#but i tried to keep it as short as possible

[winterrrnight]

mystery of love

PAIRING: husband!soft!rafe cameron x wife!fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe started to get more busy with his business, and you couldn’t help but start to feel neglected by him.

WARNINGS: soft soft SOFT rafe, he's so lovesick for his wife it is crazy (no it isn’t that’s practically canon), slightly suggestive content but it’s written with a fluffy intent, usage of nicknames like goddess & baby, and just loads of sweetness over all, very very slight angst (?) and intentional use of lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is more on this, you can’t look at that picture and not think that’s rafe, cause it is! thank you so so much to @glimodejun who commented their idea which prompted me to write this 🫶🏼 i was supposed to write a blurb but I got carried away, clearly, and this is pushing 2k words 😁

anyways, please please reblog if you liked this and feedback is always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 🫧

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oh will wonders ever cease? blessed be the mystery of love

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

it was starting to get a little out of hand.

you always knew how important rafe’s business was to him, especially after he inherited it all from his father. the burgeoning fire in him to make the business bigger and better than it had ever been and be so much more powerful than his father, who couldn’t give him an ounce of attention or praise his entire childhood was one of the biggest things fueling his motivation.

that, and wanting to give you everything you could possibly need in great abundance so that you never felt you were at a loss of anything under his roof.

so you knew he tended to sometimes spend longer hours at the office, to get everything done, to not let a single mistake fall into place in front of his eyes, everything perfectly coordinated and right up to his standards.

he always made sure to call you or send you a text if he was going to be late, informing you why he was going to be late, the tentative time he should be back home, with a small ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’ accompanied with the occasional red heart he only ever used for you.

since the past few days, unfortunately you hadn’t been receiving the texts you always did. if you did, it was short, something along the lines of ‘i’ll be late’. but no explanation as to exactly what had been keeping him busy, and no words of endearment at all. he started coming home really late, most of the times when you had tried your best to stay up till he comes home, but the exhaustion would always defeat him in the race and you’d be out like a light.

and the next morning wasn’t close to being better than the night. if you were lucky, you would catch him getting ready for work, and you would always prompt him to stay for at least breakfast. but he would be in a hurry and shake his head no, saying something like ‘i have to leave, it’s important’ and leaving you with a chaste kiss to your lips.

whatever you’d ask, his answers to you would be short, concise and quick, and you felt as if you’re catching the subtle drift of vexation and annoyance in his tone. was it actually there or were you just imagining it? you didn’t know.

and if you weren’t lucky, you wouldn’t even get to see him leave. by the time you would be up, you would only feel the cold wrinkled sheets next to you, the faint scent of him lingering in the air as a burning memory of the love of your life.

this specific night, exactly one week after since the first day this peculiar behavior of his started, you were seated on the edge of the bed after a shower, applying your lotion on your arms as you prepared yourself for another night of waiting for rafe, falling asleep in the process, and letting it be a mystery solved only by some higher power if you would see him in the morning or not.

as you were rubbing the lotion into your skin, you couldn’t help your wandering mind. how were you supposed to deal with this situation? were you supposed to confront him and demand answers? or were you supposed to tread slowly? you knew you were nearing the end of the american fiscal year; 30th of september being right around the corner. it involved loads of financial and accounting work, preparing end-of-year accounts and statements, and what not. so him being busy felt justified. but he should be able to spare a moment to at least send you a proper text, shouldn’t he?

no, you shake your head. you’re his wife, for god’s sake. you shouldn’t be reducing your worth down to some text. heck, you should be getting proper calls from him. you’ve been so wonderfully patient, not complaining for a second for the past week. the least you can get is a proper conversation with him.

as you made up your mind firmly, your thoughts were cut through firmly when the door to your bedroom opened. you looked up to see rafe entering inside the room, his blazer off and resting on his shoulder, and his sleeves messily rolled up to his elbows.

“hey,” he muttered as he closed the door behind him, keeping his bag on the side and disappearing behind the washroom door.

“hey,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor as you heard the washroom door close. you remained seated on the edge of the bed, clad in a satin black robe which he swore made you look even more of a goddess than you already did as you waited for him to come out.

you heard the shower run inside for some time, after which the door opened and you were greeted with rafe sporting a pair of grey sweatpants, his upper body bare with some water droplets still trickling down his skin.

as he came out, he saw you in the same position at the edge of the bed as before. “hey why aren’t you going to sleep hm?” he asked as he busied himself with applying his moisturizer to his face.

“no reason,” you muttered, your back to him as you kept your gaze down at your feet.

rafe was very quick to catch the dejection in your voice, and before you knew it, he was making his way around the bed to you, standing right in front of you as he looked down at you.

“baby, look up please,” he murmured softly, one of his hand coming to rest on your cheek.

you lifted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyelids heavy as you look up at him through your lashes. “yeah?” you mumbled.

rafe exhaled softly at your bleak tone. he sank down on his knees in front of you, his gaze coming to your level.

“listen baby,” he sighed softly, placing both his hands on your thighs right below the hem of the robe. “I… I haven’t been the best husband the past week and I’m… so so sorry about that,”

his heartfelt words reached your ears and caused your eyes to widen, your mind started to work away the gears to process his words.

“I haven’t been giving you the attention and love I vowed to give you on day one,” he whispered looking deep in your eyes, his own eyes softened to such an extent it had you melting completely. “I haven’t been communicating well with you I…” he muttered, running one hand over his prickly buzzed hair, “I didn’t mean to do that baby I’m so sorry…”

you wanted to say something, anything, for that matter, but you were rendered completely speechless when you started feeling him press kisses over your thighs.

“I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered into your skin, “I hope you can forgive me for everything I did… I’ll make it up to you I promise…”

your lips parted to let out shuddering gasps as you felt him slowly move the satin of your robe up to reveal more of your thighs, his lips pressing kisses against your inner thighs and trailing over your outer thighs.

“I’m so sorry… so sorry, my goddess…” he whispered. “i won’t ever do this again… you’re my top priority, always, and there will never be a second where you don’t feel that way…”

his words left a searing mark on your skin, his lips trailing up to your left hip bone. one of his hands came to rest on your right hip, rubbing gentle circles onto your hip bone through the satin of your robe, and his other hand shifted your robe even higher to grant him more access to your skin. his lips landed on your hip bone and he pressed the most tender kisses along the bone, a soft gasp escaping your lips at his actions. your hand came to rest on the side of his face, your head leaning back as you felt the sensations of his lips on your sensitive hip bone thrum all throughout your body, lighting up each and every nerve that constituted you.

“I love you so much…” he whispered against your skin, starting to gently suck on your skin, his eyes fluttering shut. a hum of pleasure tumbled past your lips, your own eyelids getting heavier. “I love you so so much darling and I’m…” his lips started to trail over your lower abdomen, pressing kisses through the soft satin of your robe that still covered your upper half, “I’m never making this mistake ever again I promise... please forgive me…” he pleaded, his lips making over to your other hip bone and kissing on it, before gently sucking on it the same way he did earlier.

“you only deserve the best…” he murmured, lips trailing a path down to your inner thigh again. “just the best… cause you are so amazing…” he whispered, nipping on the soft skin of your inner thigh. your fingers curled over the nape of his neck to give you some leverage, soft gasps leaving your lips, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chest starting to heave from every kiss and nip of his lips and teeth.

his both hands now rested on the sides of your thighs as they gently kneaded into the flesh and his lips peppered insistent kisses all over your inner thighs. he looked up from your thighs up to you, a pleading expression in his eyes, his lips slightly parted as breaths escaped them.

“please forgive me, my beautiful goddess…” he implored, his voice a mere whisper. “please please forgive me, I’ll never do the same I promise…”

you looked down at him, your fingers trailing to the side of his face to gently cup his cheek. he snuggled into the warmth of your hand almost immediately, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a soft sigh, letting his lips press a chaste kiss to your palm.

“I forgive you, rafe…” you whispered.

that made him look up at you, his eyes widened and the pleading expression draining out to be replaced with a hopeful one.

“yeah? you do?” he asked, squeezing your thighs in return.

“yeah,” you whispered back, giving him a small smile as you trailed your fingers to the side of his neck, gently scratching your nails against it. he let out a soft exhale at the sensation, letting his head drop to your thighs as your fingers made their way to the back of his neck, continuing the scratching motion. he almost purred in your lap at the feeling, nestling his face into your thighs.

“thank you…” he whispered against your skin. “I won’t disappoint you again, I promise,”

you let out a gentle sigh as you looked at his buried face in your thighs, your expression softening more.

“I know you won’t,” you mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his head.

that night, he held you in his arms and kept you pressed against him, his warmth lulling you in the most beautiful slumber you had experienced in that past week. he made sure you fell asleep comfortably, his lips always pressing random kisses to whatever part of your skin he could succumb to, whispered sweet nothings stumbling past his lips to your ears to alleviate you to great heights.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @mistress-amidala @sadfury @sage-burrow @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahkahansorangejuice @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt @babypoguelife @ilyrafe @ladyinbl00d @thisisntannie @zyafics

[last-starry-sky]

let it out pt. 1 - 141xreader

(aka - the unhinged fivesome fic i've had cooking for ages and decided to finish for my stupid mental health)

[NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: 4.9k, alcohol/drinking mention, implied past misogyny, smoking mention, everything from here on is dub-con (this is your only warning): kissing, nipple-play, biting, dry humping, mmmf foursome (sorry, someone gets left out in this part 😔), also, possibly the worst cliffhanger i've ever left a chapter on.]

You knew you should have locked the door.

“What in the hell’s gotten into you?” Soap shouted, more drunk than loud, blowing right through the door. Didn’t even bother to knock. 

Not that it mattered. The room was still mostly empty, with only your duffel thrown in the corner to mark it as any different from the hundreds of others. If you were lucky, you would all be leaving again in a few hours, and this ugly, anonymous, concrete box of a base in the middle-of-nowhere would be nothing but a hazy memory. One in a long string of others that would soon fade back into nothing. A boring footnote at the end of a frustrating mission.

You sighed as you rolled to face him. You had been staring at the ceiling on your shitty little bed, arms crossed and still fully clothed, minus your boots. Those you’d kicked off once you’d returned to “your” room, letting them crash into the corner not caring what they took with them. You’d thrown yourself down onto the thin mattress with a huff, intent on stewing in your anger for the rest of the night. Maybe in the morning you would be able to face your “teammates” with more than a forced smile. 

Soap stood over you, hands on his hips, dark eyebrows pushing a thick crease into the center of his forehead. His cheeks were still slightly blushed from the first few rounds of celebratory, post-mission drinks with the team. The ones you had just skipped out on. 

What should have been a relaxing evening to bond with your teammates had felt like a joke. You had quietly sat at the table with the four other men, sipping your beer while they laughed and animatedly told stories. Soap had even thrown his arm around you more than once, usually at the point his story where you had tried to do something. Tried.

“Can’t leave out the part with Medic!” he had said, “She’s the only reason any ov’ us made it out in one piece!” 

You’d answered his friendliness with a terse, cold smile. It’s like he had gone on a completely different mission from you. You’d made an excuse to visit the bathroom while Price and Gaz had gone out for a smoke, making a break for your room.  

“Nothing,” you lied, jaw tight. The short nails digging into your skin as you turned away. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like drinks tonight.”

“Ah, you’re a shit liar, Medic,” he said, a playful edge to his harsh tone, as he pointed at you. He moved to the side of your bed, his blue eyes able to keep boring down into you. 

You chose ignore him, rolling over to your back to stare at the ceiling again. Fuck him. He didn’t outrank you. He let out a frustrated huff and sat down on your bed. The frame creaked loudly as he did, rolling you suddenly against as his weight dipped the mattress. 

“Come on, Medic. Talk t’ me,” he pleaded, his voice low and soft. The crease in his forehead remained. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t know, Soap,” you said letting out a breath as you continued staring at the water marks in the tiles above you. Anything to keep your eyes from wandering to his face. Those sad, puppy-dog eyes of his would have cracked your resolve instantly and you knew it. “Just don’t understand why I was even needed on that mission.”

His concerned face came into view as he leaned over you. 

“The fuck you mean by that?”

You sat up and backed away, averting your gaze pointedly away from him as you pulled your knees to your chest. You didn’t want the image of him hovering over you to get too comfortable in your head. Thankfully, he moved to let you sit up. You were over your little pity party anyway. You were ready to talk like an adult. 

“Don’t act stupid, Soap,” you said softly with just a little bit of petulance left in your tone. “All four of you did the same thing all mission.” 

While he continued to stare at you: open mouthed and confused, you moved, throwing your legs over the side of the bed to sit at his side. You tried to put some distance between the two of you, but you had scant room left as he was already in the middle of your tiny mattress. It forced you to press your knees and thighs to his. You could feel his warmth bleed through his jeans. How that man could run so warm was a medical mystery, one that made you shiver. 

“What?” he asked, turning to you with eyebrows raised, all the more concerned. “Wha’d we do?” 

You rolled your eyes and shot an exasperated look his way. How could he be so dense? Did he not even realize how the whole team had been treating you for the past month? 

“What did you do?” you answered him mockingly. “You spent the whole mission making me feel useless! Anytime any of you got injured you were pushing me away! Me!” you said pointing at your chest. “I’m a medic, Soap! Your medic. That’s the whole reason I’m here! I’ve been doing this job for years! I’ve been on multiple special forces teams before this. What more do I have to do to prove to you I can do my job?” 

Soap was silent, which concerned you. He stared down at his hands between his legs. You could feel he was holding something back, something he didn’t want to tell you. A tear rolled down your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what the root of the problem was.  

“Is it . . . is it because I’m a woman? Is that why?” you asked, wiping at your eyes. It was painful to even say it. You’d faced this before, you weren’t stupid. Some, no, scratch that most, teams were a boys only club, and you just had to grit your teeth through it until you were reassigned. “You know, if you want a man-”

“No!” he yelled, interrupted you, grabbing for your hand as you wiped away your tears. You snatched it out of his involuntarily. 

“Then what is it?” you snapped back, still in no mood to dick around. If you needed to talk to Price and get your bag packed tonight, then so be it. You’d rather take care of this sooner than later. 

Soap wrapped his arms around you, surprising you. He held you to his chest for a moment, running his hands down your back. You tried to push yourself away, shoving at his unyielding stomach and squeaking out his name against his chest, all to no avail. He was just too strong. 

“Calm down, hen. Calm down. Don’t fight me,” he said softly in your ear. “Give me a chance to speak m’ piece, hear?” 

You complied with a groan, ceasing your struggle. This wasn’t professional, obviously, but you couldn’t find a reason to fight it anymore. You let him hold you for a moment, the constant thrum of his heart pounding in your ear. He was so warm too. You wished you could give in, just melt into the surrounding heat of his arms and chest. You knew it was just because you were stressed and hadn’t been touched in, fuck, it had to be months now, but still. 

“You’re right. Sorry. Sorry we treated you like that,” he confessed. 

His hands slid over your shoulders, releasing you from most of his steely grip. You didn’t try to wrench away this time, but you did rest your hands on his chest. The feel of his pectoral muscles, even though they were softened by the cotton of his shirt, made you tremble. This was terribly dangerous territory to be treading in. 

“Didn’t mean to. Honest. We’re all just . . .” he trailed off, letting his head cock to the side as he flexed his hands on your upper arms.

You pulled away, just enough to look up at his face. You didn’t want him to hide, not now. You were teammates after-all. You actually wanted to stay teammates for once, not get bounced from team to team, from one group of assholes to another every six months. The wear of never being able to put down roots, let alone connect to the humans you were keeping alive was starting to fray your psyche. Some days you felt like little more than a sentient med-bag. 

With the 141 though, it felt different. You didn’t want to lose that. You’ve been together through the standard life-and-death situations and made it out alive. You’d slept side by side in the gravel, shared cold MRE’s in the dark, even tended to each other’s wounds when they’d let you. There was no need for him to hide the truth from you. Besides, you’d been weak for Soap from the moment you met but managed to keep it professional, barely. You’re pretty sure the cocky bastard knows it too. As much as you wanted him, you valued your job and position over any selfish need for sexual fulfillment. 

“We’re scared shitless ‘a losing you,” he continued with a pained sigh, leaning in to press his lips to your eyebrow, strong, calloused hand gripping your bicep. 

Oh. His words made your brain flat-line. Well, you thought. This was . . . new? A team that actually cared about you?

His hand cupped your jaw; warm, rough fingers smoothing over your cheek and neck. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, partly from pleasure, partly to suppress any embarrassing noises. There was no way was this happening. 

“We all are,” he continued, warm breath fanning across your face. “Know you can handle yourself. It’s just . . . anytime it gets hot and we start getting hit, something in me . . . all of us . . . just wants to protect you.”

You smiled, lip falling out of the grip of your teeth. No one had ever said something so caring to you before, least of all a fellow soldier. 

“That’s a dumb fucking reason, Soap,” you said weakly back to him. 

You thumped a fist on his chest once, trying to cover your wavering voice and vulnerability with sarcasm. You wished he would take the bait like others had in the past, but he didn’t. He sat there in silence, still holding your face, waiting for you. You sighed as he pressed his hand to the small of your back. 

“Do you know how stressed out you guys made me?” you finally let out. Tears piqued in the corner of your eyes again, hazing your vision. “Like everyday? Your lives are in my hands and you wouldn’t-”

“I know,” he interrupted you with a groan, hand moving up your back to stroke at your neck. You sighed, leaning into his hand as he massaged you. “‘s not right. I’ll talk to the guys later about it, if you want. Doan think we don’t want you, because we do. Honest.” 

He looked down at you with those blue eyes, practically glowing with emotion, and . . . how can you refute him when you can read him so plainly? His eyes spoke sadness through that stare in a way that words failed. There was also something darker there: a drunken, feral hunger that’s blowing his pupils wide as he cradled your head. It’s eating those precious blue irises until there’s nothing left but a dark pit of lust. Your hand clutched tighter on his shirt, pulling the collar enough to reveal his collarbone. It’s a pit you’re both precipitously close to falling over.  

“I would . . . appreciate that,” you sighed as his thumb stroked over your cheek. 

You tried to keep your eyes on the scar on his chin, but it only drew you to his lips and that delicious dark stubble. He had been back on base for less than a day, but he still hadn’t shaved post-mission. You wondered if he had taken your half-joking comment about how men are more attractive with facial hair to heart. You broke your eyes away, not wanting to countenance that line of thought. At least not while he was still tenderly cradling your face. 

“Would rather be there to say it myself, though” you continued airily. 

Soap drew his fingers out over your face, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip. You let your eyes fall shut again despite yourself. You felt his hoppy breath waft over your face as he tightened his grip on the back of your neck. 

“Get it all out . . . in front of everyone,” you said, finishing your thought with a struggle.

“Yeah,” he said, his nose nudging yours. “Let it out.”

Before you can stop him - fuck, like you wanted to stop him now - he pulled you into his lap, slotting his mouth over yours for a kiss. There’s no warning. No gentleness or confessions. Shit like that fell fast to the wayside in the military. It had made you sad at first, the loss of intimacy inherent in building a romantic relationship, but fuck it. You need this. You give into his lead completely: the desperate way he forced himself into your mouth, all passion, teeth and tongue. You balled both your hands in his shirt and hold on for dear life.

He hummed, pleased with himself, as he broke away to kiss down your neck. You’re no better though. You’re moaning right along with him, telegraphing loud and clear how well he’s breaking you down, how much you want him. He doesn’t waste time as he sucks hickies onto your throat, rucking up your shirt to paw at your bra at the same time. Alone time is another one of those luxuries the military makes you ration: never knowing when someone will burst in the door to call you away. He’s obviously hungry to get your tits out and he’s not letting a second go to waste. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” a gruff voice said flatly behind you. 

Both you and Soap looked up in shock at the large, masked, black-clad figure filling your doorway. You didn’t even hear the door open. Wait, fuck, had Soap left it open this whole time? You tried to wriggle away, pushing at Soap’s shoulder, not wanting your Lieutenant of all people to see you like this: shirt half off, face flushed with fresh, wet bites coloring your neck. Soap held on to you though, his full strength holding you to his body as you tried to kick away. He simply tucked back into your neck, continuing to blindly unclasp your bra. 

“Medic’s stressed, LT. Wanna help?” Soap mumbled playfully, giving up on getting under your bra, switching instead to pulling your shirt up off your chest. 

Soap is putting you on display for your superior officer: a present with the wrapping peeled off the corner, just waiting to be torn in to, tempting the other man to join. Your eyes are wide, pleading silently with Ghost to take even the smallest amount of mercy on you. Your brain is racing to concoct some plausible story to get both you and Soap out of this mess with your jobs and it’s not looking good. 

Ghost continued to lean against the wall, arms crossed across that broad chest, masked face passively observing you and Soap without a hint of emotion. Soap managed to peel your shirt off of your chest, forcing your arms off of him for a moment to push it up. It’s Ghost, however, that grabs it from behind, guiding it up off your arms, tossing it behind him. It sends a shiver up your spine how silent he is. You didn’t hear him approach, but you can feel energy radiating off him as he stands behind you. 

Soap does away with your bra with those practiced, nimble hands of his once it’s exposed. Once you’re fully bare, he’s pushing you off his lap to kneel on the floor in front of you. You stare down at him as he kisses his way across your chest, his hands stroking up and down your ribs while pressing your breasts together at their peak, mostly so that you aren't forced to face Ghost in this state. A gasp catches in your throat as Soap finds his prize. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and you can’t help but screw your eyes shut and let out a high-pitched whine. You’re silently glad it wasn’t his name. 

You feel Ghost’s gloved hand scrape along the back of your neck: thumb on your spine, long fingers curled around your artery. Your skin prickles underneath it.

“Gotta plan, Johnny?” Ghost asks him, deep voice rumbling gravel-rough as he tests his fingers against your skin and you whimper. You know he’s strong. Know he can snap necks with those hands. You’ve seen it. Fuck if it isn’t making your pussy clench at how gentle he is, how rough he could be. 

“Fuck, LT. Stayin’ right here,” He says breathlessly, breaking away only long enough to answer your superior. 

Soap cups a breast in each hand, gently squeezing as he moves to lay an open mouthed kiss on your sternum. He tweaks your wet nipple with a moan, absorbed already in his own pleasure. Soap always was too loud. Too vocal. 

“Ain’t she fuckin’ beautiful, Ghost? Doan be shy. Join in.”

Ghost’s fingers flex on the back of your neck again, breaking your stare away from Soap as he works kisses over to your other breast. You weakly wrap your arms around Soap’s shoulders, finding comfort in holding him, something solid in this tumult you’ve been thrown into. He’s at least obvious with what he wants. Ghost is a variable, an unknown. You still aren’t sure what he’s going to do even as he closes his fingers deliciously around your throat; weak moans falling from your mouth. 

He could easily turn on his heel and have the both of you court marshaled by morning. You know it. You know he could read the fear in your eyes when you first saw him. He’s seen it before. It’s life and death. The fear of whatever decision he makes, it may change both Soap and your lives forever. His eyes are as dark and unreadable as Soap’s are bright and expressive. The flex of his gloved fingers on your neck and the subtle shift of his hips in his tac-pants makes you bite your lip. A swipe of his thumb over your lip, pulling it out from your teeth, tells you his decision without a word. 

That’s when Soap finally locked his lips around your other nipple. He sucked hard, teeth scraping over the sensitive bud. Ghost’s hands kept your head locked, eyes boring down into you, standing over you, keeping you beneath him, powerless. You closed your eyes, locked your fingers into Soap’s mohawk and moaned, throwing your head back as you let it out. 

Ghost let go of your head suddenly. He walked in awkwardly large steps around Soap as he rounded your bed. 

“Keep that mouth quiet then,” he said, an order to himself. “Can’t have the whole base showin’ up.”

You felt the mattress sink behind you a moment later, followed by Ghost snaking his arms around you. One hand on your stomach, one on your jaw, locking you in place. You shuddered, leaning into the cold, rough texture of the gloves on his hands. You could feel the buttons on his shirt as his chest pushed flush to your back. 

Fuck, he’s so big. So strong, you thought. Not that you had much time for that. The hand on your stomach left to pull up the bottom of his mask before quickly falling back in place, his other hand tilting your head back to slot his mouth over yours.

It sent your mind into another galaxy. This shouldn’t be happening, your closest teammates: Soap and Ghost, both pawing over your body, touching, kissing, pleasing you. You were all beyond unprofessional at this point. Never mind how much you’ve been fantasizing about this, about all of them. 

It had been a tortuous downward spiral ever since you swore you would be right behind them, ready at a moment's notice to put them back together, to put your own body on the line to save them. That was your promise, your personal mission: to get them home alive. You wondered if that was what triggered this protective attitude of theirs. Not that the in’s and out’s of how you all ended up like this really mattered. The reality of the situation was: If Price ever found out you were all dead.

Soap’s hands brace on both of your thighs as he begins to kiss down your torso, a new goal in mind. 

Ghost, your god damn lieutenant, of all people, always so cold and calculating. You felt he should have been the last person listening to Soap’s crazy ideas to crawl into your bed. He shouldn’t be holding you like a china doll, petting your face as he peppers gentle, unsure, little kisses over your lips. You shouldn’t be demurely shying away from the skin he’s revealing to you, but here you are. You lay your hand over his on your hip and he breaths a silent groan across your mouth. He just stays like that for a moment, holding and listening to you as Soap lays messy kisses south of your navel, tickling you with his head and facial hair. 

“Ghost,” you moan, gripping his gloved hand, hoping it goads him into what you want: kissing you deeper, as Soap pops open the fly of your pants.

It does. He obliges immediately, pushing himself into your mouth, swirling your tongue with his. Your cry covers his whine. It all feels too good, too much. The rain breaking loose over the parched desert soil. It didn’t matter anymore, the consequences. You just wanted this. You were ready to take as much as they could give until the flood swept you away. 

“Woah,” a familiar voice called from the door. 

Fuck. You know that voice. Gaz. 

Ghost’s hand on your jaw kept you from breaking away. He wasn’t done with you yet. You feel Soap turn away from working your pants off. The door creaks partially shut behind Gaz as he enters, sticky bottoms of his boots squeaking against the clean floor. 

“Came to check on Medic,” he continued, far too cool and collected. “See if she’s okay. Didn’t, ah. Didn’t expect this.” 

He isn’t backpedaling out of your room. He isn’t apologizing or telling the other men to break it up. Fuck, he’s walking farther in.

“Coam on in mate,” Soap said to Gaz cheerily, his accent slurring thick. “Workin’ on cheerin’ her up right now. Room ‘nough for all of us,”

Soap looked up at you, shit eating grin plastered across his face, as Ghost finally broke your kiss. He pulled down your zipper: hands slowly pushing away the fabric at your waist, peeling your fly open to reveal your underwear. 

You heard Gaz whistle as he walked up to the bed, just the same as Ghost had. Gaz hummed as he approached the three of you, stopping to observe like you were a blushing nude in a piece of art and not a human being. If Soap had been emotional in his approach, and Ghost had been careful, Gaz was hungry. He wasn’t interested in wasting time asking questions. He was here, this was happening, and that was all that mattered. 

“Where you want me?” he asked, eye flicking between Ghost and Soap. 

“Stayin’ right here, sergeant,” Ghost said against your lips, absently commanding the man. It should have concerned you how easily they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“Can’t even steal a peck?” he said cheekily, leaning down so that the brim of his blue hat tickled your temple. 

“One,” Ghost said, releasing you with a growl.

Gaz’s hand gently turned your head toward him. You breathed a sigh as he leaned in to press your sensitive, kiss-bruised lips to his. He moved slowly and sweetly, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to test it, but never breaking away. Each of them kissed so differently and it drove you mad thinking that all of this had been right here just waiting for you. 

Ghost wasn’t one to wait for his turn. Your lips were his. He’d claimed them already, and Gaz, as much as he liked the man, was testing his limits. He pressed his face into the crane of your neck, mask jutting into your jaw awkwardly, sinking his teeth in to what skin he could reach. The first bite shocked you enough to make you pull away from Gaz with a gasp, leaving Gaz grinning at the man behind you. 

“Nice play,” he said nicely, smiling with his teeth barred. 

He knew it was better to play fair in a situation like this and let his superiors take the lead. They were his brothers, not his enemies, after all. Besides, you had so much more to offer him. Like those beautiful tits, nipples still shiny with Soap’s spit, just begging for attention. He took off his hat, tossing it around the metal post of your headboard, and set to work.

“Cheap though,” Soap mumbled against the skin of your hip. 

Ghost grunted in response, continuing his line of bites down your neck as you whined in his grasp. 

Gaz didn’t respond, or even seem to mind. He’s humming around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the very tip. A trail of sparks shoot up your spine. His fingers gently petted across your breast, squeezing with just a bit of pressure as he reached your nipple. 

You gritted your teeth together, suppressing a moan. With all three of them working together, it was just too much. If you didn’t stop yourself now, there was no telling what wanton, stupid things you would say.   

“Harder, Gaz,” Ghost commanded. His voice rough, breath hot and ragged down your neck. 

Gaz obeyed, teeth testing the nipple in his mouth, pinching the one in his hand. You bowed back as much as you could in Ghost’s grip, a whiny moan ripping from your throat. 

“Beautiful,” Soap whispered, nuzzling at your pussy through your pants. He cleared his throat. “LT. Need yer help ‘ere,” 

You feel Ghost lean over your shoulder, looking past your exposed body down to Soap between your trembling legs. Soap’s bright eyes avoid your pleasure-drunk gaze, focusing entirely on the massive man behind you. He cracks a wide smile as their eyes lock. 

“What y’ need, Johnny?” Ghost asked, his gloved hands gripping into the flesh of your torso. 

Soap dug his fingers into your cargo pants, his smile on the edge of manic. 

“Lift ‘er up. Get these off,” he answered, throat bobbing as he spoke with denial, anticipation, lust. 

“On three,” Ghost responded, wrapping both his strong arms around your chest, locking you into place. 

Gaz had only a moment to pull off you before the count began. When Ghost reached “one”, he lifted you off the bed easily, allowing Soap enough room to pull your pants down to your knees. 

Ghost set you down, this time onto his lap. You blushed and he groaned, realizing he was now holding you down with both hands against his brutally hard cock. 

Soap was already stripping your pants off fully, throwing them with a flutter behind his back. His eyes were blown wide, blue irises fully consumed by his pupils. His chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath, as he held your legs wide enough to push his way into the drenched gusset of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he said, running his thumb up the slick-soaked fabric. 

You turned your head out of the crook of Ghost’s shoulder, struggling in vain to catch your breath. Gaz was right there, unfortunately. He caught your lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to quiet your pitiful mewling as Ghost rolled his cock into the plush of your ass. Gaz’s  hands cupped your breasts again, grazing alternately at your nipples just enough to send that delicious tickle down your spine. 

Soap huffed a hot breath against your clothed cunt, making you shudder against the hands containing you. 

“Ca’ wait t’ taste that pussy,” Soap moaned, his nose grazing your clit through your panties as he pushed his face fully against your leaking core. 

Ghost groaned at Soap’s words, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cried into Gaz’s mouth, making him break away. Ghost pulled away as well and looked over at Gaz. 

“Gaz,” Ghost asked, suddenly devoid of  emotion. 

“Hmm?” Gaz answered, looking away from you as he pet at your face, wiping away your tears. 

“When you left, where was Price?”

Gaz thought for a moment, pausing to look down at you with eyebrows knit together. 

“Cap? Not sure. After I left to find-”

“You just left him?” Ghost interrupted him tersely, leaning over into Gaz’s face, jostling you around like a doll. Soap grumbled as your pussy was wrenched away from him. Ghost wrapped a hand in Gaz’s collar to pull him close. 

“Yeah?” Gaz answered, nerves trembling his voice. “Why-”

“Because he knew I’d follow you here. Just like the rest of you did,” your Captain’s dull, almost disappointed voice answered from the dark just outside your door. 

A spike of fear shot down your spine. Oh, you were all so screwed. 

a/n: yes, part three of Girl's Night Out is still coming! consider this an extra anniversary treat dedicated to everyone who sent kind messages while I clawed my way out of this bout of depression. (✿◠‿◠) ❤️ part two to this thing . . . idk when y'all want it??

[everythingbridgertonbxm]

Flowers and Gardens

Summary - Benedict Bridgerton is very in love with his wife and he isn’t afraid to show it.

645 words. HAPPY READING!!!

✨💐

“Ben? Love, does this dress look okay. I am unsure about it.” You stand in front of the mirror, turning to look at yourself from another angle as your husband lays on your bed, propping up his head with his fist.

“My love, you could wear a potato sack and still look divine.” He stands and walks towards you as you continue to look at yourself in the mirror.

“I just feel…unhappy. It does not complement my figure well.” You watch him walk up behind you, looking dashing as always before placing his hands behind his back and looking at the two of you standing in the mirror.

“Do not listen to your mind’s idle chatter,” he says, smiling, before wrapping his arms around you. The back of your neck pressed to his front.

You just nod before smoothing out your dress, stepping away from Benedict’s embrace and trying to fix the dress in any way you think you can. He pulls you back into his arms. “What did I say, no mirror checking. You’re beautiful, end of discussion.” A small coy smile dances across his lips.

You let out a short laugh as he wraps his arms around your middle. “Benedict, I have to keep checking in the mirror to make sure my dress is not wrinkled because you keep pulling me into your arms.”

That coy smile grows even more across your husband’s face, with no intention of letting you out of his grip. “It’s not my fault you look so tempting. Please forgive my weakness.” He kisses your cheek, quickly before looking back at the pair of you in the mirror.

“Only because I am your wife, though it is not my fault you find me so tempting,” you respond, smiling, before letting out a contented sigh.

“ suppose you are right. It is the world’s fault for not containing such beauty.” He places another kiss on your cheek. “Besides, there were no other possibilities for me, but you.”

“There were plenty of other women for you. Plenty of other beautiful women,” you say, tilting your head to the side just a bit.

“They are all passing flowers. But you, my dear, are the garden for which I will tend to with absolute care for the rest of my days.” The coy smile subsides to be replaced with a sweet smile splitting his face, the one that anyone could look at and know the man is absolutely enamored with his wife.

Those words left you speechless and Benedict takes that opportunity. His lips are on your neck, tickling the skin. He knows you had little power and such actions render you speechless.

You manage a few words, taking tremulous breaths between each word. “Did we…not…say we…were…attending…Lady Danbury’s…soirée?”

He only lifts his lips enough to speak, his breath still hot on the side of your neck. “We have enough time, don’t you think,” he says, breath still on your neck. You do not need to look in the mirror to know he is smirking just a bit. Before you can answer, his lips are back on your neck as he swipes a small strand of hair to kiss your shoulder.

You had married Benedict for five months, but you have a feeling you would always have a hard time every time Benedict’s lips find your neck or shoulders. “If…,” you tried to take a deep breath, “you are so insistent upon doing this now,” you turn abruptly to face him, surprising the man, before continuing, ‘perhaps we should shut the door.’

He lets out a short groan, only making you laugh before lowering his head into the corner of your shoulders and neck. He finally, reluctantly lets you go and walks over and shuts your bedroom door so you can spend until morning in bed together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: it's hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd drags you away as you hear the disgusted muttering of his parents. You try to tug free but he’s too strong. Even if he did let go, where would you go? Your ankles nearly bend in the heels as he urges you to the stairs and you stumble into his back. 

“Aw, baby,” he faces you, “don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll get there.” 

Before you can react, he scoops you up. You cry out, the dregs of your bile burn your throat. You make a face at the smell. He’s hardly bothered as he turns to continue up the staircase. 

“Damn, jelly bean,” he snarls as you feel his heart racing, “I knew you were a freak underneath it all. The way you just dug right in. Like an animal. Feral,” he snickers and kisses the top of your head as he gets to even ground, “we’re more alike than you know, aren’t we?” 

You gulp and say nothing. You’re disgusted as much by yourself as him. All that and for what? You’re still stuck with this madman. How on earth did he even notice you? By his parents’ suggestion, you’re far from his type. 

“Urgh, I don’t feel good,” you rub your stomach and wriggle in his grasp. It would be a good excuse to get away, or at least some space.  

“That’s alright, jelly bean, you let me take care of you,” he carries you breezily down the hall, his footsteps jaunty. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and his blue eyes flick down to the diamond ring, “fuck, that looks amazing on you. I’ll look just as good on you.” 

He laughs at his slimy joke but it only unsettles you. Even with barf on your breath and steak in your teeth, you can’t deter him. You’ve tried everything; ignoring him, waiting him out to the point of starvation, and making a fool of yourself. Your hope dwindles to a single strand, ready to snap. 

He takes you into the bedroom and through to the adjoining bathroom. The shining marble and gleaming golden accoutrements reflect the overhead light in a pristine sheen. He places you down on the counter so your legs dangle over the edge and he puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Don’t take it to heart, bean, mom and dad are just like that. You’ll always be good enough for me,” he winks and shifts over to the sink.  

You watch him, helpless. You know better than to hop off in those heels and twist your ankle. He fills a clear cup with porcelain and wets a toothbrush before adding minty paste. He holds them out to you and you accept them wordlessly. The sparkle of the ring makes you wince. 

“I’m their son and they don’t really like me. Sometimes I wonder why they even had me...” he sighs and flicks the cup lightly with his finger. 

You put the brush in your mouth and scrub your teeth. It’s a good excuse not to reply. You don’t really get this man. He’ll kidnap a woman then spill his heart out like you care. Still, knowing how his parents are, you can piece together how he got to this point. 

“You get me, jelly bean. I know you got no parents and sometimes, I feel the same--” 

You choke and pull the brush from your mouth. You swig with the cup and lean over to spit into the sink. You sneer at him, a genuine wave of anger rising in you, “how do you know that?” 

Surprise washes over him at your reaction. He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “well, of course, I had to learn everything about you, honey. To take care of you. Tie up any loose ends hanging off of you--” 

“What the... you...” you scrunch your brow up and shake your head. You feel even sicker. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” 

“Stop?” He smirks, “stop what?” 

You sigh and put the brush back in your mouth. You scrape away the taste of vomit and rinse your mouth again. He takes the cup and brush and puts them aside for you. He comes back to stand in front of you. 

“Your special, bean. I gotta keep you safe. I mean, look how easy I just waltzed in, imagine what a really bad guy could do,” he frames your face with his hand, “just look at you...” he squeezes your jaw tightly so you can’t pull away, “so small and cute and... delicious. I bet you taste as sweet as a jelly bean, huh?” 

His other hand tickles your side and he steps closer, wiggling his way between your knees your legs splay wide. The skirt strains around your thighs as he grips your hip more firmly. He purrs and leans in, his nose tickling yours. 

You press on his chest, "your parents." 

"They can see themselves out, they always do," he slithers, "baby, I only need you." 

"Wait, I'm not-- I--" you babble as his hand slips down and his fingers curl under your ass to grope you, "Lloyd, please, we-- we aren't even married yet." 

He pauses, hovering before your lips and draws back. His mouth slants. 

"Are you an old-fashioned girl, huh? I shoulda known," he purrs, "well, I can get with that," he drops his hand from your chin, "we don't gotta go all the way." 

He brings both his hands to your hips and pulls you towards him. You fall back with the suddenness and barely catch yourself on your elbows. You squeal as he keeps your legs wide and yanks at your skirt. 

"Please, I'm not-- I'm not ready," you plead. 

"Don't worry, babe, I'll get you warmed up," he rasps as he shoves his hands up your dress, bending over you as he exposes your panties. 

"Ah, gosh," you sputter dumbly, writhing as he bows down to bury his nose against your underwear. He takes a big whiff and you exclaim, embarrassed. "Ayeee, Lloyd." 

"You smell like heaven," he lowers himself to his knees, "and I'm not a religious man, mind you." 

You clutch the edge of the counter as you slip down, propping one elbow as you fight the slipperiness of the satin. He nuzzles you, dragging his nose along the trim of your panties as his breath dampens your skin. He nips at you playfully and snarls. 

You squeal in surprise once more. The rippling sensation that radiates from his touch has you as off-kilter as your position. He feels along your thigh and hooks his hand around your other leg. He flutters his fingertips against your panties and tugs them to the side, a waft of cool air dancing over your bare lips. You wriggle again. 

"It's okay, baby, I'll be nice, just a little appetizer," he coaxes and swipes his tongue along your cunt. As you gasp, he rears back and does the same, "jelly bean, you lied to me. You are ready," he licks his lips and you look down at him, his lips already glistening. 

As he dives back in, you gulp and shut your eyes. You turn your head away as he spreads his tongue wide and laps you up. He rocks his head, tickling you deliberately with his mustache, humming into you. You whimper and slap a palm onto the marble counter top. 

He flicks up and down, swirling as you squirm and pant helplessly. As in all things, you can’t resist. Your head falls back against the mirror and you whine. How is he doing this to you? Why is he making you like this? You don’t like him, you don’t want him! 

He tilts his head all around, garbling into you hungrily as he smears your wetness all around his face. His shamelessness spikes your arousal, a new flame razing up your spine. You heave and reach down to latch onto his hair, tugging on it as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. 

You cry out, legs quivering against his face as you try to close them. He growls and snarls eagerly, devouring you as the pressure wells up to the brim. You huff and puff, curling your spine as you try to fight the pulsing in your core. No, no, no. It’s so intense you feel the tingle in your toes. 

Your voice grows louder as your spasm and the spring overflows. You feel yourself spill into your mouth. He hums again, laughing into you as he drinks up your orgasm. You throw your arm over your face, thoroughly ashamed of your desecration. 

You slide limply down, head tilted up against the mirror, as your legs open and hang loosely. Lloyd kisses your cunt before he pulls away, making a slurping sound as your eyes slit open. You can see the wetness in his mustache. He grins proudly and sighs. 

“Fuck, jelly bean, you’re just like candy,” his eyes drift back to your exposed cunt. 

You try to close your legs and he catches your knees. Holding them open. He tuts and pokes his tongue out, once more licking up the slickness around his lips. You cringe and push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You want me to wait for all that?” He growls, “damn, baby, you must be a sadist, making me hurt so much.” 

He traces his fingers up your thighs and pinches until you squeak. He clucks and reaches past you to the counter. He pulls himself to his feet and you see the bulge in his pants. He rubs his hand across the obvious outline and he shudders. 

“You don’t gotta do anything, just let me look at you while I play with it, how about it?” 

He doesn’t wait for your permission. In that moment, you can’t speak. Even if you could, you don’t even know what you would say. He unbuckles his belt and pushes down his zipper. He’s trembling as he frees himself, his swollen top poking out of his fly. He crumples the top of his pants as he shoves them down impatiently. 

“Show me your ass, I just wanna see it,” he grabs himself and groans, “ah, shit, please, jelly bean, I’m begging you. You want me back on my knees?” He kneels again, stroking himself slowly, “please, turn over, baby, promise I won’t touch.” He moans, “can’t you hear how much pain I’m in? For you?” 

You slide down, feet touching the cold tile. You flutter your lashes, legs shaking. You’re weak and senseless. You can’t look at him. You turn and he groans again. He sounds agonized. 

He chuffs out air as you hear him pumping himself. You hang your head, leaning on your arms as he pulls up your skirt. He whines as he reveals your bare ass around the slender string of the thong. You’re roiling in humiliation and something else. 

“Shit, shit, shit, baby, you are... immaculate,” he grits, “where-- where do you want me to come?” 

“Huh?” You utter. 

“Fuck, too late,” he lets out a roar, punctured by deep huffs, petering out to a pathetic panting that leaves him droning. 

You stay as you are, hiding as your heartbeat slows and the coil inside you loosens little by little. You pull your skirt down, skin scoured in shame, and face him. He sits on his knees still, head down as his dick twitch and slowly softens. You try not to look at it. 

He lifts his head to you, his cheeks flush and his hair askew. He looks around with his foggy eyes and chuckles, “well, it’s good we’re in here, huh? We can get cleaned up.” 

You just stare at him. You’re mortified. You can’t believe what he just did. To you. Then after. And you just laid there. You think... you think you had an orgasm. 

“Let me...” he begins and wobbles before he can plant a foot on the floor. He stands stiffly, not bothering to hide his dick. You ignore the way it flops.  

He turns and goes to the tub. The top of his ass peaks out of his crooked pants. He’s absolutely ridiculous. He the last kind of person you would ever associate with. Not that you talk to anyone, but he is not anyone you would dare to speak to. Yet he has made himself your personal pest. 

He bends over the large tub and cranks it on. You peek over at the door. How loud were you? Were his parents still there to hear you? You frown and raise a foot then lower it again. Your instinct to run fights with your logic. You know you won’t get far, not on jelly legs and not from him. 

The water spills out and he stands, backing away as he rubs his lower back. He strips off his jacket and rolls his shoulders. He turns back and lays it across the other end of the counter. He unbuttons his shirt and looks over at you. 

“Come on, jelly bean, unless you like a bit of zest, I don’t mind it,” he pokes his tongue out at you, “extra flavour and all. 

You let your disgust singe through and curl your lip. He laughs. He drops his shirt and nears. He turns you to face him as your skirt drapes back over your legs. He guides the straps down your shoulders. He shimmies the sheath down your body, his fingers grazing your skin cloyingly. You shiver as bumps raise on your skin. 

“You been hiding, jelly bean, well I’m about to bring you right out of that shell,” he smirks, “if there’s one thing to know about Lloyd Hansen, there’s no walls that can keep him out. I’m gonna tear yours right down.” 

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13.5)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

(So, this is a quick update because chapter 14 keeps getting more complicated but I promised a continuation last weekend and couldn’t get it out due to health concerns. I hope y’all can forgive me for such a short chapter piece, but thank you for reading regardless!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5

“You’re here.” 

You paused, hands already wrapped around Lucifer’s as the words spilled from both his and your mouth. In spite of everything, you giggled semi-hysterically and the stalled expression on Lucifer’s face relaxed as well. 

He looked at you between the bars of the gate, eyes shining to the point of tears. You pressed harder against the bars of your cage as if to slip through, one hand raised to cup his cheek and thumb the cherubic blush there. 

        “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again.” He admitted, surrendering to your touch. 

It hurt to smile but you couldn’t help yourself. You grinned through your own tears, dripping down your cheeks before falling to the clouds beneath. You were struck by his admiring gaze, even with the blurring of your vision. It reminded you of the many times he’d looked at you when you were a mere mortal and not privy to the knowledge you had now. 

      You had tried so hard to fight against what that look meant, stupidly thinking you wouldn’t fall prey to it if you feigned ignorance. 

      The King sniffled, hand intertwined with your own as you explored the planes of his face once more. He closed in on the bars that kept you from each other, slumping forward to press his forehead to yours. He inhaled deeply, trying to absorb everything that was You without heeding what lay behind him or beyond. His wings had expanded to their full glory, acting as a screen between you and the less than welcoming retinue that had just attacked him. Lucifer couldn’t provide full privacy from the throng of nosy citizens gathered behind you. But at least you were shielded from Gabriel and his goons for the time being.

“It’s alright.” You soothed, fingertips fleeced through his blond hair. “We’re together now.” 

      The noise he made was more a sob than a laugh as he intended, but your heart swelled at the sound. For a moment you soaked in the touch of his face against your own, in all of its cold, marblesque glory. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that you were back home, spending another lazy afternoon trussed up with Lucifer in your bedsheets. 

                Your eyes opened again, suddenly. 

“Lucifer, where’s Charlotte?” You asked. 

      The father of your child seemed out of sorts at the question. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish’s before enlightenment brightened his features. 

“She’s fine!” He replied. “She’s all tucked in her crib, fast asleep.” 

“Her crib… at the Farrows?” You gulped down the shot of bile that raced up your throat. 

“Well… yeah,” Lucifer’s smile wilted at the hysteria building behind your eyes like a tsunami wave. “I couldn’t very well bring her with me!”

“So you left our daughter with those people?!” You couldn’t help the shrill accusation from leaving your mouth when a million and one horrible possibilities ran through your head. 

“No! I would never!” Lucifer denied, head shaking vigorously. “She’s being watched over by the goats!”

Your eyebrows rose, rearing back. “What?”

“The goats! The ones with little wings and tails that I made? I showed them to you right before you… well, you know!” Lucifer caroled. “Remember?”

You stared at him blankly until the metaphorical lightbulb in your brain flicked on. Incredulity bodied you.

“You left… our baby… with stuffed animals…?” 

Lucifer stilled for an instant before reanimating until his body resembled less a sturdy human’s and more a flexible jello mold as his arms pinwheeled at his sides. The Devil’s wings flapped and shuddered with his anxiety.

He matched your hysteria with a frenzied laugh. “Oh! No! Not— I wouldn’t! I-I-I gave them sentience! Th-that-that was the plan! I was gonna tell you before but — I-I guess it slipped my mind after you started glowing!” 

Lucifer attempted to steady himself after the sudden burst of emotion as you stared in alarm, though he was panting when he leaned forward. 

“They were made for Charlotte. To cater to her every need! And if anything happens, they know to get me right away!” 

His eyes went wide and earnest. “I would never, ever, ever put our baby in danger. I swear to you. Never. I-if I could’ve brought her with me, a-and been sure that no one would try to take her, I’d —”

Your fingers brushed over his lips as soon as he was within range again. 

“Okay.” You interrupted.

 Lucifer blinked.

“Okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, taking his hand once more to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I believe you.” 

Your kiss had the desired effect. Lucifer melted into a daze, smiling almost shyly at the gesture before you looked into his eyes again. You tried to communicate your sincerity without words, for it would take far too long to tell him everything you’d discovered upon arriving in Heaven. 

     You sighed softly, feeling his warm breath on your face. Lucifer gravitated toward you, close enough to kiss between the infernal bars holding you back… 

“Lucifer, I…” Your words came out shakily, the heartbeat you shouldn’t have ringing in your ears. 

His lips were a hair’s breadth away. Too distracting. Your eyes fell shut. “I… lov-”

“I fucking told you this would happen!” 

You froze. 

A harsh voice rose above the din and fray, bringing reality with it to jolt you upright. 

Lucifer’s expression fell, warped by shock and horror as you were ripped away from his grasp and pulled back from the gate as if it were on fire. You gasped as your back collided with another’s chest and an arm wrapped around your midsection. 

      Your head snapped up to see Adam’s ghoulish mask hung above you, glaring over your head at Lucifer. He continued to squeeze the life out of you as he flew back and stopped a good meter away from where you’d been standing. 

       “Let go of me!” You shouted, squirming in the man’s grip. You dug your nails into his forearm, trying to pry him off of you. An unusual feeling lanced up your spine, something that was not quite pain but uncomfortable and indescribable. It further disoriented you as you were dragged back.  

A force of wind blasted over you and Adam, stopping the latter in his tracks with a curse. The gale blew back your extremities, forcing you to cover your face to block the brunt of it. You squinted through it to catch another glimpse of Lucifer. 

       The Devil’s wings pumped through the air in his rage as he stood ablaze in red, ivory and gold. He looked much like he had before your death: a fiery comet promising destruction to anything in its path. Pure energy radiated off of him from all sides as his horns protracted from the crown of his head. Fire bloomed between them to match the blood red that had overtaken his eyes, and the jagged stripes rippling over his porcelain face. 

His fangs gnashed and once delicate hands contracted into long claws that grappled with the gate panels until they bowed and bent under the pressure. 

Gasps and screams filled the air all around you.

* Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin

[joydoesathing]

hallooo💗💗💗do u have any nacho headcannons,like his family,his relationship with his ex,with anatolli etc ?only if u want ofc💓💓,also the last art of him it's extremely beautiful,all my german friends agree 💕💕💕💕( srry for bad english i don't think google translate translates so good)

have a good day/night💓💓🙏,at us in germany now it's 8:45 PM in Berlin kissesss🎀

thank you and i hope you have a great day/evening too

so here's a short list of some of my hc for the mikaelys boys (i'll just throw in my headcanons for anatolii while i'm at it)

Nacho

A friendly and mild-mannered man that gets along with people but is sometimes known to be a bit of a nervous wreck at times.

He dotes quite a lot on Anatolii (when he first started of as a single father, he didn't really have the time to bond with Anatolii because he had to work a lot more now that he had a son to care for and he didn't really know how to balance his time for work and for Anatolii. When he's gotten the hang of managing his time a year or two later, he wasted no time to start providing Anatolii with all the affection and love he needed)

When he was younger, he was quite a troublemaker and had bad company for "friends". But ever since he stepped up as a dad, he has long since cut them off and manned up.

He isn't really up for dating or getting into a relationship with people; not ever since the trainwreck of a relationship he had with Frances. He does feel really guilty about the whole thing, so he decided to dedicate himself to put Anatolii's wants and needs before his as a form of atonement.

When he and Frances were dating when they were younger, he didn't really take their relationship seriously. Now that he looks back, he probably thinks it's just his imagination, but, could he possibly now still have lingering feelings for her..?

He has a large scar on his lower back from the "incident" with Frances.

Currently, Frances and him are on neutral terms. He gets super nervous and awkward when he sees her but when Anatolii does interact with Frances, he can't help but ask his son what was Frances like or how's she doing etc.

Anatolii

He may act and look quite cold, uncaring and unfriendly, but he's really a sweet boy (he doesn't smile a lot but he's good-natured)

Performs really well at school so he's quite smart

He plays football and collects matchbox cars as a hobby.

Also really likes model trains.

Though he may not look like it, he really looks up to his dad more than anyone. He tries to learn how to do things by himself quicker to not be a burden to his dad and also to sometimes earn his dad's praise.

He lived his life not knowing who his mother is, but he's been quite hesitant to pry his dad into talking about it because Nacho would always look quite pained when he does try to talk about it. Nacho has always told Anatolii that, his mother always have and will continue to love him, it's just that there's a certain problem that's keeping her away from them. Out of love for his dad, he just took his word for it.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 27 - Resurrect

(Story so far)

I mentioned a bit of a rollercoaster before the end didn’t I…?

Sorry Allie…

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Day seven of being dosed up on haloperidol and Virgil felt like a bear woken midway through hibernation by the smell of bacon. Everything but his stomach and that nagging sense of the world moving on outside without him was dragging him back towards blissful slumber. And yet he was SO VERY BORED of lying around doing nothing and that made him moody and petulant… in a drowsy, ineffective kind of way.

Grandma wouldn’t even let him have proper coffee, and no amount of the insipid-brown, barely-caffeinated dishwater he was given in its stead even touched the edges of the lethargy.

It was displeasing.

He’d had a couple of short holocall chats with a Dr George Clifford, highly recommended by Patricia who was consultant psychiatrist to half his family. Scott and Gordon were both keen he talk to Patricia herself, both clearly of the view the woman had Powers unavailable to the rest of humanity. John and Grandma were less convinced it would be appropriate. For Virgil’s part - the idea of talking about Scott to someone who Scott had actually properly talked to, who likely knew more about Scott than he ever would? Well it made his teeth itch.

Clifford seemed to know his stuff, however. He’d been unfazed by the sleepiness and unfinished sentences and had given emphatic reassurance as to Virgil’s prospects of a full recovery PROVIDED he addressed the issues that triggered both episodes. The conditional element made the reassurance hard to swallow, emphatic or otherwise, but he’d nodded and said he’d make a start.

When he was properly awake and able to form coherent sentences anyway. Which felt like it might be never the way this was going.

Scott had seemed to understand the caffeine-deprived rant about how the infirmary made him want to systematically remove his own skin and took pity. Eyeballing anyone who might possibly object (well, Grandma, and she just smiled knowingly) big brother had escorted Virgil slowly upstairs so he could at least be Ursus Iratus by the pool rather than stuck in the bowels of the earth.

It seemed to be working. The edges remained fuzzy and grey but the bright sunlight and the sound of the sea were bringing the majority of his brain back online. He began to wonder if, finally, he might be able to hold a train of thought long enough to have a half-decent conversation.

He glanced over at Scott who hurriedly switched on his trademark Encouraging Smile and tried to pretend the Troubled Eyebrows hadn’t been deployed in Virgil’s direction seconds before.

Virgil bit his lip and tried to hide the sigh. He certainly wasn’t ready for That Conversation yet. Nor was he entirely sure what it was going to be about… exactly… except that clearly Something had been said that he couldn’t remember and his brother was chewing it over like a starving coyote might keep returning to Grandma’s meatloaf surprise…

Selfishly, at the moment, Virgil didn’t really want to know. Well he did, in the same kind of morbid way one pokes at a wound. But he didn’t have the mental energy to know. Last time he’d been this sick he’d done something awful and his relationship with Dad hadn’t ever quite been the same afterwards. The idea that the same could happen with one of his brothers? If he even started to think about it a nausea roiled that he knew had nothing to do with the medication and everything to do with the what if he’d ruined everything?

Maybe if they left it long enough he’d never have to find out?

Ha. He snorted softly. As if Scott and his mental cyclone would ever let something he was worried about slide with time.

Virgil himself was possibly not a brilliant example of someone able to let the past stay in the past either.

Maybe it was genetic?

A distinctly Alan-flavoured screech of rage pierced the humidity of the afternoon and it seemed as if even the seabirds swooping over Mateo were silenced in shock.

Virgil and Scott looked at each other across the pool, the quirked eyebrows of amusement wavered simultaneously as a quieter voice drifted out from the kitchen, quieter but urgent, soft but tainted with panic:

“Breathe! Allie, please it’s ok… please, look just wait. Let me help… no, put it down! Let go, please you’re hurting…”

The first time Virgil was really aware he’d moved was when his shoulder collided painfully with Scott’s as they both tried to run through the narrow doorway at once. The reinforced glass continued to shudder with the echo of that mistake as they remembered how to work together, spun 90 degrees and sidestepped smoothly through into what seemed to be an entirely empty room.

The expected kerfuffle was strikingly absent - all was as it should be. All except for the bright yellow smoothie crawling across the counter top and the gleaming red spots splattered across the tiled floor.

“Alan?! Gordon?!” There was a fragile edge to the Commander’s voice that usually didn’t appear until many hours into an overwhelming Situation. The response came from low behind the kitchen island:

“Could do with a little help over here, Scotty…”

Gordon sounded pale.

That was enough to galvanise Virgil into action and firing on perhaps 3 out of four engines he took one barefooted step forward, noting absently how the floor sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight…

Scott yelped and pulled him backwards, nearly toppling the both of them.

“Glasssssssssssssss…”

The elongated hiss persisted as Scott’s mind raced for a solution and sidelined irrelevant concerns like finishing words.

“Stay.”

Even at full capacity Virgil couldn’t have disobeyed that tone of command.

Scott pressed Virgil’s shoulders down as if trying to ensure his feet were properly glued to the ground and then ducked back outside. A little mild cursing preempted the contents of the pool toy cupboard flying out on to the deck and within moments the two largest foam floats returned though the door, closely followed by his brother. The first quickly became a path to the far side of the counter and the other was flung to the floor only a split second before Scott’s knees landed on top of it with a strangled “ALLIE, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Virgil crawled along the mat as quickly as he could and peered over Scott’s shoulder to see Gordon, jaw set hard and his hands clamped around Alan’s wrists. Their baby brother, colourless and trembling clutched the jagged remains of a tumbler in his bloody fists. He looked up into Virgil’s face, gasped and whimpered:

“‘m so sorry, Virgil, I’m so so sorry.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[princesscaterpee]

What is your most embarrassing moment diapered in public?

The one that comes to mind the most is the time I was with daddy at the store and we were standing in the check out line. I already had to pee for a while but I was being a good girl and keeping my pullups dry💕 Unfortunately, the line was barley moving and it started to grow on me that I wasn't going to make it. I eventually decided to let a little out but once that first spurt came out I was unable to regain control. I could feel it filling my pullup all the way back to my bum😭 All I could do is squeeze daddy's hand and hope I didn't leak. That's when I felt a little dribble leak into my shorts and down my leg! I just froze hoping that was it and thankfully it was. Moments after that, I hear the woman behind me say, "Oh no! looks like someone needs a change." My heart sank to the bottom of my pullup!! I know my face was so red but I still tried to cover up as much as possible. As I was about to reply to the woman, I turn and see she's talking to her child! I was relieved but also so embarrassed about potentially being called out. Daddy and I had a good laugh afterwards🤣🤣

[michi-hawkeye]

If you need a tourniquet or if you wanna turn and quit Know that I'll be by your side << michi u need to tell me moooooooooooore 😍😍😍

I gladly wil! ❤️

The fic is actually a prompt fill, kinley have been dating for six months before shit hits the fan and the fic starts in Tommy’s pov and takes place right in the aftermath of Buck being struck.

Here’s a snippet of the opening (fair warning its in its rough draft stage)

Tommy watches the rain pound onto the ground of the airfield under the safety of the hanger. He had been anxious all shift due to the anticipation of introducing himself to Captain Nash and Sargent Grant-Nash as Buck’s boyfriend tomorrow night and hopefully be able to ask them a question the little black box to go with it tucked away in his locker. Something bigger than that was eating at him now like some premonition that something is going to go wrong tonight, he usually didn’t let storms get to him since it was part of his job to fly through them. Although he knows Buck is out there working right now and he knows his boyfriend is an unintentional danger magnet so him feeling anxious for somewhat no reason is definitely justified. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he hopes Buck and his team are staying safe out there before he leans away from the hanger door threshold to go and try to focus on keeping his anxiety at bay.

He tries to keep checking his phone at a minimum as much as he is anxious he can’t be distracted, so he goes through the station chores even through he knows they’ve already been done, so he tries to burn out the anxiety by working out. It wasn’t until he was walking out of the showers after his workout he was finally given the reason for his anxiety.

As he’s changing into a new uniform shirt, his phone goes off with the familiar sounds of the wind and percussion instruments that play The Mandalorian theme song, he had made it Eddie’s ring tone on his phone after watching the show with him, Buck and Chris one day and realizing him and Mando have a very similar personality to Eddie’s begrudging annoyance. Eddie is also one of the few people who is on Tommy’s short Do not disturb bypass list, a rock of dread sinks down his stomach as he tries not to think of worse case scenarios but that would be naive with the storm raging outside tonight and how dangerous their jobs are in general.

Before answering the phone he tries to sallow the forming lump in his throat as he takes a moment to look at the photo he had taken of a smiling Eddie who had a arm thrown over a equally smiling Buck’s shoulder, who had his own arms wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders during a guy’s day out which was used for each of their contact photos.

He tries to keep his voice even as he hears an equally breaking breath on the other end of the line when it connects “Eddie what’s wrong?”

“It’s buck—- there was a accident on a call he’s in critical—-“ Eddie takes a shaky breath while Tommy’s heart shatters, “we’re at Cedars get here as fast as possible” we don’t know if he’ll make it goes unsaid, it kicks Tommy to start packing his duffle.

“Eddie what happened at the call?” Tommy asked, he doesn’t want to be in the dark on how his boyfriend had gotten injured enough to be considered critical.

“I’ll tell you more when you get here I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell you right now, drive safe okay”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can” he blinks away the tears that have been building up, as he listens to the call disconnecting.

“Cap I need to leave family emergency”

—-

Just as he pulls out of the airfield, the bachelor theme plays from his car’s speakers signaling that Maddie is calling, him and Maddie had been binge watching old episodes of the show together when they both had off days in the name of bonding while everyone else had shifts since they couldn't watch the new episodes without chimney, it would have been funny to hear if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, with his eyes still on the road he clicks the green call button on the dashboard screen.

“Tommy” he hears Maddie’s watery voice come through the speakers “did you hear what happened to buck”

He was a only child who has always wanted siblings and having known Maddie these past few months he grew to view her as one, and if she needed him to be strong he’ll try to be, he coughed to try to prevent the impending sob and to try to steady his voice before responding“ Eddie just called me to let me know, I’m heading over there right now”

“Good they’ll both need you”

“I’m here for you too, you know that right?” He asked gently, it always stings when he sees Evan and Maddie throw aside thier mental and emotional well-being in favor of focusing on others like they themselves don’t matter; giving until they break.

“I know but knowing those two Eddie probably saw first hand what had happened, so he’ll need someone to lean on who understands” he thinks back on the stories Buck had mentioned in the past when either one had been injured. They fall into a silence perhaps to let themselves process what's happening.

The silence breaks when he hears the faint barely formed word babbles from Jee-Yun “jelly bean is there?” He had given her the nickname shortly after meeting her and Maddie when he noticed she jumped and skipped around more than walked, and how it must have been a family trait because Buck would do the same given the chance, Maddie and Buck had cracked up when he commented on the shared mannerism.

Maddie gives a sad chuckle “I called Anne and John to pick her up to spend the night with them, they’re planning to meet us at the hospital”

“What about your parents?” Tommy asks, he doesn't trust the buckley parents for shit to care for the sweet girl that he’s starting to let himself view as his niece. He wants to know if they're gonna twiddle their thumbs and not show up for their son again but this time while he’s probably dying.

“I also wanted to warn you too that my parents are coming to the hospital, I know you have your reasons on avoiding them I respect that and this isn't the ideal situation to meet them now, in truth it surprised me that they decided to go at all”

“Maddie they hurt you and Buck, made both your lives hell that's why I avoid them you know that cause if I ever see them I won’t be able to not tell them what I think” he had avoided meeting the Buckley parents the last two nights because how much disdain he had for them but he has enough awareness that two people he cares about still want to try to have that bond and he’ll support them and be there when he helps pick up the pieces when their parents refuse to put in the effort to fix the damage they cause.

“I know, can we continue this later? , I’ll see you at the hospital” he hears Maddie say with a defeated sigh, kicking himself mentally for pushing her at an already stressful time.

He hears Maddie shuffle and with a much brighter tone say “Say bye to Uncle Tommy, Jee” hearing the new title makes him choke on the building lump in his throat.

“Buh Buh, Uh T’my!” Jee says with a giggle, oblivious to what is going on and Tommy hopes when she does learn, Buck will at least be okay by then. He can be strong for her, Maddie, Eddie, and Chris until Evan wakes up

“Bye sweet girl see you soon!” He attempts to say brightly but he can hear how weak it sounds to his own ears. He hears Jee giggle in response before the line disconnects. He lets a few tears fall as he turns another corner on the road towards the hospital.

————————

(You can thank my sister’s car playlist for the title its from Tourniquet by Zach Bryan)

[averseunhinged]

it's that time again! wip wednesday, day of suffering and reluctant sharing.

this week's offering is from the soulmate au from ages ago, the middle of which is a total disaster. so, idk how much of this is going to end up in the finished product. or if there even will be a finished product. you know how it goes. i poked at it for a couple of days, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if you want to read the previous bits, it was this and then this.

“What did the Salvatores teach you about blood sharing with another vampire?”

“The only thing I ever learned from Damon was superhuman patience," she scoffed. "Stefan got really uncomfortable and gave me some speech about urges and experimentation and being careful. And saving myself for marriage, I think? Which I still don't really get, but he's grandpa-times-five old. Maybe that sort of thing lingers. So, I gave him a pass on the unexpected abstinence-only moment.”

Elijah allowed himself a fraction of a moment to shut his eyes in pain at the sheer incompetence. “That sounds stunningly inaccurate. Though, he was correct on one point. It is not to be taken lightly."

"I," she began and twitched forward, reaching out to brush nonexistent dust from the dash. "Yes. I got that much from it. The keep your fangs to yourself lesson, not the--"

Her blush was vivid. Obvious, even in the sedan's dim interior.

“My brother made an error of judgement," Elijah continued as gently as he could manage. "He did something he should not have without your permission, counting on your ignorance. It was wrong. I will not deny that. But I hope you understand there was little chance he could have known the repercussions of his actions, and he has suffered greatly for them. We all have.”

"Explain," she ordered. If the situation had been less serious, he might have allowed himself more amusement from the liberties she took.

"When blood is shared between two vampires, it creates a sort of," he paused for a moment of thought before continuing delicately, "closeness, limited and short-term, beyond the physical. In most cases, one does not court a stranger’s fangs.”

“Most cases?”

“My father fed primarily on other vampires, not merely because he hated them, but for the perversity of the act. The violation.”

“That's--” Caroline trailed off.

“Yes. When he was human, he was a man of his time, and not a singularly bad one, at that. He loved his wife and family in the way men did--with brutality. However, he ensured we went without as little as possible and taught us the same. You might not care for his methods, but he shaped us into the people we needed to be: competent, hard-laboring survivors.”

Her mouth opened and closed again as she fought her instinct to argue, perhaps understanding he had little interest in her perspective. They may have originated from the same location, but Caroline was a staggering number of generations on from his family's origins. Mikael was a monster, there was no question. Elijah didn't need her to explain that. Mikael was also wildly successful by tenth century standards.

“And then he turned?” she finally asked, having edited out the less relevant commentary on the matter.

“And then he turned,” Elijah agreed. “It amplified an ugliness within. The raider of his youth. A marauder and a conqueror.”

“I don't think I want to know this.”

“You must.”

“Why must I? Why are you doing this? He has a baby, and a bitchy werewolf baby mama, and a whole other life, while I'm here, cleaning up the mess he left behind. Why do I have to solve his problems, too? I don't have time for this.”

Elijah smiled, a scant tilt of the mouth he tipped his chin to hide. How they snapped and snarled, she and his brother, as they tried to escape traps only they could see. He had no doubt she drew blood with her sharp tongue, vicious as Klaus with his bite.

“Yes," he agreed. "We are all running out of time, but it is important you fully understand what has occurred.”

“Why? Why now?” she begged, staring down at her hands, now tightly clasped.

“As in many areas, intent does play a role. Niklaus backed himself into a corner, magically speaking, and has been driven half-mad adhering to it, along with the numerous demands placed upon him. He made you a promise--a vow, one you reinforced upon your parting--without knowledge of the repercussions. In the time since, his mental state has deteriorated. As has yours, by your own admission, to a lesser degree."

He glanced away from the road, wanting a better gauge than his peripheral vision could provide. Eyes wide, Caroline slowly shook her head in denial, but seemed to have lost any verbal argument she might have had.

"He is an original hybrid, the only of his kind. Even he does not know the finer points of the magic from whence he was formed. Perhaps, he should have known better than to take such a risk with you, with himself, but if I have correctly parsed his explanation, the exchange of blood is not an act in which he has partaken in many centuries. Even then, it was a brief period of experimentation, given that he found the results uncomfortable. Until he a found himself desperately unhappy in New Orleans. He wished to carry a piece of you, of the contentment your presence gifted him. It was meant to be temporary. It is temporary, when the act is between vampires."

"But he's a werewolf, too."

"He is both, and neither," Elijah clarified.

[angheling]

Here’s a little doodle dump of Tonis I put together because I love him

[not-poignant]

Tbh one of the reasons I haven't gotten around to Palmarosa yet is because I knew I had to do a fuckton more worldbuilding research and couldn't be bothered because I was like 'this is going to be a lot more work than it needs to be.'

And after 4 straight hours and over 50 tabs which distilled down into 2000 words of worldbuilding that isn't even me getting to the chapter yet, I was right lmao. But in good news, it means I can officially get started! We're going to Luskan, folks :D

[tangerinesgf]

1 or 5 or 10 Fora Tangerine? I know I have no right to ask this, but the last piece you wrote emotionally destroyed me 🥲, could this piece not be angsty...super pretty please????

Tangerine x reader (gender isn't specified, but reader is described as having the body of a fab) 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Tags/warnings: nsfw, smut, pwp, overstimulation, slight praise kink, oral(fem receiving), it's pretty filthy

A/N: Of course you can ask me that, don't worry this won't be angsty. I combined prompt 5 and 10. Hope you enjoy it and that it makes up for the last fic :)

Prompts 5/10; "Come on, I think you have one more in yourself for me." "Shh, relax, I've got you."

"Come on, love, I think you have one more in yourself for me."

"'s too m-much.."

Tangerine had just come back from yet another successful job and as usual he couldn't wait to celebrate it with you. The second he walked through the door his hands were all over you. On your way to the bedroom clothes were dropped all around the apartment.

You loved it when Tangerine got like this. Successfully completing his jobs gave him a significant amount of pride, adding to his self-esteem. It was like he could take on the world and that confidence translated itself to the bedroom.

Your hands were holding onto his hair like your life depended on it as Tangerine was currently building up your 4th orgasm of the night. He'd started with his fingers and managed to make you cum twice on his cock. In conclusion; you were completely fuck drunk on him.

Even after he was clearly exhausted from his own climax and fucking into you at a brutal pace, Tangerine decided he wasn't done with you yet. He could taste the mix of both juices from previous orgasms that were dripping from your cunt as he was eating you out.

"You're doin' amazing, luv, just one more, I promise." his voice was soft in comparison to the assault he was currently unloading on you pussy.

You wanted to call him out, tell him that he said the same thing one orgasm ago, yet showing no signs of stopping. However nothing except a whimper managed to leave your mouth as he managed to hit just the right spot. You were completely at his mercy.

He pulled you over the edge as he kept hitting your g-spot over and over again. Your hands let go his hair, your body falling limp on the mattress beneath you as he ripped another orgasm from of you.

"Tan.." You couldn't stop the moans from leaving your mouth as your orgasm washed over you. Tears were streaming down your face from the overstimulation and you shut your eyes to prevent more of them from slipping out. Your breathing was ragged and not a single coherent thought could be formed in your head.

"Shh, relax darlin', I've got you." Tangerine muttered as his tongue skillfully worked you through your climax. "You did so well."

Slowly you got your breathing back under control, eyes still closed. And after a few minutes, you were relieved that that had actually been the last one tonight.

You realized how wrong you were when you felt his thumb slightly pressing down on your clit. You opened your eyes to see a huge smirk on Tangerine's face, his mustache covered in both your juices . Before you could even question him on the look, he pushed two of his fingers back into your dripping cunt.

"Tan!" You squealed in surprise.

"Just one more, luv."

A/N: I actually really like this, so hope ya'll did too!

[statementlou]

i’m sorry to bring this up again, but i wanted to ask how are you making sense of harry having his former girlfriend’s name tattooed on his thigh if you don’t think they were really together? i’m not a larrie and i follow you for your louis content, but i respect your opinions, so i guess i’m coming more from a place of curiosity rather than seeking reassurance. do you not even entertain for one second the idea that you might’ve been wrong about things? that harry was really in a relationship with olivia? that he might actually be attracted to women? that he might’ve been with louis once upon a time but not anymore? have you ever challenged your confirmation bias? again, i’m not trying to attack you, i really just want to understand where you stand. i hope u don’t take this the wrong way.

well first of all you bring up the very good point that there are actually multiple Qs at play and not just one, despite the fandom's (and my) attempts to simplify things. I personally am open to the possibility that Harry and Louis are no longer together- we don't have enough info to say for sure either way about that, and I am constantly recalibrating and considering and I'm going to be totally honest, getting flat out ANNOYED at how often I find myself being like oh damn they ARE still (or again) together ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Because it seems so improbable and illogical! You think I don't KNOW I sound fucking crazy?! Absolutely infuriating, and yet there are just all these little Things all the time. Plus ofc the fact that they both constantly wink wink larrie stuff to the fandom which could just be playing to the crowd... except then they both continually take it that little extra way that makes me go oh but... you really didn't NEED to go THERE that seems VERY pointed?? But also sometimes I go well. Okay, maybe not. Since they both seem super happy at this point, it doesn't stress me out to think they might have split, the way it would if they seemed miserable and were still churning out heartbreak songs, but it's schrodingers relationship and with all the savvy they've acquired around this stuff and all the balls they're keeping in the air wrt to fandom etc that's unlikely to change in favor of us knowing anything for sure for a very long time, if ever. But I do not doubt that they WERE together, it's simply not realistic. The evidence of it is overwhelming and imo undeniable when taken all together. And the thing is that knowing one thing with certainty (that they were together back when), having really looked at the things that happened during that time, does actually have a lot of bearing on the rest of it even if they aren't together anymore. Because knowing that and having seen the way fake relationships to make them seem straight were managed back then means that when I see the EXACT SAME things being done in the current day, like they are working from a fucking blueprint, no, I don't look at that and think it might be real. I know that Louis and Eleanor wasn't real in... whenever they allegedly got together lol, that story still isn't even quite straight, so why would I believe they were together in 2020? And if I know Louis has a tattoo for a fake girlfriend why would it change my mind about a million things I can see with my own eyes if Harry did the same (if indeed he even has who tf knows)? So despite what I said at the beginning, in the end it kind of does just come down to the one question people are always asking, are you a larrie? Because when you've actually been down the rabbit hole of details that ends up with you saying yes to that question, it's like acquiring a rosetta stone that unlocks the ability to read everything else, like putting on xray glasses, and I look at what is so obviously a publicity relationship (holivia) and whether H and L are still together has nothing to do with why I don't think it's real. Like could a celeb relationship be both used in typical ways for publicity and be or become real on some level (looking at you Liam, heyyy), sure, but for this question the fact that I have never seen Harry show the slightest sign of attraction to a woman in his whole life and he so clearly embraces and identifies so strongly with gay male culture in every possible way and never shuts up about how much he loves cock does play into my thinking; I simply do not think he is attracted to women, no, and I have yet to see him do anything that doesn't seem consistent with things a closeted pop star might chose to do. So in conclusion yes I have challenged my bias and decided I'm right lol! But for real- all the time I consider that they perhaps aren't together but that isn't really the point when it comes to believing they are gay.

[nicoscheer]

Championship rounds. Mucho hurto with big @Mileskane

That sensei at the end of Willie’s turn got me cackling

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The reel

[ladybugkisses]

How do you come up with your sona designs? They're so cool and have such fun silhouettes!

thank you!! ! 💕 most of my sonas are just me, or me + some added features i think will help me fit into whichever universe i'm selfinserting into

but the sonas for looney tunes or lackadaisy were a little different because..... ..furries. body type aside, i had to think of how i wanted to translate the rest of me into a fox and a cat lmao

and that's kinda the gist of it, what i want or think will look nice, with inspiration taken from a lot of other stuff!