#and reader has a name

[veephoenix]

bubbles & snow — noah sebastian

Summary: Noah comes home from work right on time to give his babygirl a bath with lots of bubbles 🫧

Words: 1.8k | pairing: noah sebastian x reader + their daughter | my works | 🏷️ tags: girldad!noah, bathtime, tooth-rooting fluff | Author's note: these thoughts wouldn't leave my mind since yesterday so here it goes ✨

Bubbles & Snow

I had just finished undressing our nearly three-year-old daughter, getting her ready for her evening bath, when the front door downstairs shut, announcing someone’s arrival. The sound was followed by the familiar zipper being undone and shoes being kicked off.

Our little girl snapped her head up toward me as I continued crouched on the floor, gathering her clothes to toss in the laundry hamper. Her big brown eyes went wide with excitement, eyebrows shooting up as if she’d just made a grand discovery.

“Daddy,” she half-whispered half-exclaimed, as though I didn’t already know who had just come home.

Before I could stop her, she was off—bare feet pattering across the floor as she darted out of our bedroom and into the hallway. I called after her, reminding her to be careful, but there was no slowing her down. Noah had been gone all day, and she missed him like crazy.

Our house had two levels. The upstairs, where the bedrooms were located, had a hallway that opened up to a loft-style landing with a wooden railing, overlooking the spacious living room below. From there, you could see the main entrance and most of the ground floor.

My baby skidded to a stop at the railing, grabbing the wooden bars and peering down, eyes bright and full of anticipation.

“Daddy!”

Noah stepped into the living room, smiling brightly as he looked up at her. His hands rested loosely on his hips.

“Who’s this little lady, running around the house with no clothes on?!” he asked, mock-scandalized.

“’S me, daddy!” she declared proudly. “‘S bath time!”

“Bath time?” he echoed, eyes widening in exaggerated surprise. “No way—that’s my favorite time!”

Without missing a beat, he tugged off his white T-shirt dramatically, then he made a theatrical dash for the stairs, trying to peel off his socks mid-run, nearly tripping in the process, sending our daughter into a fit of giggles.

“Faster, Daddy!”

“I’m trying!” he said with urgency, stumbling over his own feet. She squealed with laughter, jumping in place, her long wavy hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. We hadn’t taken her to a hairstylist for a while and it really was time for a trim.

“Daddy, you’re silly!”

“I think I broke my ankle!” 

“No, you didn’t!” she shot back, unable to contain her laughter.

Grinning, he scooped her up into his arms the second he reached the landing. She melted against his bare chest, squealing and squirming as he greeted her by covering her cheeks in loud kisses. Then, with one arm wrapped tightly around her, he made his way toward our suite.

Seeing Noah holding our daughter like that—her always looking so small in his arms even as the years passed—was a sight that never failed to send a flutter of butterflies through my chest.

As he approached me, looking intently into my eyes, he caught the hem of my loose T-shirt between his fingers, tugging me toward him for a kiss.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi,” I said, smiling. “How was work?”

“Good. But now that I’m home with my girls?” He made our daughter bounce on his arm. “Even better.”

My heart melted a little. Just a little.

“I was just about to give her her evening bath. The tub’s already full and at the right temperature.”

“Bubbles!” Our baby girl squealed, throwing her arms in the air.

“Perfect. I’ll hop in with her,” Noah said, nudging his head toward the bathroom. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he meant: Take a break, you’ve earned it.

I’d been with her all day, and while I loved spending time with her and didn’t want to miss a second of her childhood, I couldn’t deny how much I appreciated a few quiet minutes to myself.

I whispered a “thank you” as I stepped aside with her tiny clothes bundled in my arms and left them to their bubbly, lavender-steamed bath. 

Five minutes later, I was stretched out on the sectional in our living room, trying to lose myself in the book in my hands. I’d cracked it open with every intention of escaping into another world for a while as Noah washed our baby and got her hydrated and ready with her pjs, but focusing was proving to be a challenge. 

From upstairs came the sound of laughter and splashing water (Noah had left the bathroom and bedroom doors open, so their world kept spilling warmly into mine.). I could hear our daughter squealing, filling the house with her sweet sounds. I tried to concentrate, my eyes scanning the same paragraph for the third time, but my attention kept drifting back to the chaos above me.

“Daddy, you’re a snowman!” I heard her say, her voice bubbling with delight.

Immediately, the image of Noah sitting in the tub, legs bent, absolutely covered in white foam, bubbles piling up on his head and shoulders popped into my head. I bit back a smile, the corners of my mouth twitching.

I turned another page I hadn’t actually read, the words blurring as sounds continued to drift down from upstairs as the minutes passed.

There was the gentle splashing of water, Noah’s deep, low voice, and our daughter’s endless giggles and mispronounced words bouncing off the walls. 

“Okay,” Noah said, in his best dad voice, “arms up!”

“Nooo!” she squealed, knowing what came next.

“Come on, arms up! We’ve got to clean those little armpits. Very important business.”

“No, Daddy, that tickles!”

“You know I’m just doing my job. It’s either that or you’re going to be a smelly baby.”

“M’not smelly!” She countered, and I could see her pout and the glare she was probably sending to Noah so clearly in my head.

“You won’t be if you let me wash you properly. Arms up, come on.”

“No tickles, ok, daddy?”

“Okay. No tickles, I promise.”

“Good Daddy.”

I heard Noah laughing to himself as she praised him with that authoritative voice she must have picked up from him, probably from when the rest of the boys were around and he bossed them around about business.

“Arms up now, and close your eyes.”

Before he even touched her, I could tell she was already squealing and trying to clamp her arms to her sides.

“Daddy, no!!”

Noah didn’t reply. He focused on washing her, making sure she didn’t slip under his touch and sink into the water. He told her to be still a couple of times, using his serious dad tone.

“Not again, Daddy,” she whined after a minute. “I want to be smelly.”

Noah’s snort reached the living room.

“Smelly babies can’t sleep with their mom and dad on the weekends. Did you know that?”

“Yes, they can! Don’t tell lies, Daddy!”

Noah shook his head, trying to contain a smile, biting his lower lip as he looked down at the tiny creature submerged in water up to her chest, facing him as she sat caged between his bent legs.

“Jesus,” he muttered, starting to wash himself, “so dramatic for a two-year-old.”

“I’m not dramatic!” she shouted. Splash.

“Yes, you are.”

“No! I’m Elsa!” she declared suddenly. I could tell she tried to stand up too quickly, because I heard Noah say, “Easy there.”

“I have snow powers!” she continued. “Look!”

I was so tempted to get up and go upstairs to peek and watch the scene unfold with my own eyes. But I stayed put, imagining exactly what was happening in the bathroom.

“Oh no…” Noah said, voice slow and warning. “Oh, no! She’s freezing me! Somebody help!” 

“I’m throwing snow at you, Daddy!”

“Aaahh!” he shouted, making the water slosh so much that some of it spilled out of the tub.  “I’m freezing! I’m drowning in snow!”

I snorted, letting the book drop from my hands to the cushions beneath my legs. Noah’s tall frame was probably awkwardly folded into our standard-sized bathtub, and now he was pretending to be defeated dramatically with snow and suds thrown by our daughter in some imaginary battle. 

About twenty minutes later, I heard the creak of the stairs and the soft pad of footsteps.

When I looked up, I saw Noah and our daughter coming down to meet me in the living room.

Noah had a white towel wrapped around his waist, and another twisted into a bulky turban on his head. In his arms, our daughter was bundled up like a burrito, tucked in tight in her towel, arms free, a miniature towel-turban wobbling on her head, slightly off-center. They looked like posh spa models. 

“Mommy, we match,” our baby announced, putting a hand on her towel-turban.

“I can see that,” I chuckled.

“She insisted,” Noah replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t say no.” 

“I am clean now,” she said proudly, her skin shiny and hydrated. “I’m not smelly. Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”

I shared a knowing look with Noah, and all I got back was that warm, love-filled expression. He could try to teach our daughter that she wouldn’t get to spend the night with us unless she was good and followed the rules, but the truth was, Noah was the one having the hardest time letting her transition from our room to her own.

He loved morning snuggles and waking up to little fingers pushing at his side, telling him the sun was up and reminding him that Nick would scold him for being late to the studio if he didn’t get moving.

She stretched her arms toward me as Noah rounded the sofa and stopped in front of me, gently handing her over. I scooped her up, and she toppled into my lap.

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” I said to her, kissing her pink chubby cheek. “Mm, you smell good, that’s true.”

“I smell like a flower, Mommy?”

“Like a lavender burrito, if you ask me,” Noah replied, flopping down next to us, legs spread, sinking into the cushions. He looked at us for a beat before lifting an arm to adjust our baby’s turban. “You should’ve seen her in action,” he said to me. “She froze me with snow powers. I barely survived.”

“No way.” I took her by the arms and lifted her so her toes touched my thighs. “Is that true? You froze Daddy?”

“But it wasn’t real, Mommy. Just suds and bubbles. I didn’t hurt Daddy.”

Noah draped his arm around my shoulders and tilted his head until it touched mine, both of us gazing lovingly at our daughter.

“You didn’t, baby,” Noah reassured her in a low, gentle voice.

“But he tickled me. Here,” she said, pointing to her left armpit.

“No, I didn’t,” Noah shot back quickly, raising an eyebrow and pointing at her. “I cleaned you. That’s different.”

“I don’t like it.”

“But now you’re clean and smelling so nice, aren’t you?” I said, bouncing her gently on my lap. “Tell you what,” I added, pulling her closer and brushing my lips against her ear, sending Noah a mischievous glance, “why don’t we tickle Daddy tonight when we go to bed?”

Immediately, her face lit up, and within seconds, a grin spread across her entire face.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“Two against one? That’s not fair!” Noah replied.

[lologoinsolo]

Main Masterlist, Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[thephantomsdream]

Price: It has 5 bedrooms, three bathrooms, full basement with laundry room, but it has room for making a couple more bedrooms and a bathroom.

Price: Was thinking of using this bedroom as a guest bedroom for now.

Price: The other bigger ones for the kids someday.

Price: An open kitchen, very big, a little bare for now.

Price: This is my office.

Price: This would be your space. You can do anything you want with it.

Price: A reading room, a gaming room, art room...

Y/N: What?

Price: In the back there's a greenhouse and a big garden. Do you like gardening or just having flowers around?

Price: I can arrange someone to come every so often to take care of the yard.

Y/N: Wait...

Price: Let me walk you through it, you'll love it.

Price: I can build a gazebo riiiight there. What do you think?

Y/N: John, enough.

Price: (tilts head confused)

Y/N: This is literally our first date.

Price: (shaking his head) None of that.

Price: What's your ring size?

[allimili]

What happened if I kiss Shadow Milk on the cheek? Like a quick kiss and then running? He's not chasing me, right? Right?

Give him some time to process and he will attack back

[tsuutarr]

You almost scream when something falls into your basket, certain that you'll have to deal with a large bug. 

You soon calm down when you realize that your sudden visitor isn't a bug, but a tired garden fairy. He leans against your basket, looking worn out, causing sympathy to well up inside you. You push some of the berries inside your basket his way, causing his eyes to brighten.

After that, you've had a little fairy stalker following you around everywhere. But you don't mind – he's cute and harmless, after all. He fits into all your dollhouses and gets full eating just a few berries, so there's no way he's anything dangerous. 

In fact, he helps you out a lot! He makes you tea and helps you clean despite being so tiny. And it's really cute when he sits on your shoulder or gives you little cheek kisses or little gifts! You're still wearing that necklace with an adorable acorn charm he made you.

So of course you appreciate his company. Besides, you've been feeling a little lonely as of late, what with so many of your friends getting sick lately. You're not sure how you avoided the weird stomach bug that's been going around, but you don't really question it.

Because really, why would you ever question it? It's not like you're aware that your new little fairy friend enchanted that necklace of yours to make your friends sick whenever they talk to you, nor are you aware that he's been feeding you enchanted tea to make you more fae than human, hoping to whisk you away to the fairy realm.

Because really, why would you ever doubt him?

He's so cute and harmless, after all.

[emmcfrxst]

jason todd swears like a sailor whenever you ride him. the visual of your body on top of his, the feeling of your hands on his chest and your cunt fluttering around him, the sweet sounds of your moans and mewls— everything about getting ridden makes jason’s dick hard and turns his brain to mush

[aurorasdaybreak]

the love shot °˖➴ caleb xia (m)

summary: usually, you're able to keep apart love and hate with ease. but with him, you find that the two are not only more similar than they seem, but also deeply intertwined - to the point you can't separate them anymore. info: farspace fleet colonel!caleb x hunter afab!reader | story compliant | fluff, angst, smut | 18+ | 10k words warnings: some angst, some fluff, mostly smut, possessive!caleb bc ofc he is, possessive!mc bc have you seen his myth?? she did not want to let go AT ALL, (light) spoilers for caleb’s myth, timeline wise this happens i’m considering this an extension of painful signal that might be out of timeline whoopsies (;—;), kissing, making out against a wall, teasing, inappropriate use of evol, dom!caleb, sub!f!reader, choking, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral, edging, marking, praise, degradation (slut, cockslut), f!multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), kinda sappy sex, cervix fucking(ish), caleb checking in bc he’s going hard (and consent and checking in is sexy!), ending is sappy and fluffy?? idk (T_T) author’s note: hi hi hello! i'm new to lads tumblr (but not to writing) and i'm very excited to be here :') it's been a little bit since i've written, so pls be kind but also pls feel free to leave your thoughts in my askbox!! i hope you enjoy :D disclaimer: not beta read, will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! °˖➴ inspired by love shot by exo

It’s been hard for you to distinguish what’s true and false these past couple of weeks.

When you took your leave, you had deemed it as a necessary distraction from all of the grief and pain that’s been greeting you in your apartment. You had established your universe’s truths before you touched base in Skyhaven: you’re a Deepspace hunter, you’re here to find links between Ever and the Farspace Fleet, and you’re definitely not using this half-baked mission to run away from what haunts you at night.

An explosion. A necklace just out of reach. Amethyst eyes, dismayed yet hiding something that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You had grown numb to the pain, but that didn’t mean it never left you alone.

When you had gotten into formation waiting for the new Farspace Fleet colonel, you were sure of the reality that you were living in. As lackluster as the world had gotten, it still turned, and you couldn’t wallow and let your anguish eat you alive.

So you stood, holding your breath and waiting to catch a glimpse of the new colonel…

…only for everything you knew to be shattered in an instant.

Because it was him.

But was it really?

In the weeks that followed, you stayed with him and learned new things that kept threatening to disturb the peace you fought to maintain. You learned of his monumental rise through the ranks, the secrets he tried to stash away, even what his workload entailed.

You also learned how wicked he could truly be, bending your trust until you thought it would shatter in between his fingers.

After uncovering the real truth, you had returned to Linkon City and relayed all you knew to Jenna - minus the enigmatic colonel the Association was chasing after. How could you even begin to tell her that the Farspace Fleet’s most feared leader is your childhood best friend? The one that you swore blew up right before your very eyes?

You couldn’t, not without uncovering the truth for yourself first.

So you went back to Skyhaven, spending more days with him.

Looking back on it now, it was almost like when you were kids. He took care of you, cooking your favorite meals and doting on you like he always did. There were soft, stolen moments that you tried to keep at the forefront of your brain, but it was hard to grasp on that warmth when there was an underlying chill in the moments you’ve shared.

You didn’t know then, but you now know the extent of just how wrong things have been within the ranks of the Farspace Fleet. The Toring Chip, memory resets when emotions get too high…people becoming a shell of what they used to be.

You didn’t think that all of this could even exist, much less be possible and be used in such an unfeeling way. In your heart of hearts, you just didn’t want to believe it because it meant that he had gone through it. You had been delusional enough to think he had dodged it.

But all it took was one call from Gideon for you to uncover the truth. Now…

Now, you’re taking in the sight of Caleb Xia’s metal arm in your hands.

You and him are sitting side by side on his makeshift cot, thighs pressed together as you turn the foreign part in your palms. He complies with your silent assessment, moving his arm up and down so that you can examine every angle. Something violent begins to brew in your stomach as you run your fingers along the smooth metal - a rage that you don’t quite know how to quell because you’ve never felt something of this magnitude before.

You almost welcome it. It’s preferable to the gray haze you’ve been living in these past couple of months.

“Do you remember the process?” Your voice is deceptively calm as your palm slides down the length of his forearm so that you can grab his wrist, and you rest his hand in your lap so that you can play with his fingers.

There’s a beat of silence before Caleb lets out a sigh. He pulls his hand from your lap and presses it into his thigh, the joints of his fingers creaking just a little bit at the sheer amount of force he exerts on his own skin. You tut at this, and you grab his wrist again so that you can help his hand relax. You take your time in unfurling each of his metal digits, gently straightening each of them at the knuckle so that they no longer crease. The action has Caleb relaxing, and you try not to shiver when you feel him rest his head on your shoulder.

“I only remember the pain.” It’s a quiet admission, one that leaves his lips and gently ruffles the hair by your ear like a summer breeze carrying a heavy secret. His fingers curl around your own and he squeezes tightly, you returning the same strength. “Looking back, I was thankful for just how excruciating it was. It reminded me that I was alive and that I wasn’t gonna waste my second chance.”

“I hate that you can’t feel much with it anymore.” Your tone is bitter as you shift away from his side, giving you space so that you can properly process all of the information you’ve just been given.

“I don’t just feel much, I feel nothing at all.” Caleb says it with a self-deprecating humor, but you can only scoff as you push yourself off of the cot and stand in front of him.

“I meant what I said about making the Farspace Fleet pay.” You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, giving him a serious look. “They can’t get away with everything that they’ve done to you and your comrades - hell Caleb, everything they’re doing right now!”

“How do you propose you do that, ____?” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound as he grabs the back of your thighs and forces you closer, pulling you into his lap so that you straddle him. You tilt your head down so that you can avoid his eyes, and his chest rumbles at your action. 

He tilts your chin up with his metal hand, and you shiver at the restrained strength in which he holds your face. His eyes are cold and his fingers twitch slightly. You should be scared, but somehow you aren’t. There’s a fire that ignites at your proximity, one that’s slowly beginning to spread along your entire body and makes your head spin at its ferocity.

“You can’t just burn the Farspace Fleet down.” It’s almost as if he can read your mind, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he gleaned those thoughts from just one look on your face. “I can’t tell you everything, ____ - but I promise you, things will get better for me, for us.”

That last word has you stilling and dropping your gaze so that you don’t have to look head on at him. You catch a quick glimpse of the silver against his chest, the words When U Come Back highlighted by the silvery light of the moon. Those words feel like a sick joke because the man you gave them to may be here physically - but he’s not really your Caleb.

You reach up to gently pull his metal hand off of your chin, and you can feel the burning of his gaze as you drop your mouth to his right shoulder. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet the junction of skin and steel, his exhalation shaky when your tongue lightly flicks the slight divot. The taste of salty bitterness lays heavy in your mouth, and you pull away to look back up at his failing restraint.

“Did you feel that?” It’s rhetorical and you both know it from the way you’ve rendered him speechless. His lips form a thin line as your hands make their way up his torso, giving you an anchor as you stare into his eyes. “You say you can’t, but it’s clear that you do.”

Your fingers begin to draw circles on his shoulders, and you try your best to even your breathing so that he can’t see just how affected you are. You can’t afford to show any weakness, not in front of this imposter who wears your dead best friend’s face. 

“I used to be able to read you so clearly.” It’s a whisper, and you let your forehead fall against his collarbone. “I used to know everything just from one look on your face. I hate that they took that from me.”

“Me wearing my heart on my sleeve and showing my weakness?” It’s meant to come out as a scoff, but you can hear the vulnerability in his tone.

“I was thinking more your honesty.” You feel his chest rise quickly, and you shake your head as you chuckle bitterly. “Of course you’d think it’s a weakness now.”

You bite your lip when you hear his hands leave the sheets, and your eyes slip shut when they settle on your waist. The chilling cold and comforting warmth serve as a reminder of the past you crave so much and the present you’re currently dealing with - the cold and calculated colonel versus your childhood best friend who scored himself onto your heart.

Time ticks slowly as he mulls over his response, and your breaths are shallow as you wait for his words. Above you, Caleb swallows thickly before settling on his carefully chosen words.

 “I did it to protect you.”

You quietly suck in a breath, and it’s like even the air in the room has gone still at his quiet admission.

He takes your silence as your permission to continue with his reasoning. The words muffle when they reach your ears though - not because you’re not interested, but because you know it’s not true.

The Caleb you knew would never keep secrets from you. He would be honest, he would never stay away from you for as long as he did.

So why did he?

Are you a burden to him?

Your blood runs cold at the continuous stream of velvet sweetness streaming from his lips, and you shake your head as you push yourself up and away from his suffocating presence. “Bullshit.”

You feel Caleb’s chest stop, your expletive taking him by surprise. “____?”

“I call bullshit, Caleb Xia.”

It’s filled with venom and you clamber away, taking deep breaths and willing yourself to wake up from this suffocating nightmare. You focus your gaze on the single strand of raven hair that sways upright in the nighttime breeze because you know if you look into his eyes, you’ll crumble at his feet. “You didn’t do it for me, you did it to save yourself. Not once did you care for me-”

“That’s a lie and we both know that.” His words are just as harsh as he pushes himself up from the cot, and your eyes pass over his face as his height forces you to see every emotion dancing on his face. “____, I’ve been through the fucking ringer. You have no fucking idea what I had to do to get to this point, what I sacrificed just so I could reach the top all the while protecting my heart.” It comes out raw and his biting words soften at the last word, but you still roll your eyes as you cross your arms to protect yourself.

“So tell me what you did.” They’re quiet but lethally so, satin hiding the steel intent in your words. “Tell me the fucking truth, Caleb. Tell me every painful detail so that I can try to begin to understand you.”

You don’t realize it, but you walk forward until you’re stopped in front of him, back in his space. You hate yourself just a little bit for not being able to fully pull back, but you know deep down you can’t stay too far away from him anymore.

You’re afraid he’ll be taken from you from right under your fingers.

“And in return, I’ll try to tell you the excruciating hurt I went through mourning you and Gran.” Your voice wavers and you grip at your biceps, digging your nails into the muscle to steel yourself. “I’ll try to tell you how fucking awful it felt burying two empty caskets, standing at honor ceremonies, and staring up at my ceiling at night wondering if my dreams would be warm from the happy memories or from the fire that resulted from the blast. I’ll try to explain the emptiness I felt for the months after, because while you were here doing whatever you did to get to the top, I was left with the ghost of you.”

Your lip trembles and you unfold your arms, pressing your palms against your cheeks to furiously wipe away the tears that have begun to course down your face. The room stands still as your shoulders shake, and you can feel his heavy gaze on your head.

“I should have never gone here,” you whisper once your tears subside, leaving you with the bitter emptiness you’ve grown acquainted with. “At least you would’ve stayed dead, and I wouldn’t have grown to hate what you’ve become.”

You turn on your heels and spin around, trying to make your way out of the hidden room. You’re barely able to take two steps before you feel a cool brush against the back of your neck, and you gasp when his metal fingers grasp tightly at your shoulder.

“Repeat that last statement again.” His fingers tighten slightly as he walks in a direction, and a gasp escapes your lips at the sudden proximity and your back meeting a wall. His hand moves up so that his fingers can wrap around your neck, thumb tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at the Colonel standing in front of you as he presses down on the column of your throat just a little bit harder.

“I s-should have never gone h-here.” They leave in puffs, but you still force enough conviction to gain a harsher look in his eyes.

“And?” His voice is clipped, and a sudden pang of fear strikes your spine when you see the wires attached to the machine begin to rise: a sign of him losing his grip on his Evol. “I specifically remember something about hate.”

Your mouth runs dry and your eyes widen, taking in the implication of his words. Caleb laughs humorlessly at your reaction, his fingers slightly loosening and giving you a little taste of the clean air you didn’t realize you were craving.

“Tell me you hate me, ____.” The venomous words are juxstaposed by his gentle tone and his human hand reaching up and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers squeezing your ear lobe and serving as a reminder that somewhere deep down, he’s still your Caleb. “Tell me you hate me, and I’ll let you leave. I’ll disappear for good. I’ll become the ghost you’ve always wanted.”

Your future hangs in a delicate balance as you process his words, turning over the possible options in your head. You’d grown used to living without him and Gran after the explosion. Life was dull, but you’d begun to move on. Staying here and letting him back in would undo the progress you’ve made - it would force you to confront ugly truths you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

But on the other hand…

You don’t think you can do the rest of your life without him. You need him like the air you breathe and the water you drink - he’s vital to your survival like the weapons you wield when you face Wanderers on the field. He’s an extension of you, a reminder of the life you’ve lived and the life that’s ahead of you.

But that life is meaningless without him…even if it’s this twisted, darker version of Caleb you barely know.

You’ve made up your mind.

“I hate you, Colonel Xia. I loathe you with every fiber of my being.” You barely gasp out the words before your arms wrap around his neck and pull him down, bringing his lips to yours.

His reaction is instantaneous, his hands cupping your cheeks and forcing your neck at a higher angle so that he can kiss you more deeply. His body presses yours against the wall, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. It’s angry, full of bitter resentment from the past couple of weeks. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you barely open your mouth wide enough before he forces himself in, tongues tangling before he ultimately wins the battle for dominance.

His hands shift, going from your cheeks to back down your neck before sliding down your back and cupping your hips. He squeezes the flesh and it has your head reeling, pulling away from his lips to gasp for air.

Your head falls back against the wall, and your chest heaves as you suck in air greedily into your lungs. Your fingers grasp his shoulders and you feel your stomach flip at the tortured groan that escapes his mouth, right before he pulls you in even closer to him and kisses you again.

It’s another battle for victory, and you win a point when your fingers reach up to pull at his hair. Caleb’s mouth falls even wider at the sensation and you use that timing to your advantage, allowing yourself to bite and suck at his bottom lip. He groans again, and the sound sends shivers down your spine and causes you to smirk against his mouth.

“What, tired already?” You can’t help the taunting tone that enters your voice, and he pulls away just enough so that you can see the steely resolve on his face.

“In your dreams,” Caleb retorts. His hands shift from your hips to your ass and you try to mask the whimper that nearly escapes you as an exhale, but you know he knows by the huff against your lips that you’ve failed.

He uses your daze to pull your hips even closer to his front, and your eyes roll back into your skull when you feel his rapidly hardening length in his slacks. “This is what you do to me, ____.” He grinds his hips against yours, and this time you can’t quite help the moan that leaves your lips. “You drive me fucking insane.”

You don’t even offer a retort, instead choosing to pull him back down again so that you can kiss him again. He willingly lets you, and you bite down on his lip hard when his palms squeeze at your ass. He taps two fingers against the flesh and your arms tighten around his neck, giving him the chance to slide his hands to the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist with ease.

Caleb walks out of his makeshift infirmary back into his living room, dodging furniture with ease as you press your lips against his jaw. You feel his chest rumble against yours as you begin to nip and suck blossoms under his chin, and his hands squeeze your ass in warning when you begin to mark up his neck.

You barely register that you’re in his (your?) bedroom until you land onto the bed on your back with a gasp. You bite your lip when you see Caleb kick off his slippers and socks before making his way over to the bed, grabbing your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed before letting his palms settle on your hips.

“You know that marking Skyhaven property is a punishable offense?” Caleb’s voice is a drawl as his fingers massage their way up your sides, dipping underneath your shirt and tracing circles that have your patience thinning. “You can be fined or jailed. Depends on the severity, though.”

“W-what does it matter?” Your voice leaves in a gasp as Caleb’s hands finally slide underneath your shirt, giving you the touch you so desperately crave.

“Think about it, pips.” Caleb pulls you up by your waist, and your head spins as he nudges your thighs apart with his knee. “What were you doing just now?”

“Caleb, what-” You can barely think as he guides your arms up, working your shirt over your head before tossing the garment somewhere in his room. He pushes you back down onto the bed, and you feel your eyes begin to close at the hazy, almost animalistic look in his own gaze. His hands pinch at your hips, though, and your eyes snap back open to meet his once again.

“Think, ____.” There’s an edge to his voice as his hands return to your waist, slowly making their way up to your ribcage. “What were you doing to me in the living room?”

You can barely think, mind clouding in need as his thumbs brush the underside of your bra cups. He skims the digits along the underside, letting his nails trace the lacy material - making you swallow thickly as you try to place your answer. 

Your eyes catch the blossoming purple on his neck, and you finally put two and two together. “All because I gave you hickeys?”

“Good girl.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice, and he rewards you by sliding his thumbs underneath your bra and running the rough digits along the swell of your breasts. Your head lolls back at the stimulation, although annoyance flares in your stomach - mixing with the desire and lighting a savage flame in your body.

“That’s dumb as fuck.” It’s a moan, but you can feel his annoyance by the way his hands stop.

“Why is that?” Caleb’s hands make their way to your back, and you lift your torso so that he can struggle with your bra’s clasps. “I’m the Farspace Fleet’s colonel, ____. And my uniform’s gonna have a hard time covering the gifts you’ve given me, pips.”

“Because, Caleb,” you laugh when he fumbles with the clasps, and the irritation on his face gives way to a slight look of endearment that has your heart clenching. You make your heart calm down before you continue with faux confidence. “Because, you were mine first.”

His hands stop at your words, and you meet his eyes with unwavering honesty in response to his incredulous stare. “Pips, what-”

“You’ll always be mine.” Your hands tremble when you lift them to his face, but your touch is sure as you brush a strand of hair off of his forehead. “You’ll never be their property because they can’t take my Caleb away from me.”

The air in the room stills as he pulls his body away from yours, registering the weight of your words. You suddenly feel cold all over and you begin to shiver, although it’s not from the temperature of your current surroundings.

Why did you say that in your stupid, lustful daze?

And why do you suddenly feel nervous about his reaction?

Your eyes land on the hickeys your lips and teeth have left on his chest, the littered marks suddenly making you feel self conscious. What a stupid thing to do. Maybe you should stop-

You feel a sudden pressure on your torso as you’re forced back onto the bed, not realizing that you had pushed yourself up onto your forearms. You look up to see Caleb’s stormy eyes - lust and anger and another emotion you can’t quite place clouding his entire face. His palms land on your bra cups, and you can barely gasp in shock when he grips the lace and tears it clean off your body.

“Caleb!” Your annoyance is evident, and you look up at him with a thin press of your lips. “That was one of my favorite pairs-”

Your statement falls flat when he cups your bare breasts, and you gasp when you feel his thumbs roll against your nipples. He readjusts your body so that your hips are on the edge of the bed, and he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” There’s a new rawness in his voice, and you shiver when you feel his tongue flick at your earlobe. “I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want, but it’ll be from me.”

His mouth moves down your neck, and you cry out when you feel his teeth catch your nipple. He flicks at the little bud with the tip of his tongue, and his metal hand begins to pinch and rub at the other, making you rub your hips against his as you gasp.

“You’re so fucking mine, ____.” Caleb’s mouth leaves your breast, and he places a soft kiss against the skin where your heart beats. “It’s you and me, pips.”

His tongue leaves a trail from your chest up to your neck, and he kisses your jaw before nudging your nose against his and letting his forehead fall against yours. “You’re not leaving, ever again.”

It’s a whispered promise, and your eyes flutter shut when your mouth meets his once again. While your first kiss was angry and turbulent, this one is sweet and seals his vow - a slow press of lips, a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, and a pace that builds the desperation that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach.

Caleb’s mouth begins to leave a feathery trail, slowly mapping a path from your chin and down the column of your throat. Your breathing stops when he reaches your chest, but he elects to pass your nipples entirely and continue his way down your stomach - finally reaching the skin that’s covered by your pants.

It feels like your nerves are going to ignite at any second - the fire that’s been slowly flickering about to consume you from the inside out. You feel his fingertips slide their way under the band of your pants and you don’t even need to think about it, you just lift your hips up so that he can pull the fabric off of your body.

Your eyes blink open at the sharp intake of his breath when he sees you in nothing but the lace panties that match the bra he tore off, and you fight the urge to reach up and cover yourself. Sure, Caleb’s seen you in a variety of ways since your shared childhood, but never in a way that’s been this…intimate.

He catches your gaze, and you can’t help but smile at the flush that’s painting his cheeks. You watch as he kneels in front of you, and you whimper when his hands land on your thighs and open them as wide as he pleases - allowing him to slot himself in between your legs

Your chest begins to rise and fall in much shallower breaths when his left hand reaches up to touch the little white bow at the center front of your underwear. He toys with the little bit of fabric, and a smirk grows on his lips as his metallic fingers squeeze your plush flesh. “These are cute, ____.”

“They matched the bra you ripped.” Your voice is serious, but you bite your bottom lip and look up at him with a coy smile. “How are you gonna make it up to me, Colonel Xia?”

His body stiffens at your words, and a new layer of frost enters the room as he looks down at you coolly. His hands finally toy with the waistband of your panties, fiddling and sliding the band up and down in a way that lets you know that you’ve made a mistake.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is clipped, but you can’t find it in yourself to heed his warning when he finally drags the scrap of lace down your thighs. He doesn’t take it fully off, though - he instead elects to leave them halfway down your thighs.

“Why not?” There’s a humorous note to your tone, and you’re surprised to find that you enjoy the sight of him blushing and at a loss for words. You bend your knee and lift your leg just the tiniest bit, angling your ankle so that it barely brushes against the bulge that’s straining against the front of his pants. His fingers tremble against your sides as he chokes at the stimulation, and you giggle and let your leg fall back down. “Is something wrong, Colonel Caleb?”

It’s like something in him snaps.

All of a sudden, he’s pressing your hips down onto the bed, and you can barely move. You gasp as Caleb’s body goes, kneeling at the edge of the bed and moving his head dangerously close to your weeping core. Your body heats in embarrassment and you try to snap your legs shut, but before you can do so he’s grabbing your knees and placing them on his shoulders.

“Don’t. Move.” It’s an impossible command, especially since you can feel the way his hair brushes against your core. Your eyes flutter shut, but they snap back open when you feel him pinch your knee. “And keep your eyes on me, ____.”

Time slows as you feel his lips brush against your knee, a whisper that makes you think you dreamt the sensation. You’re brought back to the present when you feel his lips move closer to the place you want him most - featherlight kisses and brushes of his hair enough to drive you to madness, but not enough to push you to the end you so desperately crave.

Caleb’s lips stop at your inner thigh, right before the place you want him most. You try your best to follow his orders, but it’s near impossible. Your patience is hanging on by a thread, and you don’t know just how long you can keep following what he wants.

Caleb feels your thighs tremble underneath his metal palm, and you know he can feel your desperation at the rumble of his laughter as he stops his teasing. “What’s wrong, ____? Can’t wait anymore?”

“N-no,” you stutter out, trying to hide how affected you are by him. “I-i’m just-”

“Just what?” There’s a potent venom that’s disguised by the honeyed tone he injects into his voice. If you closed your eyes, you would almost believe that he was actually concerned. “Just wanting me?”

You don’t know why, but this sets you off in a way you didn’t know was possible. You buck your hips, and you let out a soft cry when your core just slightly meets his mouth. Your eyes slowly slip shut as you buck your hips again and again, craving and wanting and begging-

But suddenly, your hips stop.

Your eyes widen as you realize just what he did to you, and your stomach flips in equal parts fear and want as you look down and see the cold, calculated smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“I told you not to move, ____.” Caleb’s Evol pins your body to the mattress, and he uses his hands to spread your thighs as far as they can go with your panties restraining you. “And to keep your eyes on me. And since you’ve failed at those two commands, well...”

His teeth bite down at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you cry out as he sucks harshly. Caleb pulls away to examine the hickey he created to match the ones you made on his neck, and you can’t help but moan when you see the possessiveness in his gaze.

“Caleb, plea-” you begin, but the words die on your tongue when he stares at you with that cold, calculated stare he only gives to those under his command.

“How many times did you move your hips?”

“What?” You’re confused by his question.

“How. Many. Times?”

He presses his lips into your skin after every word, his tongue sucking on your flesh and leaving more marks on your skin. Your mind spins as you try to count, and your answer leaves in a clumsy breath: “Three? Why the fuck does it matter?”

He hums at your response, shaking his head and giving you a smirk. “Oh, ____. You’ll learn soon.”

It’s all the warning you get before his metal fingers meet your pussy, carelessly dragging them up against your slit. A strangled cry escapes your body when the stimulation finally registers in your mind, and you try to buck your hips up so that you can begin to chase your high.

You’ve forgotten about his Evol, however, so you’re forced to feel the molten sensation spreading across your body.

“You’re so impatient, baby.” There’s a whisper of a laugh in Caleb’s voice as he continues to slide his fingers against your pussy lips, avoiding the one spot you want him to press down on the most. “What happened to all the patience I taught you?”

“You taught me jack shit-” you try to snap, but it cuts off into a moan when you feel his fingers dip slightly into your sopping hole. You gnaw at your bottom lip and glare at him, but all he does is work his finger gently into your hole and give you a shit-eating grin.

“Mmm, that’s right ____,” he hums sweetly, slowly working in the cold digit. You try your best to hold his gaze, but the combination of how cold and thick his ring finger is has your eyelids slowly slipping shut.

All of a sudden, you feel his finger pushing deep inside of you, and you cry out and meet his gaze. Caleb’s lips continue to display a twisted grin as he slowly retracts his finger, and you can’t even do anything about it because your hips are held in place by his stupid Evol.

“Sorry, pips.” You can tell he’s not sorry at all, but your sarcastic reply is cut off by a moan when he pushes his finger back in slowly. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You’re such an ass.” You can barely breathe from the pleasure he gives you with just a single finger, and you know he can see it from the way your head shakes back and forth on his mattress and the sweat that begins to make your body glisten. You hear Caleb groan from between your thighs, and you lift your head as far as you can manage and whimper at the sight of him thrusting his metal finger in and out of your cunt while his warm palm squeezes your thigh harshly.

You feel the telltale sign of your orgasm beginning to build in the pit of your stomach and you cry out, frustrated at not being able to buck your hips up. You close your eyes and let your head flop back onto the mattress, and you let the feeling wash over your entire being. You can feel yourself get closer and closer and closer until-

-until it fucking stops.

“What the fuck?!” Your eyes snap open and you crane your head up in desperation, only to be greeted by Caleb’s pleased face. His amethyst gaze meets your own, and you can only watch as he brings his finger up to his lips and sucks your want off of the metal like it’s the water he needs to survive.

“Fuck, ____-” Caleb groans, and before you can even register what he’s done, he places both of his hands on your thighs and presses his mouth against your soaking cunt.

“C-caleb!” You cry out. Your hands immediately shoot out and you intertwine your fingers with his soft hair so that you have something to anchor yourself in reality. Caleb groans at the dull ache at his skull but instead of slowing down he speeds up - making the sensations he forces on your body that much more intense.

Caleb’s tongue carelessly traces lines up and down your slit, and you nearly sob in relief when you feel the tip of his tongue finally flick at your clit. He repeats the motion again, and he laughs when he sees the way your hole begins to leak with more of your slick.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate, pips.” Embarrassment flares in the pit of your stomach, although it’s quickly flushed away when he presses the flat of his tongue against your entire pussy and licks up in one, slow stroke.

“M-more, Caleb-” You try to fight the tears that threaten to slide down your cheek, but it’s hard when Caleb continues his ministrations on your cunt. It feels too damn good, and you both know that you’re rapidly reapproaching the climax he so rudely ruined the first time.

Caleb looks up at you, and he can’t help but groans against your cunt at the sight that greets him. Your face is covered in both a light sheen of sweat and tears, and in his twisted mind he wants to lick your cheek just so that he can taste every bit of you. His amethyst eyes go lower, pausing to stare at the way your breasts heave up and down with every breath, down and down until he’s greeted again by the sight of the cunt he’s had dreams about for years.

Your hole is fully leaking by now, begging to be stuffed full of his cock and your clit is swollen from his tongue playing with it. Up above, Caleb can hear you begging to just give you what you want and, well…how can he refuse his girl?

You nearly scream when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud while he begins pistoning his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt. Having gone from a gentle stream of pleasure to a full on tsunami, your brain doesn’t know what to focus on or what to do. You’re about to fall apart at the seams, so you do the only thing you know to do in this moment in time:

You cry out his name.

“Caleb!”

“That’s right, ____.” He commands in a soft yet dangerous voice. His fingers pick up their pace, and a strangled moan leaves your mouth. “I want you to scream, baby. There’s no one here but the two of us so you can be as loud as you fucking want.”

“Oh fuck-” you hiccup, and your fingers tighten against his hair. “Caleb, your Evol-”

“No.” You can feel his head shake his dissent, but it only adds to your pleasure because his lips rub your clit from side to side. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care because you’re approaching your climax again and you desperately want to fall apart.

You try to be discreet in your chase, willing yourself to dig your nails into your palm so that he can’t see the way your hands shake. Caleb takes your silence as your plateau, so he doubles his efforts: pistoning his fingers in and out of your pussy and laving little licks on your clit in a bid to bring you to the precipice.

Caleb’s lips pull away from your swollen bud and you try to protest the action by squeezing your thighs shut but he replaces his tongue with his thumb, pressing and rubbing at the nub to placate you. He looks up at your eyes, and you can feel your false bravado crumble at the devilish grin on his face. “You’re awfully quiet up there, pips.”

A broken moan slips out of your mouth, followed by a gasp of his name. “C-caleb-”

“Are you close, baby?”

All of your pride leaves your body at his simple question, and you nod while giving him your sweetest eyes so that he takes pity on you and allows you to cum. “‘m c-close-”

“How close?” Caleb’s fingers gradually pick up their pace, a smooth push and pull in and out of your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, only to whine into the air when you feel his fingers hook up to press into your sweet spot.

“C-close,” you gasp. Your hands leave his hair and you press your palms against your breasts, gently pinching at your nipples so that you can finally push yourself over the edge. You’re so close, you’re about to fall off-

“Not yet.”

Caleb pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you nearly scream in frustration, attempting to close wrap your legs completely around his neck so that his mouth can finish the job. Caleb’s much quicker, however, and he carelessly pushes your knees off his shoulders before standing up and peering down at you with a pleased smile.

“Is my girl desperate?” Caleb’s presence is commanding, but you can’t help but watch his hands as he reaches down to unzip his slacks. “____, I’ve given you so much pleasure but you don’t seem to remember that I’m human too.”

Your breath stops as he pushes the fabric and his boxers down his thighs, and you swallow thickly at the sight of his cock slapping his abs. For all your years living with him when you were kids, you’ve always been mindful of his privacy and never walking in on him naked. Your stomach flips at the length and girth of him, because how in the world is he going to fit into you?

“I’ll make sure I fit.” It’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts, and you look up to see a tender look on his face in response to what’s probably an apprehensive look on your own. He kicks off his underwear and slacks before grabbing at your panties and pulling them down your legs. He releases his Evol on your hips, and you take this as a signal to push yourself up to his headboard while he drops the scrap of fabric onto the floor, and he crawls up the bed so that he can brace himself on his forearms and look down at you.

Caleb smiles softly at you - a far cry from the man who was edging you to the point of tears. Despite everything you smile back, gently nudging your nose with his and eliciting a chuckle from his mouth. He presses a kiss on your cheek and you sigh, taking his sweet action as a chance to reach down and wrapping your hands around his cock.

A strangled sound emerges from the depths of his chest and his head falls to your chest as you pump his length, wanting to give him a fraction of the pleasure you experienced. Caleb’s breathing slowly grows more laboured, but before you can fully achieve your goals he grabs at your hand and stops.

“Not yet,” he slowly grits out, and he pulls your hands off of his cock and pins them both to the headboard with his left hand. His right hand guides his cock to your pussy, and you gasp when you feel his fat tip catch your clit. “I decide when the both of us cum, ____.”

He rolls his hips and you both moan - him from how your slick coats his dick, and you from how his cockhead slightly catches your sopping hole. Your hips buck up so that he can slip inside, but before you can succeed you can feel the telltale weight of his Evol pinning the lower half of your body down and rendering you immobile.

“Fuck you, Caleb,” you grit out through your teeth, and you want nothing more than to bite his neck. He winks at you in response, and he lets go of your wrists before placing both hands on your waist and rubbing comforting circles on your ribcage.

“I’m getting to that,” he jokes, and before you can offer a scathing response he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt. You gasp at the initial pressure of his tip breaching your entrance, but the gasp turns into a long drawn moan the more he forces his thick length - up until he bottoms out, and his balls hit the swell of your ass.

You can barely breathe in your current position - legs spread, his gravity Evol pinning you down to the bed, and your hands gripping the headboard like it’s your last lifeline to your sanity - and maybe it is.

It feels like the knot building in the pit of your stomach could snap at any moment - and Caleb knows it most of all.

“Tell me you want it, ____.” Your eyes flutter back into your skull as he rolls his hips. His cock hits deep inside of you, and a strangled breath makes its way out of your chest when he pulls back slowly.

“C-caleb-!” It’s a plea, and you try to fight against his Evol so that you can link your ankles against the small of his back and pull him closer into your cunt. “P-please-”

“Uh-uh.” It’s annoyingly patient as his left hand reaches out to brush your hair away from your sweaty forehead. His right hand drifts closer to your mound, and you cry out when his cool fingers roll one agonizingly slow circle onto your clit. “Beg, ____.”

You don’t know how, but your stupid pride has you biting your lip as you try to fight his Evol so that you can writhe on his mattress. Your head flips back in frustration, and you can only force out a small, teary “Fuck you.”

“Aren’t I already doing that?” Your pussy flutters at the smirk on his face, and a slight dose of satisfaction fills your chest at the choked moan he forces back, although you’re annoyed at how cocky he still looks. “Beg, ____.”

“No.” You’re proud at how your voice doesn’t waver, although that quickly goes away when you feel his hips pull back more until only his tip remains inside. “W-wait-”

“You know what I’m asking for, ____.” Caleb’s tone is deceptively sweet as he begins to rub circles on your clit, making you cry out in the painful pleasure. “Beg for my cock, and I’ll make you feel so fucking good you’ll want to stay here forever.”

“F-fuck!” You can feel your climax beginning to build again, rising from the plateau he had previously created with your two denied orgasms. Your eyes fall shut and tears escape as your head writhes on his pillow - body held still by his Evol so that you’re forced to feel every bit of pleasure he wreaks onto your body.

Caleb’s hips threaten to snap forward, but he forces himself still as he takes in the view of you underneath his body, barely speared on his cock but already delirious on the pleasure. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction - the fearless leader and daring Hunter reduced to a little cockslut writhing on only the tip of his dick. He has half a mind to pull out just so that he can make you sob from the emptiness, but he holds back and continues to rub little circles on your clit until you break.

“C’mon, ____.” It almost sounds teasing, and you sob when you feel yourself on the edge of the precipice - just about to fall off. “Say you want me.”

You’re deliriously out of your mind, and all pride leaves your body when you open your eyes and look at the face that has haunted you in your sleep for the past couple of months. “P-please Caleb! Please make m-me cum-”

“Fuck,” he swears, and you barely register him releasing his gravity hold on your body before he grips your knees and forces them on his shoulders once again, pressing his cock all the way in and hitting your sweet spot in one fell swoop.

“S-shit, Caleb!” It’s a scream as you cum, your eyes sliding shut. Your orgasm washes over your body and consumes you from the inside out, and all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders to anchor you in the present. Caleb can barely hold himself together when he feels your release pelt at his thighs and balls, and he groans before gripping your calves tighter and drilling himself into your cunt.

“You’re such a slut, ____,” he rumbles as he angles your body up, pistoning his hips so that he can more easily reach your deepest spot. “You came just from me pushing my cock into your pussy? I thought you had more restraint than that.”

“C-caleb.” You’re sobbing at this point, the pleasure bordering pain. “Oh fuck, Caleb-”

He leans down and presses his mouth against your breasts, biting as he continues to thrust in and out of you. His lips create a trail of marks up the column of your neck until they press against your lips. Your mouth falls open easily, and he breathes harshly as your tongue grazes his.

“Look at what I’ve reduced the top Hunter to,” Caleb murmurs with gentle poison. He plants kisses all over your face, and the sweet gesture almost makes you forget that he’s ravaging you. “The sweetest little cockslut who only knows how to scream my name.”

Your only response is to cry out even louder, your hands sliding down and finding purchase on his broad back. Your nails dig into the muscle so that you can try and keep from spiraling deeper into your pleasure, and you’re rewarded with a groan against your mouth.

Caleb’s hips slow to a torturous pace, designed to make you feel every inch of him sliding in and out. Your walls tremble around his aching length and you whimper when he pushes in one final time and stops, letting the both of you catch your breath. Your head swims in your current position - you’re so unbelievably full of his cock, but you want more.

“Caleb.” You can’t hide the desperation in your voice, and your hips tilt just the tiniest bit so that you can feel a fraction of the pleasure he gave you. “I-I wanna c-cum again, please-”

You roll your hips more boldly this time, and he gasps when his tip hits your sweet spot. Your walls flutter and you squeal, your head falling back as you continue to grind yourself on his cock.

All of a sudden, you feel the heaviness of his Evol settle on your hips once more, forcing you to stop. You cry out and try to fight it, but the cool brush of metal on your chin forces you to open your eyes and look up.

And you find your blood running cold.

Because Caleb - oh, you can tell he’s mad.

His lips are straight, and you can tell that he’s holding himself back for the sole purpose of punishing you. His hips pull back until he’s fully unsheathed from your cunt, and you sob at the way your walls clench pathetically at the sudden emptiness.

You need him.

There’s a dark chuckle above you, and you know he can see the desperation on your face. There’s a wet plap!, and you register the sound of his dick slapping against your pussy before feeling it properly. You cry out again, and Caleb takes your open mouth as an opportunity to slap his cock against your cunt again.

He continues his action over and over until you find yourself at the edge again, begging for his cock deep in your pussy. You can barely make out the babbles escaping your mouth - not when you feel so fucking good and you want more.

All of a sudden he stops, and you feel his warm hand gently cupping your cheek. Your eyes open blearily, and you can see the concern on his face as he looks down at you. “You okay, ____?”

Your heart squeezes at the care on his face, and you turn your head so that you can press a kiss against his palm. You can hear his shaky gasp above you, and you look back at him with a small smile on your lips.

“‘’ okay.” It comes out as a slurred whine, and you look up at him imploringly. “I promise, I j-just feel too good.”

He laughs at this, and his head dips down so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His lips make their way past your chin and all the way up to your lips, where he presses the softest kiss on your mouth that has you melting.

This is your Caleb.

This is the man you love.

You don’t want to say it, though. You don’t want to shatter the illusion.

So you kiss him back slowly, and you pull away before he can deepen your kiss so that you can whisper:

“Please Caleb, I want all of you.”

There’s a standstill as he processes your words, and he doesn’t give you time to think before his Evol is lifting once more so that he can arch your chest up to meet his. Caleb’s mouth presses against your lips once more, and you gasp as you feel his cock entering you once more - giving you exactly what you need.

There are no other sounds in your shared room besides your gasps and the sound of the headboard smacking against your wall. It feels like it’s just you and Caleb - and that’s exactly how you want it to stay.

Caleb grunts as he begins to deepen his thrusts, and he takes a chance to look down at you when he sees that your eyes are closed. His heart swells in his chest at the sight of you - marks on your neck and chest, sweat making your skin glisten, and feeling so good because of him.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by all of this - all of you. The one he loves more than the entire world, the one he’s kept carefully locked away in the deepest recesses of his memories. He’s adding all of this to that special place. Every excruciating moment spent at the Farspace Fleet is worth it because he’s protecting his love - protecting you.

Caleb leans down, pressing kisses on your lips as he gradually speeds up again. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty cunt, stuff you full of my cum and make you mine forever.” Each word is emphasized by a messy thrust, and you can barely register what he means because you just feel too good right now. “I’m going to take care of you f-forever, ____. It’ll j-just be us two, baby, f-fuck-”

His hips start to stutter and you cry out when you feel his metal fingers land on your clit, rubbing hard circles and driving you closer and closer to your edge. His warm hand makes its way to your hand, and you squeeze his fingers tightly when your palms meet so that you have something to hold on to when you give yourself completely to him.

“Let’s cum together, ____.” It’s a plea and you both moan when his tip batters at your cervix. His Evol on your body loosens and you immediately grind your hips up to meet his thrusts, making the both of you spiral closer towards your joined end.

“C-caleb,” you hiccup, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “‘M-m, I’m about to cu-”

“It’s okay, you can cum.” He leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, pressing soft kisses while maintaining his pace so that you can fall off the edge safely. “Cum for me, baby.”

With his permission you finally allow yourself to fall, the knot in your stomach unraveling as you cum. It’s not as painful as the first time - this one is filled with more warmth, accompanied by Caleb’s mouth peppering doting kisses all over your face. You cry out at the duality of his sweet kisses and his hard thrusts, walls fluttering around his thick cock and begging for him to meet you at the end.

Caleb grits his teeth and continues to pump himself into your inviting heat as you writhe underneath him, feeling his hips stutter and his balls tighten at the sound of your sweet gasps and your fluttering walls around him. He brings your fingers up to his mouth and presses reverent kisses on each of your fingertips before bringing your palm to his lips and kissing the skin gently. The sweet gesture makes your eyes open, and you blearily look at him with a blissful haze.

“C-cum for me, Caleb.” It’s a soft command, one that makes him groan as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in. “I want your cum in me, please Caleb.”

“Oh shit, ____-” He thrusts his cock into you one more time before stilling, his head falling onto your neck as he cums. You whine at the feeling of warmth, your walls weakly pulsing around his cock in an attempt to take all of him. His hands settle on your hips and he squeezes like his life depends on it, and you’re sure that you’ll leave bruises on the delicate skin.

You can’t find it in yourself to care, though. You want all of it.

His head lifts up from your neck, and you can’t help but giggle at the glassy look in his eyes. Your fingers move to push up the sweaty strands away from his forehead, but he catches your hands and pulls it toward his mouth.

You watch as he repeats the same tender action of kissing your fingertips, and your heart aches at the intimacy of it all.

“Are you the Farspace Fleet Colonel or Caleb Xia?”

Your question breaches through the content silence, and you hate that you have to say it. It’s something necessary though - a summary of everything that’s happened between the two of you, and his answer will determine how things go.

Caleb looks at you, a softness in his eyes that has your heart aching. He presses a kiss on your forehead, and he nudges your nose against his own before finally giving you his answer

“I’m both.” You gasp at his words, but his hands gently knead your waist and placate you. “I’m both, and it’s our reality now.”

He kisses your eyelids this time, and you feel your eyes water at the gentle intimacy. “I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, ____. But I mean what I said. Everything I do is to protect you. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you for as long as you want me to.”

His words taper off as he lets you mull over his meaning. You lips brush over his own, and he leaves a chaste kiss - leading you to come up with your response.

“You can start by cooking breakfast for me tomorrow.” The words are softened by your sleepy tone, and you hum in content at the gentle rumble of his laughter below you. “And by telling me what you remember from the start.”

“I promise.” He seals it with a kiss on your lips, and you smile sleepily at the tender action before you nuzzle yourself into his chest - letting yourself surrender to slumber.

a/n #2: i hope you enjoyed <3 pls leave your thoughts here!

[sabos-husband]

★ Waiting, Waiting

Trafalgar Law x Reader ★

Dressrosa Spoilers!! ~ Heart Pirate!Reader ~ Gender Neutral ~ Fluff to Angst

a/n: This is part one! If you'd like to read part two, it's All I've Got To Give.

From across the Polar Tang's kitchen, you throw your head back and laugh. The sound is riveting, but the sight is intoxicating.

Your hand is posed over your mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth, lips are pulled tight over your smile. A smile so bright he just wants to kiss—

Law walks face first into a cabinet's open door.

For the past two months, you and Law have been... something. You've been a Heart Pirate for years, but he, in a brilliant display of his emotional constipation, only allowed himself to realize the depth of how he felt for you within the past six months.

Somehow, you must've noticed this.

He knows this because exactly two months ago you stomped up to him, cheeks flushed with inebriated confidence, and asked him if he would like to get another drink with you.

(The exact details afterwards don't matter. He can barely remember them anyways, with how drunk he also was.)

All that matters is that you two are something. You offer him a smile every time your paths cross, treat him with enough fondness to make his heart stop, and kiss him after the lights have gone out.

But you and Law are not dating. You're not together.

So, yeah. Now you and him are just... something.

He can hear Bepo freak out while your laughter spikes. Red-faced and flustered, Law's planning to do something—his options range from trying to Room away or killing everyone and then himself—before you're standing in front of him, closing the kitchen cabinet.

"You okay there Captain?" You say with a smile. "I think the door's got you beat here."

Law can feel his face getting red for a completely different reason now. He ducks his head to hide his eyes behind his hat. He opens his mouth to let a retort fall out, but he sees your feet shuffle past him and he closes it again. He'll speak to you another time.

Thank the seas it's only you and Bepo awake. Law collects his morning coffee (and a riceball at Bepo's behest) and retreats to his office. He doesn't catch the way your eyes linger on his back.

If he did, he was ignoring it.

~

"Captain," you call suddenly. You snicker at the way Law jumps. While he just glares at you, he doesn't kick you out, so you let yourself into his office. "You got a minute?"

Law sighs, rubbing his eyes. He pushed himself away from his desk. "Doesn't matter if I say no. What is it?"

You frown with your hands behind your back. "Don't be an asshole. I got you a gift!"

Looking expectant, Law stands up. His wordless reaction makes you step closer. You tilt your head. "It's a secret though."

"It's my gift."

"I haven't given it to you yet!"

Law raises an eyebrow. He holds out his hand, palm up. He can't deny his curiosity is piqued at your pause; hesitation and you don't belong together in his head. He steps forward, closing the distance. You don't meet his eye.

Cautiously, once you've drawn up the courage, you place the gift in his grasp.

It's wrapped, Law muses to no one but himself. The crisp seams and cute bow suggests you had it wrapped when you first got it—the paper's too unfamiliar and the work is too professional for it to have been done in the Tang. He glances up.

Still, you refuse to meet your captain's eye. "Well? Are you gonna open it?"

Law takes a moment to observe you. The shift in your demeanor is a gift itself; seeing the way you care about how he feels? No matter what's under the paper, he'll be satisfied.

That said, he can't deny his curiosity. Slicing the tape with his nail, Law methodically unwraps the gift until the paper falls away to reveal the brightly-colored box. He recognizes it immediately.

It's a Sora action figure. Its paint job is crisp and the joints move smoothly—he knows this because he has two, one in and one out of its box.

(This one is his new favorite.)

You look up at him, nodding your head towards the gift. "Well?" You ask nervously. "You like it?"

You don't seem to know about that Law already has this one. Not that you would know, considering he tries his best to hide his collection almost flawlessly every time his crew (you) has a reason to step inside his room.

Try as he might, he can't hide the smile that makes its home on his face. He turns around, walks towards his desk, and opens the box to extract the figurine. You follow curiously. You trip over your own feet when you see Law pose Sora to sit at the edge of his desk. It's so cute.

Too much. It's all too much. You smile as you leave and he sits and nothing gets done for the rest of the day.

(Law's attention keeps getting drawn to the figure on his desk. When he thinks of it, he thinks of you. He snatches up the figurine and tucks it away in a drawer to his left.)

~

It's snowing outside the island you're about to dock and you've never been more excited. The sub's been stuffy and the crew's been getting antsy—petty squabbles threaten to blow up if they don't get outside sooner or later. It's what pushes Law to observe the winter island, grit his teeth, and declare they're surfacing for a supply run.

You feel like a child on a holiday morning running around the Polar Tank—Penguin and Shachi are bickering playfully as they swap winter jackets. Bepo's checking and double (and triple) checking the sub's course, the poor mink's ramped up on excitement and anxiety. Ikkaku lightly shoves you out of your stupor with a smile. Jean Bart appears behind you, a hand on your shoulder. It always makes you grin when you think of how flawlessly the former captain fit into the crew.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

That's how the rest of your preparation time gets eaten up—someone can't find their coat or someone needs help checking what's needed.

Bepo declaring the sub's surfacing is what finally frees you. With minutes until breaking surface, you're scrambling to find everything you need.

"I wonder if the captain's gonna come with us," you say idly as you shove a sweater over your head. Shachi and Penguin share a look.

"Captain doesn't usually go on islands with the crew when it's snowing 'round this time of year," Shachi says. You expect him to keep talking, indulging in gossip as he's wont to do, but he turns back to the rest of the crew to immerse himself in the bustle. You look at Penguin, hoping for hints of details.

"Bad memories," Penguin says back. He peels off before you can speak, muttering to Bepo about coming back to the sub early.

You don't ask anything, but inside, you're confused. You've seen Law go into snow storms by himself before. And wasn't he from the North Blue?

You almost begin to wonder if it's the crew that makes him worry with the snow, but then Law's voice cuts through the sub, calling the crew to attention, and your thoughts fade away.

It's when you've got one foot out the sub that you see your captain again.

Law's tortured stare grinds your racing mind to a halt. He can't look at you; his hand, clasped over your wrist, tightens its hold. His eyes are stuck watching the falling, falling snow.

His fingers slide down, slip into your hand, and squeeze. You squeeze back.

Your hands raise—slowly, carefully, like you're something he can't afford to break—together. His lips brush against your knuckles, too light to be a kiss but too present to be anything but.

"Come back safe."

Law drops your hand and turns back. He retreats back into the Tang. The wind had just begun to nip his ears, turning them a pretty pink.

(You can't even think about the snow for the rest of the day. Your hand is so, so warm.)

~

You tossed and turned for weeks before you actually decided to do something about it.

"We have to talk."

Law looks up at you from over the medical documents in his hands. His hat is off to the side, his hair is all mussed, and it breaks your heart. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't put the papers down. "We do?"

"Yeah."

Pursing his lips, your captain gestures to the seats in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit down. You glance at the edge of his desk, frown, then look back at him. It makes him set the papers down.

"What is it?"

"It's... about us, Law." He freezes as you barrel forward. "I can't- I just can't keep doing this."

He can barely piece together a calm facade. "Then what do you want to do?"

"I don't know!" You throw your hands in the air. "I just," you say, rubbing your face, "can't do this."

You think of the night at the bar often. Your memory peters off near the end—near the part you wish desperately you could remember—but you mull over it often. You think yourself in circles, thinking if there was any way you could've changed what you'd done to make it so it didn't end up here.

Law stands up, and you're almost afraid he's gonna bolt, but then he walks over to you. He sits beside you with a stony expression.

You almost laugh. He must've felt it too, because talking with a desk between you both felt more like captain and crewmate, rather than...

Well, rather than whatever you two are. That's the reason you're here anyways, isn't it?

"I don't not like you," you clarify quickly. The stone cracks. You reach forward, gentle hand on his knee, and tilt your head. "I... just don't know if this is what you want."

He stares back. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do."

Law looks away, because really, he does. He sits back. He's got his arms folded over his chest like it could protect him any more than looking away from you could. "Then... what about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't... want... then I wouldn't be here. Isn't that enough?"

You take your hand back to rub your face. That's the crux of it, isn't it? Is this enough for you?

It isn't.

"It isn't," you say out loud.

When Law looks back at you, there are tears clouding your pretty eyes. In a panic, he reaches out to you. The space between you closes instantly as you meet him halfway, holding him tight.

Seas, this is the problem. You mourn your breaking heart. It's too much—this is too much—and all you crave is more.

The suffocating silence drags on until you pull back, hiding your eyes as you look down. Even as you cling onto Law, it feels like there’s miles between you both.

“So,” you finally say, "what was it?”

“...What?”

Even as you wipe them away, the tears won’t stop. “What about me makes it so easy to ignore? T-To ignore what we have?"

Law winces. “That’s not—”

“—I mean really,” you sniffle, barreling forward, “it can’t be that easy to not want me.. Can it? No- You’ve gotta have- have something else that makes it this easy.”

Law swallows. Clearly his silence is the wrong answer because your face falls. You try to push him back. "Is there?"

"It's not like that," the doctor tries to say, but the words escape him right when he tries to grab them.

Law's a fool.

What would he say? If he's going to take down Doflamingo, and he will, there's a chance he may not live to see you again.

It's what he thinks about every time he sees you.

"What do you want from me?" He asks instead. If you didn't know him so well—if you didn't spend so often poring over each of his words, dissecting them for their meaning—you'd miss his desperation.

Your eyes trail. Law's eyes are skittish, glancing back and forth from you. His cheeks are growing gaunt and he seems to be avoiding everyone these days. Dark ink stands out against his tan skin; the letters on his fingers are impossible to miss.

For a moment, you look past Law. Ever since he told the crew about his plans for Punk Hazard, Law's been different. Colder. Like the stone-tough walls he'd built for himself were strengthened by the weight of the world. Law had been carrying so much now. His back bowed under the weight of the world—your very own Atlas.

No—not yours.

Something gnaws at you, whispering that the shadow over his eyes was something you could never ease.

You reach forward to gently take Law's hand. You didn't realize... but he should've known how you felt. You press a kiss against his knuckles.

Law yanks his hand back like it burned. You don't comment. The tattoos almost swallow the back of his hand, yet the circle in the middle looks like stigmata—like he plans for his own crucifixion. What would it take for Law to lay down his own cross, or to toss it away and rest his eyes? Which would he do it now already?

The air is heavy with words you were too fearful to say. You blink away your tears and suck in a deep breath. You were sure Law heard them anyways, but now... But now—

"All I've wanted," you say, "and all I want now is you. All of you."

It's quiet.

You grit your teeth as he stares at you with wide, searching eyes. Your declaration—your confession—lingers in the air until Law finds what he's looking for in your gaze.

He stands up, puts on his hat, and walks out the room.

Silence fills the vacuum he leaves behind.

[gam3r-girli3]

18+ content ahead, minors dni! | part one

He doesn't plan it, truly.

He'd been on his way to give a report on a mission he just returned from, still wearing his combat gear, focused on getting this over and done with so he could go have a shower and clean the day off him - only, he pauses as he reaches the Captain's office, hand frozen on the door handle, looking like someone had just stopped time from how still he'd gone.

It didn't take a genius to work out what those sounds meant: the wet slapping of skin against skin, accompanied by gruff grunts and barely concealed mewls of pleasure.

It seemed the Captain was busy.

And now, so was Soap's mind; filled with images of you being plowed by your husband, your sweet face contorted in ecstasy, drool dribbling down the side of your mouth. He could picture the exact way you looked because he'd seen it the day he ate you out and made you cum all over his face from eating you out.

It was, hands down, the best day of his entire life.

If he was being honest, that memory had been on replay in Soap's mind ever since it happened. It was the first thing he conjured behind his eyes when he was alone in his bunk at night, hand straying down past his briefs and wrapping around his hardening member. He'd gotten off to it more times than he cared to admit. What he'd do for another taste of that sweet cunt...

Before he could stop himself, he was pushing down on the handle and opening the door, greedy eyes hungrily taking in the scene before him. All the blood in his body rushed straight to his cock.

You were on the desk again, this time bent over it, your skirt lifted up over your ass, no panties to be seen. Your husband was positioned behind you, his trousers pooled around his ankles as he pistoned his hips into you like a man possessed, the repeated impact echoing around the room louder than any gun being fired.

It was obvious you were trying to muffle your cries (although not doing a very good job of it), your hands gripping onto the other side of the desk, white knuckling for dear life as you took what your husband gave you without complaint.

Soap could feel his cock straining against the tight material of his briefs, begging for relief. He was practically drooling as he pictured himself sinking balls deep into your warm, wet cunt -

Fuck.

He'd leaned too much on the door, causing it to creak.

But Price barely reacted, only tossed a glance over his shoulder, not once pausing or making a move to cover himself or you up. Instead, he simply grunted out a slightly breathless, "C'mon in, lad. Be with you in a minute - nearly done 'ere."

Like a robot, Soap entered the room and closed the door behind him, stiff as a board as he continued to watch the two of you with a roaring desire. He almost didn't dare to breathe in case he'd wake up from this heavenly dream.

It only took a few more forceful thrusts before your body stilled and then began trembling uncontrollably; you cried out, louder this time, as your orgasm ripped through you mercilessly.

Seconds later, Price followed and released a long, deep, drawn out groan of relief, pumping his hips lazily into you a few more times as he rode out his own orgasm.

Then, he stepped back, reached down and pulled his trousers up, buckling his belt back into place like it was the most normal thing in the world; like Soap wasn't watching, transfixed and sporting a very big, very obvious bulge; like he hadn't just fucked his wife in front of one of his Sergeants, who watched as thick, white globs of cum began to slowly pool out of your soaked cunt, dripping down your inner thighs.

(Breeder's balls indeed it seemed his Captain had.)

Once Price had tucked himself away, he finally raised his head and met Soap's gaze. "Y'remember what I taught ya last time?"

Soap swallows thickly, finding his throat incredibly dry. "Yessir."

"Got a new lesson for ya." Price runs a hand over the globe of your bare ass, squeezing it roughly and making you whine, pushing it back into his palm. "Ever make a woman squirt before, Sergeant?"

Oh, sweet merciful Jesus.

He'd died, hadn't he? Took a bullet to the brain, died, and rose up above, waltzing past the pearly gates and glimpsing something truly divine.

Soap realises his Captain is still staring at him, waiting for an answer. He clears his throat, shifts on his feet, hands crossed over his poorly concealed bulge. "Not that I can recall, sir."

He doesn't answer, but there's something in Price's gaze that's almost akin to satisfaction, like he knew the answer all along.

"Same deal as before. Get on your knees and eat her out first. Show me what ya learned last time."

Soap's knees, back and neck are beginning to protest, having been in this position for too long but he ignores the aching pains, much too focused on devouring the delicious cunt in front of him.

His tongue, which had been focused on plunging into your weeping hole, moves to give your clit some much needed attention, flicking it before sucking it between his lips. He feels a sense of pride as your body trembles, your responding cries all he needs to continue. He circles your cunt with two fingers, covering the digits well in your slick arousal before sliding them in, curling them just right to brush that magic spot deep inside you.

You're practically sobbing now, wailing like a damn banshee, grinding back on his face like you can't get enough.

Behind him, Price is silent as he observes the scene, watching his wife lose her mind for another man. "Good technic with the fingers. Now use your other hand to play with her tits. She likes tha'."

The Sergeant doesn't once slow his ministrations on you as he reaches a hand up to palm your tits, pinching your nipples and rolling the buds between his finger and thumb, adding to your already very intense pleasure.

From an outsiders point of view, it probably sounds like someone's being murdered in the Captain's office.

Filthier minds know the truth behind it though - or, at least not the full truth. They don't know the Captain is simply standing by and watching as he allows his Sergeant to play with his wife, teaching the soldier how to make her cum so hard she can't help but squirt all over his face.

For his part, Soap is eager, perhaps too eager to have his Captain's wife's arousal soaking his face and dripping down his neck - but he's too far in this now to care.

"Now really give it to 'er cunt with them fingers, keep hittin' that G-spot and she'll drench you better than being caught in a rainstorm."

Following orders like a good soldier, Soap speeds up the movements of his fingers, plunging the digits into you rapidly, still curling them in that upward motion to reach that spot perfectly, with his mouth still focused on your clit.

In seconds, you're coming - hard.

Unable to hold back or control your body as your second orgasm absolutely body slams you, you don't even register the way your pussy gushes all over the Sergeant's face, too consumed by the intense waves of pleasure that have you screaming yourself hoarse.

"Good job, Sarge," Price says, voice calm and matter-of-fact.

By the time Soap is leaving the office - a visible damp spot staining the crotch of his trousers from being unable to stop himself from cumming in his briefs the second he felt the first drops of your release hit his face - you're still bent over the desk, legs twitching.

Your husband gently pulls your panties back up, fixing your skirt back into place and helping you stand up on shaky legs. Your face is completely flushed and shining with sweat, eyes still hazy and fucked out.

Price's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Think we might have to make these little lessons a more permanent thing, eh, sweetheart?"

at what point do you say it's not a drabble anymore bc the word count is definitely higher than the last one

think i'm gonna turn this and the previous part into an imagine series and call it soap's sex ed lessons with price and the missus lmao

thank you for all the love on the first part 🫶💞 hope you enjoyed this just as much 💘

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

[shouyuus]

sfw; popstar!reader x vi in which u punch someone in face and vi finds that incredibly attractive

"who the hell--"

you pull the door open, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, the thin strap to your pink silk nightgown hanging off your shoulder.

"hey."

you frown, blinking at the skinny man standing across the doorframe, a fist held up as if to knock again.

"reese?"

the man smizes, leaning up against the doorframe, his eyes slicking down your exposed skin like an oil spill. you grimace, rolling your eyes. "you need to stop showing up like this. it's getting embarrassing."

"c'mon baby," he says, shrugging, trying to step into the door, "i know you've been missin' me --"

"uh. sorry. no --" you resist the urge to gag as he pouts at you, "we hooked up one time, and it was a mistake."

"it was the best night o'my life!" he crows, still trying to shove into the room but you narrow your eyes, blocking his path till he sighs, re-doubling his greasy smirk "and i'm pretty sure it was also the best night of --"

"princess?" vi's voice calls out from the bedroom. you sigh, glancing over your shoulder as her voice draws nearer, "what's goin' on?"

she rounds the corner to the hallway and pauses, her sleep-fogged eyes sharpening as she takes in the scene. a beat, and she's sauntering over, slipping an arm around your middle, pressing her chin to your shoulder, brushing a kiss to your cheek.

"everything alright? who's this, an old friend?" she looks reese over once, her expression the picture of a woman unimpressed.

you shake your head, leaning into her touch. "no, he's no one --"

"hey! pft, oh i see -- i leave you, and you decide to replace me with a beefed up enforcer whore -- oof --"

"ow."

vi lets out a sharp, startled laugh, her eyes widening as you pull your arm back, shaking out your stinging fist with a whine, cradling your hand.

"holy shit that really hurts," you say, pouting as vi takes your hand in hers, running a thumb along your reddening skin, her shoulders still shaking with laughter, even as she tries to sooth a thumb over your knuckles. she coos, kissing the back of your hand. you crinkle your nose, "you do that all the time?"

she grins, shrugging, "helps if you've had a lot of practice."

"-- y-you -- you broke my nose!" reese's voice is reedy as he holds his face, a thin line of blood trickling through his fingers, his eyes wide.

"oh shut up dude, you're fine. it'll set in a few days," vi snaps, rolling her eyes as she glances back towards the open door. you glare at reese, reaching for the small intercom on the wall.

"go away, reese. and find something better to do than stalk me, okay? ugh --" you huff, punching the call button for the security downstairs.

"h-hey! you can't just close the door on me --" reese tries to scramble for the doorknob but vi puts herself squarely between you and him, cocking an eyebrow. he falters, eyes flickering over vi's arms and shoulders, his lip curling with fear masked as distaste before he stumbles back, snarling at the pair of you, though the effect is largely dampened by the rapidly darkening bruise at the bridge of his nose and the blood smeared down his chin.

"w-whatever! i d-didn't actually wanna fuck you anyway --"

"oh do yourself a favor and get lost," vi says, slamming the door in his face just as the intercom beeps the life and you let the building security in on the situation.

"your hand okay?" vi asks, though her expression is a tug-o-war of concern and ill-concealed amusement.

you crinkle your nose, clenching and unclenching your fingers, wincing at the soft sting.

"yeah. that just hurt way more than i thought it would."

"aww, c'mere," vi tugs you into her chest, peppering your face in kisses before moves to your hand, laughing as you giggle. "my little warrior princess."

you whine, digging your nose into her neck, "don't make fun of me."

"i'm not!" though her voice is still clearly laced with laughter as the pair of you make your way back into the bedroom, "though, i gotta say -- that was kinda hot. like really hot."

you laugh, letting her scoop you up and press you down into the still-warm sheets. you bite your lips.

"yeah? maybe i should try punching my ex-hookups in the face more often."

vi's lips twitch. "yeah? you got alotta those?"

you frown, your pout returning in full swing, "no! ugh -- reese was -- reese was a very drunken mistake one night okay? we've all made choices we're not proud of --"

but vi is laughing, leaning down to catch your lips in a long, indulgent kiss. when she pulls away, your eyes are dark, your mouth sweet and soft around a half-caught breath.

"you know i don't care about your past, princess," she says, running a thumb along your cheeks, "all that matters --"

"is that you're the only one in my future?" you ask, smiling as you reach up to catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. vi's lashes flutter at the certainty of your words, before she's sighing into your neck, her lips warm against your skin.

"yeah. something like that."

you giggle, head tilting back as she kisses a line down your shoulder. and then you're squealing as she flips the pair of you, settling you firmly over her hips, a smirk twisting her lips.

"though, reese --" she makes a show of whistling beneath her breath, "you were really goin' through some shit, huh?"

you groan, burying your face in her chest. "you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

vi laughs, carding her fingers gently through your hair before dropping a kiss to your temple.

"nope. never."

[beastyeastfreak]

So.... we have yandere Beast, but what about yandere virtues!

We were just a cookie. Not really famous or anything. We were kind to the strangers no matter how they acted or who they were. One day, we meet 5 cookies . We instantly knew they were newly baked, so we helped them adapt to life here on earthbread. They later became known as virtues. We didn't really cared about that . After all, they were just our friends!

But surely they acted quite weird around you. But you guessed it's because you were their first friend! Huh, why did they look so weird when you told them that you're going on the date?

LET ANON COOK CHAT

Cw and tags: angst(some worse than others), yandere, posessive and jealous behavior, kinda implied one sided love, reader becomes immortal/virtues extend their life, reader is in love with another cookie / has been before.

Written before the silent salt update. Also i decided that the emoji for the reader with be 🐚, theres a whole thought process i wont bore you with but it probably wont be used very often lol

You were a mortal cookie, baked like any other. You were simple, you lead a life of work in a small town. One unpromising evening, you venture into the woods and find five cookies who clearly were fresh out of the oven

🌷 - “My what a beautiful place! I can’t wait to see all the cookies we get to watch over!” A pink cookie says, spreading her wings and opening her arms wide towards the sky.

🃏 - “I’m quite excited to learn and teach mortals, who knows what knowledge they already have waiting for me!” A blue one speaks while examining a plant, crouched down.

🌾 - “I have a feeling there’s many cookies in need of our help, we should make haste.” One white as flour emerges from the bushes with the help of a red cookie.

🏜️ - “Well said! I am eager to nurture cookie kind and cultivate many kingdoms!” He says with a puffed out chest, following him is a knight who immediately spots you.

🗡️ - “There,” they speak and they all snap towards you.

🐚 - “Hello!” You speak walking out of the bushes, “welcome to earthbread!” You laugh and a few of them laugh with you.

🃏 - “Greetings, could you perhaps enlighten us on the way to… to um…” the blue cookie trails off then looks at the rest. “Where exactly are we going?” The others don’t have an answer.

🐚 - You look at them as they exchange looks. You figure despite their clearly prestigious appearance, they weren’t sure what to do. “Say, its getting late. How about you stay with me for the night and in the morning we can get you on your feet?” You offer, you travelled quite a bit due to work so you could actually be of great use to them. They seem hesitant.

🌾 - “We could not ask that of you-“

🐚 - “Please, i insist,” you continue and they finally cave, looking amongst each other before at you, then nod.

🐚 - You brought the virtues to your home, giving them food and setting out places for them to sleep (though they did not actually sleep). While they ate, you learned more about them and helped them decide where to begin their journey from your travelling experience. You unknowingly were one of the biggest influences on them. The blueberry academy, the ivory pagoda and the garden of delights among many other influential places would have been vastly different if not for you.

🐚 - You received many gifts from the virtues, your name had been set in stone as the first cookie graced with their presence and their aid when they were fresh. For that, not only did they find a way to lengthen your preservatives to make you live longer, but they also helped turn your small town into a successful kingdom. Hell, you had your own statue of you standing beside the virtues! They were your greatest friends, as many of your friends came and went, they remained. Your statue and name in history books would be the extent of your fame, but it would grant you many other friends. One of which seemed too close for their liking.

🐚 - You were getting ready for another night out with that friend of yours, they seemed to really like you and you were maybe starting to like them back. You looked nice in your opinion, definitely very formal…

🌾 - You were startled away from gazing at yourself in the mirror as Mystic Flour walked in. You lighten up, “I didn’t realize you were in town!” You walk up to hug her, she returns the embrace with less enthusiasm. You notice the look on her face, “is something bothering you?” You ask and she remains quiet for a moment. “I have granted so many of your wishes,” she tucks a baby hair icing from your face. “And yet you’re choosing another. Strange,” she says and you resist the urge to tilt your head.

🌾 - Your frowned deepens, “what do you mean? You’re my best friend,” you speak but it’s not what she wants to hear. “More and more cookies become overcome with greed, they cannot accept what they are given.” She begins, her eyes darken in a way you had not seen before, disappointment was one emotion you could make out. “It seems that it is simply in cookies nature.” She says which only makes you quieter. Only now that she was beginning to scare you did you notice stress lacing her face.

🌾 - “Mystic Flour, please-“ You begin. “Dont,” she places one hand up. “As master of the ivory pagoda and light of Volition, ive decided you will not attend this… date. You will not attend any from now on, i will cure this ailment within you as i will with cookiekind as a whole.” She speaks sharply. You swear as you look into her eyes, they look slitted.

🏜️ - You hear a knock on the door, “come in!” You yell out and see your close friend Burning Spice enter. Theres a look on his face you cant quite discern. “Y/N,” he greets then looks at you as if something had confirmed in his mind. “You look… nice, who is this for?” He narrows his eyes, you look back in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight, figured id dress my best,” you reply.

🏜️ - “With another cookie..?” He says slowly, “with another cookie,” you parrot with a nod, fixing your outfit a bit. “Why do you insist on bonding with cookies that will crumble in mere years,” he says which makes you stop. “W..what?” You look at him in the reflection of the mirror. “You have lived a long time just as i have, surely you have realized this heartbreak of losing those close to you hurts worse than momentary entertainment?” He says and steps towards you, you whip around and look up at him.

🏜️ - “What are you talking about? They’re my friends, i cant just not be with them,” you replied. “They will die, so will the next. Then the next, and again, and again, and again. Why not just…” he takes your chin in his hand, his two lower hands rest on your hips, “stay with me?” Something was wrong with him, he had never acted like this. “I will be your constant in a sea of change, your protector, your entertainment…” You arent given much of a choice, he seems adamant. Maybe if you just give in for a bit he’ll go back to normal. “Yeah… ok ill cancel my plans.”

🌷 - You were broken from your thought as Eternal Sugar gently creaked the door open. You turn and smile widely. “Eternal Sugar! How nice of you to fly in!” You say and walk up to her, she wraps her arms and wings around you tightly. “You look so joyful in that icing, dear! Whats the occasion?” She hugs you looser, hand running on the back of your head. “Well, theres this cookie ive been talking to and we’re going out tonight,” you replied. Her expression shifts a bit, at first the smile fades then she completely frowns. “Oh dear, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak~” she coos which makes your slightly lovestruck expression turn confused.

🌷 - “Sweetness… theres so many cookies out there who’d want to hurt you or take advantage of you! And remember how much it hurt last time?” She runs a hand over the side of your face and lets it rest there. Her reminder of your loss was harsh, and visibly made you hesitate. “But.. they’re nice, i dont think they’d do that?”

🌷 - “But you don’t know that, Y/N… you’re too naive,” she kisses your forehead. “With me you’d never have to wonder if they wish to hurt you… i only want all the happiness in the world for you, to shield you from pain.” She wraps her wings around you tighter. You want to disagree but remembering when you were hurt and she was there for you made you stop. “Then what do i do?” You say and she smiles, “how about you come to the garden, we can have a night out. And if you wish you may stay there, forever, with me…”

🃏 - Blueberry Milk knocks on your door, recognizable by the pattern of each gentle strike. “Come in!” You exclaim, still looking into the mirror. The fount of knowledge enters, looking at your outfit then smiling softly. He adjusts his monocle and speaks, “Good evening, Y/N, you look positively stunning! Would you enlighten me on why you’re dressed up so nicely?” He asks, you strike a little pose in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight,” you respond then turn your head to him. His face deviates, though not upset to your eyes. “With… who?” He asks.

🃏 - “With (cookie name), they’re a real catch…” you say and put on your coat. He’s silent for a moment, you spoke again. “I actually have to leave now if you dont mi-“ “I do!-“ he says abruptly. You turn to him, he continues. “They’re seeing someone else, thats what i came to tell you.” He says, you tilt your head. “They said they were single..?” You say with disappointment. You believed him no matter what, he was the fount of knowledge his sole purpose was to deliver facts and only that. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” he steps forward and takes your hand in a gesture of comfort. You look down, “i got my hopes up for nothing,” you sigh.

🃏 - He kisses your hand, “well… it would be a shame to have you dressed up so nicely for nothing, how about we go out?” He offers, your lips turn up slightly. “Id like that,” you replied softly.

[ghostofmarvel]

Decompressing

Bob Reynolds x Gender Neutral!Reader

Author’s note: I’m just thinking about the Thunderbolts* and Bob… Specifically Bob’s eyes… so um here’s this, enjoy. Minors do not interact, thank you.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x gender neutral! reader

Synopsis: You teach Bob how to decompress :)

Content ahead: smut, sub!Bob, Bob likes being called a good boy, gentle dom!reader, mutual masturbation, oral sex, fingering, 69ing, reader has ambiguous genitalia, Sentry makes a slight appearance oops, switch!bob?, essence of switch!bob, usage of the term “sweetheart” for Bob (because he’s a sweetheart), basically p w/o plot, Bob wants to be good for you

Word count: 2,075

Bob being part of the team is truly the key in having the team remain a team. He’s the glue holding the whole team together because no matter how much everyone seems to bicker and fight one another after every mission, everyone loves Bob and Bob loves everyone. He’s essentially everyone’s decompression guy, which you are endlessly grateful for, but it leaves you to question what is Bob doing to decompress?

This brings you to your current situation where you’re sitting next to Bob in the center of his bed, backs against his headboard as you both lay with legs spread and hands underneath your pajama bottoms and underwear. Bob is leaning his head against your shoulder with your head resting on top of his as you watch his hand move slowly under his pants. He whines as his eyes squeeze shut in reaction to the sensation, “I-I-I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me calm down.”

You let out a soft moan as your hands slips out from your pants to reach around his shoulder, holding his head against you as you turn to kiss his head, body turning slightly to cross your leg over his as your other hand trails down his torso nearing the gap between his flesh and his tented clothing making room for his moving hand. His breathe hitches as your hand plays along the hem of his bottoms, fingers slightly dipping in between the gap of clothing and skin. You sigh as your fingers trail from playing with the coarse hair down his lower stomach to his pubic bone, “You will be calm after this, you’re decompressing, sweetheart.”

Bob moans at the sensation and the name you call him, body turning towards you as his hips rock towards you, lips absently kissing in the space between your neck and shoulder, “P-please, touch me,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses. His hand slips out from his pants as they move from squeezing your thigh to your chest.

You coo at him, “Bobby, sweetheart, the goal of this is so you know how to decompress by yourself.” Even with your words, your hands are moving to trace his cock through his flannel pajama pants.

Bob whines in response, “But why would I do that when I have you?”

You smile at his words, ruffling his hair as he begins to lazily suck on your neck, “You’re right. C’mon, help me take these off,” you gesture by tugging down on his pants, “I got a better idea on how we can both decompress.”

Bob excitedly nods and rushes to pull off his pants and boxer briefs, staring at you as you stand up to pull off your shirt and bottoms, “God you are so hot,” he compliments with both his words and a twitch of his cock.

You let out a soft laugh as you pull your underwear down, watching the precum leak out from his cock, “C’mon, pretty boy, why don’t you lay down for me huh?” You get back on the bed on your knees as Bob practically jumps down the bed to lay flat, his hard cock hitting his lower stomach where it lays heavy, begging to be touched.

You smile as you lean over Bob, giving him a sweet kiss as you give his cock a few tugs. He moans into the kiss, bucking his hips upwards for more contact. You quickly pull your hand away, prompting a cry from him before quickly quieting at you positioning yourself on top of him, your legs on either side of his head with your ass facing him.

Before he has any chance to question, you say to him “Breathe,” before leaning to sit back on his face. He moans as his hands go to grasp your ass, mouth kissing hungrily between your legs. You moan as you lean your chest forward, prompting you to lay on top of Bob with your face directly next to his cock. Completing this motion lifts you off his face somewhat, something he finds completely unacceptable as he readily cranes his neck up, wrapping his arms around your lower back, palm splayed flat across it applying slight pressure to hold you in place as he digs his face right back in between your legs. You moan as your hand reaches to stroke his cock, moving your head like a snake trying to get his cock in your mouth from this position with his movements shaking you slightly. With such a close, intimate position you’re both in, you immediately take in at least 3 inches of his cock in your mouth as you rest comfortably on top of him. You both moan at the feeling of his cock in your mouth, your tongue and moan wrapping around his cock making him roll his eyes back as he breaks away from you with a series of whimpering moans, “F-fuck you’re good, ah!”

You pull his cock out of your mouth, a coating of saliva covering his cock as he whines at the absence of your warm mouth. You’re quick to replace your mouth with the controlled movements of your hands over his now lubricated cock. His whine shifts to a broken moan in a brief second, effectively melting his brain slightly as he only focuses on pleasure and how good that pleasure feels.

“Where’s your mouth, sweetheart?” You ask, giving his cock a quick, open mouth kiss as you slowly stroke his cock, intentionally edging him.

Bob shutters at your contact, “I can’t focus my mouth on making you feel good when you’re making me feel SO so good,” he apologetically announces with a thrust of his hips upwards to meet your hands wrapped around him.

You give an apologetic kiss to his cock as your hand moves to firmly grasp his cock by the base, making it stand tall as you cupped his balls, causing a strangled noise he tried not to release to come out. “Well, you got hands don’t you?” you mockingly ask with a squeeze of your hands.

He shakes his head yes, even if you can’t see it in the position you’re in, and rushes his hands to rub up the backs of your thighs to your ass, paying special care to the bouncy flesh. He’s quick to suck two of his fingers intensely, making sure he coats them in his own saliva before circling his fingers around your hole. He draws out a “good boy” from you as he sinks a finger in you, moving steady and slow.

You moan as you take his length back in your mouth, hand stroking his cock, working in unison as you bob your head up and down. Bob views your praise and your mouth as rewards, so he continues the movement of his finger as he places kisses on your cheeks.

He tries. He really tries to focus his mouth on you, but he can’t help all the noises escaping from him as you relentlessly work your mouth and hands on his cock. The warm, wetness of mouth with the pressure of it all drives Bob to be full of energy, his eyes flickering between normal to his sentry yellow eyes. His arm flees to wrap around your lower back as he struggles to break focus from your divine mouth. He then replays in his head you calling him “good boy” and he regains focus on his submission and how he needs to focus on pleasing you.

Bob slides his second finger into you, causing your hand to grasp a bit harder on his cock, your other hand flying to squeeze his thigh as you choke out broken words on his cock. Bob can’t help but to thrust his hips up ever so slightly and ever so slowly into your heavenly mouth as he fucks his fingers in and out of you slowly, letting out a drawn out exasperated moan. You can tell he’s starting to reach a true mindless, submissive state as you’re not even sure he’s fully aware he’s thrusting his own hips up into your mouth, his cock going deeper and deeper in your throat. You slowly snap your hips up and down to meet his thrusting fingers, encouraging him to pick up the pace. You egg on his movement by increasing your own movement of your hands.

Bob eagerly picks up on your increased pace, rhythmically speeding up the pace of his thrusting fingers into your warm opening as his hips lift off the bed, trying to have his pubic bone meet with your chin. He moans out your name with chants of “please” and a broken cry of “god I’m so close.” You moan with your lips around his cock as you shake your head yes while squeezing his thighs, signaling your encouragement for him to take control of his orgasm.

Your submissive sweetheart fully thrusts up into your mouth as endless moans pour out of his, his eyes struggling to stay open and to remain one color. He’s approaching his climax when his eyes open widely to the pending sensation, his view full of his wet fingers thrusting in and out of you with your ass centimeters away from smothering his face. With that view, Bob cums with a trembling final thrust into your mouth, shakiness overtaking his body.

You lick his cock as your mouth remains tightly wrapped around him, causing Bob to release a squeak of a moan as his cock twitches in the aftermath of his powerful orgasm. After his cock seemingly begins to calm down, you slowly pull your mouth off his cock, swallowing the treat he gave you. You slowly pull yourself off of Bob as his breathless moans turn into pants, a sign of him calming down. You flip yourself over to rest your head on his chest, your arm and leg reaching over his body as you lay next to him. Bob sighs happily as his arms instantly wrap around you, finally decompressing. You kiss his chest as you hum, “You did such a good job, my love.”

He’s content as his breathing begins to become more regular as he reflects on the experience you two just shared. Hot, steamy, and needy memories cross his mind as his cock gives a phantom twitch to the recent memory of your lovingly warm mouth. He’s thinking fondly before he grabs you with urgency as you shoot to look up at him. Your face begs question out of his action as he exclaims, “Wait, you didn’t get to decompress with me.”

You half sit up from your original position on top of him, propping your head up with your arm as you look at your lover with confusion, “I did compress? Silly, you touched me and I got to be with you.”

Bob is quick to correct as he sits up, “But you didn’t cum.”

Your mind silently goes ohhh as you suddenly click together what he meant by decompression. You click your lips before soothing Bob, “Oh sweetheart, that’s okay, there’s always later.” You try to wrap your arm around his lower torso to get him back to laying down, but he resists, a sudden immovability felt as you result in laying face flat against the bed with a small laugh after failing to get him to crash into bed with you. You look up at him, expecting to see him smiling, but instead you see him with his altered yellow eye color.

He turns to you with an inquisitive look on his face, “Why don’t you show me how you decompress? Please?”

You sit yourself up as you look into his eyes, “You sure you don’t want to get some rest, sweetheart? It’s late,” you push some strands out of his face behind his ears.

His eye blink close and when he opened them his eyes were back to his normal blue hue, his face turning to follow your hand that brushed past his face, his head nodding, “Yes, I want to learn what makes you feel good. I just want to be good for you, please.”

You cup his cheek in your hand, and he turns his head to give your palm a quick kiss before turning his cheek back into your grasp, melting into your touch. You sigh lovingly as your thumb taps his mouth, “Okay, pretty boy, open up that mouth for me will you?”

Author’s endnote: uhhh, anyways that’s kinda crazy right lol. i haven’t written a fic, let alone smut, in SO long this feels crazy that i did this. i was BLUSHING while writing/editing this TvT

anyways please let me know what you thought! feel free to request or drop a message! :)

[frudoo]

Neighbor!Johnny teehee

Warnings: Be honest - is there one Johnny fic out there that isn't suggestive? MDNI.

The blue-eyed bastard next door drives you absolutely fucking insane. That stupid mohawk, the devious smirk and two-finger salute he throws your way if he’s on his porch when you get home from work, the platter of progressively slightly less burnt but still inedible snickerdoodles he brings you every Sunday—he knows what he does to you and he milks the hell out of it. He knows your routine and plans his own schedule around it. He’s particularly fond of doing shirtless yard work around the time you try to take your beloved afternoon nap.

     Like he’s doing right now.

     “Johnny!” You yell through clenched teeth, nothing but a thin robe covering the matching silk nightdress you wear.

     “Aye, bonnie! Ye doin’ alreit?” He beams, wiping his face with the rag thrown over his shoulder. 

     “Be better if you’d mow your fucking lawn some other time,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest.

     It’s impossible not to watch the sweat drip from his neck down to the space between his pecs, or the abundant dusting of dark hair below his navel that leads down to his-

     “Och, haud yer wheesht. S’no’ like ah’m interruptin’ summat,” he pauses. “Am ah?”

     The playful shove he gives your shoulder makes you bat his hand away, rolling your eyes at the suggestive wiggle of his brows. He knows damn well you’re doing nothing but trying to get some much needed rest. 

     “Yes, you are, actually. I’m trying to sleep.”

     Johnny gives you a onceover and shrugs.

     “Tae early fer bed, hen. Ye shuid really work on yer sleep schedule.”

     You grit your teeth and try to pretend you don’t see the way his gaze is traveling up the expanse of your lush thighs to where the hem of your nightie ends. You bring your arms higher to cover your nipples because you already know that’s next—nevermind the fact that you’ve been eyeing the bulge in his tiny fucking athletic shorts ever since you walked outside (but that’s your business).

     “Just- would it kill you to do this later?” You whine, resisting the urge to stomp your foot like a petulant child.

     “Aye, it wuid. Go’ company comin’ o’er fer dinner,” he responds. “If ye drop the attitude, maybe ah’ll invite ye as well.”

     “I don’t have an attitude!”

     “Reit, sae ye willnae mind if ah jus’ keep mowin’ me lawn,” he smirks.

     You grumble and pinch the bridge of your nose in defeat. He’s always been so damn stubborn. And, although you’ll never admit it to him, it would be nice to have something to do other than heat up the frozen meals you prepped weeks ago and stare at the television in silence. 

     “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” you sigh. 

     “Wha’ was tha’? Sorry, couldnae ‘ear ye o’er-”

     “I said I’m sorry!” You repeat, voice much louder this time, and the way his grin widens makes you wanna smack that expression right off of his stupid, gorgeous face.

     “Mm, ye sound sae pretty when ye’re all nice tae me,” he winks. “Dinner’s at seven. If ye’re late, ye dinnae ge’ dessert!”

     “If it’s anything like your snickerdoodles, I’ll be glad to miss out.”

     “Away an bile yer heid-!”

     Your smug chuckle of victory is cut off by the rev of his lawnmower starting yet again.

[cvntoid]

erm… predatory/prey play with roman in the workplace……

everyone is gone, like the building is CLOSED closed. he tries to corner his assistant (because duh) and be like hey… what if you let me fuck you? and she just slips her heels off and just. books it.

it’s all in good fun, until it’s not. hopefully no one sees the security footage of him dragging her back into his office by her ankles.

and then he [redacted] her [redacted] until they [redacted]. goodbye 2024.

“I’m bored.”

“Try… I don’t know. Doing some of the paperwork we have to get through. We only have to be here until everything is looked over, signed, filed…” You sigh a long, frustrated sigh, leaning on the desk with your head in your hands. “Roman. You have to throw me a fuckin’ bone, here.” The hour runs so late that everyone else is gone on this floor, only the two of you left. You’re not tired, necessarily, just so utterly over all this paperwork.

Roman smirks at his place behind his desk, flicking his gaze to you from his computer screen. He lifts an eyebrow. “I could throw you a bone.”

A glare has him giggling to himself, that infuriatingly high little inward laugh he does when he’s feeling smug, or clever. It’s actually kind of attractive in an odd way… but so many things about Roman are. It pisses you off. He shouldn’t be allowed to be so smarmy and careless and just… look like that all the time. Roman’s eyes are on yours again and it becomes humiliatingly clear that you’ve just been staring at him, tracing the planes and lines of his handsome features. He turns a little, giving you his full attention now. Tracing his fingertip along some of the papers on his desk. Knowing you’ll watch.

“Oh… are you thinkin’ about it?” Roman licks the edge of his teeth, grinning. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you. I mean… nobody’s here, right?”

“Fuck off,” you say softly. A flush rises up your throat and you roll your eyes, ripping another sheet off the top of the stack to parse through it. “You wish.”

“No… no, I think you wish. I do.” Roman rises up from his chair and you’re forced to look up at him, hands freezing as you move to sign a report. “I think you give me those fuck-me eyes all the time. As if I don’t notice. Oh - don’t make that face. I notice, sweetheart. I know when I’m stuck inside somebody’s mind… stuck tight.”

You feel a strange sort of… something. Something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, just the way Roman’s standing up right now. Looming over his desk. Moving to walk around the edge. Out of pure instinct, you stand as well, palms on the surface as you rise up. Roman’s eyes are glittering, pupils wide and only getting wider.

“Roman…-”

“We should,” he says. “Fuck, I mean. You should let me bend you over this desk. Or… I mean, you could get down on your knees. I could get down on mine, whatever - equal opportunity fucking, right? I’m told I give some serious lip.”

He advances slowly, smoothly, like an animal as you edge toward the door. He’s smiling, but it’s not actually a smile at all. A wolf licking its chops. Your pulse quickens, a surge of adrenaline making your fingers tremble a little. Roman refuses to back down, his voice drawing lower, quieter, trying to hypnotize you like a cat with his words.

“Bad move, sweetheart. I can run. Probably had no idea, but all I did in fucking military school was get screamed at and run. I will catch you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and it’s then that the slice of fear starts mingling with something else, stomach doing flips. A spreading warmth seems to fill the basin of your hips, all that smoldering heat matching the fever-spots of flush in your cheeks. You slip off your heels, grateful for the carpeting - wearing thin tights might not fare so well on a hard, slippery floor while being chased. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s going to chase you. A tiny shiver zips up your spine.

“I’m gunna give you a head start, just to level the -”

Before he can finish, you’re taking off. His laughter trails behind you, and after turning a corner in the endless rows of cubicles, you drop to your hands and knees and crawl, moving another couple rows over like that, holding your breath. There’s a manic thrill bouncing around inside your body, making you shake as you scuttle underneath a desk, both hands pressed over your own mouth. Somewhere nearby, there are soft, light scuffing sounds as he walks. Barely there, hard to discern. If he’s taken his shoes off, you’re fucked.

After a few agonizing minutes of trying to figure out his location by sound, he walks by. The sight of his legs walking away from you almost makes you gasp - almost. God, you can feel your pulse behind your fucking eyeballs. You inch forward little by little on your hands and knees on the carpet. Roman’s still slowly walking the other way. You rise up to a stand for only a fleeting moment before you stumble over your own goddamn feet, making a little sound as you land roughly on your hands and knees again. There’s a moment frozen in time in which you turn your head sharply to face Roman, and he looks behind his shoulder and sees you. There’s a flash of surprise on his face before he’s smirking, turning fully around, and you only make it a couple of steps before his fingers are digging into the collar of your shirt, yanking you back so that you fall down again, this time on your ass.

Limbs are pinwheeling for purchase - you twist in his grasp and he’s on top of you, laughing, practically panting with excitement. In a moment of blind panic, you slap him in the face and he reels a little. In that moment you scramble up and start running again, and he’s on your fucking heels. His laughter titters just behind you and it makes you giggle in return, giddy with the chase, with the weird combination of fear and arousal and anxiety making you throb. You throb everywhere - your pulse finds a loud, pounding home in the tip of your nose, your chest… your cunt.

Wheeling around a corner too fast, you trip again. Roman’s absolutely beside himself, laughing at you as he leans down and grabs your ankles.

“Hey, you really gave it your all,” he commends, voice dripping with derision. He flashes you a grin, all teeth as he starts dragging you backwards. You try to kick and wiggle, but Roman’s stronger than he looks - he has you in a solid grip, clucking his tongue at you. “No, none of that - you had your chances. I win, and I’m going to cum in your little cunt about it. Okay? That was the deal.”

Your skirt rides up and so does your blouse, everything coming untucked and rucking up. The carpet burns as he drags you across it, and you hiss as you squirm to escape it. Roman watches with a hint of amusement, uninterested in your struggle or your discomfort. He drags you all the way across the floor back to his office, and when you try to clutch at the door frame, Roman is swift to toss your legs to the side and take a step closer to kick it away. He finishes hauling you fully into the office and shuts the door, turning to you with his eyes all hooded and dark, cheeks red with excitement. The both of you tremble, the both of you utterly consumed by a manic sort of adrenaline high.

“Well, it’s not being bent over a desk, but - but I kinda like this better. More intimate, yeah? I get to watch you cum all over my cock. Lucky me - and lucky you,” he purrs, pushing your thighs open. When you lift yourself up on your elbows, he yanks your arms down by the wrists. “Dont. Give it up, honey - the struggle is really nice, don’t get me wrong. Cuuute, just fuckin’ cute as shit. But I’m getting impatient.”

He releases you to reach between your thighs, where he pulls at the fabric of your tights with both hands and rips them open down the center.

“Gotta invest in something that doesn’t get sold from a fuckin’ Walmart, babydoll. That was so easy it was barely fun.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Oh, you will.” Roman takes a moment to pull your underwear to the side. He runs his fingers along your slit, tracing the edges and folds of your pussy as he spreads it open, looking at it, barely teasing your clit. “You know how wet you are? Dripping. How fucking sad is that? Are you - oh, am I pissing you off? Making you all upset? You look like you wanna hit me. You wanna hit me again?”

You glare at him, opening your lips to say something about it when he laughs, shoving his fingers inside of you without warning, curling them, pumping them with a precision that has your glare dissolving. Moans take away all the words you had. Roman looks positively triumphant - he fucks them a little harder, a little faster, relishing the way you make those stupid, breathy sounds, the look on your face indistinguishable from pain. It excites him to think of that, too - hurting you a little.

“God, if you’re this fuckin’ whiny for my fingers, you’re really gunna love what comes next,” he murmurs.

Then you do slap him - but it can barely be called a slap at all. The impulse comes, you run with it in the heat of the moment, and a second too late you pull the slap a little and it barely registers. He blinks a little in surprise, fingers paused in their rhythm. He fucks them into you even harder as his eyes bore into yours, that delicate, angry vein showing on his forehead. His free hands rests on your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there. Keeping you spread.

“Not great,” he deadpans. “Try it again. This time, do it like you give a fuck about doing something right for once.”

You can do that. You can do that very well, and the crack of your open palm against the same cheek stings your hand. The flush to his face is immediate, and his eyes look black as he yanks his fingers out of your body again and he slaps you back with the same hand. He smiles as he watches you wipe your own cum off your cheek, tears welling up in your lashes. He tilts his head and pouts a little, undoing his slacks and pushing them down his hips. His cock bounces free, and the sight of it catches you completely off guard. It’s not that you’d ever had an expectation, or a particularly specific thought as to his size, but he is surprisingly thick. Long. His smooth, rippled cockflesh laced with veins. He grins, stroking it once or twice, and fuck, it looks gorgeous in his fingers like that as he teases himself.

“Yeah, I mean… at least I didn’t slap you with this, right? You wouldn’t even be conscious for what I’m about to do to you. But, you know… maybe another time.”

“Roman, seriously - you’re gunna have to… you know, take it - take it easy, okay?”

Roman’s eyes get absolutely dreamy, shining in the dimmed light and hooded by his lovely, low eyelids, wet lips parted as he crawls up over you. He leans in and lowers down until he can brush his lips just barely against yours, more a tease than anything else. He tilts his head and licks a wet stripe from the edge of your jaw up to your cheekbone, planting a wet, sloppy kiss there.

“Don’t you worry about that.” He reaches between your bodies and runs the fat, leaking head of his cock along your slit, slowly, up and down, back again. Every couple passes, he pushes the tip deliciously against your hole, rocking there but only barely. There’s a crease between his focused brows when he lifts to watch your expression, moving to keep your gaze even when you get embarrassed. “Look at you, all fuckin’ wriggly and full of shame. You getting desperate, sweetheart? Yeah? Wanna ask me for it?”

“Roman…”

“Mhmm?” Roman nuzzles playfully into your neck and nips at your throat, once, twice, a third time - this time hard enough to make you whine in that adorable way, your hips twitching. He chooses this moment to work more of himself in - only maybe an inch, just a little further, where he rocks infuriatingly slow again as he sucks a deep, dark bruise into your skin. He can’t wait to see what you do with that tomorrow - how you’re going to cover it up. But he’ll know. He’ll know it’s there. “Hey - go ahead. Ask for what you want.”

“Can you.. uh,” you mumble, nerves crashing under the sheer overload of sensation, of throbbing need. God, the entire fucking thing - the fear, the chase, the force, Roman being an insatiable goddamn beast hellbent on destroying you; it’s enough to melt your brain. But if finding a few more words is all that stands between you and the rest, then… “Can you please give me… more?”

“More of my cock?” Roman starts edging more of himself inside, a smooth, slow rolling of his hips, undulating. Each little thrust brings him closer to home, and you’re gasping. He fastens his lips to a new spot on your neck, at the juncture of your shoulder. “Just trying to take it easy, right? Be patient - you’ll get it all, honey.”

Finally, he’s worked himself balls-deep. He rolls so softly, so very tenderly against your cervix, the tip of his thick cock kissing against it over and over in a maddeningly erotic tease. Is it still a tease if there’s no room left to fuck into? He pushes your thighs open and lifts himself up a little, looking down at you. His cheeks are as flushed as yours. You’ve never noticed just how many freckles he has over his cheeks and nose, how they dot him delicately like a surreal expanse of dark stars in a pink sky.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself cum, just like this.”

Zero hesitation - you push your hand down between your thighs, between your bodies, and expertly circle your clit with your fingers. The natural clench against the stretch of him feels otherworldly. The bright, electric sensation of stimulation on the soft cusp of your cervix adds an entirely new layer to it; it’s sharp, but pleasantly so. You sneak a peek between your bodies at the way he rolls his hips, down to where he only slightly moves in and out of you. He keeps you impossibly full. You let your head fall back down and catch his smug lips, the way he licks them.

“Fuck… I’m close,” you whine.

“I know… I know.” God, he almost sounds kind. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you’d believe it. “Do it for me. You’re this tight already… I wanna know what it feels like to have your perfect little pussy milk me dry. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to empty my fucking balls into you, you know that?”

“Oh - fucking…- shit-” Your entire body seems to seize up, and all that molten, coiled tension melts in a series of devastating waves, pulsating, rushing from behind your eyes all the way down to your toes as he continues to rock into you like that through the crash of your orgasm. His breathing gets erratic and he’s leaning down to lick at your throat. After you move your hand to cling to him, he starts to really fuck into you, rearing back just to slam his cock back inside. Suddenly you’re skating on the shockwave of a brand new explosion of pleasure as he sees fit to set a punishing new pace. The curve of his cock finally tends to all those barely-touched nerves in his full, brutal strokes, balls audibly slapping against your body.

“Yeah - keep fucking cumming. It’s okay, I know - it’s a lot to take. You’re doing so good - look at you. Like you were made to take my cock, huh, baby? I’m gunna fill you up, okay? You ready?” His voice is drawn high, soothing, making your head spin as you try to fit the tone of his voice with the sly, mean smirk on his lips. He reaches a hand up and presses his fingers against your lips, sliding two of them over your tongue. “Good girl - good fucking girl.”

The feeling of your lips and tongue on his fingers, the sounds you make, the way you keep clenching around him - it’s the perfect storm. His hips falter at the same time his moans do, and his cock is pulsing inside of you. He pushes deep, fingers matching as they wander toward the back of your throat until you whine, gagging, grabbing at his wrist to stop him. Your teeth scrape his knuckles and he shudders as he moans, rutting his hips in time with each thick spurt of his cum. There’s a wonderful sort of haze where both of your bodies are coming down, muscles relaxing. The beginning of the afterglow. Roman removes his fingers as his body stills, dick softening inside of you. He sticks those fingers into his own mouth without even thinking about it, tasting you, your saliva. Finally he separates from your body and pats the inside of your thigh, giving it a strangely affectionate squeeze. It feels more intimate than everything else you’ve done, in some weird way: the way he didn’t look at you when sucking your saliva off his fingers, the tenderness of the squeeze. Those things go quietly inside of you, somewhere else to peruse later. Things Roman wouldn’t really want you to have; accidental gifts.

“That was…” you trail off, exhaling hard to convey your feelings. You laugh a little bit, a bit of tension releasing as you do. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that… you can just call me Roman Roy,” he cracks, smiling wryly. He sighs and pulls himself together, running a hand through his mussed hair before it falls right back into his eyes. “I know, I know. Big ol’ fuckin’ hog, devilishly handsome, and hilarious? I’m the entire goddamn package.”

“Don’t forget filthy rich.”

Roman shakes his head and bows slightly to you, hand outstretched as if giving you the floor. “And filthy rich. If I could just fuck and marry myself, I would. Now, uh… is your back okay? Got a little… scraped up, yeah? You need some, like, Neosporin or some shit?”

“Yeah, in fact - could you also bring me some Mickey Mouse bandaids, maybe a lollipop? Some stickers? I’m fine, Roman… thanks, though.”

“Show you a fuckin’ lollipop,” Roman mutters, running his hands over his face. He snaps his fingers, fidgety, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here. Fuck the papers. I’ll make somebody else finish it tomorrow. I don’t care. Romey tired.”

Roman places a chaste hand at the base of your spine, guiding you through the doors to end the evening. There’s a comfortable silence as you separate, Roman heading for his car while you go off to your own apartment in the opposite direction. Closer to arriving home, your phone dings. Roman’s name shows up and you ignore the tiny wisp of a thrill in your gut at seeing his name there inside your phone, not having reached out first.

Overtime required tomorrow. My shopper will have new tights for you - you’re welcome. Make it worth it. -R

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜʟʟʏ

✒ ᴀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ

☏ - ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴜʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ʙᴜʟʟʏ??? ʟᴍᴀᴏ… ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇ……. ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴀʙᴇ ɢᴜʏꜱ ꜰʀꜰʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴ, ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ), ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ, ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴜʀꜱ, ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴍᴇᴏ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋʙᴏx ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ

Yandere Best Friend who was the king of the school, ruling over his subjects with an iron fist. They kissed his feet, and in turn he'd shove them into lockers when he felt grouchy and have them fetch his cigarettes so the teachers wouldn't know they were his. 

Yandere Best Friend who was once your best friend. Your ride or die who would have your back even when he acted like a complete ass sometimes. Sure he was wicked and cruel, but never to you. 

Yandere Best Friend who always kept you close, closer than Harry, closer than Hannah. He would pick you up from your house, he would eat at your table and welcome you to eat at his own. You would spend nights in his room, never on his bed, of course. But he'd take the initiative and set out an inflatable mattress for you, which was more than he'd ever do for the other guys who he'd leave to sleep on the cold hard floor.

Yandere Best Friend who you absolutely despised. Seriously, just the sight of him was enough to ruin your day. This wasn't petty envy– okay, well maybe it was. Just a bit. You hated how your parents blindly adored and praised him (“Why can't you just be more like Richard?”), you hated how you were known first and foremost as his best friend, Richard's cheerful little lapdog. You hated how you spent so much of your life at his beck and call, because what else were you supposed to do? Ignore him? Fuck. Even as kids, that would be social suicide. 

Yandere Best Friend who liked you more than you thought you did. He was always weirdly drawn to you, in the same way a starving dog would be to a rare bone thrown it's way. Hungry, possessive, and greedy. You reasoned it as something like imprinting, you were his first real friend. Not a mindless follower in awe of his assertive charisma. But somebody who he initially perceived as an equal. You say initially, because at this point he sees you less as an equal and more of an extension of himself, like a nice watch he can't bear to take off. 

You only truly discovered how deep this went when he learned you and Harry were sleeping together. 

Really it was Harry's fault. 

You were supposed to go have dinner with Richard's family at their place, a monthly tradition both your parents established when you two were young and have since kept up without fail. But then he yelled for you outside your window, and, well… he was still wet from his shower and you could never resist him when he was wearing his letterman jacket. 

That was when it started, you think. The first little clue in Richard's very own Nancy Drew mystery that has led him to slamming your bedroom door open on a Friday night while your parents are out of town.

“Jesus, ever learned how to knock?” You place a hand to your chest and act shocked, like swinging the door open like a battering ram wasn't a regular occurence. 

Usually Richard would respond with teasing, jokingly apoligzing for startling your poor, weak heart or for attacking your sensitive ears with such a loud noise. You never liked it, but you heard it so much at this point that it stopped bothering you a long time ago. 

“What the fuck is up with you and Harry?” 

‘You and Harry’. Three words you used to be afraid hearing in one go. You still are. Whenever somebody would say, “I saw you and Harry,” you would force a smile on your face and respond with, “Really?” 

But this is a different question. “What is up with you and Harry?” 

Your mind can only come up with one answer as to why Richard asked this question and that alone is to send you into panic mode. 

But you simply raise your brow, “Uh, nothing? Is this about the brownies? Sorry if I gave him extra but you didn't finish your share so if it's anybody's fault it's yours–” 

“This isn't about your shit brownies [Name]—” 

You gasp, once again pressing a hand to your chest, making sure to exaggerate your expression, but not too much, just enough to look convincing, “How dare you! You said you loved them—”

“Well I lied, idiot,” Richard's gaze hardened, he crossed his arms as he stood over you while you sat cross legged on your bed, “And don't change the subject!”

You raise your hands in faux-surrender and try to look like your feelings have been hurt, “I wasn't! You shit talked my brownies– which I'm not gonna forgive by the way— and I just defended them like any normal person would.” 

“So yeah, Richard, we are staying on subject! The subject is simply about my amazing brownies and your crappy taste buds.” 

Richard’s nostrils flare in exasperation. He curses under his breath while he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a polaroid picture which he then shoves at your chest. You look at the picture, and you can't restrain yourself from releasing the ensuing gasp. 

It was you and Harry, in Harry's car at night parked near the lake on the outskirts of town, making out under the cover of darkness. 

“Woah, holy shit– Harry's gay?!” 

“You're making out with him in the picture–” 

“Nahhh, that's not me bro! I was out… fishing with my… great uncle.” 

“Your great uncle died two years ago.”

“Well, I have another great uncle, and he's in tip top shape. Asshole.” 

“You have the same baseball hat you're wearing in that picture.”

“...No I don't.” 

Richard stares at you, then silently points to an identical hat on your bedside table.

“That's not mine. I borrowed it from Steve.” 

“Fucker, I gave you that for your fifteenth birthday.” 

—

Richard always knew something wasn't right with you. 

Listen, he didn't believe in whatever bullshit Father Callahan spewed from his mouth. Gay guys were freaks of nature, sure, but they weren't sent by the devil. 

But you were an exception. Shit, with the way you made him feel maybe you were a little succubus made to take him off the righteous path or whatever. 

Ever since you guys were kids he's always felt this uncontrollable desire to have absolute and complete control over your entire being. Richard doesn't know to describe it as anything other than an almost instinctual impulse, the universe telling him that you were meant to be his when he was still too young to understand. 

Still. He thought that you would have standards. Richard could see the common sense in wanting to bone, whenever he got to get it on with Hannah he was in bliss even if she wasn't you, but for you to choose Harry. The spoiled little wuss Harold Kelly, instead of him? 

He treated you better than the rest, but he had limits. Limits you overstepped. It's only fair that you're going to get punished. 

“Ahaha… uh, are you sure that's me and Harry in that picture…?” 

Richard clicks his tongue. When would you understand that there was no use denying it? 

“That is literally Harry's exact plate number on that car.” 

Your shoulders slump, and Richard feels a mix of dread and satisfaction at the resigned expression on your face. Satisfaction because he won. Dread because his worst fears have been confirmed. 

“Who took the picture?” 

Richard snatches the photo away from you, “Made that little freak Greg Werner stalk you two,” He sneers and takes a step closer, “Bet he got a lot of fap material from that. Scrawny little guy like him, there's no question he's a fag. You would know, wouldn't you? You're just like him after all–” 

“Okay, fine! So what if I am?” You jab your index finger into his chest, his green eyes widening as they focus on it, “What I do in my private time is my business and none of yours. My life is barely even my own, and it's all. Because. Of. You! So don't you fucking dare take what little personal pleasure I have away from me.” 

With each word you speak, Richard's heart aches. It's a sharp, cold pain like a knife is being stabbed into his does. There's a silence when you finish, taut with your resentment and Richard's hesitant regret. He wants to say something, but what could he say? That it wasn't his fault? That he was sorry? That he didn't want you to leave him? He felt like he was watching a beautiful bird he had nursed back to health and kept safe from the dangers of the world start flapping its wings and fly, far, far away from him. 

“Get out, Richard,” You turn away from him, “If you want me to leave your group and fuck off then I'll do so gladly.” 

“No.” Richard grabs your arm. 

“Wha- what do you mean no? Richard let go of me.” 

Richard weighs what is important to him on a scale in his mind. You, or his status. 

You were his best friend. Even if you were starting to slip away, to college, to Harry, out of his sight and out of his life, you were the only person he wanted to keep in his life. The only friend he could see himself going out for drinks with when he was older. 

You were his first love. His only love. The first subject of his shameful adolescent dreams that left him awake at night, sweaty and spent on his bed. Once he had contemplated running away with you, changing names, and living a life free from the close minded small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere the two of you grew up in. 

But he had a reputation to maintain. A father who he had to satisfy with the standard accomplishments a father would expect of his son. He had a girlfriend whose father was the town's mayor. A town whose watchful eyes praised him as a good, upstanding young man who was destined for greatness. A star athlete who was going to play in the big leagues and finally place the town on the map. 

In the grand scheme of things, you were just another teenager in his shadow. 

You were destined to be remembered in history as merely another name in his autobiography. Richard Shepherd's childhood best friend. 

However Richard's stomach curled at the thought of that. You and him, separated. No longer within the same circle, but in different worlds entirely. 

The scales tip in your favour.

—

What happens next is a blur. You're shoved into the mattress of your bed and pinned down. You try to escape and Richard cows you into submission with a punch to the gut that nearly has you hurling from the force.

Your clothes are ripped from your skin, your protests go unheard, your body is a tool. Richard too has stripped himself, he spreads your legs. He grabs you by the chin when you close you try to look away, “Unless you want this to hurt more you're going to look at me when I do this.” 

So you look, and you cry, and you weep as you feel his cock invade you. It's not a dry insertion, but God it still hurts. Richard gasps when he sheathes himself fully inside, his eyes are blown wide and his mouth hangs open like he's seeing stars. His fingers dig into your waist, and he bites his lip, his face tells it all and even in this position you can't help but smirk. Feels better than Hannah's, doesn't it Richard? 

That's the last thought you remember having before Richard goes wild. 

You do it on your bed, against your desk, pressed against the cool surface of your window. Richard cums multiple times inside you, he even cries at one point, screaming words you can barely remember in your fucked out state as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

Richard makes you scream his name as he moans out yours. He asks if Harry kissed you before and when you're too tired to respond he slams his lips into yours and practically eats away at your mouth. 

Eventually he finishes, pulling out of your worn out hole, with a wet plap. Your body shudders as you release a long, shaky breath. 

“You’ve ruined me,” Richard pants, his blonde hair is sticking up, he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his green eyes are blown wide open as he tries to compose himself, “I… I can’t- Hannah could never…” 

He stares at you as you lie below him, equally sweaty, your neck and shoulders are littered with hickeys and bite marks, and you’re on the verge of passing out. The rims of your eyes are red, and your face is moist with tears. Your lip is swollen from Richard’s teeth digging into them, nearly tearing them off in his fervour. 

You look like you’re about to die. 

He looks more alive than he ever has before. 

Richard looks like he wants to do it again. 

Yet his eyes are filled with fear, and you want to laugh, but your throat is crying out in pain.

“You’ve ruined me.”

Yandere Best friend Bully who keeps you on a shorter leash now. He doesn't do anything in public. Okay, that's a lie. But he makes sure he doesn't get caught. And despite being the classic stereotype of a small town jock, complete with his hot cheerleader girlfriend and powerful inner circle, he's not an idiot. He doesn't do anything to out you, or even leave any hints to your sexuality. He doesn't even tell Harry he knows. No, this is his little secret. Your little secret. Just like the old days when the two of you had a secret fort deep in the woods behind his father's farm. 

Yandere Bully who knows he can't keep you around his group, even to be the new punching bag. The guys would be too grossed and the girls.. well he didn't really care what they thought actually. Same went for the guys, to be honest. What mattered was the words they would say that would be whispered and spread like wildfire around the school. 

Richard likes keeping the school homo around

Really? 

Really! 

You think he fucks the fag? 

Why else? I don't see any bruises on the fucker’s face 

Yandere Bully who can't bring himself to hurt you. Is he disappointed? Yes. Is he furious? Yes. Does he want to beat somebody’s head in till the anger goes away? Oh, no doubt. But if he were to ever hit your handsome face then he'd hit himself over the head with a brick a hundred times over. 

Yandere Bully who resorts to being rough. He uses you like you're a lowly hooker, here to give him happiness and send him flying high to heaven with pleasure. He pins your wrists above your head. He smacks your ass. Digs his nails into your solid muscle till you bleed. He litters your skin with harsh, red bitemarks. 

You would cover it all up the next day by saying you spent the night with a girl. You never say, you never do, so nobody questions who. He used to be jealous, resentful of whatever bitch was able to lay her needy hands on you, but now he only smirks at the sight of the miserable pout on Harry's face. 

Yandere Bully who doesn't spare Harry either. Bumping into him in the hallways. Stomping on his foot during football practice. Flirting with his girlfriend by the lockers, a smirk on his face while his eyes are on Harry, quietly fuming while his girlfriend giggles and twirls her hair bashfully. His humiliation of Harry is what makes the other guys join in. They jeer at him, mock him by asking if he liked getting cucked, and start slowly respecting him less. That is, till you step in of course.

Yandere Bully who ignores the bitter complaints of the other guys, angered by the humiliation they suffer at your hands, and watches as resentment stews inside him as you scold Harry, hands brushing a stray chestnut lock away from his eyes while he smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red after being graced with your touch after so long of being deprived of it. The two of you looked natural, you looked happy, really happy. Real happy, with a real smile to boot.

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders, during nights when he has you in his arms, your back facing him as you avoid his intense gaze by placing yourself in front of the wall, what exactly your feelings for Harry entail. Did you just want to fuck or did you like Harry the same way Hannah liked Richard? 

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders what he feels for you. He likes you, more than Harry, and certainly more than Hannah. But sometimes he wonders what's the difference between liking somebody and desiring them. 

One day he looks at you the morning after a raunchy night in your bed and the sun pours in from your window, your brows furrow and a frown forms on your face. You bury your head in your pillow, and Richard decides that whatever he felt for you was completely beyond his comprehension. 

Yandere Bully who should have known that Harry would start poking his nose eventually. He couldn't understand what you wanted from Harry, but he knew that he and Harry wanted the same thing from you: You in your unsullied entirety. 

Yandere Bully who one day finds you alone in a room with Harry. He looks through a small gap in the doorway, and Harry is on his knees, drying your leg with a towel. The group was staying at Harry’s lakeside cabin during the summer, and you had all come back from swimming in the lake. Harry looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes, a seemingly innocent smile on his face while you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk curling at your lips. 

Richard does a sharp intake of breath at your laugh, floating through the air like a gentle, silvery breeze. Your head rests on your hand while the other plays with Harry's damp hair, “Jesus christ, it was freezing though,” You shudder at the memory of it, “I felt like I was gonna turn into a popsicle.” 

Harry giggles, fucker actually giggled, “Bet you'd be a hot popsicle though.” 

“What the hell— A hot popsicle? You mean sexy?” At Harry's shy nod, you throw your head back and laugh, “So what, you're gonna drag your tongue over me and lick every inch of my body?” 

Harry's ears start to burn red, “Well… I wouldn't… I wouldn't mind doing it even if… you aren't a popsicle…” 

Before you can even respond, Richard swings the door wide open and the two of you snap to attention, Harry jolts and quickly scrambles to his feet and you practically leap off of the bed.

“Richard! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!” Harry exclaims, “What're you doing there at the door? Come in, come in! We were just talking about… uh—” 

“The temperature,” You supply seamlessly with a firm nod, “I think my balls froze off in the lake man, they're numb as hell.” 

Harry gapes at you for a moment before shaking his head with fervour and then nodding with the same amount of intensity, “Yep! How about we go on a walk after lunch? Absorb some good ol’ vitamin D, whaddya say Richard?” 

Richard narrows his gaze at the two of you, his eyes flickering to Harry who beams like an idiot dog, then to you who sports a similar ‘ignorant’ smile. 

“Bring it up with the others,” Richard mutters in gruff tone, “[Name] go tell them to start making lunch, Harry stay behind would you? I have to talk to you about something.”

“About what?”

“Football.” 

“Ah, okie doke!” Harry smiles, not a single thought behind his blue eyes, “Seeya later [Name]!” 

You hesitate for a moment, chewing your lip in thought, but a sharp glare from Richard is enough to have you roll your eyes and head out, “Don't take too long unless you wanna be eating our leftovers.” 

“So is it about the upcoming game? The Bears have got nothing on us man, don't you sweat–” 

“Harry, you buffoon, that was obviously just a guise,” Richard closes the door shut, “I want you to stay away from [Name].” 

“Huh? Why?” Harry cocks his head to the side, “Is something wrong? Did [Name] do something?”

“It doesn't matter,” Richard waves his hand like he's swatting flies away, “I don't want you anywhere near him. Not even within an inch.”

“You can't just do that Richard,” Harry protests, but Richard is already turning away from him. 

“I can,” Richard narrows his eyes at him, green against blue, “And I will.” 

Before his fingers can even brush the metal of the doorknob, Harry grabs Richard's shoulder and spins him around, “No, Richard, you can't.”

There's an unusually serious expression on Harry's face that Richard never thought he'd see till Harry would reach his thirties, that is, if they were to even remain in touch. 

Harry was a coward, plain and simple. He cried like a bitch when he watched scary movies, he was deathly afraid of the dark, once on a previous trip to the Cabin there was a spider in the bedroom and he simply stood on the couch pointing and screaming at the insect as his own girlfriend was the one who took it outside using a glass cup and a piece of paper. 

When they first met, it took only three minutes for Richard to cement himself in Harry's mind as a person to listen to, to respect, and obey. And it was something that wouldn't change, till just now that is. 

“I know you've been doing something to [Name],” Harry stares him down, for the first time in his life it truly registers in Richard just how tall Harry is as he stands nearly half a head above him, “And whatever it is, I want you to stop.”

Richard sneers, “Look at you. Harold Kelly. The town pushover finally grew some balls, huh?” He shoves Harry away, “But if you think I'm going to listen to you just because of that then you really are as big of an idiot as everybody says you are.” 

Harry shakes his head, “You're hurting him, you know?” He meets Richard's piercing gaze without flinching, “You keep pushing him like this and he's going to snap eventually.” 

“Why do you care? What is he, your little girlfriend? That why you didn't bother stepping up when your girlfriend had her mitts all over me?” 

“He's my friend Richard, and friends care for each other,” Harry frowns, a disappointed look in his eyes that makes Richard want to sock him across the face (Who is he to look at him like that?), “You'd know that if you weren't so selfish.” 

“What are you trying to say to me Harry?” Richard takes another step forward, smirking when Harry instinctively backs away, “If you're saying I don't care about [Name] then you're dead wrong, because nobody will ever care for him in his life as I will, not even you Harry. You wanna know why? Because you don't understand him, nobody does. Nobody except me, and that's why even if you two are flirting and going at each other like the little fairies you two are, the only person who will stay in his life forever is me.”

“You know?” Harry's voice is quiet, whatever bravery he mustered up is gone and he's back to the wuss Richard pushes around in his free time. 

“Of course I do, nobody knows him better than I do after all, this is no exception.” 

Harry's mouth hangs open slightly, and Richard snickers at the expression, smirking at his undeniable triumph over the other, “I won't say it again Harry, leave [Name] alone. If you don't, I'll tell the school you've been raping him.” 

The threat makes Harry flinch, “No… you wouldn't.” 

“You know better than to think that Harry.” 

“E-even if you did, nobody would believe you!” 

“Harry people have seen [Name] with your hickeys and bite marks, it wouldn't be so hard to convince them you're gay and Lucy is just your beard. Besides,” Richard drawls in a sing-song tone, “I have pictures~” 

Harry's visage is consumed by an expression of defeat and hopelessness, “This is wrong Richard, you're ruining his life.” 

“Please, if anything the only reason he has this life is because of me,” Richard scoffs, ignoring the twinge in his chest at Harry's words, “Now, if you'll excuse me.” 

Without waiting for a response, Richard enters the dining room, and takes a seat beside Hannah and across you. 

“What took you so long?” Hannah looks up from her plate, a bored look in her eyes. 

Richard peck's her on the forehead, lips stiff, “Harry and I were talking about football.” 

“Geez,” Hannah rolls her eyes, “All boys talk about is sports and cars, tsk.” 

“Don't forget the girls,” Peter jokes. 

Hannah wrinkles her nose, “Eugh.” 

You send him a narrowed glance, a silent question hung in the air between the two of you. What happened? 

Richard merely smirks, it widens at Harry's arrival. You look at Harry hopefully, only to visibly deflate when he sits beside Lucy at the other end of the table. 

You turn to Richard again, eyes hardened, “What did you say?” You mouth. 

Richard shrugs. You curse under your breath. 

Yandere Bully who you can't stand anymore. At this point, could your life really be called your own? Richard always had his eye on you, day and night. He would spend his entire day with you. Even staying behind after practice to shower with you. He would eat at your table during dinner and stay over the night, you would be caged in your own bed, struggling to sleep while his hot breath fanned against your neck. 

Fuck. Even Tommy would send you pitying glances when you would visit his house. Tommy! The kid you would pin down while Richard tore up his drawings in front of him. 

The last straw is Harry. Lovable, cowardly, foolish Harry. Harry who avoids your gaze and practically flees when you enter his vicinity. Harry who tells you that he can’t see you anymore. That he shouldn't. That what the two of you are doing is wrong, it always has been. 

You can't take this anymore. You have to get away. From the school. From the town. From Richard fucking Shepherd. You could tolerate it, barely but you could tolerate it. But then Harry broke your heart and suddenly you don't have a reason to tolerate what Richard is doing to you anymore. 

Yandere Bully who expects to be offered full-ride scholarships to ivy-league colleges, but when scouts arrive they ignore him in favour of team players like Harry. You know this because the same night after Harry proudly announces he got a scholarship to the University of Michigan, he fucks you in the backseat of his car without a single shred of mercy, cursing under his breath the entire time. Talk about envy. 

Yandere Bully whose expression can only be described as devastated when you break the news over dinner that a college in the city has accepted you, over his parents congratulating you and your parents tearful smiles, he looks like he's about to cry and scream at you all at once.

Yandere Bully who that night, in the barn on top the stacks of hay, when he thinks you've passed out he hugs you, actually hugs you, as sobs rack through his frame. He begs you not to leave him, and you feel almost guilty for not opening your eyes and assuring him that you won't. But you don't, because even you're not so cruel as to give him such an empty promise. 

Yandere Bully who never sees you again after graduation. He tries to get you to stay, he even threatens releasing the pictures, but your only response is a shrug. 

“Will you miss me?” 

You scoff, “Will I miss you? Richard, there's nothing to miss. If anything, I should be asking you that question.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“I think you know exactly what it means.” 

“Enlighten me then.”

“You love me.” 

“You're delusional.”

“Wow, look at the pot calling the kettle black,” You chuckle. 

“I'm not gay [Name].” 

“Then why were you so mad about Harry then?’ 

“Because he was a fag.” 

"Well, I'm a fag too, but you certainly treat me better than you ever treated Harry.” 

“That's because you're different.” 

“I'm special.” 

“Whatever you wanna call it.” 

“I'm special… because you love me.” 

“I don't love you.” 

“But will you miss me?” 

“You're going to come back.” 

“And how are you so sure?” 

“Because I said so.” 

You smile, “Don't count on it, Richard.”

Yandere Bully who breaks up with Hannah eventually, after she catches him cheating on her with a relative of yours who was staying in town. What can he say? She had your eyes. 

Yandere Bully who only has the old baseball hat he gave you for your birthday to remember you by. It's either you forgot to pack it or you left it behind on purpose. Even if it hurts, he prefers the latter. At least it meant he mattered to you in some way, even if it's in a negative light. He always wears the hat, even if Raph teases him for it, all he has to do is knock the little shit in the head and he shuts his mouth about Richard's fashion choices.

Yandere Bully who writes letters he never sends, words written in a rough scrawl confessing truths he was too afraid to admit, that he's still afraid to admit to this day. 

[Name]

Sunflower gave birth today, a colt with a coat the colour of chocolate. We named it London. I think dad has been thinking of going there, but I don't think he ever will. 

Have you gone to London? I hope you haven't. We wanted to go there together, didn't we? You wanted to meet Harry Potter and I wanted to… well I didn't want to do anything there. I think I didn't mind where I was, I just wanted to be with you. 

I wish you came back. I wish you never left. I wish you stayed with me in this shitty town and worked with me in my family's shitty farm. I know it's cruel, and I know you don't deserve it, but neither do I okay? I deserved a life with you and it's unfair that you got to leave and I'm still trapped here

Sunflower misses you, I think she got more sad when you left and hasn't changed since. She keeps whinnying like she's calling out for you and it bothers all the other horses because they can't sleep, and when they can't sleep then I can't sleep, and you know I fucking hate it when I can't sleep so could you just come back and spare me further trouble? 

I got rid of the pictures. You don't have to worry about anything. I just need you back here. So I can sleep. 

Richard 

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[ghoulsverse]

Two Reds Make White: Masterlist

[Summary] She wasn’t supposed to exist. They weren’t supposed to care. But somewhere between chaos magic and combat training, a family starts to form.

[Warnings/Content] hydra/abuse themes | reader has a name (pretty much OC) | vision bashing, kinda | slooooow burn | teen!oc

Chapter One: Mission Possible

Chapter Two: Genesis Project

Chapter Three: Subject 00-113

Chapter Four: Genetic Input

Chapter Five: W.M.002 & N.R.A001

Chapter Six: I Can't Feel You

Chapter Seven: Child Care 101

Chapter Eight: Nurture vs. Technology

Chapter Nine: Blood of the Coven

Chapter Ten: A New Normal

Chapter Eleven: ????

Chapter Twelve: ????

Extras:

Spotify Playlist

One-Shots:

Drabbles/HC:

Moodboards: Aliah: Moodboard