con, possessive Simon, smut, (f!recieving oral, fingering, p in v) 6.5k wc

Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.

The first and only rule that came with living with the Prices was that no matter how much you thought otherwise, they didn’t really love you.

It didn’t matter how sweetly Mrs. Price kissed your forehead, her lips would never grace yours, and despite how deliciously Mr. Price would pump his fingers into your cunt he would never bless you with the opportunity to take his cock. Above all else, they first belonged to one another before ever belonging to you. All you were good for was being their sweet little pet, nothing but a catalyst for their pleasure; their favorite aphrodisiac.

There were worse things in the world to be, and being a pet wasn’t all that bad. The Prices kept a roof over your head and gave you meals at least three times a day, if not more. Every now and then while Mr. Price was away at work, you and Mrs. Price would fall asleep on the couch together. Hours later you would wake up with your head on her chest, but you wouldn’t dare to stir her awake because the sound of her heart beating was more captivating than anything that droned on the television.

But she would always wake up when Mr. Price came home, and she’d drag you off to the bedroom where they’d strip you bare like some spectacle. Mrs. Price’s lips would devour every inch of your skin, kissing your neck, chest, and breasts; kissing everything except for you. Meanwhile, Mr. Price would fuck his fingers into you and growl every time his wife giggled at your moans. His cock would harden in his pants, a sight that you would never be able to see, and just as you came undone on his fingers his lips would always find their way to her instead of you.

They would laugh and giggle as you squirmed underneath them and coo about how adorable you were. How soft and pliant you were for them, such a good and well behaved pet. They would kiss your body a few more times before tucking you in for the night and leaving you alone to do their own lovemaking elsewhere. That’s how it always ended. Always the lover, never the loved, but that was okay. At least you weren’t alone.

Things started changing when Mr. Riley showed up.

He showed up at the house one day by invitation from Mr. Price and nearly scared you half to death. Like a ghost, he seemingly appeared in the living room one evening and took up all the space on the loveseat. Perhaps that’s what had intimidated you at first, just the sheer size of him. He stood taller than Mr. Price did, and the bulging muscles of his body was proof he could rip you in half if he so pleased. Then there were the faded scars on his face, the ruggedness of his features and the piercing expression in his dark brown eyes. He looked at you like you were a meal ready to be eaten. Or, maybe you just wished that he would.

Mr. Riley was a quiet man, you learned. He hardly spoke throughout dinner and when he did he was rather short and blunt with his responses. Though he was a man of few words, everything he said seemed to have some sort of meaning. There was something about his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and you nearly choked on your food at the sensation. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, and if anything the deep timbre of his voice was rather soothing, and you liked the teasing nature of his banter with Mr. Price. Perhaps you enjoyed it too much.

There must have been something about the way you looked at Mr. Riley that caught attention. Truly, you meant no harm by it. Art littered his arms in the form of dark tattoos that you couldn't pull your eyes from because you had never seen ink cover the skin of someone so beautifully before. Never seen anyone quite capture the well formed muscle and veins like had been done on Mr. Riley’s arms. And really, the scars on his face and his crooked nose intrigued you. There were stories waiting to be uncovered, literature that hid behind the depths of his eyes. You just wanted to read it. That was all it was, you swore it.

After plates had been cleaned and the table was cleared away, you learned you were not as subtle as you thought you were with your minor infatuation with your guest. Not even your intense stare at the TV screen as you pretended to pay attention to the movie Mrs. Price had picked out was able to throw suspicion off of you. Just as you had gotten settled on the sectional next to Mr. Price, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, quickly followed by a hot breath on your ear.

“Pet,” Mr. Price whispered, “my friend looks lonely over there. Why don’t you keep him company?”

His proposition made you tense against his side and he chuckled at your failed attempt at keeping cool. Keep Mr. Riley company? Once more your eyes found their way to him and you felt your throat tighten at the thought. Were you supposed to sit by him? Entertain him? No, that felt wrong. You belonged to the Prices, not their friend. Then again, you were instructed to keep the man company, and good pets do as they’re told.

Without so much as a word you rose from your spot on the sectional and quickly made your way to the loveseat Mr. Riley had settled himself on. It was difficult not to fall into the gravity of him when you sat next to him as his weight shifted the cushions, giving you no choice but to all but lean into him. You heard his quiet hum in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to just so blatantly sit next to him. You caught him look at you for a short moment, but you kept your eyes glued to the TV as if he was never there to begin with, and eventually he looked away.

Embarrassment. It was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt sitting next to that man. Conversing with others wasn’t exactly your forte, it’s why you agreed to throw your old life away when Mrs. Price invited you into a relationship with her and her husband. They would take care of you, and you wouldn’t have to be perceived and go out and about in the world. They knew full well of that; perhaps that was their way of having some fun with you.

Things were fine until halfway through the movie when Mr. Riley put his arm around you. There was nothing you could do but fall against his side as his firm hand settled against your waist. He held you close to him as if he had no intention of letting you go, and yet acted as if he had never done so in the first place as his attention stayed fully trained on whatever boring movie droned in the background. Blood gushed in your ears and panic settled into your chest. Surely that had broken some sort of rule, and yet when you glanced over to the Price’s with wide eyes, you realized that they couldn’t even care less.

So you took a deep breath in some attempt to calm yourself, and once the blood settled in your veins, you realized that you could hear Mr. Riley’s heart. Each beat was strong and steady as if it had never wavered throughout its entire existence, and its reverberations were so strong you could feel it pulse throughout your own body. You took another deep breath, this time more content, and realized you rather liked the smell of him too. Some sort of dark, soft aroma mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes. It was comforting, perhaps the most calm you had felt in a long while.

“Cute, isn’t she?”

It wasn’t until Mrs. Price spoke that you realized you had fallen asleep like that, tucked into the side of a man you hardly knew. Cold hands pulled you away from the warmth that was Mr. Riley, and half awake you were brought to your room without the chance to glance at him from over your shoulder. Despite it all, Mrs. Price cooed at you while she laid you down in your bed and tugged the blankets over your body with a simple kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, pet,” she cooed before closing the door behind her.

That night you fell asleep alone in your cold bed while dreaming about the warmth Mr. Riley had given you. It was something you could only ever pray for when craving something from the Prices, and yet he had given it to you so willingly, as if you didn’t deserve anything less. Maybe it was unfair of you to compare the people who had given you so much to a man who you hardly knew. Friendly. That’s all he was. But it didn’t end there. Every time Mr. Price invited him over, he always directed you to Mr. Riley’s side eventually, talking about how lonely he looked, or that you should be a good host to him.

Soon enough it got to the point where you didn’t even need prompting; you already knew your place was next to Mr. Riley. Curled against his side, hanging off his arm, even sitting on his lap, in one instance. Each touch that he gave you seared across your skin, but it was always respectful, nearly too respectful. Fingertips always gliding along your waist but never dipping low enough to caress your hips or grope your ass, nor high enough to brush against the underside of your breasts. His touch always left you craving more, and yet that was something he didn’t seem to intend on giving you.

He did, however, give you a new name. Sweetheart, he called you. It was something he whispered to you at first from the safety of the confines of his arms, as if he worried Mr. Price would overhear him and reprimand him for it. Then he became a bit more brave. He called you sweetheart when he asked you to pass him the salt at dinner, and then again when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he offered to carry you to your room. Some strange part of you wished he stayed with you that night, but you knew that thought alone made you a bad pet, wanting anyone other than the people you belonged to.

But the thing was, the more warmth Mr. Riley showed you, the colder the Price's home felt, because even after all that time, it wasn’t really your home.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Loud music and even louder people caged you into that VIP room, suffocating you to the point you nearly passed out. It didn’t help that Mrs. Price had dressed you up like her personal doll, slathering makeup on your face and throwing you in a skimpy dress, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror. And still, despite it, Mr. Riley had found you and settled on the spot next to you in the conversation pit.

“Mr. Riley,” you greeted as you uncomfortably pulled at the skirt of your dress.

“Mrs. Price dress you up in that?” he asked.

You half expected him to wrap his arm around you like he did every other time the two of you were close to one another, but he didn’t. Perhaps there were too many prying eyes nearby and he didn’t want to spark any rumors. Either way, his presence alone was comforting enough. You always hated going to Mr. Price’s club, and that night was no exception. Too loud, too many eyes, you were always out of place.

“Was it that obvious?” you asked with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Just doesn’t seem like you,” he responded gruffly.

Of course not. Extravagant things weren’t meant for a pet. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Even from a distance you could still make out the faint scent of him. That warm musk mixed with tobacco had started to smell like home. And it was wrong, you were sure of it by that point. At what point did Mr. Riley become more comforting than the man and woman you lived with? But at that moment, with so many people crowding you, you didn’t care. Closing your eyes, you blocked out everything else around you except for him. There was no music, no mingling guests, no rancid scent of alcohol; it was just you and him.

Until the sudden sound of clapping brought you back to reality, anyway. Your eyes shot open and you were met with the same view as before, just more still. A quick glance around revealed everyone staring at Mr. and Mrs. Price, who stood at the front of the room, all cooing and cheering and clapping for them. They held one another as a few people rushed up to talk to them, where you heard squealing and several pats on the back. Confused, you turned to Simon with your head tilted to the side like a curious dog.

“What happened?” you asked.

With a simple nod of his head, Mr. Riley gestured up to the couple at the front of the room. “They just announced Mrs. Price’s pregnancy,” he said.

Those words left his mouth so simply. So nonchalantly. As if you should have known.

You should have known. But you didn’t. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, they didn’t really love you.

You’d forgotten the first and only rule.

You didn’t know how you ended up on the terrace, you just stopped running when the cold night air hit your skin. Despite the way your tears muddled your vision, everything became painfully clear. This was their plan all along. To get pregnant, to start their life and continue it without you. It’s why they never kissed you, only ever played with you, refused to fuck each other in your presence; you were always meant to be disposable. Why continue to take care of a pet with a child on the way?

And it hurt because you knew you’d never have that. Never obtain that unconditional love, a kiss on the lips, a cock in your cunt, a child in your arms, because you had been the Price’s plaything. Their pet who never dared to bare her teeth. You’d never be the sweet little wife, only some poor, skittish animal that only knew how to play. But you craved it so bad you swore you’d die. You wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s lover, to be loved, to have kids and a home that wasn’t cold as ice.

That life just wasn’t for you.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Somehow, Mr. Riley always seemed to find you. It was as if some invisible string had been tied between the two of you, and no matter how knotted it got he would always make his way back to you. Unsure if you should welcome his presence or not, you kept your hands firmly on the terrace railing and your red eyes focused out on the city in front of you. Your tears blurred the sparkling lights so much that you could nearly confuse them with stars if you squinted hard enough, yet that realization did nothing to quell the anxiety and terror that ate away at your stomach.

“I’m alright,” you pitifully assured, although you weren’t too convincing.

Mr. Riley’s hand touched the exposed skin of your back where his thumb started to rub small circles into your flesh. You nearly crumbled at the contact as you were drowned in the overwhelming urge to throw yourself at him, to beg to be loved even if only for a short while. Instead, your grip on the railing only tightened as you focused all your energy into not letting another tear fall.

“John told me to watch you for the night. Take you back to my place,” he said softly.

His words weren’t surprising. Sending you off to spend the night with him was just the next step to getting rid of you. Why would they want you in the home when they’d have someone new to prepare for? You were certain your room would be turned into a nursery before long. After a moment, you turned to face him and you did your best to muster your strongest of smiles as you ignored the stinging behind your eyes. He looked at you with such pity that you nearly broke into tears once more.

“Lead the way.”

It had been so long since you had visited someone that you forgot what it was like to walk into a room and not have every inch of it memorized. Mr. Riley’s apartment was something you didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. In a vague sort of way, it smelled like him, and that was enough to calm your nerves and silence the pain that festered in your stomach. It was rather plain as far as decorations went, but it was cozy and warmer than anyplace else you had been for quite some time, and that was more than enough for you.

First order of business was getting you a glass of water, something Mr. Riley took care of right away. Such a small gesture, and yet it had your heart swelling in an odd and unfamiliar way. Still, you were thankful for something to soothe your sore throat, and the two of you sat in silence on the couch as he ensured that you drank every last drop.

“Do you wanna change into somethin’ more comfortable?” he questioned when you handed him your empty glass.

“I don’t… have a change of clothes,” you said meekly.

“You can wear some of mine,” he insisted.

Something within you wanted to decline. Wearing his clothes certainly broke some sort of rule, and you doubted that the Prices would be happy with you for it. But then there was a pang of sorrow that echoed throughout your chest, a painful reminder that you no longer belonged to them, and probably hadn’t for quite some time.

Like a lost dog, you followed behind Mr. Riley until you reached his bedroom. His bed was bigger than you had anticipated it to be, significantly bigger than yours, and it was well made. A dark duvet covered the expanse of the mattress, and when you sat on the edge of it you sunk into it as if it welcomed you home. Maybe if you laid back on it you could fall asleep and never have to face the painful truth of the reality you found yourself trapped in.

It didn’t take him long to fish out a simple shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts for you to change into, but when Mr. Riley turned to face you, it was as if he had turned to stone. Maybe it was the tear-smudged makeup stains on your face, or the fact that he hadn’t seen you look so content until you sat there on his bed, but he looked at you with such intense pity your chest ached. Eventually he got his body to listen to him and he carefully approached you and set the clothes on the mattress next to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said unprompted.

“For what?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“That they abandoned you.”

Hearing it outloud was more excruciating than the initial realization. Abandoned. Tossed aside. Just a spare. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt as if your body split in two, and there was nothing you could do to stop the tears and sobs from flowing forth. It was pitiful and pathetic, and you hated how terribly small you felt. There were so many tears inside of you that you could wipe the earth clean with them, yet as you cried you didn’t feel any less dirty or used.

Then the bed sunk down next to you, and instead of sitting on the mattress you had been scooped up into Mr. Riley’s arms and into his lap. His arms were the only thing that held you together in that moment, and he carefully tucked you underneath his chin and squeezed all the sorrow from your body. A cautious kiss pressed into the top of your head, slow and wary as if the very act itself was forbidden. When you didn’t protest, he kissed again, and then again, as if he couldn’t get enough. It was the closest thing to being loved you ever felt, and that realization only broke you further.

“I just… I just wanted what they have,” you admitted once your sobs had dwindled to small hiccups. “I always thought that they’d let me be a part of it eventually. But I’ve been waiting so long and then… then they get pregnant without telling me and I realized I’ll never be good enough. Never enough to be kissed, or held, or loved. That’s all I wanted.”

After placing one final kiss against the top of your head, Mr. Riley carefully moved your face away from his chest to tilt your head up to force you to look at him. Irritated from crying, your eyes were a bright pink shade, and so terribly swollen you had difficulty opening them fully. Still, his thumb smoothed over your mascara-stained cheek and you felt his grip grow tighter around you.

“You deserve so much more than what they did to you,” he whispered, his whisky scented breath fanned across your face. “They were selfish, yeah? Dunno how they could be. First time I laid eyes on you I wanted you. Wanted to love you, to prove that you’re worthy of it.”

A few more fat tears rolled down your cheeks at his words just for him to quickly wipe them away. You had never received such kind and comforting words from anyone before, least of all the Prices. But his words held meaning, you knew they did. How could he look at you so softly and lie? No, it was impossible. His words were true and you could feel your want grow in the dark cavern of your stomach.

“Mr. Riley…” you said at a loss for anything to say.

“Simon,” he corrected. “Say my name and I’m all yours, sweetheart. I’ll give you that love, that life, you deserve.”

Maybe it was wrong to want him as badly as you did. Something dark and primal inside of you craved him and every inch of his tattooed skin, and yet you felt shame for feeling so. But why? You had been abandoned. A bit of comfort was the least bit you deserved.

“Simon,” you whispered.

His lips crashed into yours not even a second later, and the feeling nearly had you sobbing into his mouth. It felt so pure, so overwhelming. Finally, you could taste someone. Taste the spice of whiskey and the smoke of cigarettes rather than just the salt from your tears. By instinct your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself closer to him as if you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the warmth of his chest inside of his ribcage.

Eventually, your bodies collided with the mattress and you found yourself caged in by Simon’s arms as he hovered over you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you felt him groan into you like he had never had such a tasty meal. Then his lips began to wander, and he kissed along your jawline, neck, and further down to your stomach. It was the first time someone kissed your body and it felt like you were being given something rather than having something taken away.

“So gorgeous,” he whispered against your stomach. His hands dipped underneath the short skirt of your dress and pushed it up over your hips, exposing your panties. You let out a shaky breath as he kissed your clit through your underwear, and you realized you had never had someone’s mouth on you like that before. “Wanna taste you, sweetheart. Tell me I can.”

It was strange to have someone ask permission before doing something with you, and you felt your throat grow dry at the thought. Strange emotions swirled like a storm in your head where sorrow mixed with desire among other terrible conflicting emotions, and all you could muster was a simple nod. You just wanted it all to stop, for him to take away the pain no matter the cost.

“Need you to use your words,” Simon mumbled against your heat.

“Yes!” you spoke. The word erupted out of you with little regard for any of those confusing feelings muddling your mind. “Please…”

With a swift yank Simon pulled your panties past the swell of your hips and you raised your legs into the air to let him pull them fully off of you. After tossing them somewhere behind him, he lowered himself onto the mattress and kissed your cunt once more, this time fully bare, which sent a jolt throughout your body. He hardly gave himself the time to admire your body before his tongue began to greedily swipe along your clit. It felt so foreign and unfamiliar yet so intense you found your legs instinctively squeezing shut. Simon only chuckled against you as he pressed his hands on the inside of your thighs to keep himself from suffocating too soon.

There was nothing you could do to stop the way your back arched off the bed in pure bliss. Already he had given you more pleasure in a few moments than you had received in your entire relationship with the Prices, and you bit into your lip as you mumbled out sweet nothings into the heavy air above you. Once you had grown wet enough with his spit and your own arousal, Simon carefully slipped a finger into your heat and you gasped at the sensation. You had never felt so full before and your muscles pulsed around him in greedy response. Despite all the pain and heartache you experienced that night, nothing could drown out the overwhelming mantra of more that reverberated throughout your entire body.

When Simon pulled away from you, your first instinct was to sit up and pull him back to you, but you paused when you saw the way he looked at you. Dark, heavy eyes pierced through you, and you watched in awe as he sat back and slid his shirt off his body in one swift motion. He was so big. Hardened muscle covered with a thick layer of skin and healthy layer of fat, he collapsed on top of you where his lips were on yours once more. His taste was different this time. It wasn’t just whiskey and cigarettes. There was this earthy sapor mixed with it, and it took you a moment to realize that you tasted yourself on his lips.

Then something ripped. Threads of cloth tore a part, and you realized you could no longer feel the dress around your body anymore. Whatever clothing you had worn had been replaced by Simon’s chest pressing against yours, and the skin to skin contact made your head spin.

“Don’t need that anymore,” Simon mumbled against your lips. “Don’t need anythin’ of theirs anymore, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement until you remembered what he said earlier about using your words. “Yeah,” you breathed.

His lips descended down to the soft tissue of your neck while he started to grind his hips against yours. The rough fabric of his jeans were all too stimulating against your needy and swollen clit, and you whined into Simon’s neck as you writhed underneath him.

“Do you want more?” he asked as he continued to grind his hardening bulge against your sex. “I’ll give you anythin’. Just gotta ask for it.”

“You,” you blurted out without so much as a second thought. “Please Simon, I need you.”

There was no more time to waste. With one hand, Simon reached down and unzipped his pants where he released his painfully hardened cock. You felt as he teasingly ran his leaky tip along your slit, smearing precum against you until he carefully dipped down into your hole. Hardly even an inch inside of you and you realized he was significantly girthier than his fingers were, and you found your head falling back against the mattress with a moan at the stretch of him.

“So goddamn perfect,” Simon grunted as he continued to push deeper and deeper into you. “Gonna give you the whole world. Anythin’ you want. Deserve so much more than them, fuckin’ christ, sweetheart.”

More tears poured down your face by the time he bottomed out. It was all just too much, so much anguish and love melding into one confusing feeling in your mind. Yet Simon kissed away every single tear as he began to carefully thrust into you. Each time he moved in you an all consuming wave of pleasure rippled through your body, forcing moans to mix in with your cries in some sort of lamentable symphony.

“I know, I know,” Simon cooed as he placed a fat kiss against your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah? My girl. Gonna treat you properly. I’ve got you, love.”

Through it all, he was so soft with you, so warm, and you felt that heat begin to pool in your stomach. Every thrust into you marked you, it scratched away the essence of everything the Prices had done to you, what they didn’t do to you. Every empty space that had collected dust inside of you was filled by Simon and the searing passion he pumped into you. That was all you had ever wanted. To be seen, to be touched, to be loved. You had finally found it.

When you came, you did so with a sob. Muscles seized and you wrapped your arms so tightly around Simon’s neck he had no choice but to collapse against your chest as he continued to thrust into you. Your tears soaked into his hair as you sloppily kissed the top of his head, body still craving more of him despite the endorphins that ravaged your body.

“There she is,” Simon sighed, his voice a low rumble. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you begged. “I need it. Need you to come, please Simon.”

Your plea sent him toppling over the edge and he slammed his hips against you one final time before he held himself there with a thick and strained groan. His cock twitching inside you was an unfamiliar feeling and yet you relished the way he filled you, warm cum soothing an ache only he could tame. Your grip around his neck loosened as you felt yourself melt into the duvet. All that pleasure, that love, finally got your mind to fall quiet.

Once Simon managed to catch his breath, he gently pulled out of you before falling next to you. Strong arms maneuvered you onto your side where he pulled you against his chest where he held you firmly against him. As usual, his heart pounded strong and steady in his chest, and the longer the two of you laid there the more calm it grew. Whatever tears you needed to cry had all fallen, and there was nothing but pure bliss that settled over you as you nuzzled against his body.

“I love you,” Simon said. He said it softly, as if it was a secret. Something special that only you could know.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone whispered that phrase to you.

“I love you, too.”

That night was the first night in years that you didn’t fall asleep alone, and when you woke up you realized it wasn’t a dream. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around you throughout the night, and you woke to the scent of his musk and you couldn’t help but smile. Really smile. It was real and you were there and you were loved. You buried your face further into his chest and he reacted in kind by pulling you closer.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he hummed.

Humming back, you stretched your limbs with a groan that left him chuckling and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead. He sat up in bed and pulled away from you, which left you whining, until he reached down towards the foot of the bed to grab the clothes you weren’t able to change into the previous night.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he questioned as he handed you his shirt.

Such a simple question, really, and yet it felt so much more important than that. This was the conversation lovers had in the morning. Contemplating, you took the clothes from him and set them beside you as you tilted your head and shrugged. “Whatever you feel like making.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, crooked and scarred, as he glanced toward the bedroom door for a short moment before his attention returned to you. “Alright, I’ll go get started. Take your time, yeah?”

Simon Riley made you feel like a princess and you held nothing in your heart for him but adoration as you watched him slip out of the room, still half naked. Just like he had said, you took your time getting ready, and even then it still wasn’t all that long. You fixed up your appearance as best as you could without a mirror before slipping his shirt over your head. It was long enough that it fell down to your mid thighs, and because of that you didn’t bother with the shorts, or your still slightly damp underwear from the night before, either.

Sizzling bacon and freshly warmed toast greeted you by the time you meandered into the living room, and you smiled to yourself at the sight of Simon cooking in the kitchen. You drooled at the way the sinewy muscles in his back flexed as he worked, and you couldn’t fight away that odd arousal that bloomed between your legs. Deciding that it was a good idea to get some food in your system before attempting to initiate anything physically demanding, you instead sat yourself on the couch.

Your phone sat face down on the coffee table in front of you, and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. Something twisted in your gut at the thought of unlocking it and seeing no messages, at realizing just how little the Prices surely missed you. Yet, you needed to bite the bullet. How were you supposed to start your new life with Simon if you were still holding onto the ghosts of your past?

With a shaky hand, you reached for the item and quickly turned it on. You prepared yourself for its mocking screen, for the heartbreak you knew you would be able to mend later, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could have readied you for the twenty missed phone calls and the countless texts from both Mr. and Mrs. Price. Begging to know where you were at. Asking if you were safe. Pleading with you to come home. Saying that if you hadn’t responded by noon they would call the cops in fear that the worst had happened to you.

Your throat dried out and you couldn’t stop your lips from trembling. Why did they do that? Was it supposed to be some sort of sick joke? Proof that no matter how far away from them you got you could never escape the hold they had on you? No, you listened to the voicemails. Listened to the way Mrs. Price’s voice quivered when asking if you were alright, when she begged you to come home, and you nearly sobbed.

Something was wrong.

“Simon?” you asked as you snuck into the kitchen behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned around to face you.

He froze the moment he saw your face. He could read the trepidation on your face as if it were the morning paper, and he quickly placed down his cooking utensils. You hated the way he looked at you with such care and yet with some sort of knowledge, as if he already predicted what you were about to ask him.

“Did you lie to me last night? About Mr. Price asking you to take me home with you?” you asked.

“Yes.”

His response came quick and without hesitation and that almost made things worse. You wished he had paused for a moment to think about the way that word would shatter you, and yet he didn’t. Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes and you found your face falling into your hands in disbelief. He lied to you. He fucking lied.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked as his hands brushed against your shoulders.

“They’re going to be so mad at me,” you cried as you pressed your palms into your eyes. It had to be a cruel joke. You wished it was. They hadn’t given you up at all, and you were going to have to pay the price for betraying their trust.

“Hey… hey, look at me,” Simon ordered as he pulled your hands from your face. The way his hands engulfed your wrists was almost laughable, and you didn’t bother to fight against him. “I thought we agreed that you’re mine now. You’re mine, and I’m yours, yeah?”

“But you lied,” you retorted.

“They were neglectin’ you!” he corrected, and his voice boomed with such strength you nearly cowered. “Would you have followed me if I hadn’t said that to you last night? Or would you be stuck in that house with partners who wouldn’t even tell you that they were havin’ a damn kid? No, you’re mine now.”

One of his hands dropped down between your legs, and you gasped as your back came in contact with the counter. He palmed at your naked cunt, felt the way his cum oozed out of you at the gentle pressure of his fingers and the sudden tensing of your muscles.

“Do you really think they love you enough to take you back like this? With my cum inside of you and the taste of you still on my tongue?” he questioned. “I did what I did to save you. I was tired of seein’ them treat you like that. I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Words failed you and all you could do was stare up at him and cry. It was all so wrong and yet something in the back of your mind screamed that he was right. He was right because in one night he had given you everything you had all but begged of them to do for you in all the years you had been together. Even if they still wanted you, maybe they really didn’t deserve you. But you would still have to face them eventually. Admit that you were running away, that you didn’t belong to them anymore, and that thought terrified you.

Giving up, you collapsed against him and allowed all your anguish to spew from your eyes. Just like the previous night, his hold on you was strong and caring, and he did so without hesitation. After all, you were his girl. He saved you, and he had no intention of letting you go.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #f!reader

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funficwriter · 7 months

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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 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.

947 notes · View notes

mari-the-bimbo · 6 months

Text

Nanami: the brat tamer

A/N: I apologise in advance for the woman I became when I wrote this 🙏 Also can we talk about how I randomly defeated my dyslexia and managed to write without bullet points? Lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, oral sex, adult language, hair pulling? age gap

Having an older, accountant boyfriend didn’t seem so fun when you had to wait for him to get home after overtime.

You sat on your shared bed, arms crossed, pouting, and aggressively checking the time every 2 seconds, the impatience of waiting for Nanami finally creeped up to you. Now you were mad, how could he leave you like this for so long?!

So even after you heard the front door open and close, you decided to ignore it and pretend you’re sleeping. It’s petty, you know it is, but you convinced yourself it’s what he deserves, even after you heard his faint calls of your name from downstairs.

“Sweetheart?” Says his deep, creamy voice as he reaches the bedroom. You squeeze your eyes shut a bit tighter, in an attempt to block him out.

“I know you’re awake” he says.

You huff in annoyance at his smart ass comment and finally turn around to see him loosen his tie. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy.

“So? I have nothing to say to you” you reply before turning your back to him again as you get comfy in your bed.

“Oh? Is my sweetheart upset about something?” He asks, trying his best to co operate with your young fiery temper.

You couldn’t help but furrow your brows at his tone, speaking to you as if you were a child having a tantrum. “What do you think?” You say sarcastically as you look at him again with a frown on your face.

You watch his jaw clench and he takes a deep breath, you knew his patience naturally ran thin, yet he tries his best with you. But dealing with you when you’re being a brat isn’t easy.

“I’m being nice y/n. So come here and tell me what’s wrong” he says, large hands grabbing one of your legs that dangled off the side of the bed.

Your bad temper led you to use your leg to push him away, however as your foot collided with Nanami’s stomach, you realised your effort was in no avail. It was like a foot to a wall, a hard, unmoving wall.

You gulped as you look back up at your strong boyfriend. His face would seem indifferent to others, but only you could notice that slight annoyance on his face. “Really y/n?” He asks, daring you to reply as he grabs the foot on his stomach tighter.

But just as you’re about to reply smartly, your breath is stolen as he quickly pulls your body towards him with the hold on your foot. You gasp “Nanami!” as he gets on the bed, now towering on top of your barely clothed body.

You’re about to protest again but he places his hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up. “No. I gave you a chance to be a good girl but you chose to be a brat, so now you’re going to be disciplined like one” he says, and although you should be scared, you couldn’t help but whimper against his large hand and arch your back.

He wants to laugh at you but he shakes his head instead, “you shameless girl” he says as he removes his clothes and all you could do is hum in agreement and eye his chiselled abs that are no longer begging to burst through his blue shirt.

He sighs as if he’s disappointed but you know he’s loving every second of this. Your eyes are starry as you watch him pull his boxers down, finally letting his fat dick spring out, cum glistening at its tip, making you subconsciously spread your legs out.

Nanami watches you do this with a unamused look. “What are you doing? Do you really believe you deserve to be railed after that attitude?” He scolds, making you stare at him in disbelief and you finally scoff in annoyance.

Suddenly his hands grabs your hair, tugging it ever so slightly, yet the veins on his muscular beefy arms were bulging. “Ah!” “Be quiet, another sound out of you and you’re getting nothing out of me, understand?” He says, his frown deepening the contours of his handsome face.

And that threat humbled you in seconds, you stare in disbelief again but this time you nod. You were in no state to deny this, and he knew that too from the wet patch on your underwear.

“That’s right” he says, as he presses his dick against your face. His pre cum starts dripping down your face, and even as you moan, Nanami keeps the stern look on his face.

He wastes no time pushing himself inside your mouth, your choking is like music to his ears. It’s keeps him moving, his hips thrusting harder every time, because the wet gummy feeling of inside your mouth was just too good against his length. His hands reach behind your head, grabbing all your hair into a ponytail, helping you suck him more easily, bobbing your head so that you can take more of his length.

He lets out a choked moan which only motivates you further, maybe he’ll finally praise you if you try harder. You swirl your tongue around it, sucking harder and harder in hopes of a single praise out of Nanami’s mouth. Because as much as you pretend to be an unbothered bitch, you want be his good girl.

“Ohhhh you’re so good to me sweet girl” he finally says. Suddenly his speed increases, mouth fucking you relentlessly.

You try so hard to keep up with his speed but at some point your mouth gives up and you become a sex toy for his dick to play with. And once he finally slows the pace of his thrusts, and strokes the back of your neck so sweetly, the situation isn't made any easier as the salty taste of his cum flows down your throat as well as trickling down your chin. Nevertheless you swallow it all.

Finally you pull back, gasping for breath, making the remaining cum spill on your neck and breasts, but that’s not good enough for Nanami. “Don’t waste my cum you silly girl. You know I hate wasting”. His long fingers picks up the trail you left behind and presses the creamy trail against your mouth, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow it all.

You struggle to give an answer as you try to regulate your heavy pants.

“Well? What do you have to say?”

“Thank you daddy” you manage to choke out, you knew the drill.

“And?” He says, an eyebrows raised.

“And- I’m sorry for being a brat before” you add, crawling into his lap, craving his warmth. His eyes soften at your exhausted figure, he could never stay mad at his beautiful angel.

He strokes your hair as he watches you become putty against him. Pretty wide eyes staring at him, waiting for praise. He can’t help but give you an amused smile, god, you were so pretty, especially when you had cum glistening on your chin.

He lets you press yourself against his body as he kisses your cheeks. “That’s okay sweetheart, next time you’re sad, you need to tell me, okay?”

“Okay” you lie, knowing damn well you’re going to do it again just to get him mad.

What? It’s not your fault he looks so damn fine when he’s mad.

He presses one last kiss to your head before pulling you away. “Okay you need to get up now princess, you need to show me how sorry you are”

“Huh?” You say.

You continue to stare dumbfounded as a Nanami grabs his tie, his eyes not looking away from yours as he ties your hands together.

Your confusion soon morphs into a giddy smile as you realise what this meant. You open your legs once again, knowing you’re in for a treat. You give Nanami your best puppy eyes and you watch him lick his lips in response. Perfect, you knew you would get your way, Nanami loves you too much to deny you of anything.

“Am I about to get railed?”

“Yes you are sweetheart”

2K notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Text

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x loud but shy!reader

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recuira · 7 months

Text

Buggy Headcanons ˗ˏˋ꒰🍒꒱ˎˊ˗

★ — OPLA Buggy the Clown ♡

﹢he's the type of guy to follow the "i hate everyone but you" trope. the second he sees you, his heart lights up and he drops everything he's doing to go talk to you, even just for a moment. he could be heated, yelling at his crew, but when he sees you, he smiles and drops everything until you leave.

﹢he's a sucker for cuddles. absolutely loves them. if he's had a long and stressful day, he'll just fall on top of you and pass out. he loves to lay on you. his head on your chest as he rub his back or play with his hair. he definitely snores. not too loud but not quiet either. sometimes it'll get loud and you'll need to wake him up to get some decent sleep x)

﹢both a morning/night person. he goes to bed late and wakes up early. he doesn't get too much sleep because of how busy he is. sometimes the only time he gets with you is when you're both in me. if he's not deathly tired, he'll lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand as he listens to you talk about your day. your voice soothes him.

﹢he's very insecure. lowkey hates himself. his ego is forced and a facade for others so he can intimidate them. he hates his nose. he hates the subject being brought up in any conversation. when he was younger, before meeting shanks, he would wear a mask to hide his nose.

﹢i know everyone is like "buggy is a sex god and dominant and-" no. sorry. he is extremely insecure. it took him a while to show you who he really was. he lets himself unfold with you. he is himself with you. his true self.

﹢the crossbones on his forehead and upper cheek are tattooed on but he paints his face with makeup. his eyelashes are naturally long but he does wear falsies to accentuate it and make himself look more like a clown. his hair is naturally long but he tends to tuck and pin it back underneath the striped bandana.

﹢he likes things to be equal during sex. no top or bottom. as cringe as it may sound, he loves to call it 'love-making'. no fucking or hooking up - rather making love with one another. he worships you, especially in the bedroom. constant kisses and praise. loves doing all of the work, especially if you're stressed out. his favorite position is when you're both laying down on your sides and your holding each other while he makes love to you.

﹢he's a strict believer in taking care of you. pays for meals, surprises you with presents, doesn't want you working- he wants you to be completely comfortable and satisfied. someone as special like you should never even lift a finger. he has it all covered.

﹢loves to let you do his makeup. sometimes he'll be reading the newspaper while you're painting his eyes or lips. it's like he's an actor and you're his makeup artist. he can never get the lines as precise and as neat as you can. once you're finished, he gives you a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red mark. this happens every time.

﹢he's a goofy drunk, very humorous and silly. but as he sobers up, he becomes extremely clingy and doesn't let go of you.

﹢in the public eye, he acts very possessive of you, like he's the one in control. he always needs to be touching you. if you're apart, he'll send a hand your way and hold yours while he's busy. preferably his off-hand so he can still get some work done.

﹢people are scared of him for obvious reasons but when it's just the two of you, he's a big baby. sometimes he'll even use a certain voice whenever he talks to you. you tease him in public, telling others he's a completely different person when you two are alone. he laughs, calls you crazy, and plays it off.

﹢he loves no one more than he loves you.

﹢whenever he performs a show, he always gets you a seat up front. makes sure you can kick your feet up, your popcorn is always full, and you're enjoying yourself. whenever he pulls someone up on the set to help with one of his acts, you're almost always the person he picks.

﹢his favorite moments with you are when you're sitting on the deck of his ship, everyone else is asleep, and the two of you are counting the stars together and admiring one another.

﹢he loves to eat. if you two are eating together, he'll ask for the rest of yours and then some. messy eater, too.

﹢he's a great listener. loves to hear about your day.

﹢he loves to give you massages. just loves to pamper you, in general. your feet will be kicked up on his lap as he rubs them and you vent about your day or your laying on your back and he's above you, massaging your shoulders and hips.

﹢he just loves you. and he is a sweet and delicate man so treat him like one. he's the type of guy to sacrifice the world for you, not you for the world.

#buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #captain buggy #buggy the clown #one piece live action #op buggy #x reader #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece buggy #opla buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy opla

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4ngel-inc · 29 days

Text

࿔*:･ BUNGO STRAY DOGS — WITH A VERY TALKATIVE S/O ࿐

notes / warnings — fem reader, pet names, just fluff !! ᰔ i am 10000% calling myself out wahhh i talk so much :')

DAZAI loves attention, so naturally, he loves when you talk to him. you could talk about anything, really—the yummy breakfast you cooked for yourself that morning, the weather, your favorite book—it's all music to his ears. he also loves when you ask him questions about himself, like how his day went or what's new at work. if you reach over while you two are relaxing and gently stroke his cheek, asking what's on his mind, his heart melts into a little puddle. you really want to know what's running around in his head? most people wouldn't dare—though his thoughts have grown far brighter in the time he's known you, he's still surprised you're interested. dazai also loves when you ramble on about things—he just thinks you're so gorgeous when your expression lights up from something you're passionate about, eyes sparkling as you go on and on.

CHUUYA loves how excited you get about small things—it makes his day much brighter to hear the tone of your voice when you're hyped up about something! you're just so damn adorable—he wishes he could see the light in everything like you do. if you're shopping and see a pretty necklace in the store window, he'll let you go on and on about it for half an hour, about how you wish you could afford it, even though he knows he's going to return later and buy it for you. he just loves the sound of your voice, even on nights when he can't keep his eyes open after work, his head resting on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair, he convinces you to keep talking. "chu, you're not even listening, you're sleeping!" you laugh. "nuh-uh, pretty girl. 'm still awake, just keep talkin', makes me happy."

FUKUZAWA honestly, takes a while to get used to how much you talk, though he doesn't particularly dislike it. as someone who appreciates silence and tranquility, it's difficult for him to understand why you're so eager to talk about random things when the unspoken silence between the two of you is so valuable to him already—however, over time, he comes to realize it's part of your love language. you love him so much, of course you'd like to know how his day went, how he's feeling, if he liked what you made for dinner. you're always so excited to see him, practically talking his ear off the second he walks through the door, and after a while, he comes to appreciate how nurturing and doting you are. after a few years together, he simply can't imagine his life being any different—your voice is his greatest source of comfort during hard times.

SIGMA absolutely adores how talkative you are, he's so flattered you want to talk to him! your relationship makes him feel lighter and more playful, and after a while, he realizes you've taught him so much about how to enjoy the little things in life. he absolutely loves watching your eyes light up and hearing you rave when you try new food, when the snow falls, when you try your hand at a new cookie recipe for him that turns out to be so delicious. he could listen to your voice forever, but his favorite thing to talk about is how you're feeling. sigma is a true gentleman, always ensuring you're happy and asking what he can do to make you feel more loved. although he usually prefers most of the attention to be on you, he feels so special when you ask him how his day went or if he finished that one stressful project at work. overall, your voice simply gives him butterflies every time he hears it, no matter how long you've been together.

AKUTAGAWA actually really appreciates how much you talk, since he isn't often a man of many words. he's the quiet, stoic type—and the stark contrast between his reserved nature and your more outgoing, bubbly one is what makes you meld so well together. similar to chuuya, akutagawa loves hearing your voice when he's tired—in particular, if he's had an especially exhausting day at work or when he's been haunted by thoughts of his past lately, your voice soothes him, gently nudging all pessimistic thoughts out of his mind. after listening to you talk about your day for a few minutes, he can't even remember what was bringing him down to begin with. in general, the sound of your voice and an occasional kiss to his hand are enough to keep him content—if anything, he's grateful he is the one who gets to listen to you talk every day, your voice is his favorite sound.

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fukuzawa x reader #akutagawa x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #bsd x you #bsd x y/n

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cranberryjuice-posts · 1 month

Note

please do clarisse la rue x aphrodite reader who’s gorgeous and glowing and short like a ball of sunshine

- opposites attract -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Aphrodite! Reader

An - ive gotta rewrite by Abby series bc it’s not going the way I want it 😭 I wasn’t really sure exactly what to write so I hope this is good 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Everyone at camphalf blood knew who you were. Not for negative reasons however. Being a daughter of Aphrodite not only boosted your social status but it was also your actions.

The first to volunteer to help when the infirmary was low on staff, ready to take on any chore from helping run the camp store to labor jobs that required you to get dirty. Even when the saytrs felt as though they were being ignored by the demigods you helped give them their voice.

So when you of all people started dating clarisse the most intimidating person at camp it was a bit of a culture shock. Though with you sweet and kind nature you seemingly took the most aggressive cabin and somehow made them slightly calmer.

Though when people tried to approach clarisse about you her former aggressiveness would come back. Most things that involved you got her heated. The recent endeavor being you both Separated for the weeks capture the flag game.

“No you’re on my team it’s not for discussion” clarisse spoke as if she knew it was fact, her arms crossed and her armor on you couldn’t help but fall back in love with her.

“But it is for discussion because I’m not” you chuckled softly, a gentle smile crossing your features. “I’ll be fine Claire I’m not a child”

“I’m aware of that but what if someone on my team hurts you? Or what if you get hurt by one of our traps I don’t like not being able to protect you” she placed her hands on her hips trying to open her stance to you.

“Aww” you gave a playful frown tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Placing both hands on her cheeks you gave them a small squeeze. “I’m ok, besides I have charmspeak remember I know how to handle myself”

Her shifting weight and the look of annoyance on her face all showed she did care about you deep down, and as much as people wanted to Deny it clarisse was yours just as much as you were hers. “I’ll see you after the game pretty” stepping on your tippy toes you gave her a kiss.

Turning to start walking away clarisse began yelling instructions to you. “Wait! Make sure your breast plate is tight— oh! And be sure to wear a helmet an—-“

“I got it clarisse!” You laughed back at her, giving her a final wave.

——-

The games had already began with you being in charge of reclaiming the flag with Luke and his team.

Stepping through the forest you carefully looked around worried that maybe someone would jump out. Which like it was a movie happened. Red team kids running out with blades swinging. Blue team defending themselves and you mentally scolding yourself for not wearing enough armor.

Before you even realized it you had a deep cut in your calf. Landing on the ground with a cry of pain you looked back instantly having to dodge the falling camper.

“You good!” Luke shouted helping you up, limping some you found your balance breathlessly nodding. The red team currently had either been knocked to the ground or retreated in fear.

“The flags up ahead.. behind Zeus’s fist if I’m correct” you took a stance against a tree, using it as support. “I’m gonna stay here”

“You’re sure you’re fine” he asked cautiously. Even though luke knew clarisse couldn’t touch him he still didn’t want to hear her mouth afterwards.

You nodded giving him a semi confident look. “Just go” You chuckled sending him off.

Though it was quiet for a while you heard a crying like sound. Confused you pushed off the tree and started limping towards the noise. Through the trees and down to the creek you saw a hurt hell hound.

Most times you would of killed a monster without hesitation but this time… this time she wasn’t a monster. It seemed crazy but this hell hound almost seemed domesticated.

Slowly walking towards her You knelt down beside the dog. At first she bared her teeth at you acting as though you wanted to hurt her, but once she realized you meant no harm she pressed her snout against you.

Once gaining her trust you began to examine her leg. Realizing it was broken you made the conscious decision to quickly leave to grab some sticks for a splint. Petting the hound softly you got up limping away some.

The ground was filled with a multitude of twigs though finding your two heafty pieces of wood was easy. The sound of the conch and a campers scream filled your ears, nearly running back to the creek you saw about all of the kids from the two teams with clarisse and Luke in the creek, their weapons aimed at the hound that looked as tough she was going to attack.

“Stop! Oh my gods stop!” You screamed running in-front of her causing clarisse to dodge to the side and roll fully into the creek.

“Move!” She shouted. The other campers looking equally confused as you shouted a no back at her. “Are You insane?! Don’t go near it” clarisse scrambled out the water to quickly grab your arm.

You turned around trying to pull free only to be unsuccessful. The tension around you made you want to cry but right now isn’t the time. “I need you to trust me… please” you practically begged.

She looked you up and down with a look of worry before gently letting you go. Without another thought you knelt down to the dog, ripping your shirt in half exposing your stomach and began wrapping the hounds broken hind.

The dog was huge, given that she was a monster she was bigger than even a Doberman and beefier than a pit but that didn’t mean she was aggressive.

A few of the other councilors walked down to the water with Chiron standing on a rock near by. “She’s harmless!” You shouted trying to get the defensive campers to become calm. “See! If she wanted to hurt anyone she would of!”

Your urgency only convinced maybe a handful of kids. “It’s a monster.” Clarisse scoffed.

“Yet she didn’t try to bite me when I put her leg into a splint” You corrected. The hound nudged her head into your leg in a comforting way, trying to get your hand to begin to pet her.

Annabeth took a step forward, extending a hand the hound sniffed her before licking up her arm. “Seems harmless to me” the wise girl shrugged.

Chiron made his way down looking across the water and holding a hand up signaling for every camper to relax. “This game is dismissed. Grover summon the Cloven council, get them to set up a meeting so we can figure out what to do for the hound, and for you.. keep her with you until we have a plan”

———

The following week camp halfblood had a new pet. A hellhound you named Rosie.

Sitting with clarisse by the lake letting the water run over your legs from the docs. I’m the distance you saw Rosie swimming around enjoying playing with the water naiads.

“How did you know she wasn’t ruthless” clarisse asked turning her head to look at you.

“I guess the same way I knew you weren’t as mean as everyone assumes. It’s your aura, Rosie’s was soft and hurt begging for any form of kindness” you turned looking at her. The sun light casted across clarisses features illuminating her eyes and skin. “Your so beautiful” you smiled leaning over and softly kissing her

Clarisse smiled wide returning the kiss. She pulled away only keeping her hand on the side of your face. “What did I do to deserve someone like you”

You shrugged your shoulders happily. “Working out helped”

She pulled away with a playful attitude. Causing you to laugh and reach out to her once more.

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

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nrdmssgs · 8 months

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Sharing one bed with your friend from 141

Masterlist Little oneshots. Sharing a bed, because there is only one left free.

TW: Please note, that in every situation, a reader is an old friend of one of the four and there is a bit of sympathy beyond friendship between them!! So I wasn't trying to make TF 141 a bunch of awkward scary guys, that hug you without any reason and consent!! Don't worry, none of them would ever harm you, guys!!!

Simon Ghost Riley

"I warn you, I'm used to sleeping alone, so I may hog the blankets. If it happens so - don't hesitate to wake me up, ok?"

Ghost glares at you and chuckles briefly. "I get to sleep in a normal bed only once every few months. Don't think you can steal anything from me."

You sigh and turn away: well, at least you warned him. He may be some kind of super-soldier, but he is yet to discover, how fury an inveterate solo-sleeper can be. "Nighty." But he doesn't answer you - must have fallen asleep immediately.

You wake up in a tight, warm cocoon of blankets: obviously yours and his. But when you try to move - it appears harder than it seemed at first. Something, or rather someone, presses all these blankets down to you. So you turn your head only to meet Simons menacing, unblinking gaze.

"You saw nothing." His hand guides you by your chin to lay back down on a pillow, facing away from him. Then he goes back to wrapping you in a tight embrace. "I got cold, and you refused to give my blanket back."

Captain John Price

"Lemme know if it gets too warm. I got feedback about being a human furnace for a couple of times." Despite the fact, that he just laid down beside you - Johns voice is already sleepy.

"I believe, you have to hug another person to get such a comment." You answer and laugh at Johns immediate 'oh, shi... sorry' and a friendly pat on your back, covered with blanket.

"Sleep well," wishes you Price. And that was... exactly, what you planned, if the man hadn't start snoring in ten minutes.

At first, you tried to be gentle, touching lightly his shoulder to make him go quiet. But when he woke you up for the fifth time in a row - you punched him so hard - you must have left a bruise on his back. But John Price could sleep on a military base. He could sleep in a flying helli between the missions, being surrounded by shouting soldiers. Even your punches feel like a tender caresses in comparison to the chaos, in which he sometimes has to fall asleep.

He wakes up only when you almost throw him off the bed. "John! You snore like a freakin bear!" You are out of energy and already consider going to sleep on a floor in another room, only to get away from this nightmare.

He blinks a couple of times, obviously not waking up fully, then scoops you up, nuzzles your neck and whispers in a sleepy ruffle voice "M`sorry, love. You should let me know right away, if I wake you up again."

Perfect: now he's mistaken you for someone in his sleep! Well, at least, he really stays quiet, as he is hugging you. So you decide to let him do it, as long as it grants you sound sleep.

On the next morning, Price inspects his back in the mirror, when you walk past him. "Never considered enlisting in the military? I could use a furious little beast like you..."

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Soap, for f sake, you are a grown man, what are you doing?" You grunt, as yet another decorative pillow hits your back.

"Building a wall, lass. Otherwise, you'll end up on my side of bed as usual!" He isn't even thinking of stopping, so the next pillow hits your head.

"Johnny, Hadrians Wall took less time to be built up! And I repeat for the hundredth time: I don't have a single idea, how does it happen, but I swear, it's not me! I don't tend to move in my sleep. When I'm alone - I always wake up in the exact same pose, I've fallen asleep!" You try to grab a pillow to throw it away, but he doesn't let you.

"Well, then it's my natural charm, that just drawn you to my side every time." Soap finally places the last pillow up on his 'wall' between yours and his sides of the bed.

You wake up in the same place you've fallen asleep. Only this time you are buried under the remains of Johnnys 'masterpiece' from yesterday. Grunting, you try to get out from under a pile of pillows, but you feel Johnny's whole body pressing against you from behind with a displeased rumbling. And only then it hits you.

You turn to him and whisper in his sleeping face. "It was you all this time. You grabbed me and pulled to your side of the bed, you sneaky bastard..." Johnny mumbles something incoherent in his sleep and only presses you closer to him.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Ok, good night." Kyle turns the light down and goes silent.

You lie awake for some time, listening to the sounds outside the window, but gradually you fall asleep. However, very soon, you startle and open your eyes: there is someone in the room, you two are no more alone. You hear the wooden floor crackling closer. Someone's shadow falls on the wall. You are frightened, but you lie quietly, blaming it all on your imagination. And then you feel the mattress sag under someone's weight at your feet.

At that moment you understand, you had enough and in one swift motion dart to Kyle, ending up on top of him. It wakes him up and for a few moments, he looks confused as his eyes adjust to the darkness. But when he understands, it's you, he relaxes. "Ahem, hi?"

"There is someone in this bed. Someone besides us!" You whisper, shifting your weight to the side, so that Kyle is left to defend you from the mysterious threat.

He turns the bedside lamp on and starts laughing almost immediately. Your friends dog, that apparently freaked you out so badly, now curled up all cozy on your side of the bed.

"Hi buddy! You were feeling lonely, so you came to us, yeah?" Kyle scratches the dog behind the ear, and it happily beats the blanket with its tail. You breathe a sigh of relief, a little embarrassed at being so scared. However, you don't give Kyle a chance to start joking about this and push him closer to the center of the bed, settling in where he just slept.

"Okay, congratulations, now that buddy is your problem. I'm going to sleep!" You try to ignore Kyle's soft laugh.

"You're going to fall out of bed at night and scare the poor dog." He pulls you closer to him. "That's better. Sleep. And I'll protect you from this 'dire wolf'."

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heesdreamer · 12 days

Text

IN MY ROOM

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

WARNINGS ➩ none really, unresolved angst and one sided heartbreak

WC ➩ 2.6k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Normally I don’t write small drabbles but obsessed with this song and wanted to do something for it. No full fic for this or part 2 sorry it’s supposed to hurt! I highly suggest listening while listening or beforehand since it’s fully inspired by the lyrics and vibe

I like when it's dark out, October will cure me

I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?

The size of your heart seemed to grow and shrink with the seasons, always fluttering and aching depending on the shade of the trees and sometimes it felt like it got quiet all together.

You figured out a long time ago that the actual shape of it and your anatomy wasn’t changing and instead you were just an over emotional person (if there was such a thing). Your mother blamed it on your father being a writer, saying you inherited his soul and his passion for pouring all of his love into every little thing with the hopes something worth putting to paper would appear in return.

You didn’t write like he did but you did often find yourself overthinking the journey of tree roots and being curious about how building a proper nest weighed on a birds confidence.

It was a lot easier to fall inlove with everything than to tune the world out and that didn’t fall short of affecting the way you interacted with the people around you.

The way you loved your friends wasn’t always romantic but you had a deep connection to all of them and a mental list of all their habits and cute quirks like the way Wonyoung covered her mouth when she laughed hard and the raise of Riki’s eyebrow whenever he was curious about something.

You loved Heeseung in a different way.

Your heart was heavy as you walked through the tree covered trail that led to your house, knowing once you started thinking of him it was nearly impossible to stop.

In your defense, he seemed to have that affect on a lot of people.

There was just something undeniably charged about Heeseung and the way he interacted with the world around him. He was ever confident in a natural way that didn’t have a hint of arrogance and his gentle nature struck you hard the first time you met him when you were 13 and he had just turned 14.

You became close friends after getting partnered for a school project and your heart was soaring when he kept talking to you even after you’d turned in the essay and gotten a low B.

He was bestfriends with basically everybody he interacted with but you couldn’t help feeling special when you kept getting closer and closer and your friendship started to actually hold some weight instead of just having surface level conversations in between class lectures.

The cold fall chill ripped through your sweater right as your mood started to sour and you shook your head free from the thoughts of him or at least as free as you could.

Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me

I slit my own throat just to see if you'd mourn me

“He really hasn’t said a single thing to you? Like not even something random and completely unrelated to his absolute betrayal?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed at the dramatic exaggeration of Wonyoung’s statement but she was right to be upset on your behalf considering you had a hard time being mad at him yourself.

Your sigh continued as you rolled onto your back and tugged the phones chord as tight as possible so it reached further on your bed, nearly coming off the wall with how hard you were stretching the old elastic.

“He’s waved at me in the halls but I can’t talk to him.” Your voice was muffled just from how much you didn’t want to admit the extent of which this bothered you.

You weren’t at all exaggerating, you really couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Heeseung ever since he had casually announced on his MySpace that he was now in a relationship with one of your more casual mutual friends. He hadn’t told you beforehand that he even had feelings for her and you felt completely ridiculous for thinking he held you as close to his heart as you did for him.

Even your friend group had been thrown off by the news considering everybody followed the silent understanding that you and him were more than friends.

You’d rolled your eyes the few times they’d brought it up, both in light teasing or genuinely trying to pry and get you to answer their burning questions about your relationship.

You never fulfilled their curiosity for a multitude of reasons but mainly because you had no idea what you and Heeseung were exactly. You liked him more than you’d ever liked somebody in your life and your face turned red whenever you saw him smile or felt his hand brushing against yours under the lunch table but he’d never said anything to you about it.

His feelings might’ve seemed obvious to somebody who didn’t know him, figuring you were dating the second he wrapped his arm around you or ordered your food without checking what you wanted since he already had your preferences memorized.

But that was just who Heeseung was and you were no stranger to that.

He was overly caring and involved with everyone he met and he could make somebody he’d met seconds ago seem like they were best buddies from kindergarten. He definitely had a sweet spot for you but there was no real evidence that it extended past platonic admiration.

You were overwhelmingly glad now you’d never been stupid enough to tell your friends you were together before confirming it considering his abrupt new relationship that completely shattered your view on what you’d been to him.

Clearly you’d misread the signals the entire time and the two of you were just friends but the more you thought about it, the more angry you got. Not at Heeseung because your heart strictly forbid you for ever thinking negatively about the boy but just at the entire situation and the lack of understanding from both sides.

It wasn’t friendly when he stared into your eyes with the waves crashing behind you and your friends laughing somewhere in the distance. Not at all platonic when he was taking your hand in his at the school dance and ignoring the dozens of eyes staring at him, waiting for a turn.

They never got it because he spent the entire night spinning you in his arms and complimenting your dress and hair.

You weren’t confused when he laid in your bed after his parents threw a fit about his new piercing, his head on your stomach and his voice a whisper when he told you that you were the only person who understood him.

“You’re my person and I’ve never felt like that with anybody before so it freaks me out sometimes.” His eyes didn’t stray from the blank spot on your ceiling and yours stayed locked on the bruise forming around the new piece of middle inside his eyebrow. “I couldn’t think of anybody else I wanted to run to.”

“Is that a bad thing? Wanting to come to me?” Your fingers smoothed over the piercing and he winced a little because of how fresh it was but you didn’t move your touch away, just lessening the pressure you were applying.

“It’s only bad because how much it consumes me sometimes.”

You didn’t ask him to explain what he had meant that day because you figured you knew but apparently you were somehow wrong.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” Your friends voice over the line was bringing you back to reality and you assured her you hadn’t left before asking her to repeat whatever it is she had said. “I said that he was totally wrong to do that to you, we all think so.”

For some reason the thought of your friends seeing the same thing as you didn’t make you feel any better.

It actually made you want to curl into a ball ten times worse because you couldn’t blame it on your rose colored glasses if the closest people to you also felt like something was blossoming between the two of you. Your confusion in his abrupt relationship only made you feel sicker and sicker.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

Two weeks had passed since Heeseung posted the photo of him and Aubrey with his relationship status being changed right afterwards, glaring harshly at you on your home computers wavering screen.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied his expression underneath the grainy edgy filter he applied to it, eyes tracing the squint of his eyes as he smiled brightly and her lips pressed against his cheeks.

He looked happy and that somehow made you feel even sicker.

You wondered if he hadn’t told you about it because he feared your reaction or if he possibly couldn’t bring himself to silently end whatever it was that you felt towards each other. It hurt more than it might’ve a few years ago because you’d finally begun to feel like the two of you were on the same page, managing to be mutually single and interested at the same moment for the first time in all your years of pining.

A dozen near misses were finally leading to something big and concrete.

Or at least you thought so until you logged onto your MySpace account and saw his post, the same one you were glaring at now.

You hadn’t posted anything since you cut off communication with him but you couldn’t help yourself from checking your page and scrolling down it, curious if he’d be concerned over your silence if he ever went to see what you’d been doing with his absence. Maybe he hoped you’d be posting sad song lyrics or actively breaking down on his feed but instead you’d gone completely cold.

It was the only option in your mind considering you never were able to be normal when it came to Heeseung.

The sight of his hoodie on your bed or his left over guitar picks and crumbled up pieces of paper with random doodles scattered around your room was enough to bring you to tears and settle a sick feeling in your gut so you couldn’t imagine trying to sit and type out a post that would read as normal. Perfectly fine and not obsessing over who your friend was dating.

You told yourself that you were mainly caught up on the specifics of it because he hadn’t bothered to tell you about it.

It was worse to find out from a simple post over him sitting you down and letting you know but instead your entire world crumpled with every comment and heart from people who didn’t know him outside of passing him in the halls.

They didn’t know him during those late nights and they didn’t know the way his heart beat harder whenever you brushed your fingers through his hair or met his eyes in a crowded room. The faceless usernames had no idea there was somebody out there absolutely shattering at this simple ‘in a relationship’ post.

You groaned into your hands and shut the computer down without bothering to close his blogs tab, knowing you’d be opening it first thing tomorrow regardless.

You look so cool getting high

No handlebars, you wanna fly

You look so cool, I wanna die

Is it too soon to say what on my mind?

“Hope you brought some bandaids.” His voice was wobbly as he circled around you and you laughed softly at his clear fearfulness, the sound muffled by the straw of your slushy that was clutched between your knees.

“For when you inevitably eat shit?”

He laughed at your bluntness and the action almost caused him to do exactly that, the bike wheel rapidly twisted on the rugged gravel and nearly sending him straight into the rocky parking lot he was currently riding handless around.

One of his hands was occupied with his own extra large slushy from the gas station near you and the other was holding a small joint that was nearly smoked out of existence. You had hated when Heeseung started to smoke and you spent the last few years complaining about the smell of his clothes and scolding you when he left the scent on your pillows.

You’d never tell him that you slowly got used to it, almost liking it as it blended easily with his signature cologne and his naturally aroma that you found yourself leaning into whenever you had a few feet between you.

He rarely smoked infront of you once he realized you genuinely didn’t like it and you were just nagging at him but today was the exception.

Heeseung had turned eighteen today and while your friends had begged and begged him to either throw a party or let them do it in his honor, he had strongly declined. You had been confused considering he was shy to partying and it would definitely be one of the bigger events of the year with how many people would love to gather and get drunk in the honor of Heeseung.

Your confusion was lost when he wrapped himself around your back, arms circling your middle and casually telling your friends he’d rather spend the night hanging out with you like it didn’t completely uproot your existence whenever he said things like that.

You didn’t even doubt the honesty of his answer, genuinely knowing he had more fun in this dirty parking lot with cheap slushees and your company than he would’ve at a huge rager.

“What do I get if I don’t fall?” He was smiling at you as he rounded back into your point of view but he was behind you again before he could see the way your own lips turned up. “Doesn’t that call for a prize?”

“A prize? What would you want?” You watched his eyebrows raised like he was in deep thought and you laughed at the absurdity of him disappearing back behind you as he continued to ride his bikes in circles around you. You didn’t like riding bikes as much as he did but last summer he’d painted a pair of pegs pink for you, sticking them to his otherwise blacked out frame and smiling proudly.

It was something you’d rolled your eyes at and you’d given him a quick thankful kiss on the cheek but you secretly loved standing behind him as he rode you around, hands on his shoulders and the wind blowing through your hair.

You especially loved how happy he was to show you that he’d done it, something that would make you more comfortable when you rode together.

He was humming like he was deep in thought and you waited patiently with your chin resting in your hand, smile bright on your face at his theatrical responses.

“If I don’t fall…. you let me stay at your place tonight.”

Your heart was already starting to beat out of your chest at the soft request and the way his voice got lower like he was waiting for you to reject him. Both of your reactions were ridiculous considering he’d spent the night at your house dozens of times and was over more than he went home but he always asked beforehand.

Something you liked because then it always gave you the opportunity to tell him that he was welcomed.

“I figured that was the plan anyways.” You took a large drink of your slushy after letting the words fall out more casual than you felt and he pressed on the brakes when he was in front of you this time, a wide smile still on his face and genuine easiness radiating off of him.

“You sure know how to make a birthday special.” He was so beautiful when he said that and the way he looked at you made you feel like he genuinely meant what he was saying even if he was just making a joke about your rather simple nature.

Telling him you love him was heavy on your mind and even heavier on your tongue and it took almost everything inside of you not to just blurt it out and accept the brute force of whatever his reaction might be without any preparation. You wanted him to know that his birthday was special, you needed him to know that you loved him and that you wanted to spend every year like this no matter how old you got.

Instead you took another sip of your slushy and let him ride around you until his tire gave out and he was landing on the gravel with a laugh that inspired your own.

You hadn’t know then that you were currently experiencing his birthday with the two of you for the last time and you wondered now if you would have told him back then if you had known. Would it have made a difference or was he always fated to leave?

Did your love story really end with a simple post from his end and the smell of smoke ever fading from the smooth fabric of your pillow cases or was this all some large twisted joke from the universe, one last test of your affection towards each other before you finally stopped nearly missing.

You tried your best to stop thinking about it and him and all the little things he’d left in your room.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #heeseung au #enhypen au #heeseung fic #lee heeseung #Spotify

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

proposal ; satoru gojo

gojo satoru proposes quite often. each time, it all goes terribly wrong.

satoru gojo x gn reader, proposal, established relationship, parenthood (later!!), dad!gojo, 5+1 trope, so much fluff!!!

the first time gojo satoru asks you to marry him, he ends up nearly choking to death. he recalls it with a faux bitterness, and you with indignance and a tinge of amusement.

it was a fancy dinner restaurant, with low-hanging chandeliers and the aroma of obnoxious perfumes. people clothed in dressy designer gowns and suits flocked the bar and tables. you watched them as you sipped your drink, wondering what they were doing here tonight.

"that man with the red spotted tie? i bet the younger lady he's with is his mistress."

gojo's words made you choke back a laugh. his voice was low, to avoid anyone overhearing. he smiled at how your lips pursed to hide your smile.

this was your favorite game- you would find a person to observe, eyeing them, and gojo would follow your gaze. he'd then create a backstory for them- a game of fill-in-the-blank based on their actions and appearance.

the both of you would often go on fancy dinner dates (with gojo being vain and rich and enjoying dressing up, and with you benefitting from him being happy,) but today was a more momentous occasion. it was the two of you's 6th anniversary of dating.

you weren't expecting much, nor did you want a lot. just the regular flowers, sub-par wine, and overpriced food would do. you were content with his presence and no greater plans.

gojo, however, had other ideas for today. without your knowledge, he'd coordinated with the kitchen staff to create a secret proposal scheme- and he did a damn good job if he said so himself.

a large, gaudy, and expensive ring was stowed away inside a cupcake of your favorite flavor. there'd be two to share, and when you bit into it, you'd discover his proposal and say yes. that was gojo's plan, anyways.

when the plate of sweet treats were brought out, they just looked too good. gojo couldn't help but have his right away too- after all, it was best to avoid suspicion, right? so he popped the whole thing into his mouth like a pill.

and gagged. loudly.

a piece of fine silver, an immaculately cut and expensive diamond, and the tiny lapis lazuli studs in the form of a gaudy engagement ring was lodged in his throat.

at this point in the story, gojo typically pretends to forget what happened afterward. you would laugh and explain to the audience that he did, in fact, have to get heimlich-maneuvered by an elderly man. he ended up spitting out the ring and you never even knew it was there, assuming he was choking on his overly-chewy steak.

that date ended with an unpaid bill, apologetic staff, and an embarrassed couple. 'an ultimate success', gojo would chime into your story, since he 'got you in the end'.

you'd snort a laugh and push his shoulder playfully. 'more like an ultimate fuck-up', you'd smile. he would grin right back at you, brighter than a diamond.

the second time gojo satoru proposes, you get hit by a car.

it's a warm, sleepy day in thailand. gojo opted to take you with him as his plus one to some stuffy clan event being held there. instead of attending the event fully, though, the two of you decide to leave 10 minutes in to roam the unfamiliar streets.

the sun is about to set and it's held in the sky by the clouds, cradling it like a child. the world is alight with oranges and the streets are quiet. it's an abandoned little town, the one you end up in.

the buildings are dilapidated and birds nest in the rafters of old structures. graffiti decorates the walls and empty boxes line the streets. vines and flowers and grasses bloom and blossom through the cracks and creases of the decaying village, like nature was reaching back into the world to take what was hers.

your formal wear was itchy on your skin but you really didn't mind, as you laughed like a fool as satoru made stupid joke after stupid joke. his smile was enough to rival the setting sun as he beamed at you as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

gojo, who'd been a few paces ahead of you, falls into step next to you before grabbing your hand to get you to stop walking.

he says your name and it's more gently than usual. "look at the sky," he whispers, like it's a secret.

you look up to the expanse of tumbling clouds and the streaks of dusk and you're left breathless by the unusual serenity of it.

"it's not half as pretty as you." gojo is so quiet you almost can't hear him, but you smile a little. you turn, about to make fun of him for being cheesy and cliche, and then it's all a blur- you see satoru, on the floor for some reason? and you hear jingling and satoru shouts something and- 'bam!' gojo would pantomime, gesturing an explosion with his hands.

you'd roll your eyes before continuing the story. an elderly driver with a done-up and ancient, creaky, rickshaw had slammed you into the pavement and kept on driving.

you lay, dazed, back on the ground. gojo appeared in your vision, blurry and doubled. panic is prominent on his face, and you feel his hands on you.

for a few minutes, as gojo tries to manage both his own anger at the old driver and the fact that his partner just got hit by a rickshaw going at 100 miles per hour.

he helps you sit up, and you do so slowly. you're still seeing doubles of everything and the word is spinning and your head hurts like hell, but you don't think your bleeding, and gojo is slowly coming back into focus so you're probably, maybe okay.

'it was traumatizing,' gojo would narrate, 'blood everywhere, guts on the floor, everything.'

you'd smack gojo's shoulder and he'd cackle like a fool.

'it wasn't bad,' you would state, 'he's making it seem like i was on the verge of death. i was not.'

'i was not,' gojo mimicked. you'd shove your shoulder into him and he laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist.

this story ends with you in the hospital with a minor concussion and gojo stashing the engagement ring in his suit pocket and tucking it into the depths of his overly-stuffed suitcase.

'god, you getting hit by a car-'

'rickshaw,' you corrected, 'not a car.'

gojo side-eyed you. 'like i said, a car, was so inconvenient.'

you glare at him, and you hear your audience laugh. 'next time, the car is going to be hitting you. and it won't be just a concussion.'

attempt number 3 is less painful for you, but incredibly embarrassing for gojo.

it's snowing on the school campus. you and satoru observed as maki beat the shit out of yuta, as per usual. you wince as a particularly brutal blow strikes him.

"jesus, she's not holding back."

gojo smiles. "i wouldn't want her to. how else is he meant to learn?"

you raise an eyebrow. "i'm surprised you're allowed to be a teacher."

"me too!"

the silence pursuing your words is comfortable, the only thing breaking being the loud smacks coming from the field until gojo says:

"i'm sure they'll be fine. want to go for a walk?"

you tsk as he stands from the bench you are both sitting on. "now, what kind of teacher would that make you, satoru?"

"one with priorities."

you smile and take his extended hand. "damn right."

your walk is quiet. neither of you speaks much, and you're both happy that way. sometimes, silence is lovely.

gojo is not quiet around many. he is, by nature, loud, and that is something he hadn't grown out of. you feel a little blessed that he can find it in himself to be peaceful when you're around, though.

he's holding your gloved hand but you can still feel the cold emanating from his palm as he leads you through a grove of leafless trees, just behind the school campus.

"i love the snow," he says at some point.

you hum in agreement and steal a glance at him. satoru looks angelic in this scene, under a snow-filled tree, like a heavenly deity that you had the honor of encountering.

you turn your face so he doesn't see you staring. you've been together for years at this point, but you don't feel like embarrassing yourself at this moment.

when satoru lets go of your hand, though, you turn back around from your faux-examination of the winter scenery- just in time to see a big cloud of snow from the tree drop onto gojo's head.

he collapses from his place on the ground (why was he on the ground?), and he looks like a surprised deer. only his head peeks through the pile of white around him.

you stare for a beat before breaking out into laughter, so hard it makes your ribs hurt- and in the distance, you hear even more people laughing. you glance around to see the current 1st-years, yuta, maki, inumaki, and panda doubled over in laughter. panda had a phone out, presumably recording the whole scene.

'i should've killed him,' gojo grumbled, and you snort.

'too bad. he'd already sent the video to everyone, so that wouldn't really help your case.'

'maybe it's not too late.'

'i think it is. it's all okay though, right? because it all worked out in the end?'

you batted your lashes and gojo huffed at your blatant mockery of his previous words.

'well, i suppose you were worth it all. just barely, though.'

the final failed proposal was gojo's last ditch attempt at making it romantic.

it's your average day, about 6 months after the last mishap. spring flowers blossom all around your little picnic blanket as you smooth it over the grass. satoru places the basket over in the corner and began to unpack it.

it was one of the rare days when you both had a little time off, so in honor of the good weather, you and satoru opted to spend a while outside.

what you don't know is that satoru has a skywriter scheduled to come out in 5 minutes, to pull across a banner asking you to marry him.

and what satoru doesn't know is that the company he'd booked had a 2-star yelp rating.

so, when the skywriter dances across the blue canvas with a grey trail of letters following it, your name is spelled wrong. very wrong. to the point where it's unrecognizable.

"gertrude, will you marry me?"

you read out the words the skywriter spelled out, and smile dumbly. gojo wants to gouge his eyes out. "good for gertrude. strange name, though."

and then it starts raining. like, really raining. torrents of water rush down from the sky out of nowhere, soaking the both of you in a matter of moments.

"okay, well," gojo tries to conceal his disappointment, "i guess this was kind of a bust."

but you smile at him and he's not too upset anymore, because how could he be?

"there's always next time, satoru. could you help me with the stuff?"

the both of you rush to clean up your picnic. and then, you hear a rumble of thunder in the distance.

the hairs on the back of your neck rise and you think satoru feels it too because he grabs your hand and tugs you away. "i think we should go-"

a loud, crackling noise followed by an astonishingly bright light strikes the place where your picnic blanket used to lay. a small stream of smoke billows, before its vanquished by the water.

gojo looks at you. you look at him. and wordlessly, the both of you leave the park as quickly as you can.

(what neither of you realizes is that a little box with an over-the-top engagement ring was left abandoned at the park that day, never to be seen again.)

without the engagement ring, gojo isn't quite sure what he's meant to do.

he could try again. he could buy another one. but honestly, the demotivation he's feeling wouldn't do anything for his proposal skills. he is feeling very much slumped.

it's a week after the picnic fiasco, and life has been as normal for you. but for gojo, he's been stressing over everything for what feels like an eternity.

it's the last friday of springtime when he comes home from teaching to you laying on the couch. you're reading a book with a red cover in your flannel pajama pants and his oversized t-shirt. you look so good, and gojo doesn't know what to do with himself so he just stares at you from the doorway like some creep before entering your shared apartment.

he calls out a greeting to you and you reply in kind, asking how his day was. he keeps the conversation going as he showers, calling out his replies. he returns in his own overpriced loungewear and slides next to you on the couch.

he lays his head on your lap, looking up at you. you diligently and wordlessly rearrange to make this more comfortable for both of you.

the last rains of spring are pounding against the windows of your home, and the sky outside is dark blue. the yellow lighting of the lamp casts a warm glow on the two of you, and gojo thinks it brings out your eyes, and he doesn't know what he's saying when he says it but it's spoken nonetheless:

"i want to marry you."

you don't react in the slightest, flipping the page of the book you're reading and working your free hand through gojo's hair. but he doesn't miss how your movements falter for a moment, just a second.

"haha. funny."

gojo sits up. you're looking at him now, and he sees a flicker of confusion flit across your face.

"i'm serious. i mean it."

you blink. "you want to marry me."

he nods.

"oh."

"so..." gojo scoots back from you on the couch, so he's not in your face. "this is me proposing."

and then he waits. he waits for the burglar to come in and shoot both of you in the face. he waits for the microwave oven to explode in the kitchen and set the apartment on fire. he waits for the ceiling to collapse and bury you both in the rubble. he waits for you to say no.

"then i guess this is me saying yes."

but he is waiting for nothing. he smiles at you, so brightly that he could illuminate the stormy nighttime sky. and you kiss him, this boy made of diamond, as if he's going to disappear.

'i was so smooth, you can't lie,' gojo said with a stupid smirk.

'you're right, i can't lie. and you weren't smooth. at all.'

two little voices giggle and your heart was infinitely warmed.

you and satoru were sat telling your story to your young kids, aged 6 and 7. it was late on a wednesday, and you'd run out of stories to tell, so you resorted to the undoubtedly entertaining tale behind your engagement.

'you're so silly, dad!' said your 6-year-old daughter shigure. she had recently learned what the word 'silly' meant, so obviously it had to be used in every sentence ever. 'so so silly!

satoru ruffled her hair and you were taken for a moment at how similar the two were.

your 7-year-old son, fuyuki, interjected. 'i'm too old for bedtime stories now but i like this one i guess.'

you raised an eyebrow. 'oh, really? i guess we won't read you them anymore. y'know, since you're too old and cool for them-'

'no! i was just kidding!'

you snort. 'okay. i see.'

satoru stood and you followed suit, wishing the children goodnight before shutting off the lights in their room.

your husband sighed before stretching and cracking his back. he winced at the sound.

'you really are getting old,' you said lightly. he glared at you playfully.

'says the one whose hearing is giving out already.'

you waved a finger at him. 'that is a direct result of getting hit by a car-'

'rickshaw,' satoru corrected.

'a car,' you repeated, 'which, by the way, is technically all your fault.'

satoru groaned as you both made your way to your own bedroom. 'that was forever ago.'

'still feels like yesterday.'

'sure it does, grandpa.'

you were, at this point, by your bedside. so you threw a pillow at him.

he (almost) caught it and threw it back onto your bed. 'get in, spouse #1.'

you exhaled a breath of laughter. 'you first, #2.'

the night was cold as you slid in after satoru, and in all honesty, he was even colder, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

your head laid close to his chest and you could feel the rising and falling of his breathing. you tried to match it.

'i'm glad i asked you.'

his voice was out of nowhere. you raised your head to look at him inquisitively.

'i mean,' he amended, 'i'm glad this is how things ended up. really glad.'

you thought about your life. you thought about how you met, about the restaurant anniversary, about the crazed rickshaw driver, about the video of gojo losing to the snow, about the lightning and your failed picnic, about the rain against the windows and the color of the book you were reading, about everything from then til now.

there were so many words you could have said to tell him about how much you agreed. but you opt to return your head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

'i'm glad too,' is all you said. he already knew.

the name shigure means rainshower in late summer, winter, or autumn.

the name fuyuki means wintery tree.

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venuslore · 8 months

Text

𖥔 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; rafe begins to push you away when he realises the true nature of his feelings towards you

pairing ; rafe cameron x kook turned pogue!fem!reader

notes ; this series will contain mature themes, such as : p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), swearing, physical altercations, potential nightmares and anxiety, arguments, drinking and drugs. if i forgot any please let me know.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

summer nights in the outer banks always felt like a mist of nostalgia washing over you as you ventured to the boneyard. the humidity was high, and the stars were bright. speckling across the night sky like a blanket of magic, each holding a promise to return the next day like they had every other.

tonight’s party had passed by in a flurry, whisking you away with your friends for a night of unconventional fun. just the way you liked it.

the boys were up to mischief, as per usual, as they took part in numerous bets and dares to see who was the ‘best pogue’ while sarah dragged you and kie to the bonfire for a dance. and despite the fact that you had spent most of the night in high spirits, you couldn’t help the sudden plunge of morale as you watched john b sneak up behind sarah and wrap his arms around her.

the two of them holding each other close and swaying to the music as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. it made your heart heavy knowing how badly you both craved and desired the love that they so openly shared with the world.

“hey, i have a question..." jj declares after the six of you had found somewhere quiet to hunker down away from the general vicinity of the party, and with a joint in his hand, he moves to lay his head in your lap as he gazes up at the night sky.

“what now?” kie rolls her eyes, waiting to hear what high-induced thoughts the blond had conjured up

“if oranges are called… oranges, why aren't lemons called… yellows?" silence fell over you all as you tried to hold back your laughter,swapping confused looks, only to eventually give in.

“okay. i think you've had enough of that for tonight,” pope grabs the joint from jj’s hand, despite his protests, and takes a puff for himself before passing it to john b.

“agreed. i think i’m getting a contact high just from being near you,” you laugh softly.

he lets out a small gasp, clutching at his chest as though he were wounded, “you should be grateful.”

“yeah, okay, j,” you shake your head, laughing, and ruffle his hair before turning to the others to ask, “hey, does anyone have the time?”

pope’s the first to check his watch, “almost midnight.”

“shit…” you groan quietly and throw your head to the side, sinking into sarah’s shoulder for a moment, “i’ve gotta go. are we still meeting before the dinner tomorrow?”

“yeah, of course.” sarah nods, knowing that the question was intended for her and kie.

picking yourself up and dusting the sand off your shorts, you swing your bag over your shoulder and wave goodbye to your friends. they blow you kisses as you start to walk away, shouting out a jumbled mess of their own goodbyes, but nothing was more distinct than jj's "see ya tomorrow, bubba!"

making your way through the remainder of the party, a group of kooks pass you by, each of them narrowing their eyes and one even blatantly whispering about you. your family’s history wasn’t uncommon knowledge on the island, and so, unlike the pogues, a lot of the kooks didn’t want to be seen hanging out with a ‘half-breed’, as they would sometimes call you.

like kie, your parents came from two different worlds, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t have quite the happy ending that the carrera’s did. so now you live with your mom and her new husband with all the other figure eight trust fund babies, but you weren’t really one of them — you never would be.

“y/n!” a voice calls your name, and you turn just in time to see topper wrap his arm around your shoulders. the strong scent of alcohol consuming your senses, and you sway off-balance from the impact of his weight.

“hey, top,” you pat his chest affably.

“hey, we’re friends, right?” he smiles drunkenly this time, and a slight hum leaves his lips.

you knew the question was of good nature, and you didn’t dislike topper, but he wasn’t exactly your favourite person either. so, not wanting to hurt his feelings while he clearly wasn’t all there, you decide to indulge him a little, “of course we are, buddy.”

“it’s just… i know you hang out with the pogues, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends? i’ve always been nice to you, and i know kelce thinks you’re cool, but rafe, he’s a tough one. he really hates pogues, and you’re like choosing to be-”

“topper, let’s go, man!” kelce shouts as he makes his way over to you, and a few steps behind him staggered along rafe cameron, “some of us are going back to mine.”

seemingly frustrated, kelce tries to get his friend to leave while rafe appears far more interested in the cup between his lips. when he does eventually look up at topper, his eyes fall on you under his friend’s arm for a moment before he runs a hand across his forehead and looks away as though he hadn’t paid you any attention at all.

“maybe you should get him a leash?” the suggestion falls from your lips, and from behind the cup in his hand, you swore you saw rafe smirk. though, it’s gone faster than it had appeared.

kelce lets out a soft chuckle, “don’t tempt me.”

“hey, y/n, why don’t you come with us?” topper turns to you with more enthusiasm than you could handle on a good day. like a golden retriever that was just given his favourite ball.

“as tempting as that sounds... i will have to pass.” removing his arm, you push him towards kelce, who reluctantly catches him.

“why not? it’ll be fun, and kelce and rafe will be there!”

“actually, i’ve, uh, i’ve got somewhere to be,” rafe discloses, taking the last sip of his drink before throwing the empty cup into the trash pile and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “so, i’m going to have to skip on tonight too.”

not wanting to stick around for the conversation about to be had, which would mostly consist of topper whining for rafe to go with them, you take your leave from the trio, “alright. well, i’m going to go. you boys have fun.” and as you pass through them, your arm accidentally brushes against rafe.

you don't think much of it, but the small graze seemed to have attracted his attention, because when you look back, his eyes are already watching you walk away.

the air was no longer sticky as you walked towards the main road. the temperature had dropped enough to cause an array of bumps on your arms and you cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket. the coolness nipped at your skin, and you helplessly wrapped your arms around yourself to gather as much warmth as possible.

the street was quiet, other than the distant sound of music from the boneyard and the occasional bark from a neighbourhood dog. the sky was dark with nothing but the stars helping guide you home, which only made it more noticeable when a set of headlights turned into the street. the sound of an engine began to approach you, slowing to meet your side before eventually coming to a stop.

“y'know, it’s at least an hour walk back to figure eight, right?” the driver points out, and an undeniable smirk tugs at the corner of your lips before you turn to see rafe leaning his head out the open window.

“really?” you retort, cocking your head to the side. “... what took you so long then?”

rafe licks his lips to try and downplay the smile on his face as you near the car, his eyes trailing up and down your body, "well, you know how it is?"

"topper wouldn't shut up," you say in unison, scrunching up your face as you nod.

"i guess that means i'll just have to make it up to you," he looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on the skin surrounding your chest and noting how the smallest cherubs of your nipples were poking through your bikini top.

smiling coyly, you sink towards him, pushing a hand to run across the stubbled hair on his head, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, "you better." your words muffle against him.

he hums with approval, a smug look on his face as you pull his bottom lip between yours, giving it a small tug, "you better hurry up and get in then."

you scrunch your nose at him before running around the other side of the car, and it doesn't take long at all for the two of you to reunite with the comforts of rafe's bedroom. the familiar scent of his vanilla lotion, cologne, and a hint of tobacco filling your senses the second he opens the door, and what was once a relevantly clean floor was now being littered with discarded clothing.

his fingers were gentle as they danced across your skin, loosening the knot in the back of your bikini with ease, before hoisting you up around his waist and leading you to his bed where he places you down atop his cotton sheets. his fingers make haste to remove the last pieces of your clothing as he peppers sweet kisses along your jawline, down to your neck.

rafe's kisses were reverent, his touch worshipping, as he slowly revealed every last piece of you. like a precious gift being unwrapped for all to see, but only rafe got the pleasure of doing so.

his breath is hot as he traipses his kisses further down your chest, and his lips soft as he presses them perfectly around the nubs of your breasts. flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin and erupting a whirlwind of rampant butterflies in your stomach.

"god, look at you," he mumbles, a hand now rolling down your waist, your thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him the most. you needed to feel him, needed him to touch you, and he knew it. he could tell by the way your hips were ever so slightly bucking up to try and reach his hand. "so needy, baby."

smirking, he slowly glides his fingers over your clit and then begins working small torturous circles over it. your chest starts to rise and fall, the breathe being pulled from your lungs, and rafe pushes the side of his other hand into your mouth to help muffle your moans.

it's then that he presses two fingers inside you, letting his thumb continue to work you as he slowly pumps them in and out. your hips jut up, the pleasure working it's way through you until you couldn't bare it much longer. then it stops.

"rafe..." you whine, panting.

"what? you really think i'm going to waste the chance to have you cum around me?" he meets your face, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking your juices off of them, "not when you taste this sweet."

then, without warning, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. letting nothing else stand between you both, he takes your mouth in a heated kiss. his tongue teasing you skilfully until you're left breathless. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you want him more.

with one hand gripping at your thigh, he uses the other to give himself a few pumps before swiping along your slit to gather your wetness. you jolt as the tip of his cock touches your clit, which he can't help but snicker at, and he slowly starts to push himself in.

rafe was big, there was no denying that, and you would have to bury your head in his shoulder from time to time to stop yourself from crying out as you sink down on him. you could feel him everywhere, and while you didn't have anything to compare it to, you had never felt so full in your life than when rafe was inside you.

it takes a moment to adjust but once he starts moving, all the pressure that had built up quickly turns into pleasure. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him as close to you as you possibly could, your chests moving together as one as he maintains his rhythm. you try to kiss him, but he feels too good inside that all you can do is let out breathy moans.

his thumb moves down to work your clit once more, adding to the pleasure tightening and compressing within your stomach. waves of ecstasy taking over your body as you succumb to your high while rafe tries his best not to cum in you.

you press your head against him as your orgasm rolls through your body, your walls clenching around him and daring to push him over the edge, "fuck, i love watching you cum."

you notice the way his pupils had dilated as he stares up at you now, and you press your lips to his as you slowly lift yourself off of him, immediately feeling empty inside.

"told you i'd make it up to you," he stretches his neck as he leans back to rest on his elbows, closing his eyes long enough for you to work your way down to his waist and take him in your mouth.

he was still so hard, and creamy from being inside you, that the second your lips came in contact, his head lulled back with a sigh. he was already so close to the edge that it didn't take long for him to blow his load in your mouth. and you didn’t waste a drop.

after recollecting yourself, rafe throws you one of his t-shirts to put on and you make yourself comfortable against the headboard of his bed. he, however, instinctively moves to rest his head in your lap, and your fingers idly run circles on his head.

whenever you were with rafe, it felt like all of your problems simply washed away. he made you feel things you never had before. he made you feel alive. and while you loved spending as much time with him as possible, there was always a bittersweet feeling gnawing at you, reminding you that none of this was real, because your time together always had to come to an end.

it was always easier to just rip off the band aid rather than to let it fester until it consumed your every thought.

"you okay?" rafe asks, taking notice of how quiet and spacey you were being. you nod, not wanting to turn this into anything. "you can tell me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand this time.

it was the small gestures like that that made it all the more difficult to keep sneaking around with him. you knew you could never tell him how you were really feeling but the longer you had to lie to your friends or hide away like he was ashamed to be seen with you, the more you wondered if this was how things would always be with him.

he had told you from the start that he had too much going on to be able to commit to anything or make promises he knew he couldn't keep, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. and no matter how many times he tried to reassure you that this wasn't just sex for him, he would always follow up with the fact that he couldn't let himself get carried away. not when ward was watching his every move.

“it’s fine, really,” leaning down, you press another kiss to his lips and then to his nose, “i promise.”

reluctant to believe you, he eventually nods before moving into your touch and nuzzling his face into yours as he kisses you once more. his hands move to guide you as your breath becomes ragged, and just as you’re about to get lost in him once more, you pull away, knowing that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

between breaths, you whisper, “it’s late. i should get going.”

rafe throws his head back into his pillow, heaving a sigh, and where you expected him to agree or even help you gather your clothes from where you had left them all over his floor, he instead stops you. his eyes flutter for a second, and his jaw tenses the way it did whenever he was fighting the thoughts in his head, trying to flush them out, and with a soft voice, he says, “… stay.”

an inaudible gasp leaves you as you contemplate whether or not you had heard him correctly and when you don’t answer, he pulls you back to the bed, "stay... please."

rafe had never asked you to stay before or vis versa, the night always ended with one of you sneaking home, and while you were ecstatic over the revelations, you were also sceptical as to what had changed his mind all of a sudden. he doesn't say anything else, just pulls you back between the sheets and wraps his arm firmly around your waist.

you hadn't given him an answer, but you knew you weren't going to say 'no', who knew if he would ever ask you to stay again. instead, you let yourself melt into his warmth where you remained until the sun began to rise.

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#rafe cameron ᰔ #— not sfw ! ᰔ #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut

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lovelybrooke · 11 months

Note

hi how are you doing? can i request platonic yandere muzan finally being able to take his darling ‘home’ and all he wants to do is spend some time with the reader? thank you!!!

Welcome Home (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader).

This is based on the concept I wrote here: Part 1, part 2.

Check out my other works here.

"You can relax, you are home now."

It was hard to relax inside this place. Everything looked fine, but you could tell something about it was off. There were hallways that went on and on, but for some reason there was only two bedrooms, yours and his. No matter how far you walked, how many doors you opened, it was always the same.

You don't remember this place, but it feels familiar as you wake up on a nice, soft bed. The room you're in has no windows, the whole house is devoid of them, so no natural light can enter the home. Unsurprisingly, this adds to the trapped feeling you get whenever you traveled throughout this strange place.

But what made you feel even more confined, was the man that brought you here.

He wasn't an unfamiliar face, in fact you knew him quite well, or at least you thought you did.

Tsukihiko, was the name he gave you when you asked. You wrote it down on a small sheet of paper, placing it near the canvas you chose.

"So... when are you most available, y'know for the sessions?" Tsukihiko stares down at you, his eyes peering into your soul.

"I work during the day, so any time at night." His voice was tough, which matched his demeanor. He was extremely out of place in your small one-bedroom home, he looked too expensive to be somewhere like that.

"That's fine with me." You nod to him, "I'm assuming you want the sessions to take place at your home." You let out a small laugh, attempting to ease the tension. It doesn't work, and his face remains stoic, like it was stuck in place.

"Yes." Is all he says as he hands you a piece of paper with his address. You take it quickly, scared of wasting his time. Placing the paper down, you watch as the man makes his way out of your home.

"You know sir." You voice stopped him. "There are a lot more... qualified artists willing to do portraits like this."

The man doesn't respond, simply scoffing before walking away, shutting the door behind him. You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders at the strange behaviors of the man, silently hoping this would be over soon and you could get your money.

---

You silently stare at the picture before you.

It's like it was mocking you. Tsukihiko, no, Muzan, stared back at you, and you curse yourself for painting him so well, a constant reminder of who was causing all this.

"You've barely touched your food." You didn't hear him come in, his voice being a surprise to you. Muzan hasn't ate with you since you've arrived, human food not really being his thing.

Muzan is at your side, peering down at you questionably. His face was surprisingly soft, almost filled with worry. You haven't been eating lately and tied with the lack of sunlight and social interaction, you haven't been exactly the heathiest.

You don't respond to Muzan, which doesn't please him. His back straightens and the soft look on his face is replaced with a hard expression. The room is scarily quiet, but the painting across from you fills you with the most dread.

You can hear Muzan move, sitting down beside you as you stare at your food. He can tell that you are afraid of him, in most cases that would fill him with sadistic joy. But with you, it makes him almost disappointed in a way. He's done everything he can to make you comfortable and you still cower in fear at the sight of him.

A small but audible sigh escapes Muzan, causing panic to set into you even more. The idea of what would happen to you if you made Muzan mad terrified you, you could barely keep yourself from crying as he moved himself closer to you.

"I know those fools at the Demon Slayer Corps have fed you lies about me, about what I would do to you." The disgust in his voice is obvious, a harsh snarl coming past his lips as he talks. "But that is just what they are, lies." He takes your hand, causing you to look up at him, eyes shot, and breath caught in your throat.

"You knew me before them, you were not scared of me then."

"I didn't know what you were capable of then." You don't know where the words came from, but you instantly regret them. Your breath quickens as a stupid gape decorates your face. Bullets of sweat runs down your face as you attempt to pull your hand away, however, Muzan's grip to tight to allow it.

Muzan takes your other hand, fulling keeping you seated as he looks you directly in the eye. "I know you are afraid of me, but there is no reason." He gives you a smile that only makes you more afraid. "As long as you follow my rules, I will never hurt you."

---

"Here you go." You place the canvas down, leaning it against the wall. "Just be careful, it's pretty dry, but it could still smudge." You give Tsukihiko a small smile, slightly heaving from the weight of the canvas.

"Thank you, I'm extremely grateful." Tsukihiko smiles at you, giving you a small bow. You giggle, waving him off in embarrassment. This is the first time you've gotten a real commission, you're just to giddy with excitement. It feels nice to finally be taken seriously and to make real money.

Speaking off money, Tsukihiko pulls you aside into his office and begins to count wads of yen. For some reason, you feel nervous as he hands you the money. You've never had this much money before; it makes you feel lavish and expensive. This money means so much to you. It means freedom, it means an opportunity to be something, it means a chance to finally be reunited with your friend, with Tanjiro.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" You jump slightly, staring back at him, nodding. You bow while giving him a small apology.

"Yes! I'm sorry I was just thinking."

"About what to do with the money, perhaps?"

You shake your head, "No, I know what I am going to do with that." Tsukihiko tilts his head, prompting you to continue, "I'm planning on leaving tomorrow."

Tsukihiko froze for second, his face falling as you pocket the money. You don't notice as his posture stiffens, and his face goes hard with anger. When you look back at him, you bow, unaware of any change in behavior.

"I want to thank you for the all the help, I really appreciate it, sir." Tsukihiko doesn't respond, even as you rise and look him in the eyes. His eyes always send a chill up your spine, strangely red and accusatory, they fill you with this foreboding feeling.

Finally, after what seems like ages, Tsukihiko responds, a polite smile crawling up his face, "You're very welcome. I hope you know you're always welcome in my home." I was an unusual response, but one you could live with.

---

"Muzan." You speak up randomly, prompting him to look up from his book. Lately, every night you and Muzan have been spending your time reading together. Sometimes, you two read the same book together, Muzan pushing your head onto his shoulder as he reads the words out to you like you're a baby. Other times, like today, you pick out your own book to read, Muzan simply enjoying your presence.

You swallow down your fear as you continue, "Why am I here."

Muzan simply looks down at his book, flipping the page, "Because I wanted to read with you."

"I mean, why am I here." You put an emphasis on here and point to the ground, slightly annoyed. Muzan doesn't seem faced as your voice raised, slowly closing his book and placing next to him.

"You're here because I want you here." For some reason that made you even more upset, which Muzan can see by your furrowed brows and slight snarl. He simply smiles at you condescendingly, a subtle gleam in his eyes.

"Why? do you not want to be here?" He questioned, his smile not faltering. You don't answer him, which prompts him to pick up his book again. He pats the seat next to him, telling you to sit. Reluctantly, you do so, putting your book back on the shelf and sitting down beside him.

Muzan uses his free hand to push your head onto his shoulder, softy petting your hair as he flips the page.

"A father bonding with their child is important." He smiles down to you, "I can't do that if you're not here, with me." He says his, sharp claws scratching your scalp. It was soothing in a way, your breath steadying as you go in and out of consciousness. You let out a yawn that Muzan chuckles at.

"It's okay, you can rest. I'll be here when you awake."

For some reason, that didn't make you feel any better.

A/n: hope you enjoy. (Also, thank you so much for 700 followers, it means the world to me!!!)

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #soft yandere #demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer #kny muzan #muzan x reader #platonic muzan x reader

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bratzforchris · 2 months

Note

Hi! I hope this isn't too weird, but I was wondering if you could write a fic where Matt is autistic? I see myself a lot in him and the podcast episode where they kept calling him "Miserable Matt" made me think about myself a lot. So maybe a fluffy hurt/comfort fic where he just gets tired of it because it's something he can't help and reader helps him through it with his special interests? It's okay if not! Thank you 💞

My Person, M. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: In which the best cure for everything is cuddles and special interests<3

Pairing: Matt x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic meltdown, going nonverbal, Nick and Chris lowkey suck here 😭

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Thank you for the request! Please remember that my writing is fictional--I am not saying or assuming that Matt is autistic and I definitely don't think Nick and Chris would act this way in real life. It's just a story :) Now, please enjoy 💚

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“Miserable Matt” this and “Miserable Matt” that. It was almost sickening the way he was constantly the target of Nick and Chris’s jokes. Deep down, Matt knew his brothers didn’t really mean any harm, but that didn’t make his feelings any less hurt. He never purposely tried to be sad or depressing when they were filming, it was just kind of the way his natural personality was.

Being autistic, his voice tended to have a flatter affect than most people’s. Even when he was filled with autistic joy, his voice rarely got louder or higher. Usually, his brothers were quite understanding of his disability, always standing up for Matt and making sure he was treated fairly, but then there were days like today, where they were filming an episode for Cut the Camera, and Nick and Chris just couldn’t stop the jokes from rolling off their tongues.

“I dunno,” Matt said quietly, but with a smile, fidgeting with his hands. “I just like to be alone sometimes. It gives me the creative freedom that I don’t always get from other people, y’know?”

“Oh here we go again,” Chris snorted. “Miserable Matt back at again with his depression poetry.”

“That’s not poetry.” Matt grumbled, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

The triplets were currently discussing where they got their video ideas from, and how they stayed motivated to make content, even when they didn’t feel like it. Of course Chris and Nick had ‘normal people’ answers, like going out with friends or going on vacation. But being autistic, Matt didn’t recharge that way. He preferred to be alone to gather his thoughts and reset his mind. So of course, that was made fun of.

-`ღ´-

“So, what do you guys think about the edits people make of you?” Nick asked. “Love or hate them?”

“It depends,” Chris shrugged. “Some of them make me think ‘Damn, I’m fine’, but others are kinda…weird. No offense, guys!” he threw his hands up quickly, smiling at the camera.

“I like them. I think it’s sweet that someone takes time out of their day to edit me.” Matt smiled.

“Yeah,” Nick groaned. “Cause yours are all sad and depressing and ‘poor baby Matt’ while a song from folklore plays in the background.”

“That is so not true.” Matt protested.

“‘Poor Matt and his autism’ while some sad song plays in the background. You like it because it validates you.” Chris chuckled.

“That’s not true!” Matt was starting to get teary eyed, but he couldn’t help it; he was sensitive. “Some of them are nice.”

“Miserable Matt’s gotta watch sad edits of himself to fulfill his aesthetic.” Nick laughed.

All was silent for a moment, until Matt finally spoke, looking at his brothers with watery eyes. “Why are you guys so mean to me?”

“Matt, come on. We’re joking.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“But it’s not a joke,” Matt whispered, avoiding their eyes. “You guys use me as the butt of the joke all the time. ‘Matt’s too quiet’, ‘Miserable Matt’, ‘Matt and his anxiety’. It’s annoying, okay?”

“It’s just a joke, Matt,” Nick tried to explain calmly. “We don’t mean any harm.”

“Do you? Because last time I checked, making fun of someone’s disability or mental health problems is harm.”

“Don’t be like that, bro.” Chris tried to put a comforting, ‘olive branch’ hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“No,” Matt stood up, throwing his headphones off. “I’m done. Finish recording without me.”

The boy quickly exited the room, leaving a stunned Nick and Chris in his wake. Matt didn’t usually lose his cool like that when he knew the camera was rolling, but he hadn’t been sleeping well lately and the last thing he wanted was a recording of him bordering on a meltdown. Even if it could be edited out, he really didn’t want that immortalized forever. They were embarrassing enough as it was.

Matt retreated to his room, anxiously playing with the tangle that he kept in the pocket of his hoodie for when he needed a fidget toy. The calm, woodsy aesthetic of his bedroom relaxed him somewhat as he stepped inside his safe haven. It wasn’t enough, though. He needed someone who got it, who knew it was like to feel different. And so, he pulled out his phone, quickly texting you.

Matt: babe, can we go to the park?

You looked up from your book when Matt’s text came through. As an autistic couple, you had set up a ‘code word’ for when either one of you felt like they were on the verge of having an autistic meltdown, and that was Matt’s. You quickly gathered your things, speeding over to the triplets house as Matt sent you a flurry of texts, somewhat describing what had happened.

When you let yourself in with the key they had given you, Nick and Chris looked up, surprised by your entrance. “Where’s Matt?” You asked.

“In his room.” Chris mumbled, not looking up from his phone.

You didn’t have the energy, nor were you in the mood to deal with the boys right now, so you quickly pushed past them, hurrying up the stairs. “Can I come in, sweetie?” You asked when you reached Matt’s door, knocking softly.

You were quite worried about the silence until your phone pinged with a text of mhm from Matt. You realized that meant that he was probably nonverbal at the moment, and you hastily let yourself into the dark room. Matt had drawn the curtains, turning on one small lamp with a soft, orange glow. Your boyfriend was huddled up under his weighted blanket, headphones on and softly stroking Mr. Wrinkleton’s fur. You let out a breath when you noticed that he seemed much more relaxed than when he had first texted you, but that didn’t stop you from missing the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Hi sweet boy.” You spelled into his palm as you softly set down on the bed beside him.

Matt grabbed his communication cards off the nightstand, riffling through them for a moment, before he showed you the one that said ‘Can I have a hug?’. Without another word, you pulled your boyfriend into a deep pressure hug, knowing they were his favorites. They made his body feel perfectly aligned and usually helped calm him after a meltdown. After a moment, Matt pulled out of your grip, slipping his headphones off.

“We don’t have to talk about it, hun. We’ll work it out with Nick and Chris later, okay? You just relax, baby,” You said gently. “Are you hungry, hun?”

Matt shook his head, grabbing your palm and spelling out ‘I just want you’ in your palm since he didn’t have a card for that. You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. This was one of your favorite parts about being a neurodivergent couple. You just got each other in a way that other people didn’t. You could sit in companionable silence and never feel awkward or bored. In your embrace of him, you noticed that Matt had slid a card towards you that read ‘Can we watch nature videos?’.

One of Matt’s special interests and overall favorite things, was nature, but especially the forest and woodland animals. He could watch the soothing videos of the forest in its natural state for hours and not get bored, which had led you two to make a special card just for that when you were making his communication cards together. Your boy smiled as you stood up, grabbing the remote for his TV, before flicking it to one of Matt’s favorite, ten-hour-long videos of the forest and its animals on YouTube.

“I love you, babe.” You told him as you both got comfortable under his large weighted blanket.

‘I love you!!!!!’ Matt explained, showing you a card.

The extra exclamation points had been at his insistence. He insisted that he loved you more than anyone else and needed you to know that. You couldn’t lie when you said that that had made you smile. You were each other’s first significant other, and Matt made you feel so completely special. Even now, as you laid here together, not speaking but cuddling as you watched videos of chipmunks and deer, you knew that Matt was your person.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @oobleoob @mattsfavwh3re @melguilbert @idek3000hi @faygo-frog @mayhem-72

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