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fanfictilltheend · 6 months

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❤️‍🔥Violent Heart my VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict Joel x Reader story snippet (preview) ❤️‍🔥

Hey!! You guys voted on which WIP you wanted a snippet from and you voted for this one: Violent Heart my VERY DARK no apocalypse slowburn Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict!Joel x Reader fic!! (Who likes the header I made???? thoughts??? thots???)

Part 1 of the story snippet // Part 2 of the story snippet // header/mood board with original image credits (please read all warnings for each part!)

Context for this snippet: Joel is Y/N's new stepfather and they're sitting on the couch talking. Y/N is a child (about 8).

WARNINGS: afab!you, mention of sarah dying, cancer mention, joel tears, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, please use your best judgement and take care of yourself!!

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold.

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter. Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now.

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life?

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry.

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists.

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back...

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down.

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs.

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist.

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t.

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

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Sabotage

TW: angst, arguing, smut, language.

SUMMARY: A day on the boat with JJ brings feelings to the surface once you you become stuck on the water…

WORD COUNT: 3600

Sabotage

For all of the times you had been a passenger upon the HMS Pogue, you could detail the entire vessel, although quaint, from memory alone. But the same could also be said in reference to today’s captain. This was because your eyes always seemed to follow him in note of the annoying perfection of his caramel tan set over defined muscles that tensed effortlessly in any innocuous lift or motion of his arms. Yet, the pulsation often found between your thighs came from the focus of his faded cobalt eyes lowering in his incessant yet flirtatious tease that also always found a cause for those dimples to form.

Those goddamn dimples…

And yet, despite these feelings of pure lust, you’d never acted on them due to a simple rule. A regulation that specified that your tight knit group of friends couldn’t cross the lines of a platonic love and venture in the risk of broken hearts and awkward divisions. Because of this rule, you’d kept a playful banter consistent between you two, but also distance; never allowing yourself to be alone with him as you feared you’d break weak if he ever instigated a moment. You knew it. After all, you were only human and he was arguably the most handsome guy you’d ever seen.

Which is what made today so irritating. Kiara was stuck working a last minute shift at The Wreck, John B and Sarah had some relationship drama that made it difficult to invite either or without fallout for excluding one and including the other, and Pope was too invested within his summer reading list to differentiate for this specific afternoon. This meant that you and JJ were alone. For the first time. In the blistering heat. Hormones at a high and inhibitions at a low as the boat suddenly stalled and died in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

Releasing a groan from behind his clenched teeth, parted by only a toothpick, he moved to the engine at the back of the boat to investigate. You’d watch him analyze the boat, shirtless and adorned in a single sheen of sweat from a lack of a breeze, and you’d corrected your lip that became captivated between your teeth in admiration before you’d tried to find some sense of comfort in the seat cracked with age behind your back.

This boat was nothing compared to the yachts and luxurious vessels owned by the Kooks separated by your ‘clique’ by a few short miles, yet divided into worlds that couldn’t be any more different. The seats were torn and ratted, the mechanics were rusted and outdated to such a degree that anything that had broken or cracked would have to be special ordered, IF it still existed at all. And yet, it was yours; the pogues’. Hence, the name, and the fact you all practically lived on it when you weren’t at The Chateau.

“Hmph…” He shrugged before moving to the small gauge set before the captain’s chair at the center of the boat, tapping the verdict of your stalled boat.

“Looks like we’re out of gas…”

“WHAT?!” You were quick on your feet, hoping this was some poor excuse for a joke as he was a consistent breath of relief for his usually perfectly timed one liners and dramatizations all to give those around him a smile. And yet, you found THIS anything BUT funny.

And of COURSE it would happen on the day where you wouldn't have anyone else on the boat to distract you from the fact you were alone with him. Then again, it may be for the best as Kiara and Sarah would always tease you silently across the boat after you’d confessed to them during one night of being too drunk and not high enough of how you felt.

“You didn't check before we left?!” You scolded, now moving back to the motor as if some magical tank of gasoline would suddenly present itself to you at the end of these quick steps.

“Is it really THAT much of a surprise?” You’d ignored his attempt at this self deprecating joke as you’d found an alternative source for your lack of motion.

“J…” You questioned, holding up the fuel line, severed enough to be the cause of said absence of gasoline.

“Would you look at that-”

“Wh-So we’re just stuck here, then?”

“Looks like it…” He pulled off his red cap, running his hands through his hair, as you’d become unbridled with frustration; mostly sexual. Your eyes connected to the bend of his arms pulling to that effortless flex, his fingers interlaced behind his head, as he was truly unbothered. Whereas you, usually the polar opposite of him, was pacing the length of the boat.

“There has to be SOMETHING we can do! Or maybe another boat, if we use the flare gun or-”

“Oh my God, you need to relax, princess-” To make matters worse, the one thing he knew got under your skin was uttered from behind those full lips, tempting you even when you were angry-if not more so.

“God-Can you NOT call me that?!” He became suddenly intrigued by your reaction, the tension having made your usual demure persona falter before him, worsening as he’d risen to his feet.

“What would you rather I call you? Sweetheart?” He took a step forward, eyes suddenly descending down your body and the particular bikini top and jean shorts he’d been stealing glances of from behind the cover of his sunglasses and the use of his peripheral vision. “Baby?” The way his lips seemed to seduce each letter itself had forced a scoff from your lips as he’d paused any further advancement in his step once your eyes climbed to him.

“Either way…you NEED to calm down…You’re acting like you’re out here with Rafe…” You glared at the thought, as he was perhaps the only other person you couldn’t fathom being alone with-but for reasons entirely different than those in contrast to JJ.

“What, you got a hot date or somethin’?” He inquired, demeanor having changed somewhat from his boisterous and annoying confidence to what appeared to be a simple question lacking humor and lightheartedness. He almost seemed affected by the thought.

“I just don’t WANT to be out here…” You explained, rolling your eyes, before throwing your weight against the chair set on the front of the boat, pouting beneath the sun sweltering down onto you, only worsening your raised blood pressure.

“Is it really THAT bad to be stuck out here with me?”

“YES!” You confessed, your heart berating you for having agreed to him as he’d cock his jaw before slowly nodding and turning away from you. Truth of the matter is you’d thought of this moment a thousand times, being alone with him, anyway. And yet, now that it had been before you, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but execute your defense mechanism to keep him at arms’ length, as if it would quiet your need for him or replace it with anything but its undeniable presence.

“Ya know…I have other things I’d rather be doing too, okay?”

“Really? Like what?” You argued as he cokced his jaw and arched a brow as if to understand you were no longer playing on a field of civility.

“Do YOU have a hot date? I mean, maybe I should give you a congratulations because I thought you were stuck in a rut and all…Been a while since I've seen any girl do the walk of shame from the back of The Chateau…” He scoffed.

“Careful, sounding kind of jealous…princess…” Your fingers curved into a threatened strangulation as you were back on your feet.

“Well MAYBE if YOU would have been responsible for something other than WEED, you always seem to remember THAT, we wouldn’t be stuck out here!”

“You don’t like the name, yet you act like one…consistently!”

“I do NOT!”

His brows shot up as he began to literally count the reasons on his fingers. “You can’t even put a worm on a hook without one of us needing to help you…Shit, even Wheezie can do that…” You paused, the true reason having been that you simply liked asking him to.

“Not to mention how you are ALWAYS complaining. About the heat. About school. About me!”

“Can you blame me?! My God! You're THE most irresponsible person I know! You’re unmotivated and greedy-unreliable-” Due to this consistent exchange of back and forth commentary, raised voices and high tension, you hadn’t noticed just how close you had gotten to him, continuing even more as the words fell from his lips.

“You aren’t exactly a walk in the park either. Walking around with your ass hanging out and just basking in how everyone watches you! YOU are self centered and arrogant-so fucking pent up, especially the last two weeks!” This had been due to the fact you’d almost allowed yourself to cross that line when finding him asleep on the hammock outside. Bravery offered by a self-constructed mantra to ‘go big or go home’, deciding on the latter in fear of ruining your friendship, which was now on apparent shaky ground.

“I mean what the fuck did I do to you? You can’t even be in the ame room with me without acting like I’m fucking radioactive!”

“I just…don’t okay?! I don’t NEED to be alone with you! I don’t WANT to be-”

“WHY?”

“Because I just don’t!”

He cocked his head, muttering something about a mistake beneath his breath, before slowly nodding and moving back towards the controls of the boat for only a second, finally turning back to you, but not to speak. Instead, he held duct tape in one hand, and a small container in another, one that was an emergency source of fuel for situations such as this. It may not be enough to return you to The Chateau, but it would be enough to get you close enough to get some help.

“What are you-”

“I’m fixing it!” He barked. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask for your help, wouldn’t want you to break a nail or anything…Princess…” He scoffed one final time as you’d suddenly felt guilt. Even though these tensions were boiling at a nearly volcanic degree, you didn’t want to hurt him. And you’d always been able to balance that fine line between playful and painful. But the words had left your lips before you could stop them, having an effect you never wanted to witness-especially from your own words.

“J-”

“No, I get it!” He shot up at your attempt to console him, shaking your hand from his shoulder in the process.

“You’re better than me-”

“J-”

“No, okay, everyone knows it-everyone IS. While you all will go off and find a life outside of here…I’m gonna be stuck here. In prison or on my way to it…And it’s fine…I’ve accepted that, it’s not new…But to hear it from YOU…I thought you were the one person that I…” He scoffed, shaking his head with this realization of a veiled confession behind his words. Even if the three words you’d felt since you could remember always teasing your lips in being unveiled in a threatened utterance were not spoken by him, it was his chosen words that pulled your feet in his direction.

“JJ-” You spoke, turning him back to you as he’d lick his lips to prepare to speak, completely bewildered at the feeling of your lips interrupting these attempts. For a second, you’d frozen, regretting your actions immediately as he stilled. You questioned if it was in shock, horror, relief-or somewhere lost in them all.

“THAT’s why I didn’t to be alone with you…” His eyes kept to yours, studying you for a moment, before suddenly taking you against him. The passionate hold of his fingertips taking you into him silenced you in perfect politeness while his kiss itself was anything but kind. His tongue was quick to savor your bottom lip after a series of initial kisses, the acceptance of your parted mouth taking his feet to walk you to the back of the boat.

A moment of fumbling fingers became rectified before his kiss moved to your neck and descended over your breasts, his grasp teasing the exposed skin as well as what remained beneath your suit as he smirked.

“Goddamn…” He cursed, his lip between his teeth as he’d pinch your nipples, watching your eyes roll and your back arch, before he’d continue even lower. Without a word, he’d pulled your jean shorts from your hips with the help of your sashay, before exposing your bikini bottoms to him.

“Can I?” He asked, motioning to the ties keeping you modest, as you’d nodded viciously-desperately.

“Please…” You breathed as he released a breath of enthusiasm before making you naked before him, your own sun kissed skin revealed to him from the waist down.

“You’re fucking soaked already…” His eyes trained to your folds, damp with arousal that had always been present whenever he was nearby.

“For me?” He teased as you rolled your eyes before feeling him suddenly between your lower lips, tongue making long strides as his hand rose to your hips, pinning you to the seat at your back.

“I wanna make you come…I wanna make you come on my tongue and make you feel good, okay, sweetheart?” He was kind with his words as you’d nodded in desperation, the idea almost maddening.

“Play with your clit for me…I wanna use my fingers and watch you…” He explained as you’d hesitated for a second.

“Did you hear me, baby?” You nodded as he led your hand between your legs. “I want to watch you.” He said again, lower this time, before supplying a kiss to your mouth, and slipping his middle finger inside of you, curving it immediately.

“Shit…” He expressed before a second finger joined in suit, the pumping of his digits curving and withdrawing enough to bring your orgasm to the edge of his fingertips.

“JJ…Oh my God!” He grinned against your thigh, pushing away your fingers as he’d brought you to the cusp of your orgasm only to deepen it with violent sucks of your clit taken behind his teeth.

“Come for me, sweetheart…I want you so wet for me-”

‘I am!”

“Wetter.” He cocked his head with this explanation as your eyes rolled closed once again.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” You nodded. “You wanna come this way? Or on me?”

“You! YOU, JJ!” He smiled victoriously, puling you over him in a straddle as he was undressed before you’d flattened onto his thighs, the erotic feeling of his naked skin now supporting you, having been too much not to react.

“You still okay?” You were suddenly left feeling vulnerable, no matter how beautiful the scenery or distracting his touch, you were still in public.

“Keep your eyes to me…It’s only us…finally…” He teased as he’d kiss you before taking him inside of you, the link of your lips broken by the oval made of your mouth as he’d stretched into you.

“Breathe, sweetheart…” You chuckled, unaware you’d stopped, before nodding.

“Shit…” he spoke behind a deep breath before reaching behind your back, removing your bikini top and taking a delicious amount of time adoring each one. Wetting the nipples until they were left hard beneath the graze of his tongue, fondled and licked, his mouth made the incline up your neck.

“You feel SO good…” He explained into your skin.

“FASTER, JJ, PLEASE!”

“You wanna come already?”

You nodded.

“Not yet…Not yet-”

“JJ!” You whined as he grinned.

“I’ve waited SO long…I want to savor this a bit longer…” He explained, his fervent French kisses now turning longer and more passionate, as he ceased his thrusts for the time it would take for you to find compassion in place of pure lust. But once the burn of need returned, you were now the one in control, the sound of your name spoken on his desperate gasp as your motions brought him back to a reclined position on the boat.

“Fuck…”

“Oh my God! JJ!”

“I’m right here…I’m right here, baby…” You threw your head back to the name, anything better than the usual ‘princess’ he’d given you. Although, you would let him call you anything as long as he kept his pace and his depth.

“Slow down-slow-slow-”

But you’d shake your head, denying him the control as he’d rival you by now lifting you just high enough to fit his thumb between himself and your clit.

“Then you’re coming WITH me.” He growled, taking his other hand around your hips and eating into your skin as you both drowned each other out with the sounds of mutual moans and groans, thrusts and rubs being the cause of such guttural desperations.

“So fucking good, how-how do you feel so ugh-shit!” He groaned into you, pulling you to him with a deep kiss, cursing a mix of your name and ‘fucks’ as his fingers quickened against your abused clit.

“JJ! Oh my God! Im gonna-”

“Me too, princess!” You grunted at the name, somehow a new favorite when spoken once making him breathless to this degree. “Me too! You’re gonna make me, I’m-”

“JJ!” His name was the last thing spoken before you’d find a series of tremors leading you both into a release, shuddered breathing expressed before you’d descended from this high.

“Look at me…” He spoke softly when you hadn’t opened your eyes. “Are you-you okay?” he asked, his breathing still albored as you nodded. He licked his lips before pressing a soft kiss to you and assisting you off of him before he helped you both redress, collapsing at your side for a moment of recuperation.

“I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that…” He confessed as you’d nodded.

“Me too…”

“You know communication WOULD have been beneficial there…” You both chuckled before the lightheartedness suddenly shifted in him.

“I uh…kind of have a confession to make…”

“OH?” You rose to your elbows as he nodded, now anxious with his lust blown eyes evading from your gaze and fixating on the useless motor.

“I MAY have cut the gas line to make an excuse to be alone with you…may have ALSO asked Pope and John B to not be here…” To this, your lips pulled to a grin as he scoffed.

“What?!”

“I…may or may not have purposely not filled up the tank and asked Kie and Sarah to not come today…to be alone with YOU…”

He cocked his jaw, slowly nodding before sucking on his tongue in pensive silence. “What are you doing?” You’d ask once he moved to the direction of the motor.

“As much as I WISH we could stay out here…We do EVENTUALLY have to go back…”

“Maybe not QUITE yet…” You questioned, moving him back to you with a seductive pull to his wrist until he moved against your body once again. But as he moved to kiss you, you’d push him into the captain’s chair, a grunt leaving his lips before you’d straddle him.

“So you’ve been paying attention to my ass, huh?” He scowled for a second before realizing you’d been in reference to his argumentative words prior to the relinquishment of truths behind thrusts and groans.

“Every goddamn day…” He admitted shamelessly before taking your hair into a fist of direction and pulling you back down onto him, the roll of your hips against his quick hardening cock made you grin.

“You call me princess and I’ll stop, J…”

“Stop?” He watched you move off of his lap and onto your knees, his fingers back to his belt, a sudden redness taking over his cheeks.

“Wait…”

“You don’t want me to?” You asked, eyes wide and seductive, hand palming him through his trunks as he’d hesitated for a second before taking you into a deep kiss.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me…” You grinned, taking him into your kiss, the taste of you both endorsing your need to please him; reminding you of how he felt pounding into you until completion. Pretty words of praise spilling from his mouth echoed around you as he’d flex into you, fingers tightening in your hair as he’d warn you of his close release.

“Sweetheart, I mean it, I’m SO fucking close, I’m-” And to this warning, he’d come. Hot ribbons spilling down your throat as you’d taken him perfectly. Innocent eyes and a dirty mouth that now held the taste of his release.

“Come here…” He growled, taking you once again. A series of orgasms setting you both into bliss as every inch of the HMS Pogue had been used by the time you’d returned The Chateau. Bodies aching in satisfaction and the inability to keep your hands off of one another until you’d docked, unsure how everyone else would respond to the way you’d torn into one another for the last several hours, even if the last one that took you home had been more sweet than sultry.

“It’s about time!’ Kie encouraged as you’d look at JJ with worry that they knew. Of course they had to know something as they were asked to remain apart, but you’d hoped that somehow they still didn’t as you were afraid of how they’d react.

But for JJ, it was a long time coming. As expected, he took the risk, as he slipped your fingers in his own and led you to the open seats at the side of the bonfire light in your absence.

“To you two finally getting over your stubbornness-” Pope lifted a beer as Kiara agreed, followed by John B and Sarah as JJ was the last to lift his cup.

“To sabotage…” You couldn’t fight your grin as everyone looked at you in confusion, a joke understood only by you and JJ, as well as the memories of how you’d christened that boat, and how you planned to do it again as often as possible…

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rafegasm · 1 year

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Rafe Cameron’s psycho analysis

What’s wrong with Rafe?

Warnings : mental health, abuse, trauma, depression, violence, drugs

Knowing that I study psychology, and that i have a certain toxic taste for villains in general, i really want to write my psychological analysis on the character of Rafe Cameron in Outer Banks.

Obviously I'm not a psychologist (well not yet), the goal is not to have a 100% real analysis, I just want to give my opinion by arguing my words as best as possible.

I read and inform myself a lot about mental / behavioral disorders, mental pathologies, the different types of behavior or reactions of people, it fascinates me and allows me both an understanding of others, but also of myself.

Also, i do speak english fluenty but it isn’t my first language so i may make some mistakes, please don’t mind them.

no more talk lets get into it :)

To put things into context, Rafe Cameron is Ward Cameron's eldest son and Sarah and Wheezie's brother.

Since the beginning of season 1, we quickly realize that Ward is very protective of his daughter, Sarah, but doesn’t seem to care about his other children, Rafe and Wheezie. He is shown to be emotionally and psychologically abusive towards his son Rafe, and his neglect is visible when he finds out that Rafe was spending his money on drugs after dropping out of college. We see through the first episodes Ward's differential treatment of his son and daughter, one is literally called "the princess" while the brother lives in his sister's shadow, seen as a rebellious and insignificant delinquent.

What is not emphasized enough is how much favoritism towards a child can be the consequence of significant psychological trauma. Every child wants attention. If you deny it to them, or take it away from them, it is normal that they´ll do everything to get it back better. The problem is that they unconsciously choose the "wrong" type of behavior. As a result, aggressiveness, tearfulness, or overly strong or even obsessive attachment can be observed in the child. Children observe their parents, easily imitate their mood and become their reflection. Does that remind you of anyone? His father, Ward Cameron is a liar, manipulator, egocentric with a narcissistic tendency capable of anything to achieve his ends. Finally we can clearly see that his favoritism and negligence towards his son turned him into his carbon copy.

In case of obvious favoritism, there are two possibilities, a child who will be "studious", and hard on himself, always aiming for perfection, for fear of disappointment. Or a child who will feel very sure of himself, but who can also become very narcissistic, due to an injustice wound* (which I will develop later) In this case, we observe a child who demands attention as a right, but does not show gratitude if he receives it. The child will often think he is better than the others, has high expectations of others, difficulty maintaining friendships. In adulthood, narcissism can lead to big problems in personal and professional life because the individual needs constant attention, to be the center of the world.

Obviously, another aspect that may seem logical, the complex sibling relationship. Arguments and fights, which start when children see a situation as unfair. When a child repeatedly receives less love and attention than their sibling, it can become a trigger for arguments, jealousy. Even when they become adults, they fail to find common ground, and often fail to forgive or forget. This is the case with Rafe and Sarah, he does not hate his sister, but he envies and jealous her, and resents her for having always been the favorite, to the point where he tried to kill her under an excess of anger.

Finally, the last point I wanted to address on favoritism is the behavior of the child growing up towards his parents. If you consistently show less love to a child, it can have a big impact on your communication with them in the future. When your child becomes an adult, he may decide to ignore you or even in some cases to take revenge. He only reflects the behavior you had towards him. It can be a conscious or unconscious choice. Here we can see that Rafe tried everything to receive his father's validation and attention, but even trying the best he could, Ward put all the blame on him until he told him that because of him "fucked us all", that he had "dirtyed their family", and that he would never be "a Cameron"

Now I will address the wound of betrayal and injustice which can be closely linked to favoritism.

There are 5 psychological wounds also called "soul wounds". It is these wounds that will cause physical, emotional and mental problems. It is these wounds that will prevent us from being ourselves. Emotional wounds are formed during our childhood before the age of 10. Most of the time, these wounds emerge from the parents or parent figures, and are done without their will.

The 5 injuries identified are:

- rejection

- abandonment

- humiliation

- betrayal

- injustice

Most of the time, one injury will dominate the others, however it can be associated with other injuries. We all develop certain injuries, which will have a greater or lesser impact on our lives. Faced with this "aggression", we put in place, in an unconscious way, "masks". These masks are defense strategies that will be put in place automatically and which will prevent us from being ourselves, from behaving as we would like. do it. Thus, in order to no longer be limited by these masks, it is necessary for us to identify his wounds and accept them.

*be careful, not every wound forms the same, it is not because scientifically it has been proven that they appear at a fixed age or the sex of a specific parent, that this is always the case.

The Wound of Injustice : This is the first thing I noticed through Rafe, a lack of empathy and emotion, certainly linked to his difficult childhood, where he had to create a mask, a shell to be able to defend himself against to his father, and the favoritism he experienced over his sister. The wound of injustice is often caused by devaluation and often leads to perfectionism, to wanting to be strong and by a need for recognition. If you noticed well in season 1 and 2, Rafe tries everything to have the recognition of his father, he wants to be perfect, to appear strong, both physically and mentally after killing Sheriff Peterkin. We see very little of his emotions, he tries to show that everything is fine, but we often see him losing control through various impulsive and violent acts, which perfectly illustrate his unhappiness and his internal wound.

Main symptoms:

- Create a rigid, cold mask

- Push back his wound

- Being resentful towards others and oneself

- Divert your sensitivity

- Authority

- Seeking justice and perfection

- Being unfair to oneself

- Suppress feelings

- Wanting to feel strong in the eyes of others, untouchable

- Need of recognition

The awakening of the injury occurs between 4 and 6 years. This wound often forms with the parent of the same sex who will be perceived by the child as being distant, cold, rigid. The wound of injustice will bring out the mask of rigidity. These are people who will appear without any emotion, insensitive. They will tend to hide their emotions, wanting to be "strong". Because for them emotions are a sign of weakness. In permanent control, these are people who will tend to organize everything in their lives. This hurt can arise because of a toxic family such as toxic parents or overbearing parents within your household which then creates a toxic relationship between yourself and your mother or father. It develops through the actions of your parents towards you.

For example, your father or mother may encourage you to follow the model of your sister or brother during your childhood. An obligation of excellence and a desire for perfectionism were then created, developing this wound of injustice. It is caused by the devaluation of the child and causes excessive emotional reactions in you. When a person is injured by injustice, it is common for them to hold resentment towards others and themselves. Indeed, his constant quest for excellence gives him varied emotions and a high degree of requirement.

A rigid person will be more likely to develop anger towards themselves and towards others. Just like other wounds, injustice is going to have to fill a need. For the latter, it is a need for recognition that must take place. How to heal it: It is important to learn to reconnect with your emotions, your needs, while accepting that everything is not "perfect", to make mistakes. Accept each of your emotions to avoid panic attacks related to emotional denial, "overflow" and impulsivity attacks.

The Wound of Betrayal: This wound has a lot in common with the wound of injustice, namely the need to control everything, and the difficulty of adapting to society. It's a hurt I've seen in Rafe as well, and it's been showing especially since Season 3. After he did everything for his dad, never receiving any gratitude or recognition, that hurt was definitely more seen in him. He started wanting to take control of everything, even his father, where we see the paradox with season 2 and 3 when the father hits Rafe saying "it's me who decides here" and the season 3 where Rafe takes control over his father by fighting with him and tells him "I'm talking now". We notice a darker aspect of him, in particular through his manipulative, lying side, his difficulty in trusting, his impulsiveness, his authority and his resentment. It's a wound that can stay untouched in us until it "explodes" at some point in our lives (disappointment, betrayal, offense, humiliation), at which point the brain sets up a system of protection through the mask of the "controller" to avoid any occurrences of harming us. It is a wound that leads to emotional denial, which in the long run leads to anxiety, phobias and a lot of stress.

Main symptoms:

- Always need to control

- Strong personality

- Authoritarian

- Very demanding of himself and others

- Anticipation (control even in the future)

- Trust issues

- liar, but hates lies in others

- Speed and intelligence (learn very quickly)

- Sensitive but not demonstrative

- Cares a lot about other people's business - Internal anger

- Arrogance

- Difficulty in his love/sexual life because he idealizes his/her partner and cannot let go

Its development takes place between the ages of 2 and 4 years, often with the parent of the opposite sex. Wakes up when the child feels betrayed, manipulated by his parent.

The wound of betrayal, will bring the mask of the controller. The controller is a manipulative person who needs to control everything that happens around them, be it their projects, their relationships, people. She needs to hold the reins and everything goes her way. Seductive, she attaches great importance to the material side or to the image. Controllers will have a strong personality, with an overactive mind and impulsiveness. Controlling people will fear both engagement and disengagement. As part of the betrayal wound, people will have a strong need for trust. For this this need can be filled by the self-confidence and the confidence that she can have towards others (which is very rare because often she has confidence only in herself, and gives her confidence only to a number of very restricted individuals) How to heal the wound of betrayal: Healing will go through learning to let go, accepting that you cannot control everything, and that it does not make you weak.

Now I'm going to talk about Rafe's drug addiction, which is something to consider. Anxiety, relational problems, past traumas and the malaise felt are often at the origin of these uses. Belonging to a group, feeling accepted: the concern for recognition or belonging is very important for teenagers. It is also a way to escape from the real world, and to forget the stress or the pressure, the daily problems. Rafe through his conflicted relationship with his family, got himself a drug dealer, barry and dove into drugs. Not only weed but also cocaine, considered a hard drug, which has many repercussions on health and behavior. The two drugs that Rafe uses are cannabis and cocaine. We feel his addiction especially when he goes to beg his dealer Barry, to sell him rails, against his motorcycle, promising him a large sum of money. But do you really know the effects of these drugs?

Cannabis will "unstuck" and facilitate social relationships. It will relax and relax some people in the face of stress and anxiety in the family, school and / or professional environment. Well-being and relaxation will make you want to feel these effects again. Consumption is increasing and it must be found by all means. Professional and social detachment ensues. There is evidence that cannabis use increases the risk of developing psychotic disorders.

*won’t talk about physical disorders but there are many

* psychic disorders: in the short or medium term (anxiety, suffocation, confusion, nervousness, panic, phobias, delusions, mood instability, hallucinations...), during the "descent" (depressive state, withdrawal) and more or less long term (aggravation or revelation of a mental illness, depression, suicide, etc.)

* social risks: disinhibition can lead to outbursts of violence and/or an inability to defend oneself (loss of self-control, provocative attitudes exposing to aggression, etc.), changes in perception can endanger those around them, even cause accidents...

Cocaine is a potent stimulant that induces instant euphoria, a feeling of great self-confidence, intellectual and physical power, and indifference to pain and fatigue. It cancels out any shyness and gives the illusion of relational ease, a feeling of performance and confidence. When this phase ends, it means that the reserve of neuromediators is exhausted, giving way to a state of strong depression, an anxiety that can lead to alleviating this state by taking heroin or cannabis.

Long-term consumption leads to serious psychic disorders, great mood instability and paranoid delusions, panic attacks and severe depression.

Stopping acute cocaine use is very difficult, because this drug brings a feeling of well-being. The behavior of a cocaine addict is akin to paranoia, because he is convinced that he has the right reasoning and that his actions are right. Weaning is very difficult, because the memory of pleasure remains for a long time, months or even years after the cessation of consumption. A relapse during this period is very likely.

After reading about the effects of these drugs, you might have been able to make the connection with Rafe, the fact that he took drugs to "feel better" and forget his discomfort. Maybe you went through it too, or not, anyway even if it partly made him so unpredictable and irritable in his actions, basically it proves once again that it was only one more misunderstood teenager, who also wanted to taste happiness.

Besides, I mentioned paranoia vis-à-vis cocaine, which I will develop from now on.

The person with paranoia is suspicious, they feel constantly threatened and persecuted. She interprets situations, words, behaviors in an erroneous way. A word or a look can be enough to awaken in her the feeling of persecution. There are several theories aimed at defining the causes of paranoia. Some claim that the disease results from a narcissistic wound, a long-standing wound that the subject has kept buried deep inside him and which makes him particularly vulnerable. Others argue that brain microlesions are the cause of the disease. Head trauma, alcohol or drug use, stress or lack of oxygen to the brain could be responsible for these lesions. Note that Rafe started to really lose control when he killed Sheriff Peterkin, but that already before when he was on drugs he tended to show signs of paranoia.

The main symptoms:

- Exaggerated distrust

- A paranoid person is convinced that the people around him seek to deceive him, exploit him, harm him, manipulate him.

- The doubt

- She doubts the friendship, fidelity, benevolence of those around her, family, friends or professional.

- The tendency to secrecy (The paranoid person confides very little fear that what she says will be used against her)

- Negative interpretation (A word, a sigh, a silence, an action, a banal behavior, everything is interpreted in a negative way. The paranoid person interprets everything and believes he sees humiliating, aggressive, threatening innuendoes everywhere.

- Resentment: Feeling (most often wrongly) hurt, humiliated, used, even insulted, this person does not forgive the person he considers to have been aggressive towards him

- Aggressiveness: This person, feeling constantly threatened, humiliated, hurt, easily reacts with anger or aggressiveness, a reaction that is often incomprehensible to those around him.

- Suspicion: The entourage is suspected of deceiving, of plotting. Also come into play: - An overvaluation of oneself and undervaluation of others;

- excessive pride;

- tyrannical authoritarianism;

- the absence of self-criticism;

- a disorder of social relations;

- passionate reactions to real or supposed events: threats of lawsuits, money affairs, rivalries

- major depression with the possibility of violent action (murder or attempts)

One scene in particular caught my attention when I thought about paranoia was when the police arrive and Cameron is with his dad, in a state of shock and completely disconnected from reality after the murder he comes commit. He tells his father that the pressure is too strong, that he will not be able to get away with it, that he has terrible scenarios going on in his head. Since this episode, he has become twice as violent, twice as aggressive, nothing takes on disproportionate dimensions, he lives in constant fear and guilt. From there we have seen the rise in power of his anger issues, his excessive violence (in his vocabulary, by knocking into the walls, by trying to kill several times) There are a number of emotions that go hand in hand with anger. You may notice the following emotional symptoms: irritability, frustration, anxiety, rage, stress and feeling overwhelmed, guilty. Once again these are character traits very present in Rafe.

On the other hand, before making my conclusion I would like to give you my opinion in relation to the statuses of psychopaths and sociopaths that people tend to give him. For me, these two terms are used excessively, to such an extent that we do not know exactly what these two pathologies are linked to. Because of the world of entertainment, films, series, books, the term psychopath or sociopath is used in all directions, most of the time simply to describe a person who is overwhelmed by his emotions, who does not fit into social norms and unpredictable, often led to kill, torture, kidnap etc. Very often your favorite characters have many pathologies, but none of them are psychopathy.

Why do I think Rafe is neither a sociopath nor a psychopath?

*note that the two pathologies are very similar, we will tend to distinguish sociopathy by more impulsiveness, and linked to the social environment, while the psychopath, will plan and be more in the observation (Joe Goldberg in You can be an example, although there are many other disorders), the psychopath is explained by a mixture of psychological, biological, genetic and environmental factors. The term psychopathy has disappeared from the classifications of mental disorders, but it is still used to describe a complex personality disorder, now called antisocial personality disorder.

Among the main symptoms are:

- inability to conform to laws and social norms

- the tendency to deceive for profit or pleasure (indicated by repeated lies, the use of pseudonyms, scams)

- impulsiveness or inability to plan ahead - irritability or aggressiveness (indicated by repeated fights or assaults) reckless disregard for one's safety or that of others

- persistent irresponsibility (indicated by inability to hold steady employment or meet financial obligations)

- the absence of remorse (indicated by the fact of being indifferent or justifying oneself after having hurt, mistreated or robbed another)

Admittedly, the symptoms highlighting violence are found in Rafe, but the big difference between him and the profile of the psychopath is the feeling of guilt. Many times in the series, we can see how Rafe is consumed by remorse, how guilty he feels. The psychopath does not have access to this emotion, he has a total lack of empathy and does harm for pleasure. He never questions himself. Again, Rafe is not violent for fun, he did not kill Peterkin for fun, he blamed himself. He knows he's a bad person and completely destroyed by his own actions, which he still tries to hide behind his mask of a cold and powerful man.

Conclusion

Here is my conclusion on this character, in my opinion underdeveloped: Rafe Cameron went through traumas in his life that had significant emotional consequences on his life. These psychic traumas are like open wounds if we do not treat them, they follow us as we grow and can get worse, triggering trouble after trouble and deeply affecting our personality. Since our identity is forged until our 7-8 years generally, a toxic environment during childhood is the cause of most of our problems as adults or adolescents. Here with Rafe, we could see how favoritism can totally destroy a child, as well as his life in the long term if he does not heal from this wound. I may sound mean, but no parent is perfect, and even if you love them, some of the hurts you have today were caused by them without you even knowing it. An injury can come from even a very small remark, a very small detail that was made to you. And yet this little detail will follow you for years, until sometimes you have a behavior that does not look like you. Yes, if Rafe is like that today it is the fault of his father, Ward. The fact that he is not known his biological mother is surely also hard for him. He is a young man in pain, haunted by himself, who has a deep unhappiness.

He's not a psychopath, he seems anxious, guilty. He has a wound of betrayal and injustice, vulnerable narcissistic tendencies, a paranoid personality, drug addictions and anger issues. He's not inherently a bad person, he just never experienced a healthy environment and genuine parental love. Now I'm not saying he's forgivable, he tried to kill half of the protagonists, including his own sister. He killed the sheriff too. His violent acts, his impulsiveness and his hatred for pogues (which again I believe is closely tied to his father) makes him a "bad guy" that most outer banks fans describe as "loathsome" and I can understand it.

Nevertheless I think for my part that he is a complex and deep character who could have been better developed in order to not just show this "psychopathic" side to the public but precisely the aspect of the lost and wounded man that he is. . I hope season 4 brings him a healthier environment and better development :) even a love affair with Sofia (apparently confirmed)

I hope you liked it and that it helped you better understand this character! Do not hesitate to give your opinion in comment and to like!❤️

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tloubraininfection · 1 year

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“Grey skies for months, would you still be here?”

I keep going back to Joel`s speech about failure from episode 6, becasue it gets me every time. I remember watching it the first time and wanting to reach through the screen to shake him and to tell him how wrong he really is. Cause I know a thing or two about failed parents, so I can tell you with a degree of certainty that Joel never was one. He was never perfect and he`s made a ton of mistakes, but he was not a failure either.

The only problem is he set an impossible standard for himself after Sarah`s death. His idea of good parenting is keeping a kid alive and safe from any danger, always and no matter what. It means being a superhero biting the bullet, predicting bad things and stopping them from happening, making right decisions every time, not having to sleep or eat, not getting hurt, tired or old. Everything else, like bringing comfort to your child, being emotionally available to them, showing them the world, teaching them, loving them, caring for them – none of it matters now. None of it would`ve saved Sarah`s life so what’s the point, right?

Only those are the most important qualities. And Joel offers them to Ellie from the very beginning. It’s like he can’t help it, even when he’s trying to keep his distance it`s amazing how attuned he is to her how much attention he pays to her. He notices when she's cold, hungry or tired, he can sense when she's scared or uneasy. He tries his hardest to shield her from actual danger, but also from discomfort or unpleasantness. He teaches her things, necessary skills to help her survive sure, but also just answers her questions about the world best he can.

And Ellie mirrors it right back at him. I think that’s exactly the thing that draws her to him, makes her efforts to befriend him so relentless. With million questions, shortening the distance between them and making it her life purpose to make him laugh, to unfrown that brow even if just for a second. She relishes the care and attention he gives her and she wants to give it back. It`s not the violence she`s activated by, it’s the kindness. She notices he's not hearing that well on his right side and she tries to accommodate that, she sees him passed out and she lets him sleep, even against his explicit wishes, because he needs rest. She wants to be useful, she wants to share some of the burden, she wants to be part of the team.

But Joel is reluctant, because he wants her to be a kid in the way she will never be allowed to be. Not in this world. And he knows that, yet he desperately wants to carry every burden by himself. To let her help would be to fail, to admit he is not invincible, to admit that he`s just one man. And as such he can only fail, sooner or later. The thing is parent-child relationship is all about failure. No matter how great of a parent, protector or carer you are, you won’t be able to watch you kid 24/7, the world is still going to turn as usual and things are going to happen. And some of those things are going to be really bad. What really matters is what happens next, that is what really defines a parent.

You don’t fail your kids when bad things happen to them, but you do fail them when you leave them to deal with the aftermath alone. That’s really all there is and still it makes all the difference. Someone to help you make sense of the world again, someone always showing you true north, reminding you who you are, someone telling you the same story over and over again and on bad days someone drawing the blinds on and just staying in with you. You can hear the snow settling on the roof, but inside it`s warm and you are both there and before you know it the sun is coming up again. It’s a new day.

Trauma jest not an event, but what happens to you because of that event. And how you`ll react to it, how it will affect you depends on many things and one of them is your environment. Do you have someone to catch you, to help you, to hold you? It’s nowhere near as simple as the creators of TLOU make it, “Joel saves Ellie emotionally”, cause that’s not possible, there is no saving or fixing. But patience, care and consistency of love make all the difference. Ellie saved herself, she survived David`s attack and she would`ve even without Joel. But having him there after the fact to catch her, to reassure her to be there for her is invaluable. And he will continue to be there as she moves past this, as she saves herself, lifts herself up. And she will.

But until she gets there Joel will be finding true north for her, singing her songs, asking her million questions and coming up with bad jokes and silly stories, hoping beyond all hope they will make her smile even if just for a second. He`ll make sure its extra safe so she can sleep and rest, but if that’s still not enough they`ll just stay up all night talking about sheep ranches on the moon. He will see her the way she is and always has been until she can see herself again too. It`s not medicine, but once again – it makes all the difference.

And if he`s a failed parent I wish every parent could fail their kid his exact way.

#listen #joel has many flaws #and he`s a complicated character #but he`s a good goddamn dad #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #tlou hbo spoilers #the last of us hbo spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams

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jones8040 · 1 year

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Article by None

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skinnyducky · 3 years

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made for you // v.h.

hello.. im sorry i havent been posting. school has been keeping me busy but i wanted to post this. this idea comes from @yelenasdarling so thank you ! i recommend listening to halley’s comet by billie eilish (as well as the whole album) bc that’s the song that is being discussed in this (as well as many others), so yuh. enjoy ! and i promise i haven’t forgotten about party @ y/ns !

vinnie hacker x singer!fem!reader

Word Count: 1408, edited

WARNING: MAJOR FLUFF LUV

---------

As the year was coming to an end, so was your debut album. For months, you’d been working with the best producers, musicians, and doing endless promo for this album and within a few days, you’d be playing it for the label. Obviously because it is your first record, you’re protective over it. No one had heard it besides the people working on it. So, you were a bit nervous to let your pleading boyfriend, Vinnie, tag along to the studio with you.

It was Friday, and you two had been chilling in his room when your producer, Sarah, said she needed you to go over it before the label meeting. As you bid your goodbyes to Vinnie, informing him of the reason for your departure, he pouted. “Why can’t I come?” he nearly cried, giving you his puppy dog eyes. Because you couldn’t resist them—and you just can’t say “no” to him—you allowed him to come.

Now here the two of you were, in the studio and listening to Sarah go on and on about how long it took for her to finish mastering it. Your manager, Jen, had came too. She had to hear the album for herself also. She couldn’t have her client looking a mess in front of her bosses. Bad for business and her reputation.

“…and after an hour or two of making sure your vocals were clear, I finally finish the album.” Sarah explained. “Honestly, this is probably the best album I’ve produced in a minute, and I worked on SZA’s album.”

“That good?” Vinnie asked with a smirk, leaning against the studio door. “That’s sick. I’m ready to listen to it.”

As that sentence left Vinnie’s mouth, you felt your anxiety overcome you. “Are you sure, Sarah? There has to be some sort of adlib I need to rework or something. Can’t be ready so soon.”

“Y/n, it can’t get any better than this. This is a solid project. I should know, I spent days listening to it over and over again. Trust me, it’s ready.”

“Besides, it’s too late to rerecord now.” Jen added. “The label meeting is next Thursday, and we don’t have a week for Sarah to mix and master all over again. Once the label gives us the greenlight, if there’s anything to tweak, you can do it before you have to submit the final project. But until then, no changes and no additions.”

You sighed, nodded your head. It’s not that you were afraid of it not being perfect. You were more scared of what Vinnie would think. I mean, he’s the one who inspired the album; more than half of the songs are about him. His opinion meant everything to you, and if he didn’t like an inch of it…that would destroy you.

As you were sulking and picking at your chipped nail polish, Vinnie wandered over to you where you sat at the soundboard with Sarah. He leaned against it and smiled down at you. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, keeping your head down. He scoffed and chuckled. “Y/n, you’re playing with your nail polish. You always do that when you’re upset.”

He pulled you up and took you out of your seat before sitting down himself and placing you on his lap. “Tell Santa what’s up.” He joked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m just nervous. This album means so much to me.”

“Completely understandable. It’s your first one, it should mean a lot to you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just because of that. It’s also because it’s about you. The only reason you haven’t came with me to the studio until now is because I didn’t want you to hate anything on this, and it would kill me if you did.”

“Y/n, look at me”—you finally met his eyes for the first time—“I could never not like anything you do. Especially if it’s dedicated to me. That’s like throwing away a gift you gave me. I wouldn’t ever do that. So don’t think for a minute that I’d hate this. That’s literally impossible.”

You smiled, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

“I know.” He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Play us the album!” He said dramatically, sending the producer into a fit of giggles.

She followed his orders and with a few clicks and the press of a button, the first song from your album rang out from the studio speakers. You watched timidly as Vinnie bobbed his head up and down as it went from track to track.

“This shit slaps!” He exclaimed as “Y/n Bossa Nova” played. He nearly about died during “Oxytocin”, claiming it to be god tier. Minutes went by until you got to the final track “Halley’s Comet”, and you were scared to play him this song.

While the other tracks were quite playful in nature, this one was different. The song was a bit cynical, but it was also like a love letter to Vinnie. Never before have you ever felt what you had with him. And at first that made you scared. But as the months went by and your relationship started to blossom, you realized he was the one for you. This was just your way of telling him that.

When it started, you looked everywhere but at Vinnie. It wasn’t just because you couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face, but also because this song was quite emotional. You didn’t want him to see you “being a little bitch” as you put it.

The sound of your soft vocals bounced off the walls and you felt Vinnie place his chin on your shoulder. His hold on you grew tighter as he swayed you two back forth. A small smile crept it’s way onto your face as you tried your best to stray away from crying.

“I’ve been loved before, but right now in this moment,” you sung, “I feel more and more like I was made for you…”

When those lyrics hit, you felt Vinnie stop swaying. Hell, you were pretty sure he had stopped breathing too. You didn’t know what to think about that; did he not like the song, is he shocked? What was he thinking and feeling? Shortly after, the song came to an end with you singing, “I think I might have fallen in love…what am I to do?”

And with that, the album finished. The room was silent, the only sound being your sniffles. Although that was broken when Sarah screamed. “Wasn’t that amazing!? Ugh, my power…I really outdid myself on this one.”

Thankfully, Jen understood the impact of that last song. “Sarah, why don’t we go get a Snickers or something from the vending machine?”

“I can’t eat anything fatty, Jen. You know this.”

Jen mouthed some profanities and threats at the woman causing her to shoot up from her chair and run out into the hallway. “We’ll leave you two alone for a minute.” Jen smiled, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Neither of you or Vinnie spoke and that somewhat was comforting. However, part of it made you feel insecure about the album, “Halley’s Comet” in specific. Out of all the songs, that’s the one you wanted him to like the most.

The silence soon grew uncomfortable, so you decided to be the first to speak. “Well, that was the album. What’d you think?”

He opened his mouth, but it was obviously he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I-I don’t know how to even put it in words.”

“That bad?” You sighed.

“No, never.” He laughed. “It was beautiful, all of it really. And that last song, that was amazing.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the grin wanting to break free. “You think so?”

“Yeah, it was definitely one of my favorites. To know I had that much of an impact on you, it’s really sweet. I didn’t think I could simp for you any harder than I do now.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“It’s the truth!” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “I love you, Y/n. I really do.”

“I love you too.” And with that, he laid a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips.

Pulling back, he said, “Oh and just so you know, I agree with you.”

“On what?”

“You were definitely made for me.”

#vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker

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lovinhub · 2 years

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FAR FROM HOME

Rafe Cameron x reader

Plot: Moving away from home had been a dream of yours. Finding yourself in Kildare, meant you were always bound to meet the infamous Rafe Cameron. What happens when finally he returns home?

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At 18 years old, moving to Kildare 6 months ago had been the biggest, most nerve wracking decision of your life. It came after you found yourself stuck in a loop of waking up, working, eating, sleeping. What a fucking bore.

‘I’m sick and tired of this crap’ you thought to yourself, laying in your bed as your 6am alarm screamed through your ears.

You’d known for the longest time that you’d wanted to do a few years abroad, although you never thought you’d actually end up doing it. Saving for a year was hard, ending up with £8,340 which exchanged to $11,400. The plan was to move, find a small job that allowed you to live and survive but also go on crazy adventures. It took roughly 3 and a half weeks of continuous searching, googling and flight comparing to land yourself at Kildare. It was a sweet little island, where you could spend your time relaxing on the beach most evenings. The perfect paradise had been found.

As soon as you arrived, you rented a room at a sweet bed and breakfast. After a few days, you landed a waitressing job at the Island Club, where you had met your new best friend, JJ.

You both clicked on your first shift together, having the same sense of humor, childish antics and both having the same carefree attitude. It wasn’t long before you knew you’d have to find a more permanent residence, which is how you found yourself sharing an apartment with JJ. He said he needed to get out of his toxic household and become fully independent. You found a nice 2 bed 1 bath apartment on the outskirts of the cut, around a 20 minute walk to work. It was perfect for you both.

JJ introduced you to his friends. John B, Pope, Sarah and Kie. Yourself and John B had a few jokes together, but he wasn’t someone you’d imagine hanging out with alone. Nether the less, you both knew you’d have each others backs no matter what. Pope, on the other hand, you two had many inside jokes. His awkwardness and the way he continuously corrected everything became so humorous to you. Sarah and Kie were so extremely welcoming and excited to have another girl in the group. They made you feel so relaxed, inviting you out everywhere and making sure you knew all the gossip about anyone and everyone.

So 6 months in, you find yourself lounging on your sofa with JJ watching criminal minds, both with a beer in your hands. You’d started the show together, now made it a tradition to watching a few episodes every Monday night. You’d both never broken that tradition, and it will always stay.

“Did you hear Topper is throwing a party on Friday?” He said, slowing rising from the sofa to grab you both another drink.

“When doesn’t he throw a party let’s be honest” you said, happily accepting the canned beer.

“It’s to welcome Rafe back to the island, you know, Sarah’s brother” he said. You’d never actually met Rafe. The stories surrounding the island vary depending on who you ask. Some say he’s chill and laid back, others say he’s aggressive and loud.

One night, after a few too many wines, Sarah told you the story about Rafe. How her whole life she watched her father continuously put Rafe down for anything he did, no matter how hard he tried. It slowly turned into him getting into drugs. First it was alcohol, then it was smoking weed, then to cocaine. After his father found out, he sent him to rehab. His father thought there would be too many temptations back on the island, so demanded he went to their house in the Bahamas to work and fully recover. This weekend, he was finally returning home. You’d wondered what he would be like, and how he’d cope being back.

“We better go and give him a warm welcome home then shouldn’t we” you replied back.

————————————————————

Friday came around a lot faster than you thought. You’d worked all week in return for having the whole weekend off. You’d made a nice weekly wage in tips (possibly something to do with your irresistible British accent), which made you excited to go shopping for a new outfit.

“I’m meeting my best friends brother, I have to make a good impression!” You replied, after Sarah made a comment about you being too picky about a dress.

“It’s Rafe, he doesn’t care if you’re in sweats or a dress. He’s probably going to be too busy playing some stupid game, like beer pong” she retorted.

“Okay okay okay, this dress will do then” you said, eyeing up the pale, light green satin mini dress.

You’d all returned back to your place and got ready.

“So how’s Rafe feel being back” Kie asked, finishing off her mascara.

“He’s been back a whole 12 hours and my dads already at his neck. I feel so bad for the guy” Sarah responded.

After a few pre drinks, the boys left in their usual casuals outfits, whereas you three girls had all dressed up. Pope had offered to be the designated driver, as he’d promised to help his dad at work early in the morning.

The drive to Toppers house was short, and you could already slightly feel the alcohol in your system. It was just enough to give you a short burst of confidence.

“JJ, I swear to god, if you bring a chick back tonight you best pre warn me. I’ll sleep with my headphones in” you shouted through the car over the music.

“Y/n, it was one time! You woke up once! This is not a regular thing that happens” he shouted back.

“I’m just saying mate, I don’t wanna hear ‘oh yes JJ!’ ‘how do you know how to do that JJ’ ‘you’re the best JJ’ I don’t want to hear ANY of it !” JJ just responded by laughing, which made everyone else including you laugh.

“No promises sweetheart” he winked, as you rolled your eyes.

Once you arrived to the party, you could tell almost every teenager/young adult had turned up to welcome the infamous Rafe Cameron home. Walking into the party, you felt a few eyes stare at you. It was nice to be noticed, but no one ever caught your eye back.

After walking around and saying hello to a few friendly faces, Sarah stopped you both in the kitchen.

“Hey let’s go find Rafe, I’ll introduce you both” Sarah said, leaning into your ear so you could hear over the loud music. She held her hand out and dragged you through the crowed outside, where you found a group of people playing beer pong. You’d seen the odd picture of Rafe around the Cameron household, but nothing prepared you for the sight you were about to gaze your eyes upon.

You spotted him straight away. He looked more tanned, but I suppose 6 months on Paradise Island would do that to you. He was taller , more built than you thought. As you got closer, he turned his head to the side, causing him to look right at you.

“Hey Rafe, I have someone for you to meet” Sarah said pulling his arm, making his whole body turn to face you.

“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n” you said, waving your hand to say hello.

“Hey it’s finally nice to meet you. Sarah talks about you non stop on the phone” he chuckled, leaning in for a hug. It shocked you, but you happily wrapped your arms around him. He was warm, and smelt amazing. As much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away.

“you any good at beer pong?” He asked, pointing his finger to the table where the most recent game had finished.

“Any good? Babe I’m the champion” you replied, placing your small bag on the floor under the table. You and Rafe played a lot of games, winning a few and losing just one. You’d managed to walk away feeling the effects of the alcohol a lot more than earlier. You and Rafe walked away laughing, talking about funny moments from the games.

“and when Kelce had to drink the cup with a cigarette end in it” he spoke, causing you to laugh even harder as you reached the kitchen.

“Oh god that was hilarious” you responded, wiping the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You both stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, laughing and joking with each other. It all felt so effortless and carefree.

“Well I’m glad to see you two getting along” Sarah spoke making her way into the kitchen. She secretly knew you’d two would like each other. You both aren’t scared to try new things, which made you perfect as friends.

“Jesus Sarah where have you been hiding this girl” he said grabbing you both a drink.

“I actually think I’m gonna go home. It’s extremely late, I’m shattered from work this week and I’m planning on going swimming early “ you spoke, causing Rafe to stop making you a drink.

“Awh that’s no fun, I need at least another two beer pong rounds outta you” he pouted.

“I’m sorry guys! Next time I promise!” You knew nobody else would be leaving at this time, so you quickly shot JJ a text telling him you’d see him in the morning.

“How’re you getting home? Pope is currently macking on with that girl over there so I doubt he’d leave right now” Sarah said, averting your eyes across the room.

“I’ll walk, it’s no big deal”

“On your own? No way, I’ll walk you home. Where’re you staying ?” Rafe asked, refusing to let you walk alone.

“Just past the bridge, honestly it’s no biggie I’ll text Sarah when I’m home” you said, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.

“Well if it’s no ‘biggie’ then I’ll walk you” he retorted, obviously not taking no for an answer.

You said goodbye to Sarah, and promised to call her in the morning. You both began walking, and it wasn’t long before your conversation started getting really deep.

Rafe told you about before he went to rehab, about his mum, how he’d be when he was high. You’d never expected him to open up to you, let alone so soon. He asked you questions too, about England. The conversations weren’t like any you’d had before. You felt safe around him, and he felt the same. For some reason, he wanted to just vent to you about anything and everything. He’d never before wanted to do that with anyone. He felt like you’d just listen to him, and not try solve or fix him. It was true, you could tell he had a lot of emotions bottled up. Sometimes all a person needs is to have someone listen, not to hear someone voice their opinion.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself at your front door. You felt sad that the journey was over, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, but he seemed perfect. You’d wondered why his dad was the way he is with him, when all Rafe had ever wanted was to feel accepted.

“Thank you so much for walking me home, you really didn’t have to” you said, getting your keys ready to open the door.

“No problem, it’s nice meeting someone different in the island.” he said

“Well I’m glad to be that someone different. Welcome back home, Rafe” you smiled, giving him a goodbye hug. He gladly accepted it, only to hug you tighter

“Here, take my number and make sure you text me when you get home safe please” you said, holding our hand out for his phone. He chucked as he handed it over for you to input your number.

“Here you go. Good night, Rafe” you said, entering your home.

“Good night y/n” he replied with a smile. He felt so goofy, like he was 13 again.

You entered your flat, getting changed and taking your make up off. The walk had clearly sobered you up, and you made your way to the kitchen and popped the kettle on to make yourself a cup of tea. You couldn’t sleep without having one before bed.

As you settled into bed, you felt your phone vibrate.

[unknown number]: all home and safe now :) I like the sound of an early beach trip tomorrow, care to have a plus one? :)

You saved his number and responded.

[you]: good!! all depends, are u gonna be crazy hungover bcos I don’t think I can handle the moaning ;)

[Rafe] no moaning I promise…

[you] 6am sharp. and bring ur swim trunks

[Rafe] yes ma’am

You turned your phone off and finished your drink before turning over to sleep, smiling.

You’d felt happier than you had in a long time. You just hoped you would regret anything.

#outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe Cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #outer banks

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goldenroutledge · 3 years

Note

could you do 4,14, and 15 from prompt list d with sarah cameron and a female reader?? love ur writing btw 💚💚

lost in love

pairing: sarah cameron x female!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning(s): jarah doesn’t exist, kie & sarah also never fell out in this. also i changed the prompts a bit to fit the story. angsty but happy ending of course

summary: in which miscommunication tears you & sarah apart. a night stranded on a boat allows for true confessions to be made.

a/n: thank you!! and ahhhh this is one of my favorite requests i’ve ever gotten, the prompts are perfect for sarah 💚💚

sarah cameron masterlist

The boneyard was packed with pogues, tourons, and even kooks; each group being able to push all the drama aside to have a good time for the night.

And if there was anything that could get your mind off things, it was a kegger. Kiara suggested the idea after the stressful few days the group had been through, and it was a relief to feel your worries slip away.

Approaching John B and JJ, you stuck your head in between theirs and threw your arms around their shoulders. You laughed as they jumped at the unexpected contact.

“Jeez, Y/n. Don’t sneak up on us like that.” JJ warned, clutching his chest dramatically.

When John B didn’t say anything, you turned to face his concentrated expression and followed his line of vision. Straight to the one you despised most— Sarah Cameron.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

“We’re wondering the same thing.” The brown haired boy mumbled as the three of you watched Topper pick up his girlfriend and spin her around.

You pretended to gag in your mouth as she gave him a kiss. “I think I might barf.”

“No kidding. Isn’t that our beloved frosted tips?” JJ inquired, referring to Sarah’s new beau.

“Who? Topper?” You answered.

“Yeah. I didn’t know if it was him or not. A lot of the kooks look like living and breathing Ken dolls.” JJ quipped, taking a sip of his beer.

“Looks like he’s found his very own fake Barbie to match.”

“Ooouu, do I sense some tension?” John B teased at your jab to the blonde girl. “I thought you guys were friends?”

“Yeah. We were.” You emphasized. “As in past-tense.”

“What happened with you two anyway?” JJ asked.

A sigh fell from your lips before you swallowed the last bit of beer in your solo cup. “Sarah Cameron isn’t all she’s cracked up to be.”

After stating your opinion of the kook princess, you presumed your distaste for the girl was clear. Perhaps not clear enough, given the sight in front of you as you neared the Chateau’s porch in the hot afternoon sun.

Only to be met with her in your favorite spot on the couch.

“Care to explain what the hell she’s doing here?” You began, shooting each of the pogues' glares as you waited impatiently for someone to explain.

“Nice to see you too, Y/n.” Sarah muttered, eyebrows raising and lips pulling into a sarcastic, tight-lipped smile.

“We need her help.” John B informed hesitantly.

“Her help? What could we possibly need her help with?”

“Sarah got me into the Chapel Hill archives the other day. We did some research and we’re close to mapping a location for the gold.”

“What?” You queried incredulously. “Are you joking? You let her in on this?” Your eyes scanned the group for more answers, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to make sense of it all.

“All I care about is that her cut comes out of your share.” JJ shrugged, pointing to John B.

“What is going on?” You asked once again.

John B let out a sigh. “Sarah’s gonna help us. I know you guys aren’t on the best terms right now but-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you. You still invited her here.” You interjected. “So is this.. are you two like a thing now?”

“No.” They both answered in unison. “Look, Sarah and I are just friends. Okay? I mean I’ve been working at Tannyhill for a while now, and we get along great.”

“You’ve been friends with her? You know what, that’s almost betraying me just as much as she did! I already warned you about her. She’s no good, John B. I don’t know why you can’t just believe me on this one.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Sarah debated.

“Then go back to your precious mansion if you’re too good to be around me.” You sneered. “No one, other than John B anyway, wants you here.”

She scoffed, getting up despite John B’s attempt to make her stay. “Fine. If that’s how you feel, then I will. I’ll talk to you later, guys.” She told the rest of the pogues, making her way to her black Volvo.

“Y/n, what was that?” John B questioned.

“No, John B. You don’t get to ask me anything. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you need your head examined? What are you thinking?” You lashed out.

“Maybe you’re the problem, Y/n. You know I love you but damn— aren’t you the one always talking about how holding grudges is ridiculous?”

“I don’t hold any grudges. That doesn’t mean I trust Sarah, though.” You explained matter-of-factly. “And you know what else I say, John B? Once someone shows you who they are, believe them. I’ll never trust her again.”

“Come on, Y/n. I need you to be on board with this so we can work together.” John B pleaded.

“I am on board!” You reiterated. “As long as Sarah jumps off. I’m not working with her.”

“Whatever, Y/n. You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m reacting how anyone would if they had just been ambushed.” You stated. “Nobody was gonna give me a heads up at the very least?”

“To be honest... that is pretty unfair.” Pope added in your defense, to which you nodded in acknowledgment.

“I’m sorry for that, Y/n. But I knew you wouldn’t have shown up if I told you in advance.”

You sighed, plopping down on one of the patio chairs, closing your eyes in agony while letting your head rest on the wall behind you. “I would’ve rather you brought Rafe home.”

From the uncomfortable surprise reunion at the Chateau, now you were sure that your position on where you stood with Sarah was crystal clear.

The next evening, your phone pinged with a text from Pope telling you to meet him at your dock when you received the message. So you did, sighing as you changed quickly and made your way down to the water.

“Good evening, Y/n/n.”

“Hi, Pope. What’s the urgency?”

“John B and JJ are stuck out on the marsh and need a tow.” He clarified.

“So.. I’m here, why?”

“Uhh, mechanical.” He cleared his throat to punctuate the statement. “We need you for mechanical. Kie’s stuck at the Wreck tonight. Restaurant’s too busy for her to take off right now.”

“Ok. Let’s make this quick.”

JJ waved his arms in the air to greet you as your boat came close to theirs.

“What’s the issue?” You asked, taking JJ’s hand as he helped you onto the boat.

“Uhh, try checking the plugs. We haven’t tried that yet, have we John B?”

“No. I don’t think we have.” He answered, walking to the edge and jumping off along with JJ.

“Guys? Everything is fine!” You announced, only to turn your head over your shoulder and find them on the boat you just came from. “Where are y’all going? I need to go back home!”

The voice coming through the door of a compartment below you began to yell, just before the surface flipped up and revealed the distressed person previously trapped. Both of your expressions dropped upon seeing one another as you and Sarah started your expressions of rage towards the boys.

“John B! You can’t just leave me here, you dick!” Sarah spat.

“You don’t know what’s coming for you, Routledge! I’m gonna get you back for this shit!” You all but screamed.

“Sorry, ladies! You two have some issues to work out, a night stranded should do you some good!” John B mocked.

“There’s food in the cabin and JJ rolled a blunt!” Pope informed. “Try not to kill each other, please!”

“Oh, we will!” You shot back, flipping them off. They sped away, and you watched them until they were completely out of sight, the sun eventually disappearing with them.

You wasted no time in lighting the blunt packed by JJ, hitting it and exhaling slowly. “Well, this is gonna be a long night.” You passed the blunt to her, watching her hit it hesitantly before erupting into a fit of coughs. “First time?”

“Shut up.” She grumbled.

The two of you laid in your respective spots, staring up at the stars in silence. A long silence, one that felt like forever but more realistically lasted an hour. “Hey, Y/n?” She muttered.

“What?”

“Why aren’t we friends anymore?” She drew out slowly.

“What do you mean? You were the one who didn’t wanna be friends anymore.”

“Did I, though? Because that’s not how I remember it. You started pulling back first, actually.”

“What other choice did you give me, Sarah?” You asked, both of you sitting up to face each other. “You led me on.”

“Excuse me if I thought you meant it when you told me it was a mistake.” She pointed out.

“Of course I didn’t think it was a mistake.”

“Then what did you mean, Y/n? Damn, can you just explain it to me already? I’m sick of not knowing why you hate me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

You sighed heavily, eyes fluttering shut as you recollected, ready to be vulnerable if that’s what it took. Anything to move past this. “Remember when we snuck beers from your dad’s fridge that one night? And stayed up until sunrise watching chick flicks?”

“Mhm.” She confirmed, smiling softly as the memory came back to her as well.

“Do you remember the part where you kissed me?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I thought we were on the same page. I thought it meant something. Only to see you making out with Topper a few days later.” Her eyes scattered in confusion, soon reaching yours in disbelief. “Yeah. I saw you guys at the movies. When you told me you couldn’t see me because you were too busy studying.”

“Y/n, I-”

“Let me finish.” You gulped, moving on with your story. “I was so upset, Sarah. I swear I cried that whole night because I didn’t know what to think. So, when I came over the next day to give you back that shirt I borrowed, I just never bothered to come back again.”

« “So.. are you good for midterms?” You asked Sarah.

“O-oh, yeah. I’m sure I’ll do fine.”

“I wish we could’ve studied together.” You admitted disappointedly, clutching the shirt of hers you held in your hands behind your back. One she had loaned to you because you felt uncomfortable at the beach one day. That gesture meant a lot, though it was only something a friend would do for a friend.

“Yeah. Maybe next time. But um- I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“You know our kiss the other day?” She mentioned, staring down at her feet but glancing back up to your eyes momentarily. Hers filled with worry and a hint of regret, your stomach swirling with the same hurt it did the previous night.

“Oh.” You started. “Don’t worry about it. We were both pretty drunk, right?”

“Yeah.” She let out, relieved but disappointed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t make anything awkward between us.”

“Of course not. Mistakes happen.” You reassured, heart panging as you said it.

“Okay. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” She nodded, giving you a smile. “Do you wanna stay for dinner? I have a lot to catch you up on and Rose is making your favorite!” Sarah exaggerated with a hopeful look on her face.

Meanwhile you blinked back a few tears, shaking your head in objection to her offer. “No thank you. I’m not staying.” You pulled the shirt from behind your back. “I saw this in my laundry and figured I’d return it.”

Truthfully, you knew exactly where that damn shirt was, but it reminded you of Sarah so you didn’t mind holding onto it. Until being reminded of Sarah wasn’t so ideal anymore. Seeing her so happy with Topper— when she had just kissed you not even a week before— made jealousy course through your veins.

“Oh, you don’t have to. You wear it better than me, anyway.” She complimented.

“No, really. Take it back.” You insisted, placing the shirt in her hands. “I should get going.”

“Oh, okay.” She followed your rather fast trail through the home and down the spiral staircase to the door as she always did. Instead of turning around to hug her like normal, you shortened the moment to a small peering halfway over your shoulder, bidding her goodbye sorrowfully.

“I’ll see you around, Sarah.” »

Tears pricked your eyes at reflecting on that morning, looking at Sarah whose jaw slightly hung open as she couldn’t find the words to say. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I should’ve told you about Topper.”

You continued to look down at your hands, ignoring the burning feeling that twitched in your nose to the point of bringing on more tears. “It’s alright. Everything’s over now.”

“But I need to tell you that kissing you wasn’t a mistake.”

“You agreed with me that it was, Sarah. You don’t have to backtrack now.”

“Did you like me?” She blurted, disregarding your comments. “Is that why you were so upset?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me. Before we fell off. Please, be honest.”

Her eyes wore a pleading look that you couldn’t help but give into. No thanks to the blunt you’d smoked, definitely allowing you to be more open than usual.

“Yeah. I did. But you didn’t like me back, Sarah.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

“Because you’ve never shown any interest in me beyond friendship!” You snapped. “Besides kissing me but you were drunk. That doesn’t fucking count.”

“It did to me, Y/n.” Sarah confessed. I went for it because it felt right, because I genuinely wanted to. And when I did, I felt something a whole lot more than friendship.”

“I couldn’t tell.” You muttered.

“When I realized it, I got scared and I ran. I couldn’t deal with it normally, so I ran to Topper because it was easy. And as time went on, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Y/n. A-and it just got worse. I needed you, my best friend. And I’m pretty sure I needed even more than that in you, too. Because everytime I remembered you weren’t around I kept thinking I might cry.”

You drew in a breath of fresh air, trying to keep your tears at bay. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“I don’t know what else to say, Sarah. I miss you, though.” You gave her a soft smile to which she gave one back.

She reached over and wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you into a soothing hug. “I miss you, too.”

You rested your foreheads together before her lips were hovering over yours, only for you to pull away.

“What about Topper?”

“What about him? We broke up.” She stated with a grin, eyes lighting up at the smile now spreading across your face.

You leaned in and kissed her, with far more passion than any of the other times. It took Sarah no time to reciprocate, indulging in the long awaited moment. Pulling away for air, you pulled each other a little closer before lying comfortably under the stars.

“I don’t wanna rush into this, Sarah. I want to be with you but we need to work on some things.”

“Okay. As long as we’re together, I don’t care. I’ll be here for however long it takes.”

The sun rose sooner than you would’ve liked, and as a result you had to unravel yourself from the blankets and Sarah’s arms. The boys didn’t waste much time in coming to get you, anxious to see if you and Sarah made any progress.

“Rise and shine!” John B sang cheerfully. You and Sarah stood at the edge, grimaces displayed on your faces as you looked at the boys.

“Uh, oh. This can’t be good.” JJ piped up.

“So.. you guys didn’t kill each other. That’s a plus.” John B acknowledged with a shrug.

“Did you guys work it out? Are you friends again?” Pope asked, reaching his arm out for you to step back on the boat. You and Sarah smiled at each other and winked, everyone anticipating your answer.

“Something like that.”

a/n: i kinda had no idea where i was going with this but i hope you liked it!

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @starrycigarettes @eifhames @outerbankies @pogueslandia @kaysapogue @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @maybanksslut @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @sunnymaybank @amourslover

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron obx #sarah cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks sarah #sarah outer banks #outer banks imagine

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jbbarnesandnoble · 2 years

Text

Hearts in Secret: Epilogue

Pairing: King!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Readers

Summary: A year after their wedding, James and Y/n visit the place where it all began

Warning(s): Fluff, so much fluff it might make you sick, a poorly written wedding scene, questionable writing

Word Count: 3,021

Prompt: "Do you even know my name, screw boy?"

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: this is it, the ending to one of my very first fics... I almost cried writing it. there were a few times i had to go back to old chapters for reference and I got hit with so much nostalgia... I know it's not the most well-written fics out there but my days, it is so important to me. bucky and y/n in this fic are my favorites, I adore writing them. I'll miss them so much. i know it took a while to get here, but I appreciate all of your support! I'm sorry for all of the delays. But I am so thankful for everyone who has read and commented on this series! ily all! also know the delays on the final part were for the best, because this is the only way I could have thought to end the series

(not my picture)

Four Months Later.

The most anticipated event of the year is here and the princess' nerves cannot bear the anxiety that comes with it. She is, of course, excited. However, the thought of all those people watching her and Bucky share an intimate moment such as this, feels wrong. As if this wedding is meant for her and James alone. It’s fitting for their service to mirror how they met, just the two of them. But alas, that cannot be the case. The King and Queen would never approve of it.

"You are nervous my dear." The older woman strokes the princess's hair as she speaks. Nimble fingers work gently to detangle small knots.

"I should not be. I should be excited." Y/n mumbles. Disappointed in herself for feeling the way she does. As hard as she tried, she has had no luck in shaking away her anxiety. Even if she is able to find a distraction, it never seems to last for long.

"It is your wedding day. It would be strange if you were not nervous." Queen Sarah's voice is calm, reassuring as always. Her mother’s steady hands comb through her hair, noticing the vase of baby’s breath on the desk, she places a few in the braids crowning her head. Y/n leans into her mother's touch.

"Were you?"

"Nervous?" The queen asks though she already knows the answer. Then she laughs, as elegant as ever. "More than you know my dear." Y/n has heard the story of her parent’s wedding more times than she can count. However, the queen has always left out her true feelings going into her wedding day.

"Had it not been for my mother I would have hidden away in the gardens." She smiles fondly, her blue eyes are distant as she remembers that day as if it had taken place last week.

"I was so nervous, my ladies in waiting were not able to do anything to help me get ready. I would not stop moving." The two women laugh as Queen Sarah, she finds her mother’s story reassuring. It calms her knowing that even the effortlessly perfect Queen Sarah gets nervous, allowing her emotions to get the better of her from time to time.

_______

"How are you feeling, James?" Steve asked the anxious man in front of him. A second passes him by before he mumbles out some sort of answer, which Steve does not hear. Nervous hands fidget with the cuff of his sleeve, adjusting them for the seventh time in an hour. James stares at the large castle that his soon-to-be wife has called home her entire life. He wonders how it must feel, knowing she will not be able to call it home after today.

“Nervous, I suppose.” He pauses for a second, though it feels to be hours to him. “Although I feel foolish for feeling that way.” He admits, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. He ducks his head and a few strands of hair fall into his face.

Steve's hand clasps onto his shoulder, giving it a few squeezes before reassuring his friend that everything will be okay. Before James has the chance to share more of his concerns, a royal carriage arrives in front of them, the horses whinny as they are halted to a stop. A few seconds pass before the footman opens the coach door. Queen Sarah is first to step out, grabbing onto the footman's outstretched hand, she descends the steps of the coach.

Gravel crunches under her heel as she walks over to where the two men stand, a radiant smile on her lips. Her dress is long, flowing, and the most beautiful shade of scarlet. She greets both of them, first hugging her son, then her soon-to-be son-in-law.

“You look stunning,” Steve greets her, wearing a smile that mirrors her own.

James waits anxiously, poking a shoe at the gravel, waiting for his bride to exit the carriage. What feels to be an hour passes before the footman outstretches his hand. Before James’ mind has a chance to catch up with his body, he is running towards the carriage, blue eyes fixated on its golden details. Stopping next to the young boy, he insists he can take over for the time being.

Hand stretched out, she places a hand into his palm, fingers wrapped around hers, he carefully helps her down the stairs. Azure eyes meet e/c ones, standing inches away, he towers over her, making her crane her neck to look at him.

“I knew it was you,” she whispers, breathless and starry-eyed as he watches her, bright blue eyes scanning over every detail, he soaks her in, his hands holding her arms as if she were a delicate flower. She melts into his touch.

"You look…" his sentence trails off as he looks over every detail, he notes how the royal blue dress brings out the light in her eyes, long hair cascades down her back, two braids wrapped around her head creating a crown, baby’s breath standout amongst the h/c hair. She radiates light as if she were a goddess sent to earth simply for him.

“Radiant.” he finally utters, had it not been for their proximity, she would not have heard him. Long figures graze over ornamental jewels adorning the velvety material, hands resting on her arms, he gently pulls her closer.

“And you look handsome. Far more handsome than any other man I have seen.” She compliments wearing an easy smile. Her words are as honest and true as she is. When offered, she loops her right arm through his left elbow, they walk towards Steve and their mother.

"Are you ready, my love?" she asks, whispering so only he can hear her. He gulps, swallowing the lump in his throat. A nod of his head tells her he is, the look on his face says something else.

"I have been nervous all morning. Had it not been for Mother I might have run away." Her joke helps him to relax slightly. A bit of tension leaves his shoulders. A smile pulls at his lips, then he laughs, it is short and sweet but helps relieve them all the same.

Arm in Arm, they walk towards the royal carriage, prepared for them to be taken to the church. Behind them, Steve and their parents follow on horses.

James sits across from Y/n, eyes watching the scenery as they ride by. A comfortable silence falls between them.

As they near the cobblestone building, the minstrels begin playing a song they had been practicing for weeks. The congregation stands, out of respect for the king and future queen. All eyes on them, as they exit the carriage. Walking down the aisle, guests whisper good fortunes.

They ascend the cobble stairs, stopping in front of the priest. The band stops, the guests sit, and the priest begins the ceremony. Standing hand in hand, they vow to love each other through sickness and health, and for the rest of their lives. A promise which is sealed by a kiss.

One Year Later

She stands there, eyes closed and breathing in the cold wind; dancing across her face and flowing through her hair. The winter air is cold against her skin, a chill runs down her spine, one she doesn't quite mind. It had been far too long since she last left the walls of her new home, no thanks to the endless winter and the mountains of snow it brought. Although she would not call roaming the palace gardens leaving, it was as close as she had gotten in a long while.

The wind blows again, the slightest bit warmer than the first, there is a promise behind it, that the bitter winter shall soon end and will be replaced with the spring. Birds begin to chirp and flowers bud. Two more signs of the change in seasons. Another light breeze moves her dress as careful hands inspect a budding rose.

A voice calls out to her from behind, asking, "Are you okay, M’lady?" eyes snap up, instantly locking with blue ones. She smiles, “The roses are budding quite nicely this year.” her eyes drop down to the yellow rose between her fingertips. James drapes his left arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss onto the crown of her head.

Light grey clouds litter the afternoon sky, patches of light blue and rays of sunshine peek through, the wind blows them to the north. A young Cardinal flies past, landing on the branch of a Magnolia, the branch bounces from the new weight of the bird, making day-old snowfall to the ground, revealing flower buds, one more promise of winter’s end.

“The men confirmed the paths are clear enough to ride.” James comments, blue eyes watching the horizon, he pulls her closer before turning to wrap both arms around her shoulders, eyes staring into hers, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Arms snake under his cloak and tightly around his waist, warmth and the scent of pine greets her. She looks at him, taking in his appearance, cheeks and nose are rosy from the cool air,

“Would you like to go for a ride, m’lady?” his question is met with a blank face staring up at him. Arms wrapped around his waist, she weighs her options. He watches her as she thinks, it has been a year since they wed, yet James is still not used to having another presence in the castle. For years it had been him and his servants, guards, and the rest of the palace workers. He grew used to isolation after his parents death. But now he is no longer alone, he has his elegant, wise, caring, and incredibly beautiful wife to keep him company, which is a feeling he is still navigating. He thanks God for that fateful day they met in the woods.

“We have far too many responsibilities to be running off. Besides, we are not children anymore. It is time to grow up, James.” The blue-eyed man stares at her, face blank as if he does not know the woman standing before him. Where had the wild, carefree girl he met in a forest long ago, disappeared to? Who was this responsible Queen in front of him?

The smile he once wore drops, “Are you feeling okay, my dear?” he asks her, distress evident in his tone. Raising a hand, he feels her forehead with the back of his hand, her skin against his is warm, but she does not seem to be running a fever. He watches her another moment, hand cupping her face. Disappointment pinches in his chest, though he supposes this is for the best, he is king, and she is queen. To leave would be irresponsible.

A smile spreads across her face, so wide it almost hurts. “Do you truly believe that I would ever deny a chance to escape?” She questions, eyebrow raised, a smirk on her lips, she leans into his touch.

“Of course, I want to go. Had you asked me to run away I would have said yes, I will go anywhere so long as I am with you, my love.” Pink flushes his cheeks, embarrassed he failed to catch onto her jest. He sees in full now, the mischief in her eyes. Soft lips kiss his wrist. He finds reassurance in her touch.

“I thought you might be ill,” James admits, a chuckle leaving past his lips, he laughs to hide the worry he felt. He pulls away, just enough to take her hand into his, urging her to follow him to the stables.

Tacking up the horses takes longer than usual, while Y/n is on the lookout, James gets them ready. They must not be as discreet as they once were, because a few maids and a royal guard, who has been working for no more than a month, walked past. Peter, a young stable boy, asked them why the king and queen were preparing the royal horses themselves. To which James told him they had secret, royal business to attend to. The white lie made laughter bubble in the queen's chest, she did well to hide it behind her hand.

Bucky rides down a path his wife is not all that familiar with. She follows him, no questions asked, considering that she is still learning the lands, she does not have much room for question. Patches of snow cover the ground, mixing with mud as it melts. Budding trees surround them on either side as James rides down a narrow path, leading into the forest. The deeper into the forest they ride, the more she recognizes her surroundings. A small smile begins to pull at the corners of her lips. Old memories of a different life flood her mind.

A small brook babbles as they ride next to it, chunks of ice and snow flow downstream. A young deer stands by the water’s edge, ears alert as the king and queen ride past. The sun shines through the edge of the forest, golden rays illuminate the ground, reflecting off of patches of melting snow. Past the trees, they ride into a familiar field. At The top of a small hill sits an old Oak tree, a full-blown smile spread across her lips at the sight of it. Though the leaves have long since fallen from its branches, and it seems to have grown since the last time she had seen it, she is pleased to know it has not changed much in over a year's time.

Calling out for James, Y/n pulls Luna to a halt. He follows suit, circling around to stand next to her, leg brushing against hers. Windswept hair blows into her face, covering her eyes, the blue-eyed man leans across his horse, tender fingers brush the strands out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

“What is on your mind, M’Lady?” A gust of wind blows through them, making the trees sway, as if they were dancing to a song only they knew. His hand slides down from her face, leaving them to rest atop her hands. The look in her eyes and the flash of her smile is one he knows all too well. He mirrors her smile, with a squeeze of his leg and a slight pull of the reign, he urges Apollo to turn around, the horse whinnies from underneath him.

“Whenever you are ready, my love.” She readies herself, eyes trained on the hill in front of them. In one swift movement, she urges Luna to move, to run towards the Oaktree. Adrenaline and freedom surge through her veins, feelings she had nearly forgotten about. The last time she had raced was with James, she missed the way it made her feel, the freedom it gave her. She missed the wind whipping through her hair and the chill of the wind against her face.

She realizes at that moment that she began to grow accustomed to living in James’ Kingdom, her kingdom. The need to escape, to run away from her royal duties, they have left her. The desire for independence, liberation from being a queen, she does not care about such things anymore. Because now, she has found someone who makes palace life bearable. She has someone who understands her wishes, yet encourages her to continue down her path, no matter the trials that come their way. If at some point any of that were to fail her, if his love and encouragement were not enough for her any longer, she knows that he would run away if she were to request it. No questions asked.

James rides ahead of her, but with a squeeze of her leg, she prompts Luna to go faster. Seconds before they reach the tree, Y/n races in front of him, beating her husband.

“I do believe that makes us three to six.” she declares, recalling their previous races. James gasps, handheld on his heart in offense as he stops a few feet away from where she sits on Luna.

“I beg to differ.” He debates, his mind runs back to their race, there is no doubt he had five wins, she had three. Eyes trained on her as he dismounts, leaving Apollo to eat from a patch of grass, he walks over, handheld out for her to take if she desires. Her touch is warm against his cold skin when she accepts his assistance.

From inside the saddle pouch, Y/n pulls out a large blanket, the same one James had used the night she fell asleep on his shoulder. She had soon realized that was the first time she had allowed herself to trust someone, at least to the point of falling asleep on them. Letting her go for a moment, he spreads the green blanket onto the ground, over a dry patch of grass.

Under the protection of the large branches, they sit on that silent hill where their story began. Y/n tucked safely between James' strong arms, he holds onto her as if the breeze were enough to rip her out of his embrace. They watch, eyes trained on the distant skyline, as the sun hangs over the trees. Colors of ice blue and dusty red paint a beautiful portrait only nature could create.

Another wind blows and she sinks deeper into his embrace, he wraps himself tighter around her, protecting her from winter's bite. "I love you, M'Lady." he whispers against her neck, a shiver runs down her spine at the sensation.

"I love you, Buck." she whispers back as he litters her neck with soft kisses. It is there, in that place of solitude and isolation where they find their peace. It is atop the hill where they first discovered love, where they realized they were two lonely souls seeing affection rather than freedom. It is underneath the Oaktree where they found they were simply two hearts in secret, waiting to be discovered by the other.

______

Part Five

#hearts in secret fanfic #his fanfic #rae writes #king!bucky barnes x princess!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #king!bucky #princess!reader #royal!au #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic

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tlcwrites · 3 years

Text

Consequence

A birthday gift for @paper-n-ashes

Summary: When you steal the Supreme Leader's sweater, there are... repercussions.

Word Count: 3483

Tags/Warnings: Kylo Ren x Fem Reader. NSFW, 18+. MINORS DNI; PIV sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, heavy dom/sub dynamic, praise kink, breath play, I'm probably forgetting other kinks but I finished this at 3AM last night and I'm not even sure that I used real words let alone remember what I wrote so if I missed any let me know and I'll update the tags, smuuuuuuut for daaaays, canon what's canon The Rise of Skywalker can go fuck itself mostly except for that beautiful white set of rooms on the Steadfast.

Author’s Note: It's my hetero lifemate @paper-n-ashes' birthday today (at least in my timezone for a few more hours so IT COUNTS sorry Sarah at least you got to read it yesterday) and she has been waiting SO patiently for me to finish this damn fic. I started writing it back in like November? Maybe even October? and have struggled so fucking hard with finding the mojo to finish it. Then out of the blue this week, said mojo came back and I figured Sarah's birthday was the perfect deadline. So, voila. And don't forget to go tell her how awesome she is.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SISTER IN THIRST AND SHAMELESS HOEING. I couldn't actually get you Kylo so I got you this instead. #throne room hair is the best hair forever the end

You’re perched on the sofa, open book on your lap, when the comm chimes. You can’t help your soft smile; it’s finally that time of the day cycle.

You don’t bother answering the comm, since it’s an alert, not a call. Closing your book, you rise and return it to the bookcase set into the wall of the lounge. With a gentle press, the hatch closes, and the bookcase disappears into the stark white expanse of the rest of the room, precious cargo hidden. Books are an expensive indulgence, even for the Supreme Leader.

Or whomever he choses to share them with.

You cross to the base of the stairs that lead to the chamber’s entrance and open a small compartment, also a part of the structure of the room. You toe off your slippers, setting them carefully inside the cubby. Your soft leggings pants are next, folded carefully. You start to remove your sweater as well, but hesitate. It is chilly. For all of the technology the First Order has amassed, you’d think they’d have figured out how to keep their Destroyers at a comfortable temperature.

You leave the sweater. He’ll definitely have an… opinion about it.

Now bare but for the sweater and your bra, so scant it hardly deserves the term, you take your place at the base of the stairs. The hem of the sweater brushes your thighs. Standing tall, feet together, hands clasped loosely behind you, you wait. You keep your eyes on the blast doors.

When the doors finally open, you smile softly. “Good evening, Supreme Leader.”

His cape billows behind him as he descends the stairs (he’s clearly inherited his family's flair for dramatics). As he reaches the bottom, you respectfully drop your gaze. His boots stop in front of you, your bare feet looking so small compared to his. But then again, everything looks small compared to him.

He raises a gloved hand and strokes the back of a finger down the collar of your sweater. “What’s this?” His voice is throaty and deep. As usual, it sends a thrill through you.

You keep your eyes downcast. “A sweater, Supreme Leader.”

“Clearly.” His finger continues down from the collar of the garment, caressing the soft rise of your breasts. “Perhaps I should rephrase my question.” His finger catches your nipple, and you can’t help but gasp. “What is my sweater doing on your body, when your body doesn’t have permission to be wearing anything?”

You finally risk a glance up. His face is impassive, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He’s amused.

You raise your chin. He loves when you’re confident. “It was cold.”

“Cold.” The finger continues to tease your nipple through the fibers. “In space.” The tease turns into a flick, and you barely smother your gasp. His lips twitch. “Imagine that.”

He’s in a good mood. You decide to toy with him. “Perhaps I simply need something substantial to keep me warm, Supreme Leader.”

One eyebrow raises, ever so slightly. He’s going to play along. “Do you find my care unsatisfactory?”

“Of course not, Supreme Leader.” His finger has shifted to your other nipple. You take a shuddering breath. “I would never dare to question your wisdom.”

He shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you. “And yet-” He brings that accursed finger back up your sternum, tracing up your neck and ghosting over your jaw. “-is that not exactly what you’ve done by ignoring my directive?”

Kriff.

He passes the leather-wrapped digit over your lips, stroking the soft skin. “Nothing to say, pet?”

You drop your eyes again. “My most sincere apologies, Supreme Leader.”

His hum of approval reverberates in your chest. “I imagine they will be.” He applies the barest hint of pressure to your lips. “Open.”

You comply immediately, opening your mouth enough to allow his finger entrance. The leather tastes so different from his skin. He presses the thick digit inside, and doesn’t have to say a word as you begin to suck obediently. He adds a second finger and you can’t stifle your moan.

“Good girl.”

Two words. Just two words, hummed in that honeyed voice, and you can practically feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You glance up once more.

He’s watching you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Maker, you love his eyes. You can always read him through his eyes. He tries so hard to bury his emotions, but nothing can be hidden in their cinnamon depths. And right now, his eyes say that he’s about half a standard second away from losing what’s left of his famously little control.

Hmm. Time to have a little more fun.

You deliberately graze his fingers with your teeth, the leather of his glove supple under your bite.

His cheek twitches and you know instinctively he’s chewing on it. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he warns you.

Pulling your mouth off his fingers with a ‘pop’, you smile serenely up at him. “Whatever do you mean, Supreme Leader?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he purrs, dragging his spit-soaked fingers along the edge of your jaw, his own clenched as he tries to keep himself in check. “Careful you don’t get burned.”

Your smile becomes less teasing, and more sincere. It’s okay, you think, knowing he’ll be able to feel your emotions. You never guard yourself around him. I trust you, Master.

There’s a split second when his eyes search yours; for permission, for acceptance, for confirmation of that trust that you hold in him and that he holds in you. It’s a breath of a moment, but he leaves his raw self exposed.

He’s affection starved, your Supreme Leader, even if he’ll never admit it. Deep inside, where even his former masters couldn’t reach, is that little boy he once was; still desperate to please and be praised by those too focused elsewhere to pay attention, and terrified of disappointing those who do. It breaks your heart that he’s spent his whole life feeling so alone.

Your dynamic fills that void in a way he feels safe with. It’s on his terms. He needs your adoration; needs your worship. He craves the affirmation. No more abandonment and fear from those he should be able to trust most; no more abuse and gaslighting at the hands of those who are supposed to guide him.

Just trust, and love. Pure, unconditional love.

He presses his lips to yours.

You whimper into his kiss, pressing a hand against his massive chest to steady yourself.

In the next moment, he scoops you up, pressing you against the window and hooking your legs around his waist. You yelp at the coolness of the transparisteel against your back, even through the sweater, but he swallows your cry as he plunders your mouth.

“Kylo,” you whimper when he lets you up for air, but he ignores you, sucking a line down your neck to your collarbone.

“Get this off,” he growls, tugging at the neckline of the sweater. “Or I’ll take it off for you, and it won’t survive the removal.”

You let go of his shoulders, grasping the hem of the top and practically ripping it over your head.

His mouth is on you in an instant, those plush lips teasing one nipple at a time through your lacy scrap of a bra.

“Maker!” you gasp, flinging the sweater in the general direction of the floor and bringing both hands to grip his hair. Frantic fingers twist his dark waves. You could write sonnets to his hair. “Kylo!”

You feel the clasp of your bra come undone. He rips his lips from your breasts, and with one barely-there flick of his fingers, the undergarment is on the floor next to the sweater.

“Did you just-” It’s next to impossible to smother your giggle when you realize what he’s done. “I can’t imagine the Force is meant to be used for that.”

Kylo ignores you, although you’re positive you can detect the barest hint of a blush on his ears. But then you’re not paying attention to his ears, as he’s sucked one of your nipples back into his mouth and is grazing it with his teeth. Your moan turns into a shriek when he hooks his arms under your legs and hefts you higher against the wall, so it’s easier for him to feast on your flesh.

He shifts your weight to one of his massive arms, that paw of a hand gripping the opposite flesh of your rear as he brings his other hand back up to your mouth. “Open,” he commands once more.

You take the two still-gloved fingers as deep in your mouth as you can, gagging slightly as he presses on the back of your tongue.

His dark chuckle is breathless. “Such an eager whore,” he murmurs against your chest, your answering whimper going straight to his cock. Pulling his hand back, he nips the skin at your collarbone at the same time he drags the fingers you’ve just drenched straight through your swollen folds below.

“Do you even deserve my fingers, Pet?” He smirks as you drop your head back and moan. “Such a wanton little thing you are.” He teasingly traces a circle around your clit with just a fingertip, satisfaction growing at the sound the movement elicits from you.

“Master,” you gasp.

Without warning, he twists you away from the window, carrying you with ease to his desk. When he drops into his chair, he’s unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as he settles you on his lap and brings your core into direct contact with his cock, hard and throbbing beneath his trousers. The contrast of your nudity with his still-clothed body is intoxicating. He guides your hips to roll against him again, your moans simultaneous as your cunt makes slick the leather stretched taut over his arousal.

Already closer to his breaking point than he'd prefer to admit, Kylo clamps his teeth down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to break the skin, the pain working as usual to allow him to refocus his energy and reclaim control of his passions. Unhinged as his reputation is, there is part of his life the Supreme Leader rules with meticulous care- you.

He knows you love him, and you’ve declared time and again it’s unconditional and without reservation. Your submission is a gift he knows he will never truly be worthy of. Maker knows he adores you with every part of his long-shrouded heart. But the fear never leaves him. Decades of distrust and broken promises means he lives in terror of the day his tenuous temper snaps, and he horrifies you or, stars forbid, truly hurts you.

That dark voice lurking at the back of his mind teases him with a possibility somehow perversely worse than fear or injury: abandonment. That you’ll inevitably see him at his most honest; broken, contemptible. Unworthy.

He loathes himself all the more, because he knows if it comes to it, he couldn’t survive letting you go. He isn’t strong enough to endure the loss of the only light he still has.

Unaware of his internal torture, you grip the front of his gambeson and try to rock your pelvis against him, whining as you’re foiled by his hands still gripping your hips. “Master, please.”

Your voice jerks him back to reality, and your begging makes his cock twice as hard. “Something you desire, Pet?” he purrs, grateful you were too wrapped in lust to notice his momentary lapse.

“You, Master.” You can’t help a frustrated whimper as you try once more to undulate against him and are again prevented from doing so. “Please, Kylo, let me please you.”

He reburies his anguish, and smirks at you. “Very well.” He releases your hips. “Please me.”

As soon as he lets go, you’re sliding off his lap and on to your knees, scrambling to unhook his belt. He obligingly helps you open his trousers. You make quick work of the placket and draw out your prize, salivating as you pump his already-leaking cock.

He hisses as your mouth engulfs him. “Yes, just like that. What a good, good girl you are.”

A lewd moan escapes around his length as he fists his hands in your hair.

He doesn’t need to say another word. You can read it in his eyes, every filthy, dark thought as you bob your head on his shaft. How good it feels when you take his cock in your throat; that he knows exactly how hot and wet it makes you when he fucks your mouth; how knowing you’re waiting in his quarters to be used as his personal whore is the only thing that gets him through the day. You moan again, and one corner of his mouth twitches.

You know him well enough to recognize it as a smirk.

“As delightful as this is, Pet,” he finally sighs, a slight waiver to his voice the only indicator of how close you already have him to release, “there’s a different part of you I desire at this moment.”

Releasing his cock with a ‘pop’, you continue to stroke him with your hand as you beam up at him. “As you wish, Master.”

Your mouth and chin are wet with precum and spit. He drags his thumb through the mess and brings it to your lips, his cock jumping in your grasp as you wrap your tongue around the digit.

“Up,” he snaps.

Rising immediately, you can’t help your squeak as he spins you to face the desk and pulls you back onto his lap, impaling you on his cock with one hard thrust. You gasp, unable to cry out as all the air is expelled from your lungs. Your arms are wrenched behind you by invisible bonds, the posture thrusting your breasts out. You hear his low chuckle as he tweaks both nipples while simultaneously bucking his hips, eliciting a shriek from you.

Thick fingers twist into your hair, pulling you back until you're flush with his chest. His breath is hot against your ear as he snarls two words that have your cunt clenching in anticipation: “Ride me.”

No further encouragement is necessary. He works your body over as you rock in his lap, reducing you to a burbling mass of arousal. Releasing his grip on your hair, his hands make their way down your body, the leather feeling so kriffing good as he caresses every inch of you.

Plush lips drag against your jaw as he leans forward, pressing his chest closer against your back. He trails his fingers up your thighs while simultaneously dragging his teeth along your earlobe. The noise that escapes you is undignified at best, and positively libidinous at worst.

The bastard’s smirk is obvious against your heated skin. “My beautiful Empress,” he murmurs, licking a stripe up your neck.

You can’t suppress your panting as he nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I’m not your Empress,” you manage, your voice breathy with arousal as you continue to move.

“Mmmmm.” Kylo hums as his right hand trails up your abdomen to gently cup your left breast, those elegant fingers plucky at your nipple and making you moan. “Not yet.”

“Oh.” You squeak as he latches on to your pulse point, his teeth scraping over your skin as he marks you. His other hand drops to your core, fingertips stroking your folds as deftly as a musician plays a hallikset. You cry out as he deliberately ignores your clit, but your cry becomes a gasp as he abruptly slaps the inside of your thigh. “Kylo!”

“Feel how wet you are, little whore.” He pulls his hand from your cunt and wipes your slick across your cheek. “Only the most depraved whores drip like this.” When he wraps the same hand around your throat, you sob in euphoric bliss. His chuckle is low. “Look at you, reduced to a needy slut who wants nothing more than to be filled by her Master.”

You can’t help but moan as he tightens his grip, the other hand on your breast squeezing hard.

“Speak, Pet.” His order is hissed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Need you, Master,” you gasp, deliciously light headed from the lack of oxygen. “Need you to- oh, Maker!- need you to fill me, need you to fuck m-me oh!”

A squeal erupts as he abruptly thrusts up, hard, and proceeds to set a brutal pace. Helpless to do anything but take what he gives you, all you can do is wail and enjoy the desperation in his movements.

When he stands and surges forward, shoving you against his desk while still buried in your swollen heat, it’s just enough to send you over the edge and you crash into your climax with a scream.

Over your shoulder, you hear Kylo tsk in admonishment. “Oh, princess,” he chides, as you feel your Force bonds tighten even more, “you know better than to cum without permission.”

With that, he shoves you forward, pressing your chest flat against the thermoplastic and using his knee to spread your legs. You willingly comply, relishing in his hiss as he pumps into your wet, waiting warmth. He finally releases your throat, and the sensation of your cunt clenching as you cough is too much for him. His pace becomes blistering, each thrust sending your pelvic bone into the edge of the desk; speech is now beyond your power, incoherent babble all that remains as he obliterates your cunt.

The lewd symphony of your coupling is punctuated by his growls and your cries. You can already feel the crest rising anew and you beg for salvation. “Master, please!”

He grips the back of your neck, anchoring your head, snarling as he takes you with rapid, deep thrusts. “Do you think now you'll be able to follow instructions?”

You nod frantically, trying desperately to stave off your orgasm. “Yes, Master!”

His voice is deeper than ever, trembling slightly as he uses your body to chase his own end. “Tell me, my little slut; who owns you?”

“You, Master!” You can’t hold back the shriek that erupts from your lips as you feel that subtle tickling of his powers against your clit.

The sounds you’re making have him right on the edge. “You’re mine, all mine,” he sneers as you cry out once more. “Say it.”

“Yours, Kylo,” you gasp. “I’m yours!”

“You need to cum again, sweet little Pet?” When you frantically nod, he fists your hair and yanks your head back. “Do it,” he hisses next to your ear. “Cum for me. Now.”

You explode around him, screaming your pleasure. His echoing roar is your only warning before he slams into you a final time, ripping himself from your heat and snatching your body off the desk. You land on your knees just in time to receive his spend, splashing across your face and chest as he pumps his length.

---

It takes several moments before you can even start to become aware of your surroundings once more. In that time, Kylo has bundled you in your favorite cozy blanket, and cradles you in his lap as he smooths your hair back and murmurs sweet words of praise. His seed still decorates your body, and you preen as you feel his hands, finally ungloved, gently rub it into your skin as one more claim of his ownership.

Your contented sigh is what alerts him to your consciousness, and he can’t help his proud smile as your eyes slowly flutter open, or the chaste and caring kiss he presses to your temple. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A beaming smile is his reward. “Wonderful,” you sigh, and then giggle. “And filthy, in the best possible way.”

“As requested,” he slyly teases.

You notice that sometime during your torpor, he’s shed his gambeson and trousers, replacing them with soft lounge pants and the stolen sweater. Hooking your fingers over the neckline, echoing his own earlier actions, you tug gently. “Thief.”

He laughs, your favorite sound in the galaxy. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.” Your answering eye roll elicits another chuckle and another brush of his lips. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs against your forehead.

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” Your smile is soft as you raise your face, content when he understands the overture and leans down to press his lips to yours. A/N: Alexa, play "I Want Kylo Ren To Rail Me on a Desk" by Beyoncé or someone.

Likes and reblogs feed my dirty, dirty soul. I always want to tag mutuals but then I feel like that would be super presumptuous even though I love being tagged, so IDK I guess send me an ask if you want me to tag you in new writings?

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Yes captain

Note - this is part three of corrupting a good boy but it's mostly porn so can be read as a standalone as well. Sorry about all the jealousy stuff its just what the muse calls for sometimes. Comments/reblogs are really really appreciated🙏🙏 Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - You ask Steve to keep it on while doing it 👀👀

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, uniform kink, captain kink, daddy kink, roleplaying, jealousy, insecure reader.

Pairing - CEO!Steve x reader

Word count - 4.5k

“Ooo,” you yelped, trying to run away from his firm grip across your hips.

It only made him hold onto you tighter, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “There’s no where to run, babygirl,” he chuckled at your misery, delivering another harsh slap to your naked bottom.

You shrieked in pain as your flesh burned in agonising, but delicious pleasure. As if you’d ever want to actually run. “I’m sorry, daddy.” Since you were allowed to call him daddy now, which seemed to always make him forgive you, but you added your princess voice just to be safe and not make it any harder on yourself.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to make fun of my team, but you had to be a dumb baby and run your mouth,” he scolded you, slapping you twice before slipping a hand between your legs, the squelching noises of him gathering your slick on his fingers made your ears burn.

You had gotten too bored of him watching the game and not paying attention to you so you might’ve said some mean things about his team, but the jokes on him since your diabolical plan seemed to have worked.

You had gotten too lost in slight tinge of pain in the roots of your hair, that he was pulling, and his fingers teasing your core, you yelped forward when he slapped your pussy, gasping as you throbbed for more of it.

“Honey,” Steve shook your arm causing you to jolt awake.

You had a habit of talking or mumbling nonsense in your sleep and since he was a light sleeper it usually woke him up. He found your incoherent rambles and the little faces you made in your sleep cute, they were particularly intense tonight for some reason, and while he loved you with all his heart he was not about to let you talk nonsense about the Yankees.

“What? Where?” you sat up, rubbing the soft sheen of sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand.

“You were talking in your sleep, sweetheart,” Steve said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, “Come here.” He circled a hand around your waist, pulling you down and back against his chest, kissing the back of your head, “What were you dreaming about, hm?”

“Um...” you blinked, “How much of it did you hear?”

“You think your so clever, don’t you,” he teased, pinching the side of your hip as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m very smart.”

You shut your eyes, ready to go back to dreamland and to your daddy, who was just a version of Steve who liked being called daddy. Which was something Steve would never be into. Not that you’d ever admit to having such a shameful kink.

But you felt Steve grind his excitement against your ass, “You wanna go back to sleep, or...?” he asked, biting the shell of your ear before snaking a hand up your cami to grope your breast.

“You woke me up with such debauch intention?!” you gasped in fake incredulity. Deciding to indulge him and that any time spent with normal real Steve was much better than being with dream daddy Steve.

***

You fixed his tie, tightening it just a bit around his neck. His golden hair was smoothed back, your eyes caught a glimpse of his rosy pink lips. So pouty and perfect. You could spend hours just looking at them, his smile was what truly made you fall for him. But you pulled away when he tried to steal a kiss from you.

“Gloss,” you argued, puckering your lips. Instantly feeling guilty as his pink ones pouted, giving you his sweet puppy eyes.

“Come on, doll, just one kiss? Don’t you wanna wish me luck?” He bent to capture your lips but you moved your head away at the last second, making him groan as his nose bumped against your cheek.

“I spent over two hours getting ready for this!” you huffed, smoothening a hand over your puffy tulle dress, finally having a chance to wear it out in public.

“Did you just smudge my blush?” Gasping, as you looked into the mirror, picking up your rouge and patting it on again.

You loved the dress Steve had gotten you for Christmas, it was so pretty and princess and you felt like Cinderella wearing it.

But it was too... girl-ish, Steve had insisted that you wear it. So he could show off his beautiful new wife.

Tonight though, you had to look like a woman.

A strong woman.

Who is not to be fucked around with. And not someone who is vulnerable and weak.

Because you knew she was going to be there.

“You always look gorgeous,” he mumbled, looking in the mirror and patting his hair to make sure it was in place.

You had convinced him to grow it out. Having more courage to express yourself since the Christmas gift mishap a couple of months ago.

Tucking a loose golden strange behind his ear, you wondered how someone as breathtakingly as beautiful as him could be yours.

But as beautiful as Steve was, he could also be naive. He wanted to see the best in people, which often didn’t let him see what was right in front of him.

How his ex Peggy had been trying to cause problems between you two from day one.

At first she had welcomed you with open arms, with a treacherous smile her red lips had told you that she wanted to be best friends with you. Taking you to the MET museum, of which she was a board member, asking your help in organising a couple of galas and the fundraisers. Shopping with you to make you more presentable to be a CEO’s wife

You were prepared to be wary of her. The fact that Steve was still good friends with his ex, who he had dated for more than five years, didn’t exactly sit well with you, you knew you’d face some troubles there, but then you met her and spent time with her you knew that you did had nothing to worry about.

That was until she, and Steve’s mother, had tried to get you to sign a pre-nup before you both got married.

While Sarah was always nice, you could always sense a tinge of hostility, your intuition told you how she preferred Peggy over you and would much rather have her as Steve’s wife.

With a heavy heart you had told Steve you couldn’t do it. That there was no point in getting married if you would end up divorced eventually. You were ready to cut your losses then, to pack your bags and go home, preparing for the worst. But he understood and said that he wouldn’t be marrying you if he didn’t trust you.

You were glad to have worked out everything, but decided to play nice with ‘Judas', whom you learned had infamously betrayed Jesus from a mass you attended with Steve and Sarah, and pretend that you didn’t know anything about her betrayal.

You shook your head, there was no point in letting her ruin your night, or dictate what you wore. The dress was what you liked and who you were, there was no reason for you to pretend to be like her. Steve liked you because you were nothing like her,

....probably.

You looked over to Steve, tugging his pants up and securing them, you had never once thought you’d be someone who’d have a thing for men in uniforms, they were simply doing their jobs, what the fuck was sexy about uniforms anyway, but that was until you saw your Steve in his...

He really could pull off any color, even something as boring as army green, his chest and built looked almost too broad. Numerous medals adorning his chest. He certainly looked the part of a soldier.

He kissed your temple when he caught you staring at him and you only hoped he couldn’t decipher what was going on in that horny brain of yours.

Steve rarely ever talked about his days in the army. If he did it was about the friends he made and the good times he shared with them. And how army whipped him in shape, made him the man he was.

He had been honorably discharged a couple of years ago, all his army friends only ever spoke highly of him--which wasn’t really surprising.

***

“Hello, darling,” she smiled to you in her classy British accent, kissing your cheek before hugging you, “How have you been? Haven’t seen you since new years!”

“I’m good and you look amazing.”

Which wasn’t a complete lie, she did look elegant in her uniform, a lot similar to Steve’s but her coat had flares at the end which gave it a more feminine feel than that of Steve’s.

“So do you,” she beamed, “Oh, you have a little something,” she gestured to the corner of your mouth before wiping some white frosting from your cupcake off with her thumb as you tried to keep your face from cringing.

So far the strong woman act wasn’t coming along so well...

“So...how is married life?”

Wouldn’t you like to know. “It’s very good. You know Steve, he’s just amazing. I’m lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I did heard about your little goof with your erotica from Natalie, and the gift slip up!” she laughed, hooking her arm around yours, she walked with you towards your husband. “And here I was thinking you are a good girl,” she winked.

“I... guess I’m not...”

“I must say though, unfortunately for you I don’t think Steve would like any of that. He’s always been so traditional,” she rolled her eyes, “He has an old soul.”

Yes, you knew that. You knew that he was traditional and an old soul. Of course You did, he was your husband. Why she felt the need to point out the obvious was beyond you. “Well, you know people can be unpredictable,” you countered.

“Yes, well you’re free to explore of course, I just didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt,” she put a hand over yours.

“Peggy,” Steve greeted her.

“Oh don’t mind us. We’re just gossiping about you,” she smirked.

“Really?” he looked over at you with a quizzical face, “All good things I hope.”

“I don’t have anything bad to say about you,” you said giving Peggy a side eye, “Can we dance? Please?”

It didn’t take a lot of convincing because he loved dancing. After a couple of dances it was time for him to give his speech.

Seeing your husband up on the stage, hearing everyone talk about his accomplishments made your heart swell in pride. You really couldn’t believe you were married to someone like him.

You suppose that you understood where Sarah was coming from. It would make sense for someone like Steve to fall for and marry a classy worldly lady like Peggy. There really wasn’t much you could offer him.

***

“Steve,” you huffed, trying to yank on the zipper for like the tenth time, while you loved the dress you needed to get out of it and breathe for a while.

“Yes, doll?” he called for you, entering your closet, smiling at your struggling form. “How can I help?”

“You can get me out of this thing!” you said, turning your back to him.

You were really feeling yourself tonight, you had gotten a facial and a manipedi, a blowout, spending hours on getting ready for battle. You thought you looked good and fierce. But then you took off your makeup and your extensions and were reminded of how Peggy was much more effortlessly beautiful than you. She had often been dubbed as a ‘natural beauty’.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is something bothering you?” he asked as he unzipped you.

“No. Will you let me change now?” you turned around, to politely ask him to leave.

“You’ve changed in front of me before.”

“Yes, well I can’t right now.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

“Because...” You couldn’t stop your eyes from turning misty, “I’m ugly...”

“What? Who told you that?” His face instantly flushed with anger as he held onto your forearms, and when you didn’t push him away he pulled you in closer to his chest.

“No one needs to. I know it because I’m not blind,” you confessed, the cool metal of his medal digging into your cheek.

“Then maybe we need to get your eye sight checked. Because you’re the prettiest girl in this whole world. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” He stroked your hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You’ll have to fight the whole world then.”

“If it comes to that then I will.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how protective he was. Propping your chin up on his chest you blinked at him. “Why didn’t you marry Peggy? She’s so much more beautiful.” Your heart was heavy with so many emotions, usually you wouldn’t give in and ask something so dangerous--a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Judging by the frown on his face, you were afraid that you had upset him, but then it softened as his pale baby blues twinkled at you, “Why would you say that, doll? Peggy is beautiful, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I could never even dream of marrying anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to others.”

“You really shouldn’t. They don’t measure up to you anyway,” he teased.

“It’s just...” you gulped, not being able to hold his gaze you played with the olive green buttons on his coat, “I heard at the party from Tony, that she will be working with you from now on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“You don’t trust me?” his voice cracked.

You whipped your head up, frantically shaking your head from side to side, “No no of course I do! I’m just saying it’s a risky game. To be around her so much... what if old feelings resurface?”

Your heart almost broke as he let go of you, putting some distance between you both, “You know all I ever ask for is that you trust me... and love me. I don’t think it’s a lot.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, I don’t think me asking you not to work with your ex is a lot. No woman would be okay with her husband spending that much time with her ex.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t I get through to you?”

“Maybe try speaking at a fourth grade level. Then I’ll understand. Since I don’t have a masters in literature from Sorbonne,” you rolled your eyes. Maybe he was intimidated by how smart Peggy is and decided to go for someone younger and dumber.

“I’ve never... been in love with Peggy or anyone but you really,” he told you, his broad shoulders hunching as he let out a sigh, “Not the way I’m in love with you. We were always more like friends than... lovers.”

“Is that better or worse?” you wondered out loud. Isn’t it important for husband and wife to be friends as well? Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“It’s much better. We would go months without seeing each other, and I didn’t miss her. Like I miss you when I’m at work. I can’t wait to get away and come home to you. Peggy is amazing, and I’ll always have a special place for her in my heart, but I would never even think about cheating on you.

But... I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe I would react the same way if you were to work with an ex. So I can just tell her that she’ll have to work with Nat, or someone else.”

“No,” you blurted.

Absolutely not.

Because A - You really did trust Steve not to stray. He wasn’t that type of man. And B - That would be admitting defeat. Admitting to her that you are afraid of her.

“I do trust you, Steve. I think... I just need to work on myself. If we don’t have trust then we don’t have anything right?”

“I trust you too, honey,” he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to me about this stuff okay? You can’t keep it bottled up.” You nodded as he worked on loosening his tie.

“Um... is that uncomfortable?” you asked, watching him pop open the first button of his shirt.

“The uniform? A little. It’s been a while since I put it on.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear it at our wedding.” You smiled. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t. While he looked so handsome in the black tux he had worn, the uniform would’ve made him irresistible. You would’ve spent the whole evening swooning over him.

“It didn’t feel right, I just wanted to be myself. Uh... doll,” he quirked a brow as he caught you staring at his crotch, “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, “My eyes are up here.”

“Yes, um, of course,” you whipped your head up as soon as you heard him, since you were too busy trying to make out the outline of his johnson, “And what beautiful eyes you have!”

“Tell me something. What is your obsession with this uniform?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You decided to feign ignorance.

“Really? You’ve been staring at me all night. Do you not like it? Do you like it? Sometimes I think I don’t understand women at all.”

You probably would’ve appreciated his suit even more so if you hadn’t spent so much time festering in your jealousy. “I think... it’s... kinda hot,” you sighed dreamily as he blushed a crimson red. “You’re like this big strong Captain, and I’m like this small woman, like a damsel in distress type of thing.”

“Oh.” Was the only thing that he said. He never believed you would be into something like that, not from all the feminist rants you tend to go on.

“Oh god. You think I’m a weirdo, don’t you?” You put your hands over your face to hide it from him.

“No no, hey, don’t be like that,” he cooed, pulling your hands away so he could look at your pretty face, “I can be your... big, strong Captain. And you can be my damsel in distress.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. So... how would it work? Do I save you from a burning building or something?”

“No, sweetie. You’re thinking of a fireman.”

“Oh, right,” he blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “We can do the fireman thing if you like. I can... be a fireman.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know. But I want to. Come on! Give me something to work with.”

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “How about... you keep the suit on?”

“On for how long?” he tilted his head like a cute confused puppy, looking down at his suit, “Oh! You mean on while we’re...”

“Yes. And I could, I don’t know, thank you for serving my country.”

“Yeah. I mean medals and all are nice, but I want a special kind of thanks from you, doll.”

“Ooo,” you felt up his biceps through his coat and shirt, he really was strong. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” you asked, batting your lashes.

“Um... yes.... You get on your knees, miss... I mean ma’am, shit,” he cursed as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. “What do I call you? Are you my wife in this scenario?”

“You can just call me doll, captain. I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” you smiled, cheekily pressing your lips to his in a quick peck but he held onto your waist before you could pull away. Sliping his tongue inside your mouth.

“Alright then, doll. Show me how grateful you are,” he puffed his chest out, so he could appear a bit more dominant.

You only giggled, taking your dress off because there was no way you could kneel in so much tulle.

Standing before him in just a strapless bra and a nude thong, you were vulnerable, but not scared anymore. He was your captain, he’d never ridicule you.

“I’m already feeling appreciated,” he said as he ogled you.

You dropped down to your knees, unbuckling him with some help from him, “It’s so big,” you gasped when you looked at his length, pretending to be seeing it for the first time. Although, you were still always surprised with the sheer monstrosity of it.

“We’ll make it fit, doll. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he smiled, tapping on your mouth, “Open,” he commanded.

You’re a natural, captain. You took a deep breath before opening wide. You’d been having sex regularly for the past three months or so, he had gone down on you more times than you could count, you felt as if he could live between your legs if he could. But he had never once asked you to return the favor, you didn’t have it in you to be the first one to bring it up either.

Licking your lips, you tasted someone of the preejaculate leaking out of his tip before wrapping your mouth around his head, moaning at the salty taste and the essence of him.

“That’s... ugh,” he groaned, “That’s good. Keep going,” he spurred you on, a hand on the back of your head giving you the slightest bit of push.

You took as much of him as you could, stopping halfway through when he hit the back of your throat, you pumped the rest of his length with your palm, holding onto his thick thigh for support, you bobbed your head, increasing your pace when he started moaning loudly.

Rubbing your thighs together to relive some pressure, your throbbing core desperate for some attention and friction, you knew your panties were ruined.

You had read your fair share of cosmos, and the many sex tips they offered, you knew they’d come in handy someday. You swore you remembered reading something about balls... to suck them? Bite them?

You fondled his balls, feeling him tightening in your palm, you were ready to swallow all of you. That was the only proper way of saying thank you.

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you off of him.

You looked up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, doll,” he heaved, “But I gotta come in your pussy.”

Your jaw dropped, to hear the golden boy using such filthy language. “Whatever you say, captain,” you rasped.

Gasping when he yanked you up, pulling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bed before throwing you down on the mattress.

Although Steve had always been dominant in bed, it was somewhat lowkey and subtle, he was never rough with you, he treated you as if you were made of glass, right now he was treating you as if you were literally a ragdoll.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You followed quickly, desperate to have him inside you asap, rolling your thing down your thighs and then getting rid of your bra before he even had to ask. You looked at him through your lashes, waiting patiently for his next command.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Now touch yourself.” It had always been a wet dream of his to watch you, instruct you as you got yourself off. Since your intention was to please him... he might as well make most of it.

You blinked at him before nodding, “Yes, captain.”

Fondling your breast you pinched your nipple, pulling on it before hissing exaggeratedly, smirking when you saw his hand twitch to touch you.

“What do I do?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

He shook his head, circling a hand around your wrist he shoved two of your fingers inside your mouth, “Suck,” he told you. “You like having your mouth stuffed, don’t you?” he asked as you noisily suckled on his fingers.

You shamelessly nodded, hoping that you’d get more opportunities to suck his cock from now on, he pulled your fingers out, bringing them down between your legs, pushing them into your willing channel. His own thumb rubbing on your clit working you up even moreso.

You threw your head back as you felt your climax approaching. “So close... captain.”

But he pulled your hand away from your pussy, tutting at your disobedience, “I didn’t tell you you could come.” He shook your head, giving you a minute to catch your breath before pushing two of his, much larger fingers inside you, “Gotta get you ready, doll. Since you’re so small.”

“Oh! It’s too much...” you moaned, holding onto the bedding.

“How're you gonna take my dick then, doll,” you watched as he licked your slick off of his fingers, “You taste like heaven, honey.”

“Thank you, captain.”

He unbuttoned his coat, he would be much freer without it and fuck you properly like you deserved.

You rolled your eyes when he folded his coat setting down on the floor, when you were literally lying naked before him with your legs spread wide, waiting as his tie and pants followed, “Really?” you scoffed.

“Can’t have them getting dirty, doll.” He knelt on the bed, now only in his shirt, spreading your legs a bit further so he could make room for himself, nudging your intimate lips apart with his length before slowing sinking into you.

He stayed like that for a bit, inside your heat, it felt as if he would explode then and there but he had to savor the moment. To have such a pretty girl wrapped around him.

Hovering over you he placed his elbows on sides of your head so he wouldn’t put too much of his weight on you, and so he could look at your as he fucked you.

He moved his hips against yours, rocking slow and steady, “You like that, doll?”

“Yes,” you nodded as he pulled on your hair to bare your neck to him. Biting your neck to mark you as his, “Do it harder, please, captain.”

“Harder?” he spoke against your neck, pinning both your hands above your head as he started rigorously pounding into you. “That hard enough?”

You were too fucked out to give a coherent answer, or to do anything but nod pathetically and take whatever he gave you.

“Ima come...” you clenched around him as your orgasm washed over you, rendering you immobile and weightless.

He thrusted into you a couple of times before filling you up to the brim - just as he had promised.

“Thank you, doll. That was really nice,” he smiled, laying beside you and pulling you closer to him, he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, captain. You sure know how to treat a lady right...”

“Maybe we can do this more often,” he suggested as you nodded in reply.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Shout out to my friend lizzygal (you can find her on ao3) who gave me the idea of Steve folding his uniform. It was too hilarious to leave out! Thanks for reading.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#corrupting a good boy #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you

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sweetbitterimpossiblecreature · 3 years

Text

A Brief And Concise Summary Of Is Wrong With The ACOTAR Series

I think we can agree that a lot of ACOTAR is pretty iffy. Consider this a very brief refresher.

What's Wrong With Feyre/Rhysand (juxtaposed against Feyre/Tamlin)

Rhysand drugs and sexually assaults her in Book 1

This is "for her own good". Because he "has no choice". Despite the fact that, from what we know of the plot, Amarantha thinks that Clare Beddor was the one Rhysand was diddling, and is only interested in Feyre because Rhysand, "her" man male, has taken an interest in her.

If we extrapolate from this we can figure that Rhysand is the one directly putting her into danger.

Now, let's be clear: drugging someone is bad. Sexually assaulting someone is bad. One could argue there were extenuating circumstances. But if, in such a situation, what your mind goes to is "I know, I should assault this person... for their safety" I have questions about your moral qualities. There were a million things he could have done. He could have done whatever he did to Clare - that is, remove her ability to feel any pain - easily. He could have helped her escape. Under The Mountain, he - while still there unwillingly - has a lot of power, as Amarantha's side piece. Maybe this would have resulted in him being punished- however, he is hundreds of years old and a badass motherfucker, and she is a nineteen year old human girl.

Now, onto Tamlin. Obviously not a lot of people really ship F/T anymore after ACOMAF, because compared to F/R, it's boring. I read another person's post about it, which was very enlightening: they said that Feyre's personality is essentially a mirror. When she is with Rhysand, she's snarky and malicious- because she is "bouncing off" his energy. When she's with Mor she's super feminist and "in awe of her strength". On the other hand, Tamlin is kind of an empty character. He's a pretty boy with anger issues, which should be more interesting than it is. SJM manages to make him bland. Because Feyre has nothing to bounce off of, (a lot of this is from the person's post), she and Tamlin together is mainly just him introducing her to his world.

What Tamlin Does: prevents a skinny twenty year old from going on dangerous missions with him and combat-trained soldiers, accidentally blows up a room with her in it, and, at the end, prevents her from leaving the house.

This is not a Tamlin apologist post. Obviously it was really fucking gross of him to do that, and their relationship was toxic. However, a lot of his abuse stems from their inability to communicate, as well as own negligence. He does not knowingly and purposefully sexually assault her or rape her mind. And tbh, leaving a girl without combat training at home while he goes on missions with a bunch of muscled sentries is... kind of reasonable?

Again: not a Tamlin apologist post. It was abuse. However, if Rhysand is "allowed" to sexually assault, mind-rape, and drug Feyre "for her own safety", why is Tamlin demonized for preventing her from leaving his mansion "for her own safety"?

Another pertinent point: Rhys is never punished for sexually assaulting her. It is brushed off as part of his "mask" or that his hand was forced. Jesus Christ my dudes, his hand was not forced under her skirt. If he has to maintain his gross rapist abuser tyrant oppressor mask... why? Who did that benefit beside him? None of his actions remotely helped Prythian. They were done solely for his buddies - five people safe in a rich hidden city - and no one else, which is explicitly stated.

Finally, the power dynamic is fucked up. Feyre is less than twenty five years old. Rhysand is 500. There is a tendency in fantasy romance to romanticize a centuries year old man with a young girl, because the man does not show symptoms of age, and so it is easily ignorable. However, can we just briefly acknowledge how fucked up it is? Rhys is over five times older than Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and other known predators/abusers. She is twenty. That is really fucking gross. She is in a vulnerable position and he takes rampant advantage of that.

If he had wrinkles, liver problems, and erectile dysfunction, more people would acknowledge it.

Let's be clear: I'm not saying writing a book with an uneven power dynamic is automatically bad. For example, in The Locked Tomb series, which is in my opinion THE BEST FANTASY SERIES THAT HAS GRACED THIS EARTH (lol i'm starting fires), one main character Harrowhark Nonagesimus is in a position of power over Gideon Nav, the other main character. However, this is not glossed over or romanticized. Gideon resents Harrow for this- there is a relationship of mutual antagonism, fraught with unwilling familiarity and intimacy from growing up together. They are roughly the same age. While there is a certain power dynamic (in that world, there is a dynamic of necromancer and cavalier, i.e. sorcerer and sword) the "empowered" character (Harrow) emphatically respects her and does not abuse this power, although both would of course deny this, and she does make a show of threatening and being aloof. In short, while Gideon obeys her, Gideon also has power over Harrow, and the idea of what is essentially slavery is not romanticized.

Feyre Doesn't Face Any Consequences For Her Own Actions

Let me present a radical notion: a guy preventing you from leaving his house does not justify completely fucking ruining his country and harming the people inside it.

In other words: Tamlin does not deserve what she did to him.

I know that sounds iffy. We're conditioned to think that if someone is an abuser, then they are the scum of the earth, they deserve to die, torturing/murdering/doing anything to them is completely A-OK. However, here's another radical notion: someone harming you does not justify you doing worse.

Obviously, the effects of psychological abuse can cause you to hurt other people (see: Nesta), but Feyre deliberately and maliciously (oh, God, that insufferable POV of her in Spring Court; she reads like a cartoonish Disney villain) dismantles his country. She uses sexual manipulation (Lucien), torture (causing the sentry to be whipped), and mind-rape (who didn't she do this to? lol).

A summary of the entire first half of ACOWAR: "It smelled like roses. I hated roses. For this capital offense against my olfactory system, Tamlin and the entire Spring Court deserved to burn in hell. I knew exactly what I was doing. I smiled at him sweetly: no longer a doe, but a wolf. He didn't see my fangs.............." *aesthetic noises*

Man. I'm starting to think SJM had a horrible experience at a Bath & Body Works and took it out on the rest of us. Don't do it, Sarah!! I know Pink Chiffon and Triple Berry Martini are way too strong, but don't take it out on an innocent population!!

She steals from Summer Court (there are, yk, other solutions to theft. Like maybe asking politely) and ruins Spring Court. Her boyfriend - yeesh sorry, MATE - does nothing while a dozen Winter Court children are murdered.

Now: moral ambiguity is not automatically bad. Again using The Locked Tomb as an example, in the second book (spoiler alert), Harrowhark has a sort of moral ambiguity. She was raised from the beginning to worship the King Undying as God, and so she obeys him without question. Because of this, she commits a lot of crimes in His name: she "flips" - i.e. kills - the life force of planets, and she plots murder (albeit the murder of someone who tried to kill her first). There is no attempt to justify this. There is also no attempt to paint her as a virtuous and yet also badass Madonna figure. She is desperate, plagued with the "wreck of herself", and the book clearly displays her moral pitfalls. While her POV is of course colored by her mindset, it also is limited by her lack of information, and we as readers can acknowledge that.

BACK TO ACOTAR: Feyre is seen by everyone as gorgeous, formidable, and essentially perfect. Rhys sees her as flawless, "made for him", wonderful, beautiful, blah blah blah. (THEY ARE SO BAD FOR EACH OTHER; THEY EXCUSE AND GLORIFY EACH OTHER'S CRIMES, IT'S SO BAD, GUYYYS). Tamlin is insanely batshit in love with her, or whatever. To the Night Court she's the High Lady. In this way she personifies the Mary Sue character. (Excerpt from the TV Tropes page on Mary Sues: "She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye color, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal." Sound familiar?)

There is the Ourobous scene. And yet, paradoxically, while presented as an acknowledgment of her flaws, it is in fact a rejection of them. She sees her own brutality... and instead of recognizing that she has these deep, deep moral flaws and realizing that she needs to grow and be better, she in fact "accepts" them.

Guys: Self love means: "I'm important to me, so I'm going to get a massage today after work", or "heck, why not splurge on some expensive lotion, you only live once" or "you know what? I had a tough day today. I'm going to get that strawberry cupcake". SELF LOVE DOES NOT MEAN "oh, I accept all the war crimes I have done, I love myself". LOVING YOURSELF DOES NOT MEAN ABSOLVING YOURSELF OF ALL WRONGDOING.

It's this refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing that is so grating about ACOTAR. It's so goddamn one-sided. And you can tell that after Book 1, SJM decided to completely change the trajectory simply because of how jarring Book 2 reads compared to the first one.

Also: Feyre is a very, very young girl (compared to the other ruling fey) who did not know how to read for the majority of her life. She has no experience whatsoever in politics. Her being High Lady is not a win for feminism.

Rhysand: He Sucks

First, he is 500 years old. He should be written as such, not as some 20 year old virile frat boy feminist. Fantasy is all the more compelling for its elements of realism, which is a concept that SJM does not appear to grasp.

Second of all, his morals are absurd. He is written as the Second Coming of Christ, as someone who can do no wrong, ever, and his flaws only serve to make Feyre love him more. Anything shitty he does is written as part of his "mask" and she can See Beneath It and knows that it "hurts" him to maintain this "mask".

Fellas, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO MAINTAIN THIS MASK???? There is no reason for it. If A) he does not give a shit about Court of Nightmares (we'll get back to that), only about Velaris, and B) Velaris is hidden/protected from the world, what is he pretending for?

It would not hurt him politically to be seen as someone who cares about his country.

"Pretending" to be "Amarantha's whore" does not in any way shape or form benefit the macro-world that is Prythian. In Amarantha's name, he commits atrocities. He commits war crimes; he systemically oppresses entire societies. It doesn't even really benefit Velaris, because Velaris is already hidden.

Let me put this in a real-world perspective. This would be like if Donald Trump was suddenly like: "I know I was a shitty president but IT WAS ALL PART OF MY MASK, WHICH WAS TO PROTECT THIS MICROCOSM OF PRIVILEGED PEOPLE THAT I CARE ABOUT". Like: okay? Sorry, or whatever, but I don't actually give a shit. What about the parents of the children who died? What about Clare Beddor? What about the people who were held in slavery, murdered, tortured?

Rhysand: omg it sucks that my cousin Mor was oppressed by this toxic misogynistic culture from the Court of Nightmares.

Also Rhysand: lol whatever, who gives a shit about Court of Nightmares. They all suck. They meanie. Lol what did you say? That there might be other girls just like Mor who are oppressed by this system? Lol whatever. I can't do anything, I gotta maintain my Mask. I gotta sit on this throne and show the entire Court that not respecting women is completely okay.

In summary: by parading Feyre around as his "whore" (!!) he demonstrates by example that it is completely okay for the Court of Nightmares to abuse their women.

A good ruler cares about all his people. Rhysand cares about a tiny tiny fraction of his people: those who were fortunate enough to be born into Velaris.

God, I'm exhausted. Onto Nesta:

The only character who successfully breaks the Mary Sue effect Feyre exerts on her people is Nesta. Her POV for the first half is a joy to read.

Obviously it sucks that Nesta was a huge bitch to Feyre for the beginning of her childhood. However, it was wrong for Rhysand to threaten her- he is a man male with a huge insane amount of power, and it is not okay for him to threaten to bring the brunt of it down on a young girl because she was a bitch to his girlfriend.

I've seen a lot of discourse on the morality of F/R sending her out of Velaris. Here is my two cents:

It was okay for them to cut her off of their money. If they don't want to enable her self-harm, that is their choice. Again, it's their money, even if it wasn't fairly earned (Rhysand born into an enormous fortune).

It was not okay for them to banish her from Velaris with the implication that she was an embarrassment. Let me explain.

If Rhysand and Feyre are talking to her as sister/brother-in-law, then that is that. They have the complete right to express disapproval and try to help. However, they should not be using their royal privilege against her.

If they are talking to her as ruler to subject, then they have the power to banish her from the city. However, a ruler would not give a shit about a random subject getting drunk and having sex. So, they should not be talking her about her problems as a ruler to subject.

I've heard it compared to her being sent to rehab. However, rehab is a system designed to help people with certain problems. It has specialized medical centers and involves therapy. Nesta gets her life threatened multiple times. It is not rehab.

In summary: why did SJM inflict this upon us. Throne of Glass was actually good! GAHHH! After the first few books she completely whipped around and introduced the idea of males and mates and fey and that C is actually A and the quality took a huge nosedive. Sigh.

Final horrible but unmistakable truth: The entire ACOTAR series reads like a bad A/B/O fic. I hate to say it but it's true. We're lucky there were no heat cycles. OH WAIT

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti acotar #anti acofas #anti acomaf #anti everything #anti feyre #to some extent #mentioned: the locked tomb #mentioned: gideon the ninth #mentioned: harrowhark nonagesimus #anti #strongly anti #pan-int #that's my ao3 tag!#meta #my post

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dylansslutt · 2 years

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moving on 2 / j.m & r.c

authors note: so i know last chapter i did a you pov. i just thought this gif perfected my vision of the character :) miss davina lmao

also there will be a third part to this story :)) enjoy please lmk if u liked it was highly highly requested

warnings: drama, tension, rafe, mention of past abuse from first chapter.

tagged: @k-k0129 @gillybear17 @luversgirl @novxturient @plutooryectors @drasticemotions @obxjjjohnb

your eyes flutter open, the sky still dark. your body jolting, registering you were in someones arms. you jerk away, causing someone to stumble, almost dropping you.

“woah, y/n/n.” your eyes land on the blue eyed boy above you. “i’m o-okay. let me stand.” you try to force his body to let you down.

“no way dude, you just about got knocked out. we are going to john b’s.” he declared, making you glare.

“i get that , but i can walk. i promise im fine.” jj sets you down, your knees giving out once more.

“see. no.” he goes to pick you up again, but you stumble away. your head was spinning, you land on your knees. whatever in your system, now onto the sand below you.

“what the fu- y/n!” kie’s voiced near you, her hands lifting your hair back. you dry heaved once more, before you leaned back on your elbows. “can w-we just sit? sit here for a second- my head is spinning.” i mumble out.

“imma fuckin’ kill em’. tha-” jj’s tone rang dangerous, the anger was felt in waves.

pope stood close, “jj their gone, we get em’ it’s okay. we-”

“no pope!” jj yells , you wince at the sudden tone change. “look at her!”

“he’s not wrong.” rafe’s voice spoke, your eyes landing on his hidden body off to the side. “shutup rafe.” sarah’s voice snapped.

“what? your best friend just got her ass beat helping you out and you- you gonna sit here like that’s not a big deal?” rafe yells at his sister. kie helping me sit up a little more, softly stroking my hair.

“guys...” kie muttered, everyone else still in the heat of the moment.

“hate to be that guy, but im with pope on this. there is no way those guys are gonna come back, when she’s feeling better we can head out.” john b spoke up.

“i agree.” your voice cracked, “i saw yall beat the hell out of them, i dont think they’ll try to mess with us again.”

you tried to reason with them, no point in the whole commotion. you were beginning to feel better. ready to just pass out.

“okay we can leave.” kie helps you up, your legs stable enough to hold your weight. you glance up, jj eyes already on you, but behind him stood rafe. arms crossed, eyes glued to you.

you walk forward, “jj how far is the car.?”

he scratches his head, “around the block, i can go pull it closer.” him and pope led ways in a hurry. sarah and john b stood together, eyes on you in concern.

“guys tonight was traumatic enough, no need in the stares. please.” you throw out, allowing everyone to continue walking. secretly sparing you glances. you tasted blood on your lips, your fingers running over a split lip.

“y/n.” his voice called out behind you, kie already giving you a look. you shook your head at her, sighing.

slowly, you turn to face him. “what rafe? it’s been a long night.” your ribs sptly ached, you had no energy for him. yes you were grateful for tonight, but that doesn’t change anything.

“look, i know.. i know this doesn’t change anything, bu-but i still love you alright.” you stare at him, tears already forming. you can not believe this shit.

you glare at him, “you can’t say that to me! not when you are the one that did this. you!” your finger pointed at him, the movement making you wince. “i can’t, ju-just please stop. stop doing this to me, mo-move on.”

you turn allowing yourself to be embraced by kie, your body shook with soft sobs. What you didn’t see was jj glaring rafe down, the sight of you making his anger rise.

He glanced down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, “alright let’s get her home.” He spoke up as the door opened. Kie helping you inside, you sit down beside Sarah. Allowing yourself to sink in her side, eyes resting .

—

“Ahhh! Stop!” Jay lifts you up off your feet, your hands latching onto his arms. “Put me down!”

You two were surrounded by your friends, out on the water. “Down? You want down?” He plays like he is finna throw you.

“N-“ your body is enveloped by the water, you swam to the surface. “You jackass!” he gives you a wink before flipping off the side, joining you.

you giggle, him swimming closer to you. “damnnnn, lil’ ma. can i get your number?” jj jokes. you push his head back, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“you are so slow, i swear.” you stare into his eyes, the waves and your heart beat the only sound you can hear. his eyes flicker down to your lips, you softly licking them.

you press yourself closer, hands going around the back of his neck. pulling him into you, your lips meeting.

he was soft, gentle. his hand cupped your cheek, softly biting your lip as he pulls away. you felt the blush rising across your body, the heat radiating off his skin. very contrast to the cool water we swam in.

“i will always protect you, y/n.” he holds your jaw, your fingers sliding down his chest. “thank you, jay. i um..” your lip took place between your teeth, not knowing how to say your feelings.

“i really like you too, beautiful.” he spoke softly, your eyes lighting up. you lean forward placing another kiss on his lips. “oh good.”

you and jj became official, word spreading fast. not that it was a secret considering how much you two went out in public together.

today, jj was working and you were out shopping. your phone buzzed, causing you to stop. “hello?”

“y/n! what ya doing?” kie’s voice rang through the other line. you giggle, setting the top back on the rack. “im at the mall, right now. what about you?”

“bored, come over after?”

“sure.”

“can you get me a cookie? and a drink?” her voice sounded hopeful. you roll your eyes, “im getting chic-fil-a. ill get your meal with a cookie, bye love. text you when im on the way.”

“yay! thank you, bye love you.”

you walk up the front, a few items in hand. after checking out you made way towards the food court. you weren’t paying attention, just focused on getting food and leaving.

if you were paying attention you wouldve noticed rafe watching you in the distance. or following you to your car.

“y/n!” your eyes widen as you glance at a angry rafe, making way towards you. “what the fuck, rafe? are you following me around now?”

he glares down at you, “are you for real, right now? sleepin’ with that fucking pogue.” you glare back, mad you couldn’t use your hands to slap him upside the head.

“news flash, rafe! you arent my boyfriend. i am not yours, im jj’s and i can do whatever i want, you screwed that up remember?” you turn, putting stuff inside your car.

he slams your car door shut, you jump as your back is pressed against the car. “you are mine.” his eyes stare into mine. “you were mine first, y/n. don’t forget that.”

you push him away but he leans down, lips near your ear. “especially when you used to moan it.” you shove him away, a snarl evident on your face.

“you are fucking disgusting. don’t ever come near me again.” i quickly rush into my car, leaving rafe to watch you leave.

you told kie about everything that happened, not knowing whether to tell jj. he still doesn’t know everything about that past...

“i think imma head home, kie. love you!” you hug her bye, letting her know you’ll keep her updated.

you drove home, texting jj to come over. soft tunes played as you drove home, the sunset was a beautiful soft pink/orange color. everything lately has been a rush, too chaotic.

those guys, rafe...

you pulled up to your house, grabbing your stuff and making way upstairs. you left the front door unlocked for jj, you change out of your clothes. your ribs held a blue greenish bruise, still sore,

you turn around coming face to face with the blue eye boy, a startled scream errupting from your lips.

“jj! jesus christ.” your hand covered your chest, feeling now very exposed. jj’s face held a smirk, until his gaze landed on the bruise.

“god everytime i see that bruise. what they did, i swear to god. y/n. ill kill them if i ever see them.” his hands now cupped your face, his emotions seep through his skin.

“i know you will, but you are already in enough trouble.” you lean forward kissing his soft lips, “now hush, and get in bed and cuddle with me.”

you pull your new shirt on, slipping into your bed. jj scooting in close, ready to watch the twilight series with you. (he was team edward)

“i gotta tell you something...” your eyes connecting with his, your lip held between your teeth. anxiety was high considering what was about to leave your lips.

“i was leaving the mall today and-um.. well rafe, i dont know, i guess followed me?” you stuttered out. jj now pausing the movie, sitting up.

“do what?”

“he followed me out and was pissed about me and you, saying something about how im still his. even though, i made it very fucking clear im yours.”

jj stared into space, “he said you were his?” is that all he got?

you sit up now, staring at him. “please dont be mad at me.” he shakes his head, “i am not mad at you, but i am pissed.”

“im sorry.” you tear up, not knowing how you couldve fucked this up. “Hey, he- no. you are fine baby, you are good. im not mad at you, you did nothing wrong.

he pulls you in close, “im just so scared jay, rafe was so mean... he would get so mad at me all the time. i can-cant deal with it anymore.” you sobbed into his chest, his heart breaking at the sound.

while you were being comforted, jj was thinking of all the ways he was going to handle the situation.

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ilyjohnb · 3 years

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a/n: sorry this took so long! i think i actually like this one! in case anyone is interested, im posting this on my wattpad now! link on pinned post. **gif credit to @lydiaas**

requester: anon “ “Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.” maybe this with john b… but it does turn out to be broken and he needs surgery?”

summary: when Rafe Cameron is bothering you, John B doesn’t hesitate to hurt himself to help you

warnings: fighting and a broken arm, both of which are not graphically detailed

word count: 1138

You loved being a Pogue, except when one specific boy Kook ruined everything. Your parents were Kooks, and everyone expected you, Y/n Y/l/n to be one too. Life simply didn't work that way. You loved hanging with your 3 best friends and your boyfriend. But those 3 dumb kooks always tried to remind you of what you were supposed to be.

This particular instance happened at the annual Bonfire. JJ, Kiara, and Pope all had something better to do, which you didn’t blame them. The bonfire was like any other party that happened all year. John B was right by your side, kissing you and returning the glare Rafe Cameron was sending his way. Everything was going fine, until of course John B had to leave and do something. Rafe made his way over. You backed up as far as you could, but they eventually caught up.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You backed up to the point where you were out of sight from everyone at the bonfire. Which meant that nobody could see Rafe, which means they also couldn't see that you needed help.

“Where's your goons this time?”

“Don’t need them. Not when I have you, the Kook Princess.”

“I’m not a Kook.”

He stepped closer, too close. “I think that the weak-ass excuse of a boyfriend manipulated you into thinking that. You're a Kook. Same as me, same as Sarah, and same as everyone who lives on Figure 8, which you legally do. I think.” He gently smiled over in your direction, lcking his lips. “you need someone to help you remember that.”

“Oh is that right Rafe?” John B asked.

Rafe charged at him, knocking him over. John B got the first punch in by the time you made it over there to help him. Rafe managed to stand up, but you kicked Rafe in the back of his knees making him collapse.

“I think it’s best if you leave now, Rafe.” You seethed.

“You know I'm right, Y/n. Just think about it!” He shouted as he ran over to his car to leave.

You scoffed before running over to John B.

“John B I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault that some dumbass Kook felt the need to try and mack on you.”

You pouted. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

You leaned in and hugged him, so he leaned down for a kiss, but you felt his hand being held at an awkward angle.

“John B? Stick up your hands.” You saw him, his hand was stiff and his fingers were bent. “Did you mess up something in your hand?”

“Uh, probably.”

“Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”

“Fuck, ow.” He tried, but ultimately couldn’t.

“We need to get you to a hospital bubs.”

“Why?”

“Since you can’t wiggle your fingers, it’s probably a break.”

You took him home first, grabbing him a shirt and an ice pack. You walked back to the car and helped him slip the shirt on, opening the door of the van for him so he could get back in.

“I’m supposed to be opening the door for you.” He pouted.

“You broke your hand for me, I think that’s enough chivalry for the night.”

After waiting for an hour, he was taken back and they x-rayed his hand while I sat and waited in the room. Eventually, he came back.

“How’d it go?”

“Great I think I aced it.”

“That’s not how it works, you know what? Good job babe.”

Right after, a man came in.

“Mr. Routledge?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hi I’m Doctor Jones,” He reached over and shook both of our hands.

“So it is indeed a break.”

“Nothing that a cast can’t fix, right doc?” John B tried to laugh but stopped when he saw the doctor didn’t look like he agreed with his statement.

“In most cases, yes. The problem with your arm,” He pulled up the X-ray and showed it to us. “Is that you’ve broken both of the bones. We'll put you in a splint for now, but you’ll need to come back in after your swelling goes down. Just fill in this paperwork and confirm that someone will pick you up, and we’ll get that scheduled for you.”

You helped him with the boring paperwork. He got his splint put on and then he was all set for the next three days when his surgery was.

“I don’t want surgery, y/n! I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“No, you’re not bubs. It’ll be okay. I’m dropping you off and then picking you up too.”

You sat in the waiting room for the last half-hour of the surgery. You had spent the time cleaning up a little so it wouldn’t be hard for John B to get around after he got home.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

You looked up at the same doctor who went over the x-rays with you.

“Yes, I’m here for John Routledge. He had wrist surgery this morning.”

“Ah yes. The surgery went well and with no complications. If he leaves the splint on, and eventually the cast, and comes to his physical therapy after he’s done healing he should get full use of his arm again.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Am I allowed to see him?”

“Yes, he’s in room 210. It’s down the hall here on the left.” He pointed.

You nodded and took off to see John B. You honestly didn’t know what you were expecting. This was a little different than wisdom teeth removal surgery. You had absolutely no clue how he would be.

Post-surgery John B was tired. He was in the splint again as they waited for the swelling to recede after the surgery.

“Hi, Y/n.” He smiled up at you.

“How are you feeling, bubs?”

“Now that you’re here I feel perfect. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” You smiled, amused.

“Because you’re perfect. Excuse me, ma’am.”

The nurse who was writing something on his chart looked up at him, no sign of being annoyed was present on her face.

“My girlfriend is perfect, isn’t she?”

“John B!” You gently scolded. “You’re gonna embarrass me.”

“But you are and everyone needs to know that you are.” He pouted.

“Wait, shit. Don’t cry bubs. I’m sorry. Wanna go home and have ice cream?”

He nodded and you gently wiped away his tears with your thumbs. You quickly signed the discharge paperwork and then you were all set. You held the hand of his good arm as he was wheeled out of the hospital. You gently put him in the front seat and smiled over at him when you were both buckled in and ready to go.

John B was a keeper, and you were so glad to have someone like him in your life.

#john b routledge #outer banks #john b imagine #john b x reader #john b x fem!reader #john b one shot #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #my writing

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citrusdarling7 · 3 years

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Tophelia (part 2)

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, swearing, degrading, spoilers for My Riddle to Solve, shower sex

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“Fine. Could I use your shower? The graveyard dirt is still caked to my skin, and there’s most definitely some blood on my hands.” Tom slumped down into one of his chairs and lit a cigarette.

“There’s spare towels under the sink, as well as unopened bars of soap,” he told me. I kicked off my boots and hung my coat next to his before heading into the bathroom. His was a lot larger than mine; one of the many benefits of being a Prefect. I stripped out of my dirty clothes and stepped under the hot water. My body let out a sigh of relief as the first stream of droplets hit my skin.

The brand of soap Tom had smelled like cedar and pine. It was a comforting scent, albeit a bit sharp. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the door open. Tom cleared his throat, causing me to jump. The shower curtain was pulled shut, so neither of us could really see each other.

“Tom, is something wrong? Did Adelaide wake up?” My voice was shaky, which he took in as a concern.

“Hanson is fine. May I join you?” My mind blanked for a moment. Was he really asking to shower with me? I didn’t care if he saw me naked, but this seemed strangely intimate.

“Alright.”

Riddle undressed himself quickly before peeling back the shower curtain and stepping inside. The lighting in the bathroom was dim, but I was still able to see his body in all of its glory. His chest muscles were intricately sculpted like those of a statue’s. The water from the showerhead trickled down him as he tilted his head backwards and sighed. Tom’s hands made their way to the sides of my hips.

“You’re very stressed. Tell me why,” he demanded in a soft voice.

“How could I not be? I just witnessed my best friend’s possession,” I scoffed. Tom abruptly pulled my body closer to his. His cock pressed against my stomach and his lips lowered to my neck. My eyelids fluttered shut as he began to kiss me gently.

“It’s something more than that. What’s on your mind?” His warm breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine.

“You don’t want to hear about my worries,” I said. Tom’s kisses trailed down to my clavicle as his fingers lightly traced my thighs.

“Mmh, I do. Indulge me with your thoughts.” His pace became more fervent, running his lips, teeth, and tongue across my collarbones.

“I-” my voice wavered at a sudden kiss against the nape of my neck. Tom’s lips were so warm and wonderful, driving me insane with every movement he made.

“Ophelia, be a good girl and talk to me.” The water from the shower head was being blocked by his figure, meaning that his hands and mouth were my only source of warmth. I wasn’t sure why Tom even cared about my worries, but as long as he was willing to keep kissing me, I was willing to divulge them.

“I’m worried. About Raymond, my cousin, the twins, Adelaide, and even you. Things have been different as of late.” The words tumbled past my lips in short breaths.

“What do you mean by that, my darling?” One of his hands snaked in between my thighs.

“Everything is just so hectic. I feel as if we are on the brink of war, concerning Grindelwald and his massive hordes of supporters. I want to protect everyone that I care about, but that is impossible seeing as I can barely protect myself.” Two fingers brushed against my core, causing my breath to hitch. Although Tom’s lips remained on my neck, I could practically feel him smirking.

“Keep talking. Tell me about your friends. Why are you worried for them?” Fingers stroked my folds slowly, eliciting me to tell him more.

“Raymond’s family is so hard on him, and his relationship with-” I almost let Abraxas’ name slip, my mind preoccupied with my current situation, “-Sarah is complicated to say the least. Adelaide is distant, Joslyn is constantly busy, and— fuck, do that again!” His thumb had pressed down onto my clit, causing pleasure to course through my legs and my back to arch against the wall.

“Tell me more, and I might let you come,” he offered with a delightful kiss beneath my jawline. My head fell back against the shower wall as one of his fingers entered me. Riddle was so damn good at this.

“My mother practically despises me, my father is completely corrupt, and the extended family thinks I am a disgrace,” I stuttered. His middle finger joined the first one, thrusting up inside of me with the perfect amount of pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles on my clit. Riddle’s wet curls tickled my neck as he kissed it.

“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?” I tried to speak, but all that came out of my mouth was a whimper. “Don’t stop now. You were being such a good girl for me,” he taunted.

“I- I hate feeling like I don’t- like I don’t know anything, and-” A particularly rough movement of his thumb left me gasping for breath. “Tom, I can’t-” The dark-haired boy tsked in amusement as his hand pulled away from my throbbing cunt.

“What a shame. I would have loved watching you climax around my hand.” He took a step backwards as I sighed in frustration.

“Please, Tom. You can’t just tease me like that,” I begged. He paid no attention to my pleas, opting to stand under the showerhead and act as if I didn’t exist. “Fine, I’ll just get myself off.”

I watched his shoulders stiffen at my suggestion. Riddle quickly spun around and pushed me against the shower wall. He debated the prospect for a moment, not sure if watching me touch myself would be worth allowing me to undermine him.

“You will do no such thing. I want to fuck you, on my bed this time. Would you like that, Ophelia?” I nodded, but that was not good enough for him. “Use your words.”

“Yes. I would.”

In what felt like a blur, Riddle waved his hand to turn off the shower, hoisted me up by the underside of my thighs, and carried me out of the bathroom. I was roughly tossed onto the bed, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on my skin. His duvet was made of a soft black fabric that felt like heaven against my body. The two of us were still sopping wet from the shower, but I suppose Tom didn’t care. He noticed my shivering and quickly conjured up a fire in his fireplace.

He kissed me feverently, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth as my hands grasped at his curls. Skin against skin, I wrapped a leg around his in an attempt to close the gap between us. Heat pooled in my stomach as his lips made their way to my left nipple, sucking at pulling at it with his teeth. His fingers began to play with the right one, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

His kisses trailed down my chest and stomach, continuing lower until he stopped to glance up at me.

“I want to taste your pretty cunt. Can you manage to stay quiet if I do so? Lestrange’s room is to the left of mine,” he warned. The others were without a doubt still awake, and they most definitely did not want to hear me chanting Riddle’s name like a prayer.

“I’ll try my best,” I promised him.

“Good girl. Lie back and let me take care of you.” Tom smirked and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek before moving to kneel in front of the bed. He tugged at my hips to slide me forwards before lifting my legs over his shoulders. He kissed at my inner thighs for a few moments, wanting to tease me as much as he could. The first stroke of his tongue set my entire body ablaze.

His mouth against my heat was quite possibly the most pleasurable thing I had ever experienced. Tom gripped my thighs tightly as he ran his tongue across my folds. I bit down on my lip in a fruitless attempt to silence the moans he was eliciting from me. Dark eyes stared up at me as teeth and tongue wrapped themselves around my clit. My hands desperately clung to the duvet as his wet curls tickled my skin. The sensations I was feeling were so incredibly overwhelming that my hips involuntarily twitched and my legs started to shake. Merlin, why hadn’t I gotten with Riddle sooner?

“Keep still,” he demanded, his words sending vibrations up my core. One of his hands pressed against my lower stomach as the other one warningly slapped my thigh.

“Tom. Don’t stop.” I was rapidly approaching my climax, and the boy currently knelt in front of me also knew that. He abruptly pulled away, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh. However, my disappointment was short-lived. Tom quickly joined me on his bed, positioning himself above me. His cock was so painfully hard that I could see a vein throbbing. Strong hands pinned my arms above my head as he pushed into me with a sudden thrust.

The pace Riddle set was one of extreme speed and intensity. He fucked me so well; the tip of his cock brushed against a sensitive spot inside of me with every movement. My moans and whimpers increased in volume, prompting him to release my arms and clamp one of his hands over my mouth.

“Such a slut for me, aren’t you darling?” Tom’s pupils were blown with lust and his lips were swollen from intense kisses. Every thrust had me clenching around him; I was once again nearing my high. Tom brought his mouth to mine, muffling my moans with a rough kiss. I came around him with a cry; eyes rolled back into my head as pleasure coursed through my veins.

As I came down from my climax, my hands tightly gripped Tom’s shoulders, nails digging into his pale skin. I was painfully sensitive, so much so that sharp pain mixed with every bit of pleasure I was receiving.

When Tom finally reached his orgasm, he buried his face in my neck and stroked the side of my hip with his fingers. His jugular vein tensed as he murmured a stream of praises and swear words. After a few moments of soft kisses and gentle touches, he pulled away from me and went to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom.

“You clearly had a lot of pent-up frustration,” Tom teased as he examined his upper back in the mirror, which was littered with hot red crescent-shaped nail marks. A few of them streaked down his skin in long scratches.

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