#I will miss them rip in pieces little shoes

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending. 

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack. 

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door. 

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men. 

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night. 

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.” 

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since. 

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone. 

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression. 

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them. 

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice. 

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so. 

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit. 

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you. 

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering. 

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's. 

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked. 

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips. 

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water. 

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them. 

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder. 

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well. 

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back. 

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap? 

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth. 

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open. 

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.” 

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth. 

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique. 

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.” 

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.” 

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile. 

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

Taglist:@pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline @shadowtfpcod @infpt-zylith @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3

[cosmicstarlatte]

Thong (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You decided on a scandalous thong for the day and decided to have some fun by teasing your ♡favorite♡ demon. At RAD. How does he react?

minors/ageless/blank blogs dni or get blocked :c

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dia + Barb

»Tags: ⚠️🔞NSFW , Possessive, Flashing, Some Humor, Smutty-ish, GN Reader/MC

»Notes: Few days late but I hope everyone had a good Valentines day! You are all loved ♡♡♡

Lucifer:

You visited him in his office and "accidentally" knocked a few papers off his desk. You bent down to pick them up.

His eyes widened briefly

Wondered if you did that on purpose

"Luuucifer? Are you okay?" You smiled slyly

So it was. This human is something else.

He leaned in close and whispered in your ear

"Careful now. If I find out anyone other than me saw what I saw, there will be punishment in store for you."

He smirked and rubbed your ass for a brief moment before giving a gentle smack sending you onto your next class

He saw the flustered look on your face and was quite content

Lucifer: 1 You: 0

He invited you into his study later that night though

Mammon:

You met up with Mammon at your locker. You decided to reach down in your locker to get something.

"H-HEY!"

Took off his uniform jacket and tried to cover you up

He was a blushing red mess

"Whaddya think youre doin' wearin' that! Here of all places! Anywhere even! No! I won't allow it!"

Was conflicted [Mammon cannot compute]

He was so turned on but upset thinking about if anyone else saw your thong!

He was so bothered he made you miss class

You two spent it in a secret cozy closet where he kept kissing/biting you all over while whispering "mine!"

Levi:

Oh poor unsuspecting Levi. You decided to tie your shoe in front of him.

Let out a small yelp

Immediate nosebleed

Wasn't sure if he should say something ...or just keep staring intensely

Okay he kept staring

Let out a small groan when you adjusted your thong and winked at him

Seriously!? Teasing him at school!? He should've stuck to online classes!

Skipped your shared class to go jerk off in the restroom

Satan:

You invited him after school to the library to study. While looking for books, you went for all the ones on the bottom shelves.

Could not stop staring while you browsed

Wanted to tell you your thong was showing but decided against it...since no one else was around he was going to enjoy it

He is a demon after all

Studying was hard after that

He found himself daydreaming

Was a little embarrassed he couldn't focus

"Who knew such a small piece of fabric could affect you?" You teased him

Ah so you knew...

Grabbed your hand and led you to an empty classroom for some fun

Asmo:

You sat in the back corner of class with Asmo. You "accidentally" dropped your pencil and bent to get it.

He gasped

Now that is sexy

He was absolutely mesmerized

He passed you a note complimenting your choice of underwear that day

Kept heavily flirting all of class

He might have convinced you to skip the rest of your classes for the day for other activities

Beel:

You invited Beel to the snack machine (RIP your wallet) and bent down to get his snacks.

Really caught off guard by your thong

Thought it was sexy as fuck but shook his head to clear his mind

Quickly told you it was showing

The growl he made wasn't his stomach but his throat when you said "Oh maybe it was meant specifically for you?"

He jerked off later that night to the thought of you doing other things exclusively for him

Belphie:

You were excited to see how this bad boy would react. You walked up to him and smacked his textbook on the ground, then picked it up in a dramatic fashion.

Well that was obviously intentional

But no complaints here...niiice

He snapped one of the strings/waistband

"Okay you got my attention. It looks good on you. It'd look better on the floor though."

Yeah he wasn't going to hold back his thoughts

"How about we visit the attic later? Just me and you?"

Diavolo:

So calm, so collected. But only you knew what a naughty demon he was. You went in straight for the kill and briefly flashed him in his office before running away.

Ohnononono

-Sighs- That human is completely dangerous.

SOS BARBATOS

Shut down the school while he offered a reward to anyone with your whereabouts

It didn't take long

Collected you in his demon form and carried you to his office

"You know what you do to me. Now look what you've done little one."

Barbatos had to cast a silencing spell and canceled the rest of his meetings that day.

I love an impatient feral diavolo,  sigh

Barbatos:

You guys had a little thing going on, but could you actually affect *the* butler? You were curious enough to try. You saw him heading your way and decided to tie your shoe.

Briefly surprised

Well...that's tantalizing

He cleared his throat and politely told you of your fashion faux pas

He took note of your slight disappointment

Oh so it was meant for him...this will be fun

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, tucking something into your hand

"Maybe nothing is better."

You peered in your hand and it was your thong!

He chuckled at your bright red face as you ran towards the restroom

He sent you a text: "I surely hope my visit tonight will be welcomed."

I like to think we won ?? 😩

⬦You might also like: Submissive & Breedable︱Virginity︱Flirting With Others

[s6lars]

happy bday bb!!!! i missed you so much i’m so happy i found your account! do you think you could just do a headcanon of how pedri is as a bf! it’s up to you if you want to include smut

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri as a boyfriend …

contains smut, minors dni.

— the meeting.

he was back home in the canaries and met you a house party one of his mates had hosted

it honestly was just an instant connection

he had gone around talking to different ppl throughout the night but the second he started talking to you …

you were the last person he spoke to. bcs he would not speak w anyone else

but after that it was mostly silence, and he was sad bcs he rlly wanted to get closer

when he was back in barcelona, he found out you lived there too

and after some time and a million encouragements from fer

he had the courage to formally ask you out and you two hit it off not long after that

basically, a he fell first & he fell harder moment 🫶🏼

— dating life.

this man is so gentle with you. just so soft spoken, so attentive, so caring

and let’s not forget how clingy he is

you could be doing anything — chores, just scrolling through your phone and he’ll sneak up behind you and bury his face in the crook of your neck

and he wouldn’t say a single word. just dead silent

but that means all he wants is cuddles and you’re more than happy to oblige !

lets you go in his closet and steals whatever you want. genuinely half your closet is just his hoodies and t-shirts now

speaking of his closet, when you first got your hands on it, you were appalled to say the least. but you’ve since gotten it under control and no more ripped skinny jeans it is

in my eyes, pedri’s love language is quality times.

so when he has the time, it’s date night almost every single week ! renting out literally the whole restaurant so it’s more intimate and romantic

when he’s a bit busier, he does it in other ways

he’ll hire a private chef fer to his house, decorate the dining room with flowers

speaking of …

gifts. always. constantly. and spontaneously!

he’ll ask you what you want for your birthday, or christmas, etc — and you always say you don’t want anything. but then a few days later, you’ll get texts like: “gold or silver?” “what size shoe are you?” “do you like clutches or purses more?”

he’s a simple guy, he’s not flashy, and unless it’s for a new phone or a new car he hates splurging. but when it’s with you, then it’s a whole other story.

loveeees showing you off to his family and friends

he’ll run late to lunch with his friends and say something like, “sorry, my girl was too clingy this morning.”

and they’ll all be fake disgusted but he loves it

oh and about pet names

mi mujer — my woman, when addressing you, it’s his go-to.

and bebé for when he’s speaking to you directly

— the launch.

pedri is famous, which means one way or another, the public will have to know about you guys.

pedri is generally a private guy so i think he’ll let it out slowly

which means … soft launch !

it starts with a goal dedication, he makes your initial with his hands and blows a kiss to the camera

and ppl are instantly like whoa. who was that for

and then it picks up

he posts holiday pics and there’s little bits and pieces of you in them

your hair creeping in a mirror selfie, your manicured hands on a steering wheel, your reflection off of a mirror in a restaurant

and now it gets real serious

fans catch him with a girl as his wallpaper but your face is covered by his hand holding the phone

the bomb drops when he posts a pic on his story. it’s a mirror selfie, you’re both dressed up, and you’re the one taking it. he’s standing behind you, one hand across your abdomen.

both your faces are cropped out. still, ppl are like yeah, he has a girl it’s confirmed

finally, he post a whole dump for you, probably for something special like your birthday and he lets the world know he’s yours !

— the spice.

remember when i said pedri was very gentle earlier?

well he can definitely pull a 180 in bed

i see him as more of a switch, and it depends on his mood

at the start of the relationship, when you were navigating what you both enjoyed in bed, you had to guide him a lot

and that’s when you found out he loves being praised, and asking you to praise him

“does that feel good?” “fuck, right there, yeah?” “like this?”

and when he’s not in control he doesn’t shy away from letting you know how good you’re making him feel, always in your ear

ok but let’s get into how he is when he’s in control

generally at first your sex was pretty vanilla, but you were so tired from work one day and just needed to let it all out

and pedri delivered — he had you bent over the couch, and when you thought you were done, he carried you to his room and made you watch in the mirror as you took him

it was unexpected. but not unwelcome

has a thing for when you tug his hair or leaves scratches on his back. it hurts, but it eggs him on further

and if he's really feeling confident, like if he just won a final or scored an important goal, his stamina is quadrupled. you're not stopping until your legs physically give out

always, always makes sure you get aftercare, even if he can barely stay awake himself

even if it's as simple as just getting you something to drink or standing next to you while you're in the bathroom afterwards, he just wants to let you know that he cares about you

gets super cocky the morning after. especially if he sees you limp a bit

you'll tell him off because you'll have to be at work or smth and he'd sit there with a grin and say, "you were the one who kept begging, harder, please—" (you'd throw a pillow in his face before he could continue)

but it's fine, the morning sex makes up for it ♡

[homestylehughes]

i love you.

pairing(s): jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in where yn finally tells jack and she loves him.

warning(s): completely fluff! a little suggestive towards the end!

wc: 1.4k

an: hiiii loves!!! writing for jack again, i missed writing for him sooo much. so enjoy this is little cute fluffy piece I wrote, i have nooo idea where this came from, like most of my ideas i pull them out of my ass LOLL. working on other works later today, more will be coming this weekend, to make up for my lack of posting. i honestly missed writing soooo much. okay i'm done, for now lol. hopefully you enjoy, like and reblog if you do. much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Tonight was the night, tonight I am going to tell Jack I love him. Jack and I have been dating for 8 months today, and neither of us have said those 3 special words to each other. I've loved jack for about 5 months now, i mean i how could i not? Jacks been the best boyfriend I can ask for, caring and sweet, loving, all of the above. So why was I so scared to say I love you? 

Saying i love you for the first time in a relationship is a big thing, deep down i know jack loves me, well i hope he does. The fear of him not feeling the same why back scares me, but im not letting the fear of his response hold me back anymore. Tonight is the night.

It just so happens to be our 8 month anniversary, Jack insisting that we go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. So here I am standing in front of my mirror smoothing and looking at every piece of myself. Making sure my hair falls in the right places, that my dress all fits in the right places. Over analyzing my makeup, constantly fixing the already perfect lipstick I applied 5 times again.

My phone dings, picking it up with shaking hands, seeing Jack texted me saying he’s down stairs waiting for me. Typing a quick response, I grab my bag from my room, and take a deep breath before I head out my door. The walk to the elevator and the ride down the elevator feels like a lifetime. I'm starting to think I just scrape this idea completely and just head right back up. 

The door opens in the lobby, walking out I send a quick smile and wave to the doormen in the lobby. Pushing open the door, I see Jack standing outside his car, his phone in his hands reading something. As soon as he hears my heels click against the sidewalk, his head pulls up imminently, his eyes wide as he flashes me a smile, shoving his phone in his pocket as he begins to walk towards me. 

“Holy shit” is the first thing Jack says as his hands reach my hips, his cool fingers running along the fabric of my dress. “You look beautiful” 

“Thank you, you look very handsome too.” I saw my eyes running over his body, taking in the dress pants and shirt he had on, even swapping his air forces for a dresser type of shoe. 

“Are you ready for dinner, pretty girl?” he asks, making his way to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for me. 

“Yes I am, lead the way” I say , saluting him once he gets into the car. a laugh rips through him as he starts the car, a smile playing on his face as he turns to me. 

“I can't get over how pretty you are” 

“Jack” 

“What i'm just stating the facts' ' he says with a chuckle, i can feel my face heat up with blush as he continues to look at me. 

“You’re so pretty when you blush” 

“Jackkkkk '' I whine playfully out,  turning my body away so he can't see the smile that breaks out across my face. 

“Do you plan on leaving anytime today?” i ask jokingly  my eyes locked on his

“After i do this” he says

I didn't even register what he had said to me before I felt his hand sliding around my jaw pulling my face towards his, capturing my lips into a sweet kiss. Our lips moving in sync my hands moving to cup his jaw pulling myself even closer to him. 

“I've wanted to do that since I saw you tonight,” Jack says as he pulls away from my lips, his hand still cupping my jaw. Our eyes remained locked for a few more moments, tension, and heat filling the car as we stared at each other. 

Jack clears his throat before pulling his hands from my face, my body already missing the contact. 

“I think we should do that again.” i say look at him

“Baby if we do that again we won't make it to dinner, my control is already being tested by how you look in that dress.” he says as he pulls out of the parking spot, his hands holding the wheel tightly as he begins to drive.

I turn to look out of the window as my face begins to heat up with a blush again, smiling as I look at the city lights as we ride past them. My mind slowly reminds me of what I planned on doing tonight, saying I love you to the man that I love. Might be the scariest thing I've ever done before. The devil on my shoulder starts to control my thoughts as I ask myself, why hasn't Jack said I love you first? What's stopping him, then again what's stopping me? 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, his voice breaking through the silence of the car. “You've been very quiet” he follows 

“I'm okay, sorry” I replied, my hands twirling nervously in my hands.

“You're doing that thing with your hands, somethings up” jack says, i can feel his eyes on me, as he stops at a red light. 

“What's on your mind baby? You know you can talk to me right?” 

“I know i can, i just can't say this to you, i'm scared” i say softly 

“Did someone hurt you, did I do something wrong? Baby look at me” 

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, as I turn my face towards him, feeling mad at myself for making him feel like he did something, just because I can't express how I feel for him, because I'm scared. 

I no longer want to be scared, I love him. I want him to know that I love him, no matter his response. 

I take a deep breath before saying “can I tell you something?” I ask as he pulls into the restaurant, turning off the car before turning to face me. 

“Yes of course, always” Jack says, giving me a small smile, waiting for my next move.

This is all getting to real, i can feel my hands start shaking, my heart beat increasing by each beat. 

“Okay, i don't really know how to say this, but i'll just say it i guess. I- i love you." I finally said. “And I've loved you for a while now, I never knew how to say it to you. I've been so scared of your response, and i didnt know if you felt the same way. Its okay if you don't feel the same-” 

My rambling is suddenly cut off by the feeling of Jack's lips on mine, his lips dancing with mine, I struggle to keep up with him as he tangles his hands in my hair pulling me harder against his lips. 

Jack pulls away first, our chests rising quickly, he stares back at me with wide eyes. 

“Say that again” he says 

“That I love you?” 

“Yes fuck” he says brining his hand to my cheek again holding it softly, looking at me with love and adoration. “I love you.” he finally says.

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing my lips after every word. 

“Im sorry, i know i should have said it a lot sooner” i say looking at him 

“No, I should have said it first,” Jack replies. “But i'm happy you said it, i truly mean it yn, i love you.” 

My heart melts at his words, Jack loves me, he loves me. I couldn't help but smile brightly at him, Jack returning the same smile to me. Suddenly I feel the car being turned on as Jack pulls out of the restaurant, heading the opposite direction.

“Jack, where are you going? I thought we were going to have dinner "I ask, looking at him as he continues to drive away from the restaurant. 

“We’re going home” he says 

“Why are we going home?” I am still very confused about the sudden change of plans.

“Because I want you in my bed, naked. I want to make love to the girl that I love. Is that okay?” he asks, turning his towards me for a brief moment. 

“more than okay with me” i say 

“I love you.”

[cielcius]

bakugou x g/n!reader. drunk!fic, established relationship, injury, more crack than less hurt/more comfort, good ending (i promise)

if there is one thing katsuki has ever gotten mad at you for, it’s ripping his clothes.

he’s not talking about his pro-hero costume, no, they have multiple copies of his costume and the patterns down to the secret inside pockets kept on the inside of his pants. he’s talking about his regular clothes, “civilian clothes”, not all particularly that expensive and nothing really all that special, but certain clothes tend to go out of style.

it just so happened that you ripped the one shirt that went out of style years ago, now unattainable, and completely heart-wrenching for katsuki to watch through the tears in his eyes. and it all started with a guys’ night out:

“y/n?” you hum into the speaker of your phone, confusion slowly starting to cloud your mind when you hear todoroki’s voice contrary to the caller id showing your husband. “um, do you think you can come and pick bakugou up? he keeps... crying.”

a silent gasp falls from your lips, almost in disbelief. not that the sight of katsuki crying was unheard of, but in public? “oh my, i'm coming now but what happened?” you can hear todoroki sigh into the receiver, and it’s a long sigh. “uh, i think something with wanting you. everybody else is too drunk.”

“and you?”

“i wish i was.” ah, so todoroki is driving. “ok, i’ll be there in a bit. watch him please.” you hear something like a noise of protest as you’re putting on your shoes. “it’s kinda weird to watch bakugou cry but i’ll try.”

— 

arriving on the scene—the bar located halfway across the city—you’re greeted with the sight of katsuki on the ground, a beer bottle still in hand and his jacket acting as a blanket as he slumps back against todoroki’s legs. as you walk closer, you can hear the low drunken murmurs of your husband as he rambles to todoroki.

“’m miss y/n. wanna go to them. wan’ some ice cream. rocky road, no, mint chocolate. who eats sorbet? how do you even pronounce sorbet? where’s y/n?”

you can’t find yourself suppressing the smile that crawls onto your lips at katsuki’s drunken monologue, nodding at todoroki once he spots you. “oh good. you’re here.”

“who’s here? shut up, icyhot. ‘m talkin’ here.” kneeling down to katsuki’s line of sight, you watch as his eyes grow wide, brimmed in red and slightly swollen from the tears that had been spoken of over the phone. “katsuki,” you smile. “let’s go home.” nodding to todoroki again, you watch as he makes his way back into the bar while you make the venture back home with your husband slung heavily over your shoulders.

— 

nearly gasping for air, you toss your keys into the dish placed by the doorway, setting katsuki down before working on getting both your shoes off. “y/n,” you hum in response. “are we home yet?” you huff in amusement. “yes katsuki, we’re home and need to get you some water.”

“mm. ‘m thirsty.” with a little help on katsuki’s behalf, you get him into a chair at the table before grabbing a glass of water and setting it down in front of him. that was your first mistake.

the glass falls at the attempt katsuki makes to grab for it, shattering into pieces against the hardwood floors. “oh no, katsuki, are you okay?” without answering your question, katsuki starts to reach down at the pieces, grabbing at the large pieces before he winces.

blood, lots of blood. the palm of his hand starts to bleed an unrealistic amount of red, dripping onto the floor slowly. letting the piece of glass fall from his hand, katsuki, almost comedically, falls out of his seat and onto the ground. you quickly make your way around the broken glass in a frantic state of panic. that was your second mistake.

not wanting to lose any more blood, you rip a strip of cloth off the bottom of katsuki’s shirt and quickly wrap it around his palm, paying no mind to the onslaught of tears that were soon to come with your actions. 

“you,” you look up at katsuki, eyes searching his and widening when you find them glossy with tears. “you ripped my shirt. my shirt...” you open your mouth, but you’re speechless.

slowly, you come to grasp your senses. “i'm sorry, katsuki, but you’re bleeding. we should go to the hospital in case there’s glass in your hand.” you stand, about to help katsuki up until he turns his head away with a hmph. you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. did he just “hmph” you?

“no. ‘m not going with you.”

“but katsuki, you’re bleeding.” crossing his arms, he looks back at you with hellfire in his eyes. “i. don’t. care.” as if he was reviving his teenage rebellion, katsuki narrows his eyes into a glare, challenging you to talk back, and talk back you did.

“you’re hurt, katsuki. i outta leave you here if you keep acting like this.”

“then do it!” your jaw drops at his response and you swear your eye is twitching, ears not believing a single thing you were hearing and yet you watch as your husband gives the sass to go along with his attitude. before you can act further, katsuki stumbles to his feet, the cloth around his hand covered in clouds of blood but he walks it off as he makes his way to your bedroom.

following him, still in disbelief, you watch as katsuki pulls out your duffel bag before throwing in an odd mix of his and your clothes. “are we going somewhere? like the hospital.” at your remark, katsuki shoots a glare at you once again before going back to packing. “no, me. ‘m going to kirishima’s cause at least he won’t rip my clothes.”

with a bag full of who-knows-what, katsuki gets to the front door, picking up a shoe to go on the opposite foot before his nose scrunches up at the discomfort.  “katsuki, kirishima is the one friend most likely to rip your clothes.”

“then i'll go somewhere else. even if it has to be icyhot’s place.” though contrary to his words, you see katsuki shiver in distaste at having to stay at todoroki’s house. the sight makes you laugh tiredly. “katsuki,” you bend down to where katsuki is seated, trying to get his other shoe on. “i'm sorry i ripped your shirt.” at your apology, katsuki stops and sits limp with a pout.

“’s my favorite shirt.”

“i know.”

“they don’t sell them anymore.”

“i know. but katsuki,” he looks up at you. “your parents made that shirt.”

“my parents made it.” his pout grows deeper, shoulders sagging.

“and i'm pretty sure they can make one more for you.” like a spring, katsuki bounces back with a small smile and a glimmer in his eyes. “really? you think they’ll make me another one?” you nod, quietly laughing at your husband’s boyish giddiness. “of course. you’re their son, and they love you very much.”

katsuki’s smile lasts for a few seconds before faltering. “but, i love you.” you pat his shoulder. “i know, katsuki. i love you too.” even then, katsuki begins to sport a small pout. “but, i yelled at you.” you smile, almost sadly.

“it’s okay, katsuki. you didn’t yell but you were mad and it was my fault. no matter what, as long as we can apologize and own up to our mistakes, we’ll always be okay.”

“always?” you nod. “always.” you smooth the bangs of his hair back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “let’s go to the hospital to make sure you’re okay, and then we can sleep in all day tomorrow. okay?” nodding quietly, katsuki lets you put his shoes on the right feet, grab the keys, and guide him to the hospital, smiling as you take his hand in yours with a smile.

[divineidolatry]

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER TWO

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 6,747

index: previous chapter

Coryo, ever good at playing the gentleman, gets out first and offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. It’s comforting, being able to lean on him for stability as you cross the pristine and empty lobby to the elevator. It’s all familiar. Nothing has changed. Even the staff remembers your name. It’s like you never left.

He puts a hand over yours, looking at you with that cool expression of his that you know so well, full of poise and elegance, but there is an unmistakable pull in the air between you. The elevator doors open and he bows his head to the neighbors coming out, exchanging a brief pleasantry, and you put on a pleasant face. Part of you wants him to see you still hold the value you promised: perfect at his side, controlled to the very end.

When the elevator doors slide shut and the gears begin pulling it up, he releases a sigh and pushes you up against the gilded walls, hand dropping down to your hips.

“I missed the scent of your perfume in here,” he whispers in your ear, and it’s hard to trust him, hard to believe he means any sweetness he says — but what’s the harm? He buries his nose under your ear and inhales deep, his breath hot and humid against your skin.

You swallow, licking your lips, watching the floors pass by. 10, 11…

“I missed the scent of you.” His lips graze your earlobe and you can’t hold it back anymore — you missed this, you missed him, you missed his skin pressed to yours, his touch. You moan, and as the elevator slows down as it gets to his floor, you feel him smile against your neck.

The board is all his.

He wastes no time scooping you up to carry you to the bedroom, tossing your fur shawl off to the side somewhere between entrance and bedroom. Setting you down on his bed, he pauses for a moment, looking at you like he has discovered a piece of priceless art thought to be lost to time. You stare back, pulse quick, blinking too much, wondering when the bubble will burst. This is delicate, too delicate, you were supposed to be clashing, ripping clothing off one another, begging for release — and instead there’s a tender fondness lurking in the room, offsetting your balance.

“Coriolanus…” Your voice is barely more than a breath. He stiffens a little, annoyed that you’d dare disrupt his reverie.

And that’s the thing. Even though you are here, there is that tug in your heart that nothing has truly been resolved. You’re just a moth to the flame, likely to get burned.

You squirm under his gaze, wanting him to take you, touch you, tease you, anything. Instead, he just looks you over, inch by inch, his eyes roving and hungry. The fire in him is rising and you tremble, eager to be consumed, and you part your lips a little, wetting them. It catches his eyes and he comes closer, leaning over you toy with the pearls on the gown’s bodice. He tugs a little on them, not bothering to look up at you.

What game is he getting at now?

“Stay still.”

Ah, there it is. The command in his voice, something sharp entering his gaze. A terrible and pleasant shiver passes through you, your body knowing what’s coming before your mind catches up.

He pulls a butterfly knife out from his coat pocket, flicking it against the pearls of your dress, tearing them off and ruining the design. You pout, but he gently traces the knife along the velvet, cutting at the straps, his brow furrowed with intense focus. This is simply meant to debase you, to ruin you, to claim you. And when he pulls up your skirt, he will find you soaking through the silk and lace of your lingerie.

“Coryo…” Your whine brings his eyes back to your face. He looks entirely unamused.

“You know better than that, doll.”

“I liked this dress, sir.” You are huffy and indignant, and you know what that does to him, how it irks him to have you pushing back. It’s easy to read on his face, how he wants nothing more than to lift you up, shove you against a wall, and put you in your place, you begging and blubbering all the while.

And it is exactly where you want to be.

“I know. Stand up.”

No more room for debate. You do as told, turning your back to him as he slices the knife through the ties of your bodice. The sensation of cool air touching your skin makes you whimper, and he presses himself to your backside, letting you bask in the heat of him, a taste of what’s to come.

The wet heat of his breath against the nape of your neck sends goosebumps down your arms, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Do you remember your safe word, darling?”

You nod and he sighs. Is it relief? Is it joy? You aren’t quite sure, and he doesn’t let you linger on it before he turns you around and gives your ruined dress the gentlest of tugs, watching intently as your breasts spill out.

“There you are… starting to look like the slut you are.” His words are unforgving, and he smirks at the whine catching in your throat.

“Oh? Do you disagree? Good girls don’t usually give their exes fuck me eyes at a high society balls, or beg to be taken by them in the back of a car, now do they?” He sounds like a right prick, and you’ve never been more attracted to him in your life.

You shake your head, feeling the warm, salty sting of tears, and he steps close, pressing himself to you as he twists your chin upwards to lick at the wet trail running down your cheek.

“Crawling back to me like this, grinding against me like a common whore… just look at you.” He drags a hand up from your waist to grasp at your breast, pinching the nipple, appraising you in a way that has you pressing your thighs together, something he does not fail to note.

“I’d strip you bare now and give you exactly what you want if I were a better man.” His eyes flash cruel and dark, and he’s so dangerously beautiful like this. Like he wants to watch you turn to cinders in his hands if you’d let him — and you would. “But I don’t think you need that, no. You need to be debased. You need be used. Isn’t that right, darling?”

He wants you to admit it, beg for him to tease you, treat you like a whore, use and degrade you, and you are burning up with want for him to do exactly that.

You only hesitate for a moment before you nod, swallowing thickly. “Mhm. Please put me in my place, sir.”

He laughs at you, harsh and oppressive, but you can feel the growing hardness pressing against your lower belly. As easy as you are, he’s no better for when you drip ’sir’ from your lips like honey for his ego.

“Oh darling…” He runs a thumb over your kiss-swollen lower lip. “You can ask me much better than that. Remember, I’ve seen how low you’ll go to debase yourself for me, so let’s not play dumb, hmm?”

You swallow again and it feels like rocks. He has begun fondling your other breast, letting its weight feel some relief from the way he massages it, watching as your mouth goes agape when he toys with the nipple. Everything is betraying you, any argument you might make faltering in your head.

You close your eyes, jaw quaking with poorly contained need, an intense blush bleeding over your cheeks.

“Sir, I want you to treat me like the whore that I am. Please, punish and use me as you see fit, for I want nothing more than to serve as your slut.”

You sound so desperate and you hate how humiliating that is, but he steps back and pushes you back onto the bed, kneeling down to lift the hem of your dress and bunch it up around your waist.

“Let me see if your words hold any meaning,” he murmurs against the tender skin of your inner thigh. Like a starved man, he bends his head down and sucks at the gusset of your underwear, the sound so loud in your ears that you feel dizzy. It’s obscenely filthy, and you can feel his wet tongue through the soaked fabric, licking at the edges. When it makes contact with your skin, it feels like a bolt of electricity crackling through your nerves.

You lift a gloved hand to thread through his hair, holding him there and bucking into his mouth, stealing a moment of this. When he comes up, your hand falls away, surrendering to the dark and primal in his eyes.

“You’re soaked through, desperate, and what I give you still isn’t enough, mm?”

There’s a shred of defiance in you, and you cling to it like a weapon, leveraging it to egg him on. “I need more.”

He retrieves the knife from his pocket and trails it with a feather-light touch over your underwear. “Look,” he commands as he grabs one side, slicing the knife through, then repeats on the other, peeling the tattered garment away and throwing it to the side.

He sits back, smirking, smugly satisfied with himself. “Look at you. A fallen grace.” He shifts to the side, allowing you to look in the mirror across from his bed, and oh, you know what he means, you’ve seen the marble statues on show from the old world. Your ruined dress pools around your waist, tits hanging out, cunt dripping and accessible: there’s no other way to put it, he’s reduced you to a simple whore.

“You can dress yourself up in your finest, parade yourself around like the queen of high society, and charm the masses with your wit, but I know who you really are.”

Your eyes meet his, knowing he is watching your uneven breath, the minute movements of your body in response to his words. There is a cruel glint in his gaze as he continues to undo you with nothing more than his voice, the words dripping like honeyed poison from his lips.

“You’re nothing more than a greedy little girl who wants to be made to submit, to take cock in each and every hole until you forget yourself, to cum until you’re stupid and no one else in the world would want you… no one but me.”

He reaches down and cups a hand over your cunt, running a finger through all your slick, and there’s a twisted delight on his face.

“You’re dripping, darling. And I’ve barely touched you… what do you have to say for yourself?”

You writhe, bucking your hips against his hand only to find emptiness as he swiftly moves away, clicking his tongue at your greed.

“Ah, ah. Where are your manners?”

You hate him for it, the bastard, but he knows how to wring it from you. “Please, sir,” you whimper, clutching the bedsheets around you so hard you feel the nails tearing the fine fabric. “Please. Touch me. Spit on me. Do anything to me.”

You need him. You are under his thumb.

And he always knows what you want. For his cruel touch, you’d walk through any blaze — it’s the only thing that stirs you anymore, the only thing that feels real in this society of masks and charades.

Deep down, you hope that is what he sees in you too…

He pulls you off the bed and pushes your trembling body down on your knees. He sneers down at you with disdain, running a hand through your hair before he tugs at it to crane your neck up, causing you to let out a whining cry.

“What am I to do with such a filthy whore but use her for her intended purpose, right?”

You watch him, desperate with need. He releases your hair and slaps your cheek.

“You know when I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do you think you can do that for me, hmm?”

You nod, thrilling at the touch even as it stings.

“Yes, sir.” You wince at how pathetic you sound.

“Good girl.” The words are a purr from his lips. “Now, I believe you know how to service me with that mouth. So show me what you’re best used for.”

Consumed with want as you are, you hastily undo his belt and unzip his trousers, licking the hard curve through his underwear. Your saliva hangs in thick strings between the fabric and your mouth, and he groans above you, fingers tightening in your hair. It spurns you on as you free his cock. You tongue at the tip, messy and wet, saliva already dripping down over your chin before taking it into your mouth, stabilizing yourself with a hand at his thigh. The hand in your hair softens its grip and he runs his fingers through your hair. You sigh around him, the touch so gentle, so pleasantly encouraging as you slowly take more of him in. His length and girth fills your mouth, and you push it as far back as you can take, and he lets out a hitched groan as you begin to bob your head at a languid but steady pace.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” His voice is low, heated. You’re already getting to him, and that’s good, but the praise gets to you too, leaving you whimpering around his cock and bucking your hips, wanting just a little touch, anything…

“You’re not really sucking like a proper whore though, are you?”

His other hand comes up to your hair and you feel his fingers comb through to establish a firm grip. You stutter a little, but pick up the pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him as deep as possible, relaxing your throat — if you just breathe a little deeper, maybe you can take him to the root, maybe…

“That’s it, that’s it, good little whore.”

And you can tell he means it by the laboured breathing. Your increased pace is met with him starting to thrust into your mouth, leaving you to choke and slobber around his cock, drooling and making a mess of yourself that drips down over your chin, spilling over your breasts. As you descend further to your place beneath him, you can tell he is doing the same, getting lost in the way he wants to take you, ravish you, own you. No role comes as easy as this to you — and he’s the one who could get you there with a snap of his fingers.

So you give him bite, just like when you first met. The slightest bit of teeth as he fucks your face, and you hear him moan shortly before he cums down your throat. You’ve surprised him, taken that from him, and it is a victory. Credit where it is due, however, he’s quick to pull out and let some of his cum hit your chest, turning you into an even worse mess. Even as you look more the part he wants you in, you can tell he is frustrated, and you’re thrilled to find out what comes next.

You watch — not without a little disappointed whine — him tuck himself back into his underwear, zip his trousers back up, and it isn’t long before he has a cruel grip at your chin.

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”

He sounds furious and his expression leaves no room for doubt. You obey, and you know it’s coming before his cool saliva hits your tongue as he spits in your mouth.

“Close your mouth and swallow, cunt.”

You swallow, loudly, humiliatingly, and there’s tears welling in the corners of your eyes again, hot and shameful. You open it again without him asking, showing your clean tongue, showing how good you can be.

“Please, sir… I want to cum…”

He laughs at you. There are tears streaming down your face, you know he sees how desperate you are and all he does is stick the toe of his dress shoe against your cunt.

“If you want to cum, darling, you can rut against my shoe.”

You wish you had shame left, but he has ripped it clean out of you with how badly you need him. There’s no hesitation as you cling to his thigh, rocking your hips as you finally find an angle that has your swollen clit pressing against the smooth leather of his shoe, smearing the polished dark with your wetness. You’re close, you hate how close you are, rutting against his shoe, but the moans betray you, everything betrays you, and you look up to find him smirking down at you.

“You continue to impress me with how desperate you are for me. Your first orgasm of the night, and it’s going to be had clinging to my shoe like dirt.”

Sobbing, you rut harder, more desperate, because you need this. You need to cum, you need him to see you like this, pathetic with your need for him so that maybe he might take you, cruelty and all. You know he wants to, know he is as desperate as you from how he just came, he just wants you to play his games, debase yourself, and you’ve never had a problem with that before. The guilt of tonight only makes it sweeter.

“You’re close, aren’t you, whore?”

You nod, your body taut and trembling. “I’m so close, sir, please.”

And he denies you.

He pulls you up, your shaky legs made worse by the heels still on your feet, and he scoops you up to bring you over to his desk, plopping you down on it. The blubbery crying escalates, thick in your throat, vicious and demeaning. You were so damn close.

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He leans over you, grabbing your face. “You truly are a stupid brat.”

It’s a victory, you think, because he’s still upset you made him cum already, but it’s not a terribly sweet one all things considered.

“Stupid little whore thought she’d get to cum just like that?” He punctuates his words with gentle but firm slaps against your cheek, leaving the skin burning hot. “You’re the one who begged me to treat you like this. While you’re crying over that lost orgasm, remember all the ways you’ve debased yourself for me already. And yet you still think you have a say when you cum. Don’t be a fool. It doesn’t become you.”

You glare at him for that, pained from your need and furious for his words. He’s punishing you for leaving, you’re far too intelligent to miss that even at this stage and he knows as much.

He circles the desk where you are sat, seeming to think. The moment drags out, silent and unnerving, your sticky breasts cold in the chill air. It’s getting harder to predict his moves — and a part of you no longer wants to. You want him to wash over you with the ruthlessness of the ocean, drag you under into waves of pleasure. Anything his calculating mind concocts is a treat, however harsh it feels in the moment.

He nudges you into a standing up after a while, tugging your dress down and off, letting it pool around your feet. The gloves go with it, and now all you have on are heels that have become far too wobbly, and the pearl jewelry.

“Don’t move. Heels stay on for the night.”

Ah. You’ve played together like this before, he likes how they look on you and they act as their own sort of punishment, painful and demanding. He arranges you so that you sit straight up, hands splayed out on the dark wood surface on either side — and he makes you wait like that as he steps away to the drawers where he keeps his collection of tools and toys.

Looking around the room as you wait, you note little has changed; it’s as familiar as when you were sleeping here every night, spacious but well decorated, including touches you’d suggested to him. You figured he might have replaced certain things, things you were certain were just him entertaining your vision, but no, the room remains as much yours as it was his… It’s a strange feeling.

He stands before you again, snapping you out of your drifting thoughts as he sets a few things down on the desk behind you, and there’s a bit of an unreadable glint in his eyes. But it’s nothing good, it never is. He palms your breasts again, gaze focused on them as a smirk crosses his features.

“Sometimes I think I should fuck you up against a window so the entirety of the Capitol can see how gorgeous your breasts are, and know that they’re all mine.” He sounds serious, but as much as he would delight in everyone knowing how much he owned you, you knew he was far too possessive to ever let anyone else actually see you like that.

“But no matter, I can treat myself to an even better view, isn’t that right?”

It’s infuriating how smug he is, but you nod. He loves when you surrender to his judgement, accept your place with affirmations, reminding him just how much you want what he doles out.

He picks up a clover clamp, and as he pinches one of your nipples to attach the clamp you let out a whine. It pinches, it aches, and it’s going straight to your cunt, feeling so good and vicious all at once. He retrieves another, repeating the process, and then you see a tiny strand of pearls in his hand and at the center of it: a little weight. He loops one end into one of the clamps and you whimper pathetically as it tugs heavily at your nipple. The other end is attached and you want to cry, but refuse him the satisfaction, biting back.

“Now, I think a trade is in order.”

You don’t comprehend what he means until he reaches behind you to unclasp the double strand of pearls from your neck, pocketing it. You want to pull them back, they’re yours, he gave them to you, but you resist, pressing your palms down hard against the table. He’s pushing you, and you will snap… but not in this moment. You want him to put in the work.

He takes the last items from behind you into his hands, and pushes you back until you’re lying down on the desk. Circling you, he ties your wrists together in silk. It’s slippery and delicate, and you could break loose easily; it’s a test — of willingness? Loyalty? Weakness?

“You’re breathtaking.” It’s like a revelation from his lips, and far too emotional for you right now.

“Don’t—” Your protest is short lived as he puts his hand over your mouth, a warning.

“Do you want me to gag you too?”

When you shake your head, he releases you.

“I’ll say it again, then. You are breathtaking, always, and absolutely beautiful when you submit to me like this.” He is speaking softer, it’s a moment of vulnerability that kind of pisses you off, and on the other hand makes you want to sob. It’s unfair that he knows how to pull at you like this, knows just when to go so soft that it throws off your balance. It shouldn’t make you whimper and rub your legs together, but it does. His mask comes back up.

“Legs apart, slut.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you’re told now, watching with a held breath as he comes to stand between your legs. He sees the eager expectation on your face and quick as a flash, he slaps your cunt with a few light strokes, smiling wide as you cry out and try to press your legs together. He won’t let you.

“Ah ah. Not this time. You’re not getting away from this.”

Pulling the pearls, your pearls, from his pocket, he leans over you and runs them over your wet cunt, coating them in your slick. For a minute, he teases like this, lightly running them along your clit in fleeting touches, a brush of the smooth pearls and nothing more. You let out quiet moans, breathy little things, and he chuckles.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that?”

He takes the pearls and twists them until they encircle your clit, pushing on both sides to create pressure. It draws a ragged moan from you as you dig your nails into your palms, twisting in the soft silk ties.

Removing the pearls for a moment, he gives the weight connected to your nipple clamps a firm tug, leading to a keening wail from you, pulling it until you whimper and whine, your jaw quaking from how good and awful it feels.

He drops it back down on your tummy as if losing interest in it, and continues to drag the pearls around, every so often circling and pressing into your clit, giving you want you want only to yank it away moments later. When he does, he hooks a finger into the chain connecting your nipples and tugs, hard enough to remind you: pain and pleasure go hand in hand. It leaves you breathing heavy, silent tears running down your cheeks and onto the desk. You need release badly, worsened from the earlier denial.

“Remember, you don’t cum without permission.” It’s a stern reminder, and you know the weight of disobeying.

“Please, sir, please, I need to cum, please make me cum, please…” You cry and blubber and whimper, but he merely tuts at you.

There’s no relenting from tormenting your clit, then easing up or ceasing entirely while he toys with your sore nipples, the chain a cruel reminder of all you’ve surrendered to him tonight. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come close from this, you worry your palms may begin to bleed, and you don’t know how much longer you can withstand this. Theres a sheen of sweat across your body when he seemingly stops entirely and you watch with hooded, cautious eyes as he comes around the desk. You expect him to put the necklace around your neck again where it belongs, where he’s fastened it so many times, and instead he shoves the the wet, slippery pearls into your mouth. You whimper around them, tasting yourself, and he runs a gentle hand through your hair as you notice him straining against his trousers again.

“I’m going to fuck you now, doll. You’re allowed to cum when I do.”

You whine in relief.

Circling back to the other end of the desk, he undoes his trousers, freeing his cock of his underwear, and lines it up with your greedy cunt. He teases the tip along your wet folds, groaning as you buck your hips, trying to get him inside of you already. He pinches your clit until you still, your breathing twisted through with moans and whines, and when he finally pushes in, you swear you see stars as he stretches you open. It’s so good, it’s so filling, you have felt so hollow and empty all night and now he’s filling you to the brim with his cock.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Drenching my cock like this… you feel so good.”

It’s the sweetest praise you’ve heard all night.

He starts moving agonizingly slow and the tears continue to come against your will — it’s so much, how your cunt clenches around him, how badly you need him. You want relief and you want him deep inside, you want him to hit that spot and you want him buried inside you until you feel your clit rubbing against his skin.

His pace picks up steadily, and you can feel the weight between your breasts rolling and tugging, making you whimper from the tenderness. He reaches up to remove the clamps, each one eliciting a pained cry from you as the blood begins to rush back, leaving them even more tender and sensitive than before.

Everything in your body is alight from the stimulation and edging, and you feel every inch of his girth stretching you open. You haven’t been fucked in months and your body can’t get enough of his.

He grabs your hips, nails digging in as he picks up the pace, the thrusts growing erratic as he leans over you.

“Look at me,” he groans, and you do.

For a moment, you can’t see anything but him: he fills up all your senses, his words command your absolute attention, and his cock, it’s pushing you to breaking. Though your body is aware, your mind is a haze, and before you realize it you are clenching and fluttering against him, squirting and making a mess of the desk, of his suit, and biting down on the pearls so hard they break apart, spilling all over and making soft noises as they roll over the desk and onto the floor. You’re shaking and trembling and he’s still fucking you, chasing his own need, moaning as he does.

“Such a sweet, tight cunt for me,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe on your cheek were tears have rolled down. “I know you can cum again.”

Your whimpers are desperate, the sensation of him continuing to fuck you is verging on too much, but you cum again, and again, or rather you really never stop cumming. He delights in the mess he’s made of you, working one hand between your sweaty bodies to play with your clit. The sensation snaps the last strings in you, and you begin sobbing, reduced to nothing in the palm of his hand. He’s so cruel, his touch is horrid, and you want him, you need him, you can never get enough of him.

You hear him groan above you, his hips snapping against yours sharply, and you feel him cum inside you. He thrusts deep one final time and you both moan, the mess spilling between you as his mask breaks. He’s spent, and he’s vulnerable, and even though you’re shaking and trembling, you know you have him as much as he has you.

He stands there for a moment, staring down at you with adoration and something you cannot read. You’re sagged against the desk, spent, and you whine as he pulls out, cunt gaping empty. Some of his cum drips out of you and pools on the desk below.

“Messy, my cum leaking out of you like that.”

Your cheeks flush with shame, his gaze feeling too hot now as he gently strokes your clit again, pushing some of his cum back in. It’s obscene, the sound, the feeling, and you’re relieved when he undoes your heels before he unties your hands.

The game is over. You’re not sure who won, only how good and wrecked you feel, thoroughly fucked by the only man that has ever drawn out this side in you.

“You did so well, darling.” His voice is soft, but filled with the same heat you heard from him at the ball.

Your eyes land on some of the pearls scattered on the desk, a tired hand absently playing with one. You’re pretty upset they ended up ruined like that, but if he catches the sullen look on your face he doesn’t say anything, and you won’t be bringing it up. Some losses are inevitable in war. You can take it. The pearls had been like a collar, a profession that you were his. You taunted him with that at the ball but this wasn’t love, not anymore.

The complexity of it all settles back into you, and you blink rapidly a few times, trying to bite down on the mixed feelings. You’re broken up, and yet… You’re here. With him. And now?

He scoops you up silently, watching your face carefully as you look up at him. Neither of you speak as he carries you to the ensuite, easing you into the tub as he turns on the hot water, the level of luxury indulgences he could enjoy knowing no bounds.

You wince a little for the heat against some of your more sensitive areas, but you sink into the feeling, letting yourself finally relax after a long night. Though your eyes are heavy, you watch him, head in hand, as he undresses completely. A sight for sore eyes at least: his body is just as beautiful and firm as you remember it, a surprise to find under his handsome suits.

Gently, he helps you scoot forward, giving him enough room to slide in behind you, putting his legs around yours. He presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. You kind of want to shout at him for being so tender with you, so romantic, but you’re still a little gone, and there isn’t much room for you to escape as you are. So you try to ease up, let him take care of you. You can try to quell whatever possessive notions he has later. Harder with the ones burning a hole in your gut, but you breathe in deep, leaning into his touch.

He doesn’t speak as he fixates on taking care of you, and you listen to his even breathing and the sounds of the bath, the clink of a glass cup being picked up, filled with water, then poured over your hair. Herbal shampoo that you know costs more than what some citizens spend on a nice dinner, massaged into your scalp. You feel like a prized possession as he rinses it out thoroughly before following it up with conditioner, gently run through the locks of your hair.

Slowly you feel yourself coming back up from the space you sank into as he washes your body, slowly and tenderly, cleaning of the sweat and grime of the evening. You sink further into him, resting your head back on his shoulder, and when he reaches down to help clean off your cunt, you sigh.

“Feels good,” you murmur. Shit. You didn’t mean to.

He chuckles and you feel the rumble against your back, but either he is too concentrated on his task, or he is pocketing that to use against you later. Maybe it is just a mercy he is offering you this once but… no, you know him better than that.

When he is satisfied with his work on you, he lets you both just sit there, bask in the ease of the moment. Surely he knows you won’t let it drift on forever, but it would be so easy to. He places a kiss to your temple and you would cry if you had it in you. He shushes you, as if he knows the inside of your head already, as if he knows each crevice of your mind… and maybe you can’t put it past him.

“We can fight in the morning,” he says, “just relax. You’ve had a long night.”

Well, at least he knows you won’t go down easy.

When the bath has run its course, he helps you towel off and carries you back to bed. Moments like these always make you almost mistake him for a gentleman. Almost. You don’t know all that lurks underneath, but the shadow flickers across him now and again, an abyss you could fall into. Maybe you want to.

When the two of you are tucked under the duvet, he lays a kiss to your shoulder blade and pulls you close.

“Are you alright?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, and you know he is just checking in with you about the scene. Everything else is too complicated for such a question.

“Mmm, ‘m good.” The words are slurred and messy this close to sleep, and pressed against his body, his arm holding you close, you finally fall away from waking, dreaming of nothing.

Sunlight isn’t supposed to be this harsh this early. Still, as it starts to pour in through the tall windows of the penthouse bedroom, you rub your eyes and wince at how bright it illuminates your shame. You should not be here. It pounds like a depraved headache in your mind.

Despite the way he let your relationship fall by the wayside before, Coriolanus Snow is a possessive fucking bastard and you just played right into his need to keep you. You’re right back to where he likes to keep you, and you let your guard down and let it happen. Foolish. Greedy. Slutty.

He’s still sleeping next to you, arm draped over his face to blot out the sunlight. As quietly and swiftly as possible, you look around for something you can wear home as only your gloves and fur shawl wouldn’t exactly cut it. Not without causing a scene worthy of exile.

You’re not sneaking out, you fully intend to make good on his promise last night and get a few meaningful barbs in before you walk out of his life for good, but it would be best if you could do so fully dressed. Pretty certain you must have left a thing or two behind, you scamper over to the walk-in and peruse your options. Lingerie, a few pairs of heels, and a couple silk slips… not your first choice but it will have to do. With the shawl, it might be just chic enough for stepping out when your chauffeur arrives.

When you step out, his eyes are on you immediately, sat up in bed as he is. He’s watching you with a bemused grin.

“Leaving so soon? I was going to offer you a round two.” Bastard. He looks so fucking self-assured.

“How generous,” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I’m pretty confident in telling you that won’t be happening in this lifetime, Coriolanus.”

“You sure? Last night you were cockdrunk like an addict. If I remember correctly, you even cried over how good it felt.”

He’s not wrong, the words are a blow because yes, part of you does want to stay but in the harsh light of day, your desire to play a better game rears its vicious head. He can’t get everything he wants with just a cocky snap of his fingers.

As you take another step toward the door, you watch his face drop, and you pause, looking back at him.

“Ah, I see how it is now,” you say, the words a dagger you can finally twist back in him. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me to go. If anyone is the addict here, it’s you.”

You leave the room, heading towards the elevator and grabbing your shawl on the way. You hear footsteps behind you but attempt to pay it no mind, waiting for the ding of the lift, but it’s taking too long and you feel his hands on you, shoving you against the wall before you realize it’s happening.

He kisses you hungry, a man possessed, pushing the slip up, dragging his fingertips over your mound. He’s desperate, he wants you to stay, he wants you and it’s a weakness. How rare to see him like this. You know you should push him away, but you melt into it for just a moment — and he breaks the moment as he bites your lower lip, too hungry for his own good.

Fuck. You let him open you up, push in and possess you. Again. You need to get out of here.

The elevator dings. Finally.

You bite him back, harder than he bit you, and when he pulls back in surprise, you push him off you. His lips are red with blood. His, you hope.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.”

He watches you with a furious fire in his eyes as you wait for the doors to close — but there is a fire in your eyes too this time. A warning. You will burn him just as bright as he does you.

And despite it all, you know this is just the start. There’s no escaping unscathed.

taglist: @ohmeadows @casualhedonists @qalijahbydior @missakward123 @akira1803 @damagdsnow @carebear209 @herewegoagaiinn

[gh0stsp1d3r]

We were worried.

Req: jj x John bs sister in the episode where Kie was sent to the wilderness camp, and they’re leaving the island and ready to go on the plane but reader hasn’t yet returned to the pogues as she said she was going to pack a few things at the chateau but instead of kie being sent away it’s reader. she gets to the chateau to pack, dcs is there to take her to foster care so she leaves a note for the pogues on her location, JJ leaves to go find her after worrying.

^ request edited to fit. full request here

Warnings: dcs, mentions of foster care, fluff.

MASTERLIST

All of you stood on the dock, with Pope and Cleo departing. You looked around, sighing and slinging your bag over your shoulder, turning back to them.

“I’m gonna go to the chateau, pack real quick.”

John B nodded at you, “don’t forget-“

“I know, I’ll be at the strip in an hour.” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“Be careful.” He told you, you nodding and turning the other way, walking off the dock. You headed to the Chateau, not too far away.

Once there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You were shoving your clothes and other things you knew you needed into your bag, when you suddenly heard a loud knock, along with chattering inside.

“Hello?! Y/n Routledge?!”

Your eyes widened, glancing around the room wildly. You grabbed your bag quietly, got on your hands and knees and began to crawl over to the window. You peeked out the blinds, thankful they were looking the other way.

Their lanyards and their folders, you knew who they were. You also noticed the cops behind them, Shoupe among them.

You moved from the window, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. You went to the kitchen, quietly ripping a piece of paper out and a sharpie. You scrawled onto the piece of paper as quickly as possible.

“DCF LOOKING FOR ME. AT THE TREEHOUSE.”

The treehouse. It was the name you all used for a hideout spot, a little shed hidden deep in the woods, a spot no one else knew of.

You put the note on the counter, glancing behind the door when they began knocking again. You crawled over to the back door, heart pounding against your chest as you reached for the doorknob, slowly twisting it.

You were crouching now, peeking out the side where they all stood in front of your door. You took a deep breath, locking the door behind you, before standing up and bolting for it, leaves crackling under your shoes.

Shoupe heard the noise, his eyebrows furrowing as he went to the side of the house, but when he made it, nothing was there. He examined it for a little, before turning back to the others after he had found nothing.

You ran in the woods, knowing that Shoupe would put up a missing persons report soon enough. The woods on the side were deep, and you panted once you thought it would be safe enough to stop for a little.

Checking your phone and throwing your bag off your shoulder, you opened the police site for the county, clicking on the missing persons tab. You were shocked to see your name so quickly.

Your neighbors, most likely. They had always kept a close eye on you and your brother, and this isn’t the first time they thought you were missing.

With a sigh, you sat down, going to the messages app when your phone died. You furrowed your eyebrows, groaning in annoyance.

If you left to go the airstrip, you risked getting caught by dcf and the cops. You didn’t leave, they would leave you and you would be left alone. You don’t know which is worse.

You sighed, glancing at the forage to her side that you would need to cross, hearing the chatter and the sound of radios not too far, most likely searching.

Standing up, you grabbed your bag and slung it back over your shoulder, putting your phone in your pocket and continuing to walk as quietly but also as fast as you could all the way to the treehouse.

JJ furrowed his eyebrows, hiding bending a cop car, peeking out from behind. What were all these cops doing here?

He saw an opportunity to sneak through the back door when the two at the house turned to face the lake in the back, JJ quickly crouching behind, quietly grabbing the spare key he knew she hid.

He did a door trick he found as a kid, shutting it with no sound and whispering your name, glancing around the house. He found everything a mess, like you had packed quickly. He was still crouching when he went over to the kitchen, passing something that caught his eyes on the counter.

He grabbed the piece of paper, reading the messy handwriting. He exhaled, happy that you were safe but also worried for you.

He put the note in his back pocket, making a sneaky exit from the house, and somehow making it into the woods, hidden by the trees, he could finally relax a bit.

He knew the way to the treehouse was a bit of a long walk, and he remembered each step. He recalled walking through the forage as a kid, a smile on your face while you showed him your spot. You went there when you wanted to be alone, to read, or anything else. But you trusted him with it, and the other pogues as they came along.

The sun had gone down, the moon had risen, and he could hear the chirping of the crickets around him when he finally made it to the shed.

He knocked on it, you jumping and retreating into a corner, grabbing a crowbar that was in the shed. You got ready to swing it before he opened the door slowly, revealing himself as Jj. You sighed in relief, dropping the weapon.

“Jj.”

“Y/n…” he murmured, you wrapping your arms around the blonde quickly.

“What- what happened? Why are you here?” He asked you hurriedly, a hand on your arm now.

“I- they knocked on the door, and I fucking knew this was coming, I asked John B to help me with this shit but he was so caught up in… whatever, that doesn’t matter, they were trying to take me- us, to foster care. And Mrs and Mr Smith called, and the cops think we’re missing!” You explained quickly, voice wavering with each word spilling from your mouth.

“Alright, alright. You’re uh… you’re fine, right?”

“I’m fine.” You nodded. “Wait, but why are you here? I thought you were supposed to leave on the jet?” You noticed, furrowing your eyebrows at the boy.

“I was worried.” He admitted. “We were all worried. But…” he trailed off, giving you a shrug. “I didn’t wanna leave you behind.”

You smiled softly, looking at him. “Jayj…”

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About you being annoying.” He blurted out suddenly, you two had gotten into an arguement and he had said that you were annoying, it had hurt your feelings and you avoided him for house.

“I’m sorry for calling your plans dumb.”

He tilted his head to the side, “are you?”

“No.” You giggled. “They are dumb.”

“You wound me.” He gasped dramatically, both of you laughing until the shed fell into silence again, both of you staring at each other.

“Jj?”

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“I love you.” You admitted, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

“I… I love you too.” He replied quietly, gaze dropping to your lips for a moment. His heart pounded as he leaned in, his eyes shutting. Your lips met his halfway, his hands going to pull you closer.

[wishluc]

˗ˏ Playing Stupid Games

Silly little piece ft yandere alhaitham because I'm exhausted after farming for him. I hate you alhaitham!!! (I do not). I just want to shake him by the collar ♡. Not to be taken Seriously

Alhaitham's nonchalance irritates you to no end.

His casual disregard for the rage that boils beneath your skin and the frustration that's beginning to pile up on your shoulders, his apathetic glances at the splotches of color that decorate your arms after yet another attempt at climbing out a window, his offhanded comments and the way the slightest hint of something simultaneously amused and arrogant laced his words after the fact.

"I hope this will help you learn that you are here now,," he told you the first time, "and these pathetic attempts won't get you very far."

You hiss under your breath, "I don't want to be here."

He smiles at you. a cruel turn of his mouth, faux concern and mockery in his gaze, "Is that so? Well, that's too bad."

Nothing phases him, not the spite-filled words you spit at his feet or the frigid iciness of your stubborn silence. Any attempt is met with that same, cruel smile and retribution tenfold. Except his angry words come in the form of lost privileges—little things you'd hardly thought you'd miss until he had ripped it away from you. Even if it was just him taking away the warm drink you cradle every morning or the mattress you slept on, the slightest shift from the strict schedule he had you adapt to set your whole mood off. You're left feeling odd and uneasy for the rest of the day, and just when you get used to this routine, he switches back to your old one.

Your next attempt at revenge was hiding his things. It sounds useless, but when you're stuck indoors with nothing to do and with burning resentment, there's very little you can do to get back at Alhaitham. So, when he's out for work, you take his favorite mug and place it into a drawer filled with old gifts he doesn't look twice at, and you snatch up his pens and shove them somewhere under his mattress. You debate targeting his headphones, but he doesn't ever leave them lying around. Alhaitham finds everything every single time, but even then, he only gives you his usual unimpressed look and stalks off to do his work somewhere.

Some other petty tries involved using up all the hot water in the morning so he has to take a shower in the freezing cold water ("For your information, I always take cold showers," Alhaitham tells you over breakfast, much to your chagrin), placing the bookmarks in his current reads at different pages (He glances over at you, still unruffled, and shakes his head before flipping the page. The fury that fills your head almost makes you explode on him), and you even manage, on a day where you had to follow him out, sneak some sand into his shoes ("Good try," he clicked his tongue, "I'll have to reward you at home." Still, he trudges back with you by his side all the same, even if he was walking a little slower than usual, he didn't seem very affected. You hoped to save some sand to pour into his socks instead, but he stopped you. Yet another fail).

But now, you've got a wonderful idea, one you were sure won't fail to irritate him—after all, it's the very same trick he uses on you regularly. Every morning, Alhaitham has a warm cup of coffee to wake himself up and get ready to work. After observing his morning habits for as long as you have, you know how he brews his coffee by heart.

You can't throw out all the coffee in the house, but you have a better alternative. One that should frustrate him even more.

After he makes his cup, Alhaitham turns around for a few moments to reach for whatever book he was reading at the moment, before settling down. He used to try and spend this time talking to you, but you had hardly been cooperative during this time, and he had decided to leave you be—you suspect his morning listlessness had something to do with that.

He shoots you a suspicious glance when he notices you up and ready for him by the counter, but trudges past you without any accusations directed at you. He doesn't say a word as he brews his coffee, and you don't either, closely watching his every move, lying in wait as you wait for your prey to get distracted. Your heart pounds as he finishes stirring his drink, and just as he turns away to put everything away, you pounce, snatching up the mug and gulping down the hot liquid. A familiar, bitter taste fills your mouth, and there's a slight numbness in your throat, not quite used to swallowing something hot that quickly. By the time you've managed to place his empty mug back on the counter, Alhaitham had turned back around.

He exhales sharply, looking at you with that unreadable expression, and as he finally utters your name, you notice something. There's a slight strain in his voice, one you might not have normally noticed; but after all the time you've been stuck here with only his voice, apart from the the whistle of the kettle and the soft ticking of the clock, you could recognize the tiniest fluctuation. And you heard it, just then as he spoke, an unusual quaver—a slight emphasis that clearly wasn't intentional and an almost-choke—which was all you needed. The realization dawns upon you like a glorious revelation; you had finally been able to shake that apathetic exterior, even if only by a little.

Some part of you is disturbed by how intensely you've been studying him, if you're able to pick apart all the details in his voice. A larger part of you is excited at the small victory. With your eyes greedily observing him again, you pick up on more things—his eyebrows are slightly raised, and not in that sarcastic manner, his eyes widened just a fraction, but you revel in the joy of seeing anything other than smugness or indifference on him. You saunter away back to the safe corner of your bed, pleased with the little sign of weakness you've discovered. He'd get back at you soon enough, but the bitter taste of hard-earned victory would linger in your mouth for a while to come.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved: 2

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: intothesoul

Masterlist

(I've moved the next part to the bottom)

What a cruel but beautiful creature. To look at me with such entrancing brown eyes that makes something warm flutter in my gut but leave me here. Her aura is that of a setting sun, but her hair is like that of the sun itself. A dear shocked by the presence of a different creature in her woods. Or perhaps shock that I could see her?  

But with the beauty she carries is also something vicious. Another immortal creature who seems to have some recognition behind those doe eyes. And yet knowing who I am and what importance I hold for the mortal world she leaves me here. Without a single second thought she disappeared into a different realm.  

I do not know who she is. Or rather what it is. The human’s son who captured me could not see her. He looked at me with utter confusion, but that is saying so little since they always look at me with fear of the unknown. As they should.  

Clearly something supernatural, but not something powerful enough for me to have known of them before. But in my 50 more years of confinement in this my glass prison I couldn’t help but keep myself busy with the thought of her.  

One of these days, almost on cue, that perfect pink aura suddenly appears in front of the glass bulb. She looks dishevelled. Her braid is messy, several front pieces have fallen out and covers her face. Where last time she wore shoes that made her quite a bit taller than the human Alex. Now, just a few inches.  

But more than that there’s blood all over her hands. Her eyes look glassy with tears but are wide with fear and shock. She’s down on her knees on front of this cage. A shudder pours through her body. Air doesn’t seem to making it into her lungs. Does she have to breathe or is the shock shaking her soul?  

She looks up at me and this seems to make it worse. The dam breaks and tears roll off her cheek. Her chest heaves as she tries to breathe. “I-I-” She mutters trying to comprehend and it seems as if she knows even less than I do now. “I don’t know what I did.” Her voice is just barely above a whisper.  

“He-he said I had to.” She mutters over and over, who is this he? What did she have to do? I wish this damn barrier wasn’t here so that I could see what is this situation. “And-and- I was so mad at him for making me-” another bout of tears overcomes her.  

She then stops and looks at her hands again. “Look at what I’ve done.” I can see how her mind is starting to break.  

That can’t be good. She must play some role in this the human world. Even if only slightly important, it could very well be the beginning or end of this earth. Should I care? Of course I should care. I was made by the first humans subconscious to help the humans. I can’t let all that effort go to waist now...  

But how could I help now? Stripped from all power, locked up and unable to be heard in this glass bubble of mine. I do all that I can think of. My hand slowly slides over the glass to where she sits kneeling in front of me.  

My movement catches her eye almost instantly. Her head snaps up, her ragged breathing stops. Her eyes seem to twinkle like gold dug up from deep in the core of the earth. Time seems to stop and I just can’t seem to understand what is going on. Is she a siren or witch of some sort? Putting a spell on me?  

Her hand, smaller than mine, reaches up and touches the glass where mine is. The blood smears against the glass into a red aura around her hand. The glass makes her fuzzy. Like a halo of red surrounding her as if she’s one of the angles.  

“What the fuck?!” One of the guards exclaim, interrupting this stopped moment in time. This moment, a red haze of ardency. From the human’s point of view, Dream of the Endless somehow just spawned a bloody handprint on the outside of his glass cage.  

The guard stands up from his seat, pistol in hand. “What the fuck did you just do? How the fuck did you just do that?” He says, his pistol raised at the cage. To the humans this seems entirely impossible. Some sort of witchcraft that they fear with their soul.  

The creature who has taken all wisdom from me’s head snaps in a neck-aching turn. Her breathing becomes rapid again after just having calmed her down. She sees the way he approaches my cage and then she turns to me again. “I have to go again. I don’t want him to find out about this this time.”  

With that, she’s gone again.  

For the next 14600 days I could not be there when sun would set and the dreamers were supposed to enter my realm. My dreamers would instead be either stuck awake forever or asleep forever. 40 years of restless, dreamless sleep all because of the Burgess’s. 

I had seen with my own eyes how Alex killed his father by accident or not after a fight about my confinement. He had begged just as his father had. Not for the same thing, but in the same breath for fear of Death. My sister shouldn’t be feared but perhaps he worries about how I might inact my revenge.  

He grows old now, I’m sure, but he has not come to beg again. Humans become frail with age. All entertainment I have is my mind and my plots. Vengeance swirls around in my mind. That and guilt. Guilt of Lucien having to run the Dreaming in my absence. And all of those Dreamers doomed.  

My days and nights are one. I only know the difference from the change of guards. I can’t help but watch their lazy lives. Having to sit and watch me all day. They chit chat of their lives all while the years pass by in front of me. No interruption. No difference.  

And then, there she is again. One second an empty space covered in sand and the next, a dishevelled creature. No heels this time. A pair of these “sweatpants” as I’ve heard the mortals call it. Her hair is no longer in a braid. Golden silk in long mixed wavy and straight hangs on the floor.  

Her eyes are red and look dry and irritated. She appeared standing, but not for long. Her legs seem to give in on her. She sits down on the floor. She pulls her legs up to her chest and just hides her head. I move closer to the edge of my cage. I can see it puts the guards on edge.  

She slowly lifts her head again and rest her chin on her knees. Then suddenly a quiver, assumingly her quiver, appears strapped to her back. She pulls out a single arrow, the only arrow in this quiver. It has a red heart at the very tip. She seems to be inspecting it carefully.  

The creature seems to give a dry scoff. “This is the only soulmate arrow I’ve received in over 100 years.” She twirls it in her fingers and then suddenly it all begins to make sense. A soulmate arrow? And she has them ready to shoot? The humans have so many names for her. Cupid, Venus, Aphrodite, Freya. But I do remember Desire naming her Love.  

Her head falls back on her knees. “I feel so tired...” Her eyes seem to droop. The pink aura she had before is completely gone. The golden sparkle in her eyes is dead. She closes her eyes for a second and lets out a heavy hearted sigh. All soul seems to have left her.  

Then her eyes open again. Again her dead eyes drag over the arrow. “I fear the day I found you here because it has only caused my demise. If I didn't let my own mind wander into the realms of desire and curiosity I would not be weak as I am now. He calls himself Desire but he and his twin are one in the same because now Despair is all I know.” The words begin spilling out of her from a speed unparalled.  

“Something above him, maybe even you, is punishing me for doing as I am told and I cannot take it any longer. All I've done this last century is rip the love from people's hearts. I fear I might have lost the ability to knock an arrow in my bow because I can't even remember how to grant love. Only how to take it.” 

“My soul is kind, I promise.” Her eyes look up at me, her brows pulling together in the middle as if she’s pleading for me to believe her. “If I was not kind I would not be in the state I am in, right?” Again she begs. What for I’m not sure? I do not know of any sins. Could Love ever even be able of causing harm? Is she able of concocting the concept of harming others?  

“There's no love left on this earth. Only this shell Desire has made me and therefore I don't want to live with myself anymore. Him unmaking me would be easier to stand than the hurt I have caused.” It looks painful when she starts to stand up.  

The way she walks, it looks almost deliberate when the salt under her shoes breaks the several circles surrounding my cage. It’s confirmed when she looks back at the now broken salt circles and looks satisfied by this. Then her eyes look back at me.  

The world looks so heavy on her shoulders. Like her head weighs too much for her neck. Her hand comes up on my glass confinement. She steadies herself and then she tells me what sounds like final words: “I will not beg for your forgiveness for not freeing you sooner.”

Her eyes land once more on the arrow glowing in her hand. She takes a big gulp, then she seems to make time stop again. “If you must kill me, I will beg you do it before Desire punishes me.” With what seems like her last bit of energy, life force, she raises her arrow and stabs the glass.  

A large crack breaks through this glass bubble. But she stops before she can repeat the action. Her eyes raise as if she’s listening to something from above. “It seems he was watching me.” Her dried body takes a step back but I catch her before she leaves me once more.  

“Thank you, Cupid. I will find you.”  

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, just ask!

Part 1~Part 3

[hell-drabbles]

Lucifer 1

Summary: And so Lucifer made his command known: [Stay. Stay here, with all of us, with me.] But there is a world waiting for you, the world that Solomon loved. No power can keep you here.

(Hmm, I like this Lucifer fellow. I have a feeling I'm not going to like how he interacts with the MC though. I hope I'm wrong. If not, I'm snatching him for the AUs. Excuse the clunkiness of it all. The vibes in my brain are vaaaague.)

Lucifer had known you long before you had gained this physical form. When he was first born, when he brought about Heaven's first light, you were nothing more than a phenomena. A crack in the fabric of dawn, a color-whirling halo that floated over the head of God, a trail of tendrils that ghosted over God's shadow.

You weren't fused into his being, merely layered over it. An other worldly being to whom not even Lucifer's light could shine upon.

He held no love for you then, for you had no hand in his creation, and yet…

There was a dear memory, of God's childishly excited smile as Lucifer opened his eyes for the first time. He remembers the way his creator paced about him, practically singing his praises to the you in his shadow, to the leaves shivering in the halo.

Then, you moved. You stretched your root-like tendrils into the shadows made in his clothes, just for a moment. Only a second.

And you had made yourself known to him. The blue of dawn, the clouds beneath his knees, the gentle smile of his God, all that was washed away.

All he knew, in that second, was the halo behind God's head. Of your eye, of the dark fabric laying behind the paradise God crafted. It was only a piece of you, bark upon a colossal tree, this Heaven only a singular root compared to everything.

And you deemed him worthy of your gaze, to be placed in the same category as the one he worships. This glimpse, this attention, all this was your praise.

Then he was back to his self. God was smiling wider, all-knowing, all-loving.

This was Lucifer's first memory of you, one that he will always cherish, even when the rest of Heaven has grown to hate you with their jealousy.

And so here you were, in the room God once spent his days admiring the sun. Here, Lucifer made his command.

[Stay. Stay here, with all of us, with me.]

You turned to the First Light of Dawn, and smiled.

"No."

All the prayers, all the desperation poured into this one command, was forced back into him. It entangled itself into the very beating of his heart, scarred over his lungs, and ripped out chunks of his wings right onto the clouds below.

This rejection reverberated throughout the structure of Heaven itself.

Lucifer was forced to kneel. His brothers rushed forward, readying their spears, itching for a fight, but Lucifer spread his wings out in all their damaged glory. His halo brightened for a just a moment, but it was enough to get everyone to stop.

"Don't." Because there was no point in fighting, because he didn't want them fighting you. God has went missing and you're his closest companion. You have to stay. You must, because you always made God happy. He took a deep breath in, steadying the cough that wanted to escape. "Is Heaven truly so repulsive to you? No. That's not it, is it?"

Every part of this place, of his home, was made with God's love and devotion. And God loved everything about you. Lucifer knows, because it was the second sight he witnessed upon his creation. Such love would be weaved into the fabric of everything he has touched.

His head was already a mess, the light of his halo a constant flicker.

Lucifer didn't stand. He crawled to your form and laid his hands right next to your shoes. He bowed his head as he once did to God.

"What can be done to have you stay?"

Do you even know of the joy you brought him when your hands stroked over his hair? When you used your newly crafted body to make little adjustments on his clothing? You must have, for you were the one God treated as his equal. You were there for far longer than Lucifer ever was.

He must be quite the sight, to bow down his head to Heaven's most envied. Perhaps, if Lucifer were younger, he would've join the rest of them. He knows what's it like to have hot coals rest at the bottom of the stomach, to chain down the urge to spit out vitriol against the being that captures God's eye just by existing.

But, Lucifer too was a being close to God. Where the other angels choose to close their eyes and ears, preferring to worship a small aspect of God, Lucifer kept his open. The childish jealousy that once made him close himself off to you eventually wore away.

Whatever you may be, and no matter the form you take, Lucifer will always know you to be God's cherished friend.

Could he be blamed for clinging onto you when you were there just as long as God was?

"Lucifer," your voice, Lucifer always heard it every morning, whenever God rose and went to bed. You lowered yourself, but never knelt. "You know very well what the answer is, don't you? Everything about you, all angels will admire no matter what, but I know you as well as I know them. None of them will accept me, entertain me, and you certainly won't make them do so."

"I-" Lucifer bit his tongue, because you were right.

"I had my fun here," your hand carded through Lucifer's hair, as you would always do when he would place his head on the edge of your being, "I'll simply be having my fun in the world of humans. I won't vanish. It's impossible, so you can take comfort in that."

"How dare you touch-!" Was it Michael? Gabriel? Raphael? Lucifer doesn't know, but now they know of this secret, of the affection he craved from you. But, what do secrets matter? Lucifer will no longer be able to indulge in them.

"Then," Lucifer's wings fluttered, pin feathers shedding their shells, "let me escort you. To the gate that connects our Heaven to the world of man. May you find your entertainment where I could not provide."

Let him have at least these few more minutes before you part with Heaven forever.

[batwynn]

Hello. So I have a genuine, honest question as someone who isn't an artist. I saw you made a post about AI art floating around Tumblr lately. How does one differentiate between AI-created art vs. ACTUAL art? Some things have been easier to notice than others (ie: YouTube videos and like, moodboards and the opening to Secret Invasions) but for art specifically, are there any key things to look out for that make it obvious it's AI generated? I do not support AI in any fashion but in this day and age I do find it increasingly more difficult to tell the difference between something that was created by AI vs. created by an actual person.

Hi anon! So, heads up this might be a bit long of a post but I wanted to point out some things that I don't see frequently mentioned in other posts about A.I stuff.

First things first: Look at their other 'art' pieces. If they have a generally consistent style, a consistent type of work (Realism vs ink art for example), characters you see more than once and from different angles, character sheets, etc. You're going to notice if someone suddenly switches from little ink doodles to fully colored and realistically rendered 'art'. Now, this doesn't mean everyone switching styles or mediums is A.I, but it means to take a closer look if you notice something vastly different than their usual stuff. More A.I. clues below!

For things to look for, there's a lot of different clues but generally you're going to notice a certain new car shine to everything. Everything will be a little too clean, even if the style they are ripping off is sketchy. Sketches will have crosshatching that doesn't really make sense or random lines in a place that an artist probably would not put there. That being said, here's some examples where that isn't as noticeable:

Here you've got your usual body/anatomy problems. (Plus some elements I'll talk about later as well. This one's got it all!)

Glitchy foot, glitchy hands. glitchy eyes. Strange proportions for legs that don't exactly fit a stylization, but more of an glitch. Now, of course an artist can draw 'glitchy' things like this either by accident or intentionally, but you really only see these types of things in A.I vs actual art of a similar style. Realism artists are generally not adding extra fingers or varying sized fingers, they're not rendering the foot to only have too many toes, missing toes, and the foot also... sort of part shoe. Unless art artist is otherwise intentionally including these elements, it's generally a clear cut example of A.I stuff. (For example: Different body types and disabilities exist, and there are people with different shaped hands, shorter/longer fingers etc. But you will also usually find some kind of info with the post about the person/character that will tell you about them that can clue you in on if it's A.I vs real art.) If the artists are drawing in a style with 'exaggerated' anatomy, you can almost always see that as a persistent and intentional STYLE in their art. If they aren't, this is something you'll really notice in A.I vs realism. It can be especially true with people who fully render realistic art because it's not in line with the style, and the relevant elements of rendering art this way. Artists who do realistic rendering at this level generally know their anatomy very well, and are going for realism in all elements of the art. Some stuff like the exaggerated long legs in women are kind of everywhere, but the hands, the foot, the lopsided winky eyes (I don't know how to describe it) are not things a professional artist rendering realistic art would generally do. It's just not in line with the style, or the ability/skill that the artist has worked on. (Again, unless completely intentionally and in line with the person/character.)

For 'real' life items like the tables below, you've really just got to ask yourself: Is this physically possible? Do all the elements make sense and actually work together in a real way?

Sometime it's hard to know if you don't have any experience with, for example, acrylic and wood table making. But there are things that just don't work in real life, and there are things that maybe someone can do, but even in the provided examples it just doesn't make sense to do. For example, the little 'tree' hanging from the bottom of the left table. Would that be possible? Probably. Would someone do that? Probably not. If you're really stumped, sometimes just looking up videos of people making that type of thing can give you a better idea of what actually works together, how it's made, etc.

Here's something that really helps when you're really struggling and zooming in for every detail: TANGENTS

Ok, so tangents in art are when you're drawing a thing, like hair, and it's lining up with a different object to the point where the visual line continues from one part of art to another and it looks really unrealistic/weird. Most artists figure out how to avoid this on their own just from noticing it and feeling uncomfortable with how it looks, while others learn via the internet etc. It can happen in anyone's art at any skill level, but the amount that it happens in A.I stuff is HUGE. It's almost every single image, and you can really notice it in places where something overlaps like hair or, from the above image with the money: there's two bills that just kind of bleed together. From the same image, you can also see how her hair bleeds into the wrinkles of her jacket in an unnatural way. Comparatively, you can see in the Hela art I did below that there are overlapping elements like the hair and the ribbons behind it that do not mesh or bleed together.

Something else to look at: Symmetrical elements that don't work right. So, this is kind of getting harder to see depending on what they're generating as a subject matter and the style they are using. As always, there is a disclaimer for this. Art does not always have perfect symmetrical elements in it.

For example: in the real world, this dude's coat would have more clean symmetrical elements. As it is a sketchy doodle, they're there but they're not 100% symmetrical. With a LOT of A.I stuff, you'll notice that something meant to be mirrored on the other side of the clothing, room design, etc. is actually completly wonky/incorrect or not even there at all.

For example, in this A.I we have missmatching elements on both sides. Not only in things that could be designed to be asymmetrical, but also things that 100% should be mirrored. The left side under the buckle on the shoulder has a diamond shape. The right has a weird spikey thing. The little leaf pattern on the gold lapel area appears to be just blobs on the right side. The left shoulder area has a button and additional little detail under the buckle area. It is not there on the right side. And, again, some of this can be intentional with real art. Her arm bands could be intentionally different, for example. But elements that clearly should be reflected on the other side and are very clearly not are generally a good clue that it's A.I. A few last moment things to look out for:

Styles that are recognizable someone else's whole thing. Example: The monstrosity that someone just generated that is supposedly Calvin and Hobbs. It's pretty easy to tell because it looks like shit right now, but generally if someone is ripping off a distinct style of someone famous, it's probably A.I or at least worth double checking.

Did they suddenly start doing ______? This could be anything, backgrounds, drawing horses, full color, etc. But if they're suddenly, overnight just BOOM they're 'drawing' in a whole other style, it's suddenly really rendered, and/or there's no 'growing pains'/work shown that they've started working on drawing the thing they never drew before... It's time to take a closer look. Last but not least, look for the language they use around the stuff they're putting out. A.I people are often... a certain type. They use a lot of that NFT bro lingo that can tip you off. The tags might be all over the place for styles, or tagging certain famous artist's styles, etc. They also can be a bit more blatant in the tags and just outright tag A.I or NFTs somewhere in there. And, in the end, if you really can't tell and you really love the thing and want to share it: Ask an artist. Or just don't share it.

Thanks for reading, and I hope this is helpful in some way!

[ronearoundblindly]

Lexi's Monthly Edit

July 29th - August 31st, 2024

In case you missed them, here's a handy-dandy list of what I posted within the last month. This time we have 9 headcanon/ficlet (links only) and 8 fics (links with blurbs from each) below the cut. Enjoy!

ice cream headcanons

returning late headcanons

intimacy headcanon for Fools Rush In (mature) Steve Rogers x lab tech!reader

extra hotel bed headcanons

early autumn decorating headcanons

Pregnancy/Children headcanon for Sun, Salt, and Shield Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!reader

faking it in bed headcanons (mature)

favorite sex position headcanons (mature)

invisible!reader noticed by Steve

The Stoop for The Root of All Ransom Ransom Drysdale x rich!reader

"It's okay to be nervous, honey--" "I'm not nervous," he barks. "--because there's a lot going on right now. I get it--" "I was just thinking--" he rips the pinky ring off his hand and shows you the chunky gold emblem "--I'd have to get this little piece of shit resized, for f**k's sake, not that I wouldn't want to wear a g*ddamn wedding ring! What the f**k, woman?"

Jake's home! (mature) Jake Jensen x girlfriend!reader

The plastic shower curtain and its castors are yanked aside, and you squeal in delight, hopping over the lip of the tub—fully-clothed,—throwing your arms around his neck. One of his feet slips under the weight. “Hey, babe,” he says into your shoulder of still-dry cotton. You pull back and smile. At least, he’s fairly certain you’re smiling. You’re blurry, and he’s a bit blind without his glasses.

Let Me See You (mature) skinny!1940s!Steve Rogers x reader

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you." All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches. He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so... "You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

Safety Captain, Chapter One (no-powers AU) lifeguard!Steve Rogers x vacationer!reader

“Everyone’s okay,” he rushes, rubbing your back, warm and slick against your wet skin. “You don’t have to talk yet. Take it easy.” You still feel compelled to explain. “The—they were teasing him—“ you point to the chubbier kid in your group, the poor thing cowering by your lounge chair headquarters for the morning “—and I tried to stop them.” “I know, shhh, I saw. Just breathe slowly.” “Don’t like bullies,” you cough out anyway. The lifeguard at your side grins from ear to ear.

Interlude: A Special Visit for Hideout touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight. You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…” “It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile. Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Big Pharma, sex pollen (mature) Steve Rogers x doctor!reader

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty. Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this? “Doc, no,” he breaths. “I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you. Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…” ‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy. “Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

To Tire Is Human Steve Rogers x reader

Steve eats his whole meal--entree and dessert--with his non-dominant hand just so he can hold yours. He had one of your days. He spent the drive home listing all the things he needed to do in his head, more energy for each tick, more time for sitting still, more of him to give... ...and then he got to enjoy a lovely dinner with you. You spent your energy on him, on you both. You spent energy specifically to spend time with him, and Steve could cry but he won't. He keeps smiling, making happy, pleased noises with each delicious bite.

For Show, reluctant marriage of convenience (mature) Ransom Drysdale x soulmate!reader

A pillow shifts. No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen. You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him. He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either. “”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[spopsalt]

I also found this on the wiki under Catra trivia.

Okay, so… To me, this seems like an issue where both options aren’t great ideas. Because either…

A. They have Catra wear Adora’s shirt. Not getting into the whole ‘girlfriend wears her partner’s clothes after sex trope’, since it’s not a given trope. Some partners just share or steal clothes anyway, no intimacy required. Just saying the association could be there. Not saying it is, but it could be. But ignoring that since it’s not a given, I do have questions. 1. How and when is Catra stealing Adora’s clothes? Adora only changed I to her space suit once and probably didn’t pack anything to bring, so Catra wouldn’t have the opportunity to change when she did. She would’ve had to just yoink it from Adora when she was probably still wearing it. 2. What would Adora wear? Forget not packing for space, the girl didn’t pack when she moved to Brightmoon. It’s probably her ONLY SHIRT PERIOD. Was the plan to have Adora wear her undershirt and jacket? And 3. It’s a shirt. Just a shirt. What was the plan for… Oh I don’t know, pants? Or her weird little sock things? I get they’re not shoes, but maybe they provide Catra with some protection on her feet, like where they’re not padded? So even with a shirt, she’d still be SOL for pants and sock things? Unless the plan was to just work with her boxer shorts and nothing else, or parts of the Horde Prime outfit? Idk. Not thought out, and I’m glad they didn’t do it. And that’s not even getting into the whole joke Nate did with a piece of art where Catra DID steal and tear up Adora’s shirt, just so she couldn’t wear it anymore. There’s taking your partner’s clothes, and then there’s blatant property damage.

On the other hand…

B. They do the outfit they gave Catra. Sure, you could say it’s just here S4 outfit with the sleeve ripped off. But there some details I noticed that lead me to believe it’s an entirely new outfit.

For one, the belt is missing. And maybe I simply am misunderstanding, but to me the belt in the first picture doesn’t look like a belt. It acts more like it’s more or less part of the outfit and sewn in. It lines up into the outfit. The new one has it loose, and is not lining into the outfit, making it a separate accessory in a more obvious way.

The colors are different. I’m probably being nitpicky here, but S4 outfit seems to be leaning more into a red territory, even with the black parts being on a redder spectrum. S5 leans more into orange and brown parts of the spectrum. They still have red, but less so.

And, the most important bit of evidence. CATRA WASN’T WEARING HER S4 OUTFIT WHEN THEY GOT ON THE SHIP. Meaning they didn’t have an old outfit they could have modified anyway. Unless they modded the outfit Prime put her in, which would have been next to impossible since they’re not remotely similar.

So maybe they found some clothes lying around that fit Catra perfectly and matched her aesthetic??? Probably found it with all the First Ones food that wasn’t expired despite being ancient. No idea how it wouldn’t have been eaten away by space-moths or something. Nevermind the fact I’m pretty sure they said the ship was already raided for all it’s worth when they first found it in the Crimson Waste. Not like food or clothing is useful in the desert, but I digress. So I’m left guessing Entrapta made it??? With what materials, idk. I don’t even know where she found the supplies or the time to make the space suits. She was busy with the ship most of the time. But again, that’s just another set of problems that are beside the point.

Hi! Yeah that's a good question. They never describe how they get the clothes, they just put them on out of nowhere, like Catra has the most clothes changes, but how? It doubt the horde gives them clothes soooooo???? Just one plot hole in a show full of plot holes.

[sheawritesstuff]

Telepathic Return

[James x Gender Neutral Spouse]

[Fluff - 928 words]

Switching channels as fast as their fingers would let them was surprisingly unfulfilling. They laid on the couch, splayed out and desperately tried to curb their boredom. There was never anything good on. Nothing worth watching. Nothing to distract them from the constant emptiness of James’s absence.

But then they heard something.

There was a quiet whisper in the back of their mind, just barely there. Frantically looking around their living room revealed no source of the sound. They relaxed back down in their spot, deciding they must have imagined it when it came again - barely louder this time. The voice was still too quiet to make out any words but it was becoming clearer by the second. Sitting up in their spot, they switched off the TV and listened closely. 

“Hello, hello? Anybody there? Mic check one two, one two.”

“James?”  There was a pause as the realization sunk in. “James, is that you?” 

“There you are,” he replied. The smile in his voice was palpable, even through their link, “God I missed your voice.” 

They jumped up and practically ripped the curtains off the rod as they peered out at the street. “Are you here? Are you finally home? Where are you??” They rattled off questions in their mind as they craned their neck searching for any sign of his arrival.

“Not yet, love,” he cut their thoughts short. “I am, however, quickly approaching my destination.”

They pulled away from the window as the fact of the matter seeped into their brain. James is coming home. He’s almost here. My husband is finally coming back to me. He’ll be here any minute.

 “Oh shit.” 

“Hmm?” James hummed a question as his spouse looked down at their clothes and panicked. They rushed to the bedroom and flung the other clothes out of the way in a desperate search for something better. They had so long to prepare for this moment but here they were, digging through their closet trying to find the right outfit right before their husband gets home after being gone for So. Long. God where did they put that shirt? Their belt has got to be somewhere around here. The nice pants should be-

“Whatcha lookin for, honey?” James voice cut through their panic, causing them to pause for just a moment. 

“Nothin’... Don’t worry about it,” they lied through their metaphorical teeth. They grabbed at a piece of red shiny fabric and pulled it off the hanger, deeming it good enough. 

“Light of my life, your thoughts are running a mile a minute. You’re clearly freaking out about something. Breathe, love.” His voice was soft and gentle in their mind. They stopped for a moment, pulling their hands up to their chest and taking a long, deep breath. 

“Better?”

“Better. How much longer? ‘Til you get here, I mean.” They continued their search for appropriately dressy clothing for the occasion as they waited for his answer. 

“I’m not sure. A few more minutes, I’d guess.”

“Oh, good. Good…” They pulled at the nicest clothes they could find and hurriedly put them on. They fastened the belt tightly around their waist and haphazardly pulled on a pair of socks. They were sorting through their collection of shoes when James’s voice rang through their head again, the loudest it’s been since he left.

“I can see the house now. I’m almost there my love.”

They pulled on the closest pair of boots, hoisted themself up, and ran out into the living room again. They stood in front of the door and smoothed out their clothes, fixing up the little details. Their hands played at their hair, moving strands into place as they listened for the car outside. 

They heard it as the car pulled to a stop right outside. 

“James, is that you?” They asked again as footsteps approached their door. The jingling of keys was their only answer before the door opened, revealing their husband standing on the other side. 

“I’m home,” he said with the brightest smile they’d seen since their wedding day. Opened arms wrapped tightly around his spouse as they ran into him. They stood in the doorway for a long moment, just holding each other and reveling in the fact they were finally together again. When they pulled away, matching tears fell down both their cheeks. James’s gentle hands wiped away his lover’s tears and pulled their face against his for a delicately intimate kiss. God they missed this, missed each other. They pulled away after a long moment and just stared at each other. It felt surreal after all this time. 

“So,” James started, “you got all dressed up for me?” It was in that moment his spouse realized they were wearing an outfit made of a not insignificant amount of silk and leather, while their beloved donned sweatpants and a t-shirt after his flight. Their face burned with embarrassment, as they realized how much unnecessary stress they’d put themself through. They couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of it. All the rushing and searching and panic… just to stay in their own house. 

They laughed together in the doorway, arms wrapping around each other to keep themselves from falling over. It was a beautiful sound. A sound of joy and of love. It was perfect.

This was perfect. They pulled themselves together after a long moment and dragged James’s luggage inside. There was no rush to unpack it now. There was no rush to do anything in that moment. He was home, and that’s all that mattered.

[raibebe]

Alone Time

Genre: fluff, suggestive Words: 687 Prompt: Samoyed hybrid Jeno x fem. reader

Warnings: making out, petting?, mentions of injury

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour or something because I thought I needed one of my Jenos to celebrate Valentine's Day :] I hope you enjoy the return of Jenpup!

Hybridverse masterlist

“I’m home!” You called out into the apartment as soon as you opened the door, fully ready to be greeted by a toddler and a kindergartener with wagging tails and matching eye smiles after a draining day at work. “Pups?” You called out again as you put your keys into the dish that Haneul had painted in kindergarten and gifted to you for Christmas, confused when you didn’t hear any toddler steps bolting towards you. “Jen?” Nothing. Did you miss something? Was there a parents teacher meeting at the kindergarten Jeno had taken the pups to? But he’d have told you so you could tag along. And there had been one just the other month because some human children couldn’t behave around hybrids. And the keys to his car as well as his copy of the apartment’s keys were still in the little dish. “Haneul? Aerum? Mommy is home!”

Cursing your memory because you surely must have forgotten something, you threw your purse onto the floor to dig out your phone, quickly pulling up Jeno’s contact. While the call was connecting, you carelessly toed off your heels to throw them onto the shoe pile, noticing that two pairs of tiny shoes were missing. But Jeno’s favorite sneakers were neatly stacked onto the shoe rack. Instead of connecting the call, it went straight to his mailbox, Haneul’s shrill voice telling you that his daddy currently wasn’t available and that you should leave a note for him instead. Disconnecting the call after your ears had been thoroughly assaulted, you stared at your phone in disbelief. What was going on?

“Welcome home, love,” Jeno’s low voice ripped you from your stupor, a gentle smile on his face. “Hi,” he giggled when you didn’t reply, his tail gently swishing behind him and his ears perked up in alert. “Hi..?” You asked, still very much confused and feeling like you were missing some vital piece of information, “Where’re the pups?” “At Doyoung’s,” he answered as if you had asked him about the weather and not the sudden disappearance of your children. “Did I miss something? At that, Jeno simply giggled again, his tail picking up the pace. “It’s Valentine’s Day, love.” “Oh.” “Oh,” he echoed, closing the distance between you to gently press a kiss to your cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day my love.” 

“I completely forgot,” you whined, winding your arms around his middle to hug him. Valentine’s Day of all the days to forget. When there had been ads about sales and obnoxious pink boxes of chocolates and teddy bears hugging hearts in every grocery store. “It’s alright. Your work has been crazy,” the Samoyed hybrid chuckled, holding you tightly against his chest so you could feel it rumble as he spoke lowly, “I ordered us some nice dinner and some wine.” “You’re a dream,” you sighed, leaning in to softly kiss his lips, “I’ll make it up to you.” “Oh?” He perked up, wiggling his eyebrows. “You knothead,” you laughed fondly, playfully hitting his chest, “Two are enough.” “Yeah, I know. The little one didn’t let me drive home for a solid fifteen minutes.” “Don’t say that, I’ll feel bad about taking some time for us,” you whined as you vividly imagined Aerum’s pout while Haneul was probably already busy chasing his cousins around. 

“We deserve some alone time every now and again. Some time for us as a couple,” Jeno effectively shut down your bad thoughts with a deep kiss, his chest rumbling with content when you opened up for his tongue with a content sigh so he could lick into your mouth. “Dinner is gonna get cold,” you gasped between kisses, your hands buried in Jeno’s fluffy hair as you gently massaged the base of his fluffy ears. “It’s pasta and steak for me, we can heat it up again,” he dismissed your thought, his nimble hands already unbuttoning your blouse. “You always treat me so well,” you giggled into the next filthy kiss, letting your hands run down the planes of Jeno’s chest before you let them slip beneath his sweater to rake your nails over his abs, reveling in the low groan he let out. 

“Bedroom,” he moaned, breaking the kiss to rip his sweater over his head, not caring in the slightest where it landed, busying himself with pressing wet kisses along your neck next, raking his canines over your racing pulse. “Fuuuck,” you cursed, grabbing onto his hair tightly to yank Jeno back up so you could taste his lips again, hungrily swallowing his moans that you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Eagerly, you arched into his touch so you could feel his skin on yours, your blouse long forgotten on the floor of your entryway, reveling in the heat of his body and feeling his cock harden against your thigh when he slipped one of his thighs between yours. “We’re not gonna make it,” Jeno groaned when you sneaked a hand between your bodies to cup him through his jeans, his arousal already straining against the tight denim. “Don’t care, need you so bad,” you breathed against his lips, letting him back you up against the wall for stability so you could wrap one of your legs around him to shamelessly grind your lower halves together like either of you were in heat or rut. 

“Off,” Jeno growled, already working his belt open, “Get this off.” “Let me,” you giggled, slowly sinking on your knees but not without pressing kisses to your boyfriend’s exposed chest as you went down, the last one staining his furry white happy trail with what was left of your lipstick. 

Just when you had pulled the zipper of his jeans down and pressed your lips to his straining cock through the fabric of his boxers, Jeno’s eyes already blown wide and his teeth digging into his lower lip, the jarring sound of his ringtone broke the moment between you. Huffing in annoyance, you sat back on your haunches, casting him a sour look. Of course, someone would cockblock you just as you were finally going to get some action after weeks of nothing more than hurried handjobs. “I swear I set it up so no calls should be getting through unless they were important,” he pouted back at you, fishing his phone from his pocket, “Shit, it’s Doyoung.” “Take the call,” you urged him on. Was it already bedtime for Aerum? Did she want to say goodnight to you? “Shit, yes.” After some nervous fumbling, Jeno finally answered the call. 

“Doyoung? Is something wrong?” - “What?” Concern was written all over your boyfriend’s face as he listened to his friend, his eyebrows pulling together with a frown. This definitely wasn’t about your pups wanting to say goodnight.  “Is he okay?” When he said that and his frown only deepened, your blood froze inside your veins, time stopping for a moment before it seemed to go by twice as fast with how quickly your heart was hammering inside your chest, the sound of your blood rushing almost deafening in your ears. “Shit. Yes. Yeah, yes we should do that, I think Jaemin might be on call, we’re coming to pick them up now.” As if your body was working separately from your mind which was occupied coming up with horror scenarios as to why it was important that Jaemin would be working tonight, you got up from your knees, your fingers instinctively slipping between Jeno’s before he could start nervously picking at his cuticles. “No, no, no, we’ll drive them. Just try to calm her down, it’ll only be ten minutes or so. We’ll hurry, bye.” 

“What happened?” You immediately blurted out as soon as Jeno had cut the call, already shoving his phone back in his pocket and pulling his zipper back up. “Haneul fell and Doyoung thinks he broke his arm and Aerum won’t stop crying because they were playing and it scared her.” “Fuck,” you could only curse, your mind running wild with worry for your baby boy and a probably very misplaced feeling of guilt because if it wasn’t for you and Jeno wanting to spend some time alone, your pup would have been safely tucked into bed in like an hour. “Hey,” Jeno gently broke you from your thoughts, tenderly cupping your face so you would look at him, “It’s not our fault this has happened. He has too much energy for his own good. We’ll pick the pups up and drive them over to Jaemin’s hospital and make sure they’re okay.” 

After taking in a shaky breath while Jeno pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, you nodded your head, willing your body to calm down so you could sort out your clothes and put on some shoes and a jacket. 

So much for spending a nice evening as a couple.

[rayslittlekitten]

Rich Girl Mood

“Toff Girl” (aka “Damsel” Universe) Masterlist

A/N: I started writing this a long while ago but have been sitting on it because I was still trying to figure out the end game (I still am) but I'm a little closer and I think however this series ends, this chapter I think is still solid for what it is so I finally finished it. This I think gives more insight of the reader character than her relationship with Ray. Title and chapter inspired by "Rich Girl Mood" by Dounia and Kehlani (YT link below)

Rating: T

Word Count:  3,294

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader

Plot: Another year, another birthday party.

Contains: angst, recreational drug use, hurt, jealousy, light mentions of D/s relationship, collars, cursing

After your cryfest in your car, you cleaned yourself up and went in to see your parents briefly and sort of lied about a missing pair of shoes. You then feigned looking in your old bedroom which has become a bit of a storage closet for you. You also act surprised when they hand you the gift box Ray mentioned. You told them you would send Mickey and Ray a thank you card.

You're now back at your flat staring at the big Tiffany blue box while stuffing your face with your favorite pastries from Astrid's Cafe and Bakery. You put the mostly eaten slice of cake down and pull the shiny black ribbon loose. Of course it feels so soft. Ray probably spent a good quid on the ribbon alone. You wouldn't be surprised if it was made of actual silk. Only he would do something so extra.

You take a deep breath and finally lift the lid. This asshole even took the time to wrap your things in tissue paper? You roll your eyes and huff. You grab the small cream-colored envelope sitting on top of the neatly and carefully folded white delicate sheets. You flip the envelope open and pull the card out.

Hi love,

I hope this letter finds you well. I figured you'd eventually want your things back, especially your shoes. I know they were one of your favorites. I even took the time to polish them for you since last time you had scuffed them. There are some things in here that I also thought you should have as I have no more use for them.

Take care,

Ray

You gently tear open the tissue paper and as expected, you find your heels looking shiny as new. You see what else is inside the box and find a few things like your toothbrush, toiletries and some clothing, neatly folded and stacked in true Ray fashion. You know he had your clothes washed, dry cleaned and pressed as well, including the outfits he picked out for you. You look through them and choke up a little seeing your collars carefully placed between the perfectly folded clothing. They're all there, including his favorite, the one with a little bell on it. You tilt your head curiously when you find a small velvet box. The rock in your belly is creeping back in. You stare at it for a moment before reaching for it. You nervously grip the box between your fingers as you take your time flipping the lid open. You let out the breath you'd been holding when you don't see a ring, but instead you feel your heart breaking all over again seeing your day collar. The same one you ripped off your neck and threw at him.

Your eyes blur up for the millionth time today and you swipe your fingers over them. In the corner of your eye, you notice another envelope sticking out from under the clothes. You reach for it and pull it out. Flipping it around, you notice it's completely unmarked. You open it and pull out two business class plane tickets to Greece. Confused, you look in the envelope again and find a folded piece of paper. You pull it out and open it up.

I had planned to whisk you away for a week for your birthday, but I can't use these anymore so I thought maybe you can. Enjoy your birthday, my love.

-Ray

This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair. Not fair to you, not fair to Ray. You don't know how much more your heart can take.

***

Over the next few weeks, you go on a date or two with Fred just to get out of your flat. You've been sulking and comfort eating and sniffing Ray's cardigan long enough. The dates were fun, but if you're honest with yourself, while Fred is a really nice guy, he just doesn't do it for you romantically. You had to be upfront with him as you didn't want to string him along. He deserved to know the truth, but thankfully he took it with ease and understood. You did invite him to your birthday party though and you know someone who would actually pair real well with him. You usually don't play matchmaker, but you think you've got this one in the bag.

Speaking of birthday parties, you just wanted something small but your parents insisted on throwing something for their only child. They do this every year, but you let them because you know it's really just an excuse for them to throw a fancy party to show off to their fancy friends. You know after the first hour or two of greeting people you either don't know, don't remember or haven't seen since you were a wee child, you're going to disappear into the garden shed to get sloshed on expensive liquor and smoke the best weed in all of England with your closest friends like you did when you all were younger. Growing up around so much money, you've always hated the posh snobby kids who thought they were too good for anyone, but you have a small group who were never like that and you always stayed close to them. Everyone else at the party can fuck off and freeload on the booze and food.

You do a once over glance in the mirror to check your makeup and hair. Your hand touches your bare neck and after a moment, you get up from your vanity chair and slip on your heels and smooth out your sickeningly expensive dress. It clings on to your every curve and dip. That’ll sure get some lookers. You still feel like something is missing though.

"Darling, are you ready? Guests are waiting!"

"I'll be right out, mummy!" you shout back.

You quickly go through your overnight bag and pull out a box. You open it up and look at the jewelry for a moment before putting it on, then take one final look in the mirror and you're satisfied with what you see. It doesn’t hold meaning anymore, although it’s sentimental to you, but it has always comforted you, feeling it snug around your neck. It was like your security blanket. It made you feel safe because whenever you wore it, you always knew Ray was close by.

Ray dominating you wasn’t just some kink. It wasn’t just about being in control, or rather giving it up. Being his sub meant he would love you and protect you deeply. It was a shared bond. He brought you pleasure in so many ways and made you forget when you had a bad day, but most importantly, he made sure nothing can hurt you. You completely allowed your heart, body and soul to be delicately encased by his own design.

You take a deep breath and polish off the whiskey you've been nursing while getting ready before putting your face on for the crowd. 

When you reach the bottom of the long grand staircase, you’re greeted by your parents and some people you don’t recognize. You plaster on a smile and shake their hands, thanking them for coming. As you walk off to go greet more people, you grab a flute of champagne and down it, placing it back as quickly as you snatched it up when a server walks by with a tray. You’re reminded why you hate these big parties.

You almost spit your champagne out when you spot Mickey and Ros. The nerve. Of course your parents invited them. You know Mickey only does anything if he’s getting something out of it so while it appears he gives a shit about your birthday and respecting your parents’ cordial invitation, he’s probably rubbing elbows with people who can be potential partners. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already negotiating and sealing deals while he’s here. You now wonder if Ray is somewhere around this giant house.

You walk over to the Pearsons to greet them with the least fake smile you can manage to put on.

“Hi, Mickey.”

“Hello, there. The woman of the hour!” Michael turns to you with a smile. “You’ve met my wife Ros, right?”

“Yes, pleasure to see you again.” You and Ros greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. She might be the only one in his posse you actually don’t mind. Her and Bunny. That gentle giant.

"Thank you both so much for coming!" You try to stretch out your smile but your facial muscles can only go so far.

"Happy birthday, love,” Ros smiles.

Although, you know Rosalind is probably on the up and up on what goes on in Mickey's world, including what happened with you and Ray. There is no way tea didn't get spilled on her.

"Thank you," you slightly bow your head. “How are you doing? Business is going well I assume?”

“Ah, let’s not talk about business. We’re here as guests, not salesmen. How are you doing?” Mickey returns the attention to you.

“No business? What a surprise,” you try to jab subtly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

“Sweetheart! There’s someone I want you to meet,” your mother suddenly comes out of nowhere.

“Excuse me,” you tell the Pearsons. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves.”

They nod at you before being whisked away by your mother.

***

After being introduced to a bunch of random people including some suitors, you sneak off into a secret side room to get a breather. You used to hide here a lot when you were younger when you wanted to isolate yourself when everything felt too overwhelming.  Especially from these parties. It always felt so performative when you just wanted to be a kid and play with your friends, but you were expected to be prim and proper, until you were old enough to realize you didn’t have to do any of this. You still remember those long boring etiquette classes and sometimes still use the wrong utensil on purpose as an act of rebellion. 

You feel around your body and realize you left your joint and lighter in your bedroom. Letting out a heavy sigh, you savor another moment of silence before marching back out into the wild. As you make your way to your bedroom, you round the corner and smack right into a hard chest.

“Oh my gosh, I am SO…” You look up at the man and your voice dies.

"Kitten…” Ray gasps quietly to himself when he sees your day collar sitting against your neck.

You can't get away from this man now, can you? Ironically, it feels like you're actually seeing him more often than you did when you were together. Like muscle memory, you plaster your cookie cutter smile on your face and greet Ray and the woman standing next to him.

"Hi, Raymond." You mentally kick yourself for overdoing your enthusiasm.

"H-hi."

You never thought there'd be a day you'd make Ray all flustered and stumble over his words. Mr. Calm and Controlled, my arse.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight, but thank you for coming," you say, still with your painful smile on your face. You’re pretty sure it’s going to be permanent by the end of the night.

"Uh, just here for Michael," Ray quickly comments and nods. "Um, this is–”

“I know dear ol’ Rebecca.” Both you and Rebecca greet each other with air kisses on each side of your faces. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in quite some time,” you tell her.

“I’m doing very well. My company nearly doubled its revenue last month so I can’t complain,” she beams.

“You mean your father’s company?” you clarify.

“Yes, but he made me the president of the company a few months ago so it’s really mine too,” she explains. “He’s retiring soon so I’ll be CEO any day now. Anyways, how are you? I don’t really see you around much,” she shakes her head.

“Oh, I’m just always so busy,” you reply. Avoiding the lot of you. “I was actually thinking about taking a little trip to Mykonos next week. An unexpected birthday present.”

“I hear it’s fabulous this time of year,” Rebecca says. “And the men there are gorgeous.”

“Really?” you ask curiously. “I should probably go then.” You quickly glance over at Ray to see his reaction, seeing him shift uncomfortably.

You spot Fred in your peripheral vision and instantly grab his arm, pulling him in close to you.

“Freddy, love. You remember Raymond, right?” you ask him. You look back at Ray and can see his jaw ticking.

“Oh, hey! Good to see you again, mate!” Fred puts his hand out and Ray reluctantly takes it and as soon as he does, Fred pulls him in for a hug. Ray grimaces and lightly pats Fred on the shoulder. There is some actual genuine joy behind your smile now. 

“Freddy, darling! It’s been ages!” Rebecca exclaims.

After Freddy pulls away, he greets Rebecca.

“Bloody hell, Becca! When did you get so tall?” 

While they hug and catch up, you and Ray stare daggers at each other.

“Wait, are you two dating–” Freddy starts but you interrupt him.

“Um, Freddy,” you loop your arm around his again. “I think I’m ready for…” you vaguely gesture your head, nodding in a general direction towards the garden.

“Oh! Sure, yeah. I’ll meet you there after I stop by the loo,” Freddy says. “It was nice seeing you both again. Excuse me,” he says to Ray and Rebecca before walking off.

“Well, hope you’re both enjoying the party,” you say, clapping your hands together. “Excuse me. I have something I need to do.”

You walk off, not even bothering looking back as you make your way to your bedroom.

***

“Oh my gosh, Sophie, you have to tell that story about that time we pulled that prank on Lit’le Henry. Remember Henry?” you laugh, after taking a puff and passing it to Fred. 

“I don’t think Antonia here has heard about this story.” You wink at Fred. You introduced Antonia to Fred and they seemed to be hitting it off really well.

“‘Enry was a lit’le shite. It wasn’t a prank. It was revenge,” Sophie starts.

Sophie proceeds to tell the story about how a mutual friend kept getting bullied by Henry so the group of you teamed up to exact revenge on him. It was originally Fred’s idea but in the end he also took the fall for all of you. However, Henry never dared to bully anyone ever again.

“And I’d do it again,” he boasts.

You were finally able to sneak off with your friends to go hide in the shed to have a party for yourselves. No pretending, no masks, no manners. Just laughs. For those few hours, you were able to actually enjoy your birthday. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun or laughed this hard. 

“Oh, fuck. I must have dropped my stash when I went to the toilet,” you say when you realize you can’t find the spare joints you rolled up. “I’ll be back. I’ll also get another bot’le of wine.”

“Love, it’s your birfday. Get one of the servants to fetch it for ya,” someone jumps in.

“They work for my parents, not me. Besides, I can use some fresh air,” you chuckle before bursting out of the shed.

As you cut through the long garden to make your way back into the house, you notice Ray pacing back and forth off to the side of the house while talking on the phone.

“Yes, boss. I understand.”

When he hangs up, he looks up and sees you cautiously walking trying to avoid being seen. You nearly twist your ankle as you tiptoe around and miss a step but Ray quickly catches you instinctively. So much for trying to dodge him.

“Are you alright?” Ray asks, looking into your eyes.

You stare back for a few moments, breathless. It might be the weed and alcohol but you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him hold you and never let go, but your daydreaming gets interrupted.

“Oh my! Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight. You always know how to throw a party,” Rebecca comments as she walks over. “Ray, I’ll be back in a few. Need to powder my nose,” she winks before walking off inside the house. 

You quickly remove yourself from Ray’s grip and straighten yourself out.

“Are you alright?” Ray repeats.

“I’m fine,” you reply and start heading towards the house.

“Wait!” Ray takes a step in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“What is it, Ray?” You ask, now annoyed.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, Rebecca and I are not together. She’s just here with her parents and it’s my job to keep her entertained while her parents and Michael have an informal meeting,” Ray tells you.

“Ray, it’s really none of my business,” you shrug. "But I'm not surprised that's part of your job. I just hope she doesn't take it too hard when you're done with her and tell her to fuck off." You then try to maneuver around him but he side steps you.

“I know it’s none of your business but it’s important to me that you know. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to hurt you in any way because that’s the absolute last thing I want,” Ray shakes his head, ignoring your snide comment. “I don’t want to be at this boring party as much as I know you don’t either.”

“OH!” Your eyebrows shoot up to your almost perfectly coiffed hairline. “I’m so sorry my party isn’t dramatic enough for you.” You cross your arms under your breasts which are now accentuated by your arm placement.

Ray’s eyes begin to twitch as he realizes what he had said.

“No, that’s… that’s not what I meant—“

“No cunt to punch in the face. No damsel for you to save,” you say as you raise your arms above your head and wave them around.

“Can you please lower your voice? I was genuinely concerned for you. That cunt put his hands on you!” Ray snarls.

“It’s my fucking party so I’ll be as loud as I want!”

Ray looks around nervously to make sure they don’t draw any attention.

“You just can’t go around punching every bloke who puts his hands on me! You’re not my boyfriend anymore!” You push right past him with all your might and shoulder check him out of your way.

“Well, your actual boyfriend should have, but he left you all alone in a crowded pub full of drunk men!” Ray growls. “That would have never happened with me. I would have protected you!” 

You stop in your tracks and twirl around.

“Oh, please! You weren’t protecting me. You just don’t like seeing someone else’s hands on me!” You walk up to him and poke your finger into his chest. “Why do you even care so much? You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“I still care about what happens to you,” Ray adjusts his glasses. “Kitten…”

You start shaking your head.

“Just because I can’t love you the way I want to, the way we want to, it doesn’t mean I automatically stop caring for you.” Ray’s face and voice softens.

“No!” You growl into his face. You grunt out of frustration and rip your necklace off for the second time and throw it at him. “I don’t give a shit what you do with that. Just don’t give it back to me.” You spin around and stomp away towards the house.