#and loads of purple love

[coffeedrgn87]

Happy Fanniversary, Ali, @nv-md I love you so so much! You are a wonderful bright spirit who writes amazing stories and let’s lil ol’ me scream at you for your brilliance. I’d quite happily like to keep you forever if that’s alright with you? I mean, of course, I’ll share you with everyone else (because I’ll cause a riot if I don’t) but please know that you’re a complete delight to know!

The below silliness is for you. Please don’t judge to harshly, it’s been a mad day at work but I couldn’t resist putting a little something onto your dash!

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

“Iㅡ” Harry shuffles from one foot to the other, both hands hidden behind his back.

Draco raises an eyebrow and stares him down until Harry shrinks back half a step, looking positively horrified. It takes Draco every ounce of self-control to keep his signature cocky smirk off his face, and he presses his lips tightly together to ensure he doesn’t accidentally chuckle. There’s just something about Harry, acting and looking anything but the confident young man that he isㅡ, not that Draco is in any rush to tell Harry that this is how he thinks of him.

Truth be told, there is a nearly endless list of things Harry has said, frequently says, has done, and frequently does that turn Draco’s legs to jelly, but he keeps those safe in his diary, the one he’s had since he first started Hogwarts. It’s been fifteen years, and he keeps a close guard on it, keeps it locked with a multitude of spells, but there’s an entire page thatㅡif unrolledㅡis about fifteen feet long, and it lists all the million and twelve tiny things Draco has noticed about Harry.

“Will you be mad?”

Harry’s question drags Draco out of his thoughts, and he’s momentarily torn between drawing his brows together to frown at Harry or rolling his eyes. Either option is acceptable, really, because Harry’s question is utterly imbecilic. In the end, Draco settles for a derisive snort.

“To be mad, Potter, one actually needs a reason. Since I don’t know what you’re so positively terrified about, I can hardly fix you with a skin-flaying glare now, can I?”

Harry looks like he actually considers this for a moment, then he nods slowly, silently conveying that Draco’s rhetorical question does seem to make sense. Draco just about manages to bite back a scathing remark. Old habits die hard, even if a lot has changed since Hogwarts and his and Harry’s petty rivalry.

“Well, just promise me you won’t blow up or mock me.”

This time Draco does actually roll his eyes.

“I can promise you the former, Potter, but I can’t promise you the latter.”

For some inexplicable reason, that makes Harry smile. Although Draco has every intention to remain serious, he can’t resist giving in to the insistent tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Fair,” Harry says with a lopsided grin that makes his green eyes sparkle with the Potter-typical mirth.

Draco watches as Harry produces an ivory-coloured envelope from behind his back. It’s sealed with the official Potter family crest, and as Harry hesitantly offers it, part of Draco wants to make him sweat and simply stare at the gift, but he can’t bring himself to do that. And so, he takes the proffered envelope and breaks the seal as gently as possible. It still breaks in half, just as it’s supposed to do.

“Uhm, I really didn’t know what to get you; I thought about a card because you know paper, but it somehow seemed not enough, and well, you know me, I’ve never been the best at words.”

Draco nods in agreement because it’s true. Harry’s strong suit is his heart, his righteousness, his unwavering belief in the good in people, and his desire to protect and save, and although Draco often mocks him for it, he also loves him for these very reasons…among others.

Opening the letter properly, Draco pulls out a thick stack of neatly folded papers. Upon closer expectation, the papers are a deed, and upon even more immediate expectation, Draco’s throat dries up, and a thick lump wedges itself somewhere between his voice box and Adam’s apple. He tries to swallow around it, but it’s almost impossible to do so. Blinking hard, really hard, Draco stares at his own name and the property address, Grimmauld Place, and before he can even begin to process the meaning of this, Harry starts babbling.

“It used to belong to the Black family, and I know Sirius left it to me, but the house loves you, and in honour of your mother, well, I thought we could own it togetherㅡ Uhm, only if you want to, course. I signed at the bottom; you’d have to sign as well to make it official.”

Harry doesn’t get further than this because Draco tosses the envelope and the deed onto the coffee table, takes Harry’s face between his hands and pulls him into a fiercely possessive kiss. He claims Harry’s mouth, swiping his tongue into the warm, wet cavern that tastes of coffee, oranges and chocolate. Draco is suddenly heady with desire and unwilling to draw away; he walks Harry backwards until he’s got him backed up against the nearest wall. Harry lets out an oomph, and Dracoㅡstill cupping Harry’s faceㅡbriefly breaks away from the kiss and stares at him, eyes almost black with desire. Harry’s eyes mirror his own, and Draco can’t help but smile. It’s a goofy grin. He’s about to dive in for another kiss when two of Harry’s fingers land on his lips, effectively stopping him. He glowers but says nothing.

“Is that a yes?”

Draco inhales sharply.

“What do you think?”

Harry shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry James Potter, you are an idiot.”

Harry guffaws at that.

“An idiot in love. Now, is that a yes?”

Draco rolls his eyes.

“Circe’s tits, Potter, of course, it’s a fucking yes.”

Harry grins.

“Great, can we continue makingㅡ”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Draco is on him, kissing him and groping him and just generallyㅡand quite desperately soㅡtrying to find a way to show Harry somehow just how much he means to him. He fails, of course, though he doesn’t admit that to himself, and he’ll never admit it to Harry either. Because that’s just not how Draco Malfoy does things.

#drarry for Ali #because Ali is amazing #happy fanniversary #love you #sending dragon hugs and kisses #and loads of purple love #like a ton #have a fab day #you are a gem #a true asset to the fandom #did I say I love you? #these tags are just nonsense but that's okay because they're just a silly ode to you

[chrisbangs]

YANG JEONGIN  for @foxinys

#jeongin #yang jeongin #i.n #stray kids #skz #createskz #*gifs #*m #flashing tw #LATE.... #im cursing everyone esp my isp because of how long my internet was out this morning #and i thought i loaded a reminder into my calendar a WEEK in adv but apparently nawt !!!! so thats me :sob: #ok ok i hope yew like this #i just picked blue bc i feel like i can colour blues well and I FELT LIKE ITS TOO OBV IF I ASK UR FAV COLOUR #but i see now per mary's set its probably PURPLE HELP FAONIWFOAWI #anyway its ok <3 #hope u like this <3 #my psd has drastically changed since i left tumblr so idk do with that what we will #anyway i love giffing him and im so happy u bias someone i bias bc OIFNOWAIF it makes this so much easier #this took like 2 hrs LOL #n e way sorry for it being late and i hope u like.. happ brith

[namelessbenji]

Don't care + Didn't ask *Unleashes leek spin upon ye*

#the walten files #twf #rocket bunny #leek spin #repost bc I thought the audio didn't load #it did I was just muted #it was too late when I discovered that tho #I'm so smart (lie) #I love drawing the seams on sewn things it's so fun tbh #that includes clothes too #it adds a charm #purple rocket truther fuck people who say he's blue I hate canon #uh idk burps in your face

[micamicster]

I love to write a romance and spend the entire time in the pov of the least romantic character in it 💞

#the love interest is always going through some insane purple prose swooning in the background #and the main character is always staggering through life not thinking about it (love) if they can avoid it #while you were sleeping au #the load out #american pie #eo17

[askjerrydandridge]

What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

{ OOC } (( Goodness, this man is already one of a kind so it's hard to just pick one. If I had to choose, I would probably pick the ability of breaking his jaw at will to make it larger. Which among the concept of vampires, it probably isn't very common. He can't extend it a whole lot, but it is gaping enough to make someone scared shitless so I'd say that's fair. ))

#purple speaks #(( and I'm backkkk! )) #(( It's been a while but I've just been kinda tired and catching up on sleep )) #(( along with being occupied with loads of things I gotta do in my life )) #askjerrydandridge #jerry dandridge #open for asks #vampire #fright night #horror #(( I love him so much sppspsps ))

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Nine

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence. Medical chart from a SANE EXAM. Simon's family history, trauma. Brief sexual content. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Heavy emotions. Scars. Reader in pain. Hurt/comfort. Kate is a dog with a bone. Penny is cute. POV switches. Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise.

You can’t breathe.

The air is too thin, too tight, and you stand, silent, in the foyer of the home that you’ve been invited to.

A clock ticks on the wall. You count each second, waiting. 

You should leave. You should run. 

Simon’s footsteps echo above your head, already up the stairs with your first bag and work backpack.

He said to make yourself at home, but you can’t move.

The foyer is the foyer of a family. There is a hall tree with little shoes scattered beneath it, a tiny, pink backpack hanging on the hook. Too many wellies to count, all in pastel colors, matching a small yellow and green rain jacket that’s folded on the stairs. There’s a black hoodie, a black jacket, and a green on the coat rack, hung haphazardly with a toss. Men’s sizes, and you notice two pairs of trainers next to one pair of black boots, and two crayons hide, peeking out from under the bench, one blue, one purple, so worn down they’re almost half gone.

A home. A family. 

“Hey, so up-“ You flinch. The jolt has you stumbling, one misstep over another, and he tenses, prepared to steady you, careful hand outstretched, but not encroaching.

“Sorry.” You shouldn’t be here. 

“No, I’m sorry. I know better.” You blink, and the silence is heavy, weighted down like bricks at the bottom of a river. 

He’s still wearing the mask. 

 “Can I… give you a tour?”

“S-sure.”

You lose your breath again in the kitchen.

Simon turns away to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher as you stare at the fridge and its collage with a tight chest. It’s covered; photos, invitations, magnets, notes, finger painted masterpieces. You step closer, studying, noticing the way they all fit together, mix matched perfectly, and even in the pictures, the three of them glow effortlessly, too sweet and smiling, happy. Together. A family. A perfect unit.

Your nose tingles, and you blink back the tears that fight forward, wiping away the two that escape and trickle down your cheek. You don’t know why it overwhelms you, why it fills you with grief.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To have a family, like this? 

Get it together. You’re a guest in their house.

It’s too much, and you chastise yourself for getting so emotional over nothing, over something stupid.

You need to be alone. 

Dry sandpaper scrubs the back of your throat when you swallow. “Simon?” He turns, concerned, glancing at the fridge and then back to you, drying his hands on a towel.  

“What is it?”

“Can I… I’m sorry. I’m… tired.” You try to explain your needs but it’s awkward on your mouth, uncomfortable. His expression creases with sympathy.

“Of course, c’mon. I’ll show you.”

“Alright, one more step.”

“’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bun. You’re alright.” In the back of your mind, you’re registering Simon’s warmth, the wilted lean that has you tipped into him, slow steps on the stairs, one by one as you fight to stay upright. He’s warm, and pillowy… the kind of comfort you could sink into, disappear inside for a while. It sounds so… nice.

But your shoulder is throbbing. The pain combined with the emotions swirling about in your heart has you on the verge of tears, top teeth dug into your lip, and your molars grind against one other with each step.

“It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. Even now, after agreeing, getting in the car, getting yourself here… the desire to bolt runs hot under your skin, buzzing inside your skull, an insistent need.

You’re in their house. Where they live. With their baby. 

What if he comes back? What if he hurts them? 

“Hey.” Simon says your name slowly, ducking down to get your attention. Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m just… exhausted.”

“I’m sure. It’s right here.” He opens the door to a room, flicking on a light switch. The walls are a sage green, a gentle hue that matches the bedspread, framed photos organized into a gallery wall, pictures of smiles and laughter, a tiny Penny in Simon’s naked arms, a candid shot of Johnny in full military regalia, the three of them together somewhere, hiking, with Pen snuggled in a papoose on Johnny’s chest. The bed is the centerpiece, a massive king size piled with pillows, and it looks so inviting, so soft that you want to collapse into it right here and now.

“Wow.” It’s the best you can do, considering the screeching agony vibrating in your shoulder. You try to breathe through it, but the pain only shortens your draw.

“Yeah, it’s our old bed. Very comfortable.” He puts your other duffel down by the dresser, and you try not to dwell on the idea of it once being theirs, where they slept, where they’ve loved one another, held each other, their child, their- “It’s got its own bathroom, just through here.” He’s on the other side of the room, turning on a light that is far too bright, and you squint, jerking away with a gasp. Are you getting a migraine too? “Shit, sorry.” The room spins. You stumble towards the bed, limbs heavy, head full of cement, wooziness blurring your immediate sight. You’re disjointed, a mess of pain and disorientation, and you cover your eyes with a palm.

“Sorry, I think… I think I’m getting a headache. My shoulder-“ it slips out before you can stop yourself, and even with your eyes closed, you know Simon is staring at you, picking you apart with his eyes.

“Your shoulder?” You’re on a runaway train now. It has no brakes. No destination. It just barrels down the tracks, unable to stop for rational thought or pleas of mercy. It has no plan, and it does not heed you. You’re helpless. Hopeless. Lost. Reaching out for a light in the dark, a rope, a life vest, and a sob breaks through to the surface.

“It really hurts.”

“It hurts?” His voice cuts, tone worried. “Which one?” You use your good side to point, shakily.

“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.” You try to tell him, try to explain that you don’t mean to cry, or be emotional. You don’t mean to be making a fuss. You’re not supposed to be a problem.

A warm hand lays atop your thigh, thumb rubbing into your scrub pants.

“Sweetheart, you’re in pain. You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Your vision blurs, thick with tears, and fingers gently probe along your shoulder cuff. When you flinch, he swears. “Shhh, alright. Easy.” He’s gentling a spooked horse, carefully feeling along where you ache as you cry through it, unable to stop. “I’m going to go get some ice. We can… wrap it up, if you think that will help?”

“Ye-yeah, okay.” His steps fade, and you try to get your top off, sliding the arm that doesn’t hurt underneath your turtleneck, which is confined by the rigidity of your scrub top.

When you try the other one, the pain is so sharp, a cry bursts from your lips, and Simon sprints up the stairs. How did it get so much worse between the beginning of your shift and now? 

“What happened?”

“I can’t… I can’t get my shirts off.” You uselessly tug at the hem, eyes half open, letting it fall from your fingers, stuck in a loop, frantic movements matching the increasing pace of your lungs.

“Can I help?” His face is lined in concentration, and you spot an icepack on the bed now, with a sling, and a wrap. They’re prepared. Must come home with a fair number of injuries. “Bun, are you with me?” You sniffle and nod. What choice do you have? What choice do you ever have? The pain is too much. It’s all too much, and it boils over until you need to get the shirts off, not caring that it will expose you, or show Simon the very details you’re always trying to hide. You’re too far lost now, too far gone.

If you’re here, in their home, shouldn't you let them see? Shouldn't you let them know? 

The truth is terrifying, the reality of the trust you have in them. You know Simon won’t hurt you, instinctively. You feel safe here, in their home, their old bed, and when he looks at you, you show him, just for a second, the fractured mirror that is your reflection. You show him the pain and the rage and the fear, you give him everything. You shove the girl in the mirror forward, you force her into the sun and you hold her face to the light, trying not to sob as she screams at you in protest.

Just for a second.

“Okay.” He nods, and then cups your cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You nod with tears that sting, and then you slowly pull away, slipping back into yourself, hiding the girl in the mirror away, making more promises to her that you’re not sure you’re going to keep.

“We’re going to put this one,” He slowly, carefully lifts the arm with the bad shoulder until it’s resting on his own, “right here. That alright?” A whimper builds, but you give him another nod, breathing through the anguish. There are a million little needles in your shoulder, all stabbing you over and over, ripping and gnawing at the cartilage, or the bone, or the muscle… you can’t be sure. “I’m going to bring your scrub top up now. Is this okay?” his fingers peel it from the turtleneck, and when he gets to your head, you incline your neck, more tears rushing forth.

“Yeah.” You whisper, a tired, pained moan, falling from your lips without permission.

“I know it hurts; I know. Almost there, try to breathe.” He soothes you, and the top slides towards him along your arm. He pulls it free, throwing it on the floor somewhere, his hands returning to your thighs.

“Sorry.” It’s automatic, ingrained. A reaction to pain, to fear, to the idea of being a burden, something that haunts you, every day. He ignores it.

“Ready for the next?” The turtleneck comes less easy, but the two of you are in sync like dance partners. The pain shoots up your arm when you move your neck again, and Simon wipes a few tears from your cheek, carefully leaning you back into the pillows and pulling the comforter down.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, the raw edge of surprise, horror, you’re sure, and you close your eyes. You can't look at him, when you know what he sees. You know what you look like. A roadmap of foolishness. Of weakness. You know the scars are plainly on display, still raised, still ugly. Like you.

He says nothing, only sits at your side, bed dipping with his weight. “I’m going to take your shoes off too, okay?” He narrates and asks for permission with each touch, pulling your sneakers free, satisfying thunk of each one hitting the floor, and then moves on to sliding the ice pack underneath you, wrapping it firmly but not too tight, ensuring it stays in place. He’s tender and slow, thoughtful, your eyes fighting to stay closed, brain and body starting to drift off into uncomfortable sleep. “Not yet, sweetheart.” There’s a rattle, two pills being deposited into your hand.

“What are these?"

“Paracetamol.” He turns the bottle, label out, word coming into focus enough to be verified, and you swallow them down with the glass of water in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” The croak stays lodged in your throat, and his eyes crinkle, the sign of a smile.

“Get some rest.” It’s comfort he gives you, leaning forward, pressing mask covered lips to your forehead. Comfort that doesn’t elicit a flinch or a sense of wariness, and you bask in the shine of the sun on your skin, holding tight to it, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

“Banky.” Pen demands, hands outstretched.

“No binky, it’s lunch time. Lunch.” Simon makes the sign for lunch, L shaped pointer finger and thumb, circling the corner of his mouth. He does it a few times, accompanied with the word again and again until Penny huffs and leans back, eyes wide. “You try. You try, lunch.”

“No!” She shrieks, and he shushes her, scattering some banana puffs across her tray.

“Shhh Pen. Bun is sleeping, remember?”

“Bunny seep?” She gives him the sign for sleep, or her sign at least, a palm dragging down her face followed by very dramatic closing lids. “Seep?”

“Yes, sleeping.” Simon makes the sign to acknowledge she was correct. “Good job.” He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles, sweetness melting away some of the tense worry that's taken up in his heart.

“Puff?” She holds one out to him, but he shakes his head, pointing at her mouth.

“For you. Eat them, eat your puffs.” He signs along with the words, and she mimics him, food in hand, eyes lighting up when she finally makes it in her mouth.

He glances towards the stairs. You’re in the guest room, far enough away that Penny’s noise shouldn’t wake you, but still he tries to keep her preoccupied, distracted from making a fuss.

He wants you to get as much sleep as possible, this morning’s discovery of your shoulder unsettled him more than he’s frankly comfortable with, and the image of your swollen, battered face and neck leers and taunts. 

She’s safe now. She’s here. 

“Dada.” Pen calls, and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips across his baby’s soft skin, wispy curls tickling his nose. 

“Love you, baby girl.” He signs it too, and she beams.

“Luh.” It’s supposed to be love, and though the word is a struggle, the sentiment is the same. He doesn’t care that she’s not quite got it yet, he’ll take every word, every syllable he can get. These moments, each moment with his child, Johnny’s child, theirs… is a gift, one he never thought he’d have until Johnny. A privilege.

His phone vibrates with a text message.  

>Simon

>Give me a ring when you get a chance. On the black cell.  

“Thought you were on vacation?” Kate sighs, click clack of keys echoing in the background.

“I am, but if I’m too idle I start to go crazy. The wife likes it when I have a project.” Simon pauses, cocking his head. Penny’s feet kick in the highchair, baby spoon banging against the plastic tray.

“Hang on, Kate.” He drags a kitchen chair over in front of her so he can sit, pinning the phone between his shoulder and chin to twist the lid off the applesauce pouch. “Shhh, here you go." Penny gurgles with a grin at the taste of the fruit, and he smiles back at her. "So, what’s the new project then?”

“The nurse.” Simon’s eyes dart to the floor above his head.

“It’s not a good time.”

“I can talk, you can listen.” She brushes him off, sipping something with ice and then continuing. “I found it hard to believe that a civilian would be able to scrub their footprint like this, so I did a little digging. The more digging I did, the worse my fixation became.” Like a dog with a bone.Simon holds his breath. “I just needed a key, and with those photos you provided, well, things just started unraveling.”

“Kate.” He growls because he can’t manage anything else. He’s trying to keep himself still, heart pounding in his chest. Penny coos, like she notices the shift in her dad’s demeanor, and he immediately attends her, thumbing at a smear of applesauce on her cheek.

“I found a SANE exam from a few years ago. Small hospital in southern Colorado, right over the border from Texas. Patient’s name is Jane Doe, but the photos are almost an exact match.” His stomach lurches, dark clouds shadowing his vision, world splitting into blood and rage. Violence.

He didn’t want to be right.

He wanted to it to be anything, anything but this.

Who? 

Is it the same person that choked you? Beat you? Tore your shoulder damn near out of its socket? 

His gaze drifts to Penny.

They'll need to loop Price in, immediately. 

“Can you send it to me?”

“It’s already in your email.” She speeds past, eagerly. “There’s more. I used the photo to run facial recognition on archives in neighboring states and got a host of hits from Texas. You’ll have to visually confirm, but if I’m right, I’ve got positive ID on your girl.”

“How?”

“School. She graduated high school a year before the rest of her class, ended up with a full scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. Went on to get a bioscience degree and graduated from Rice early.” Pride flutters beneath his ribs, honeyed and heavy. Their smart girl. “She ends up at a different school for pre-med but drops out before the first year ends. Not sure what happened but she started an accelerated nursing program, and breezed through it. You should see her transcripts. I don’t think this girl has gotten less than an A+ on anything since kindergarten.”

“Send them over.”

“Already done. After that, she starts work at a local hospital, and then… nothing. Her paper trail stops. Her job disappears. She’s a ghost except for the sealed court records, and now the Jane Doe medical chart, but that didn’t happen until later. The aliases she’s used over the past few years, they’re in the wind. It’s really quite impressive. She’s either got a connection somewhere, or she’s CIA.” Kate is animated, talking quickly, and he interrupts her to get to the question that’s weighing on him, brushing off the latter immediately. You’re not a honeypot. He spots those a mile away.

“You know her name, then. Her birth name?”

“I do.” She’s silent for a moment, and then she gives it softly. First, middle and last.

He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine you as a girl, on the playground, playing tags with other kids, all of them shouting your name, or as a teenager, in a fight with a parent, one of them yelling your name. He pictures you as a uni student, with your friends, laughing and having a good time somewhere, one of them hollering your name over too loud music. You’ve had a whole life with that name, a whole story. You were a person with that name, and he tries to imagine the way it would sound on your tongue, on Johnny’s, even his.

You’re a ghost now, will you let them bring you into the light?

Will you let them help you reclaim it; the way Johnny helped him reclaim his own?

Kate subtly coughs on the other end of the line.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep digging. Check your email when you get a chance.”

“Will do.”

“Oh! And the hotel, I sent that paperwork to your email as well.” He thanks her, again, tells her to try to enjoy her time off and hangs up just as Penny starts to fidget, unhappy with being in the highchair for so long without attention.

“Alright, lamb. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pulls her free, showering kisses all over her cheeks and neck that make her giggle. “Can’t be wearin’ your applesauce and pajamas over to John and Lou’s, can you?”

Johnny is anxious. Simon can see it a mile away, even before he gets in the room, he notices how he is fidgets, unspent energy and too much time to dwell culminating in an unsettled state.

So, when he kisses him first thing, he makes it long and slow. He drags Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth, carefully taking his time until he’s sure his partner is half hard beneath his hospital gown and blanket.

“Si.” Johnny groans, and he relents, pulling away to cradle his face between his hands, taking him in, every line, every fleck of gold in his blue eyes, soaking up the healing, healthy glow that glimmers in his skin.

His doctor says it won’t be long now, until he can come home, and Simon is counting the days.

To have everyone, under one roof, feels like a fever dream.

“Missed you.” Johnny noses into his neck, and Simon reciprocates with a kiss to his temple, his cheek.

“Missed ye too.” He pauses, squeezing his hand. “Pen?”

“Alright. Grumpy this morning. Think she wanted to see you.” She did, he knows it, but he tries not to pile it on. Johnny knows their daughter misses him, as much as he misses her. They’re two peas in a pod, best friends, halves to a whole. They’re both suffering. “Went with Lou and John fine. I’ll bring her in the morning.”

“Good.” He nods, tilting his chin for another kiss, and Simon gives it without hesitation, basking in the warmth and familiar feel  of his skin.

When he clears his throat, he pulls away with a sigh. “How is she?”

“In pain. Shoulder is nearly torn out of the socket, and her neck is in poor shape. I had to help get her into bed, she couldn’t get her shirt off. Emotionally she’s… still got the walls up, but she let them slip for a second last night, before she let me help her. And I caught her crying in front of the fridge. Think the photos of Pen got to her somehow.” His stomach twists, new, horrifying possibility dawning on him. Do you have a child somewhere? 

“Did she get any sleep?”

“She hadn’t come down when I left to take Penny, so I assume so.”

“Good. She needs it.” Simon agrees. After injury, after trauma, body and mind need so much more care. More rest, more nutrients, water, protein. More love.

“Kate called.” He bites the bullet, fingers flexing against his knee. “She found a loose end and tugged it.” Johnny straightens. He’s every bit the solider, even laid up in bed. Waxy, soft features turn razor sharp and focused, except instead of his practiced steadiness, he’s chomping at the bit.

“Tell me.”

Simon does. He tells him everything Kate said, almost verbatim. Johnny’s face changes from worried to enraged when he finally gets to the medical chart.

“No.” Johnny’s whisper is faint, thin, papyrus. Brittle and broken, almost washed away, and Simon doesn’t blame him. The chart is horrific for them, was horrific for him earlier, turned his stomach until he thought he’d be sick.

He’s killed. He’s tortured. But to be there when Johnny revealed the handprinted tender skin on your neck, to be there when you cried out in pain last night, when he saw the scars on your body, the cigarette burns that were so familiar, to look at these photos and know that you’ve been brutalized beyond belief, makes his vision run red and his heart ache.

There’s a ghost in these photos. A different girl, but the same, a glimpse of what he saw last night. Still their bunny, their girl. He can see her, through the broken blood vessels and compound forearm fracture. He can see her past the swollen cheekbone and broken nose, the fresh burns on your stomach and torso. The doctor’s notes indicate that you said you were mugged, and sexually assaulted, but refused to finish the SANE exam and took off.

He's not surprised. 

The first time he saw the burns on your naked skin, he swore he could his mother’s screams, and for the hundredth time today, Simon thinks of her. He wonders, if she ever went to a hospital, if she ever begged anyone to help her, or them. He wonders if someone saw what was happening, how she was slowly disappearing, sinking in on herself, and tried to help. He wonders if she felt as alone as you seem to. If she too, became a ghost.

He looks at these photos and cannot fight the pain, the memories.

“Oh, Si.” Johnny cups his cheek, thumb soothing softly across his skin, trying to wipe away the tears that fall. He can’t stop them, not now, and Johnny does not ask, only holds him through it, lets him cry into his hands, pain and suffering of a small, frightened boy coming out of his body in broken sobs.

He won’t fail you. Not like he did her.

After minutes turn long, he takes a deep breath, pressing his lips to Johnny’s palm, and utters a promise as cold as death. 

“We’ll kill them. Whoever it is.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #ghost x reader

[inkysocky]

Riding Jay

Your legs are clamped around Jays hips and he’s pounding into you at a frenzied rhythm. You grip his shoulders as your legs are quivering, and he sinks deeper into the couch while he’s so lost in being snug in your tight walls. He guides your hip movements with his hands and you can see how hard he’s fighting the urge to squeeze your body and bruise your skin purple. 

His cock is battering against your cervix and his tensed and twitching body is driving you mad. His hand leaves your hip and slithers around your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling your head back, exposing your neck completely. You’re so out of this world that you don’t even care, you just follow his command like the pet you are. 

“Fuck, baby. Oh fuck…”, 

“You like that? Yeah?”

“You’re such a slut for my cock and you fucking love it, right?”

“Answer me, slut. Use your words”

His words echo in your ears, and the way he’s elevating your body and slamming you back down on his dick is putting your entire body through shock. Jay feels your approaching orgasm by the way your walls grip around him, and the clenching of your cunt just makes him drive deeper and harder. He forces your legs wider, not caring about how his hips are giving you bruises in your thighs because of how hard he’s going, just as long as he gets to creampie your womb so much that you won’t even want to pull off his cock. 

Your moans become higher and louder, nearly squealing at the intensity of your orgasm. Jay feels your warmth drip down his cock, and the slickness is almost making you slip off his lap. Not even a few seconds after, his cum spurts load after load, filling you so much that you feel like you’re going high. He pumps his loads inside you, letting your juices collide with his while he makes the best cream pie that he can’t wait to taste. 

After you both come down from your high, you start rocking your hips at a very slow pace against his semi-hard cock. Feeling like you’re in paradise, you keep the pace at a savoury, sensual manner that you both can’t get enough of. You see his eyes roll into his head and it’s the hottest thing you could’ve ever seen. His grip on your hips loosen a bit but he’s still holding onto you tightly, and you can tell that he’s still fighting urge after urge. 

#enha #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jay #jay park #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enha x reader #enha smut #jay smut #jay hard hours #jay hard thoughts

[theemporium]

Despite the fact drivers were meant to be cautious of their size and weight, Carlos Sainz was an absolute beast of a man.

Everything about him was big and you loved it, far more than you cared to admit. You loved the way he towered over you. You loved the way his thick arms would wrap around you. You loved his broad shoulders and thigh thighs and big hands and just every single damn thing about your boyfriend. Every single aspect of him lived in your head on a loop, not a passing moment in your life where you weren’t thinking about some part of him. 

And his personality only matched. Carlos Sainz was never one to half-ass something, regardless if it was a race or a date night—or in the most recent case, a honeymoon. 

He knew from the first day he met you that he was going to marry you. He knew that the day he found the perfect ring, that would be his sign that he was ready to propose and that day came around two years later. 

The ring was beautiful and large and encaptured everything beautiful about Carlos. The wedding felt like something out of a fairytale. The reception had felt like the best day of your life and you swore nothing would ever top it. 

And then Carlos whisked you away on your dream vacation, starting off with a massive villa on the Amalfi Coast. It was huge, far too big for the two of you but Carlos had insisted that it was what you deserved. 

Though, you should have known his real reason was so that he could fuck you in every single one of those rooms in the villa, with the sight of his wife and the Italian coast as his perfect view.

“Carlos—fuck!”

“Go on, baby, scream for me.”

“It’s too much!”

“Shhh, you’re taking it so well,” Carlos praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he gripped your thighs even tighter. “Don’t even need to do anything, just look pretty for me.”

You let out a choked noise, your lips parting as your husband continued to bounce you up and down on his cock. The last few days since you landed had been similar. Whichever room you were in, whatever you were wearing, whatever you were doing never mattered to Carlos. He just needed to have his hands on you. He just needed to have his cock inside you. 

He just needed you.

And it was hard to forget how big and strong your husband was when he did everything in his power to remind you.

Whether it was engulfing you as he fucked you from behind, keeping you trapped between his body and the wall as he slid inside you, or even pressing down on the bulge in your stomach when he fucks you on the bed, cooing at the reminder that even his cock was too big—Carlos was big and everything reminded you of that fact.

“Hmm, just like that, amor,” Carlos groaned as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Just hold onto me. Let me do the work, mi hermosa esposa.”

“S’too much, Carlos,” you whined as he stood by the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the setting sun. You had been admiring the oranges and pinks and purples in the sky when Carlos had settled in beside you, lasting all of three minutes before he was all over you—despite the fact you were still leaking from his last load.

“Never get enough of you, mi amor,” Carlos gritted through clenched teeth as he continued to move you up and down his cock, as his arms flexed with every move, as he fucked you like you were just a toy rather than his wife. And yet, he was barely breaking a sweat as he kept going and going and going and—

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as you clenched around his cock, nuzzling your face into his warm chest as you felt your body shake with the intensity of your orgasm but Carlos held you close. He let you wrap your legs around him as he held you to him, as he guided you through your orgasm until you were clinging onto him.

“Perfect for me,” Carlos hummed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Every part of you was made for me, made for my cock.”

You snorted. “I still think it’s too big for me.”

You could feel his smile against your temple. “And yet, I make it fit every single time.”

“You’re doing God’s work, Mr Sainz,” you teased playfully as he huffed out a laugh.

“Anything for you, Mrs Sainz.”

.

#cece's smutober #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #formula one smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 smut

[tlou-reid]

Cardigan ❤︎ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: spencer is finally home and all fem!reader wants is to be close with him (i picture this as season 9 reid but you do you)

♡ WARNINGS: smut, unprotected piv (be safe!) , ass slapping, fluffy smut, spencer being a cutie, showering together, not edited, 18+ minors dni

—♡

Spencer could’ve sworn you could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way up the apartment building’s stairs. He had called you a few hours ago and let you know that they were finally loading up the jet to go home. After an excruciating, exhausting, and downright horrendous case all Spencer wanted to do was go home to you.

You couldn’t help yourself from making your way to the kitchen after hanging up with Spencer. It wasn’t that you felt the need to cook for him; he was a grown man, he could do it himself if he wanted food. But it was an act of love. After being away for almost two weeks and nothing but fast food and vending machine snacks, you knew he’d appreciate a warm, home cooked meal.

You heard the keyhole in the door turn as you sat his plate on the dining room table. You made your way to the door to be able to greet him as soon as he came in. The grin that spread across your face as he opened the door quickly faded as you saw the deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked so, so tired. Your heart fell, knowing he must have had an awful two weeks.

“Spence,” you said lovingly, reaching for his shoulders. His body instantly relaxed as you rubbed the tension out of his body. He stood in the doorway as your hands slid from his shoulders down his chest. Your hands followed the buttons of his purple cardigan down, undoing them as you went. Neither of you said anything, just allowing your actions to convey how much you missed him, how much you loved him, and how much you hoped he was feeling okay.

When his cardigan was fully unbuttoned your hands traced back up to his shoulders, helping him take it off. You grabbed his hand, lightly tugging him inside and setting his cardigan on the arm of the couch, him shutting the door as you did so. Still silent, you led him to the table by his hand, pulling his chair out and allowing him to sit.

Your hand ran through his hair before you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. Spencer’s eyes fell shut as your lips pressed against his skin. “You okay?” You spoke softly. Spencer just nodded, reaching towards to wrap his hands around your waist. His dinner plate was forgotten, but he made a mental note to thank you for the gesture later, as he pulled you into his lap. “Rough week,” was all he said.

You nodded, letting him bury his head into your shoulder. You knew sometimes this is what Spencer needed. Despite not liking when people touched him, he craved yours. It was like you were his own personal sense of home, and everything was okay as long as he could feel your skin. No killers, no victims, no violence, no nightmares. Just you and your soft skin and gentle touch. That was all he needed.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that; just wrapped up with each other. His plate had definitely gone cold by the time his hands unwrapped from your waist. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as you got off his lap, “I’m just really hungry.” You giggled, offering to heat his plate up for him. He declined, assuring you that your cooking was more than enough, and he was just grateful to have something to eat already made. Both of your hearts were full of love as you sat while he ate, continually complimenting your cooking.

When Spencer was done, you quickly cleared his plate for him, just sitting it by the sink for one of you to worry about tomorrow. You, once again, grabbed his hand and gently guided him to your shared bedroom. Physically, he wasn’t fragile. Spencer was strong. He’d been through more than almost anyone else on the planet, and he took it in stride. He took whatever came at him and not only moved on from it, but grew from it. But you were still scared he would break. After all, a person could only take so much.

“Shower with me?” Spencer asked once you both reached the bedroom. He sat on the edge to untie his converses. “Of course,” you hummed already making your way to the connected bathroom. You were turning on the water when Spencer entered the room, wearing only his boxers. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced over every nook and cranny of his body. He was so beautiful. After a week, you were dying to be near him. To touch him. To have him touch you.

Spencer could feel the energy shift as he came in. He watched you as you undressed, stepping into the shower. He followed closely, letting his hand run over your chest as he stepped in. You guys stood facing each other, letting the warm water run over you. You held eye contact as you leaned to kiss him. You’d missed the feeling of his lips against yours.

He was the one who deepened the kiss. He could only control himself so much after being away for so long. He thought of you every night. Even when he couldn’t talk to you, you were on his mind.

His hands were on each side of your face as you made out in the shower. His tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. God, you really did miss him.

Just as quickly as he deepened your kiss, he broke it. “I’m really sweaty,” he chuckled reaching for a rag to soap up. You washed each other. You noticed his half-hard cock as you washed his legs. You couldn’t help but press a kiss on his happy trail. He smiled when you stood up to face him again, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Spencer wrapped a large, fluffy towel around your body when you stepped out. He smiled as he ran his hands along your shoulders. He couldn’t help but give you another kiss before leaving the bathroom.

“Come here,” Spencer beckoned, bringing you over to the bed. You held your towel tight to your body as he leaned into where you stood between his legs. He was sitting, trapping you between his open, man-spreading legs. He started pressing deep kisses into your neck and mumbling how much he missed you in-between them. Your grip on your towel loosened as he showered you with love.

He noticed this, reaching up to move your hand completely. He was sucking a mark into your neck as he pulled your towel down. His mouth moved down, as did his hands. As he spread kisses across your chest, Spencer pulled you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, he attached himself to your left nipple. He kept one hand around your waist and brought the other up to toy with your right one.

“Spence,” you groaned, pushing yourself closer to him. After him being gone for so long, it was so easy for him to turn you on. Spencer could feel the wetness that had pooled around your pussy from where you were on his lap.

“Yes, baby?” He questioned, knowing what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it. “I want you,” you whined, dragging your pussy along his hard cock. “I’m tired baby, I don’t know if I can give it to you.” You whined at his teasing words.

He wasn’t lying. He was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he would last once he was inside of you.

“That’s okay,” you mewled, dropping your head into his shoulder, “I can do it myself, if that’s okay.” Spencer smiled, and let out a soft moan at your sweet, but dirty words. “Of course that’s okay,” he said.

That was all you needed, reaching a hand down in between you two and lining him up with your entrance. His hands rested on your waist as you sat down on him. You both let out a matching groan as you fully took him. “I missed you so fucking much.” Spencer said, moving forward to kiss you.

Your movements started light, barely lifting yourself off of his cock. The drag of his length inside of you felt so good as you bounced on his dick. As your movements started to pick up, Spencer was groaning underneath you, loving the way your ass slapped against his thighs as you bounced on him. He couldn’t help himself as he reached down to give it a light slap, before gripping it hard.

You let out a loud moan as you felt him guide your movements from behind. You pressed kisses into his neck as he moved you. You wanted to leave marks on him, just like he did to you, but you couldn’t. He’d have to leave again and you didn’t want anyone else to see the filthy things you two did when you were alone.

Spencer’s words were broken and weak as he sputtered out, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last.” You nodded, agreeing with him but unable to find words as his cock lit a fire inside of you. Your movements were fast and heavy, becoming erratic as you were reaching your high.

When his hand that wasn’t on your ass reached down between your bodies, rubbing on your clit, you let out a moan. Your legs began to feel weak and he had to work harder to guide you as finished on his cock. Your pussy squeezing him just right led him to his own, cumming inside of you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you,” Spencer spoke softly, his throat slightly hoarse. You hummed in agreement, pulling yourself off of him. You tried not to make a mess as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you were done, Spencer was laying in his plaid sweatpants, propped up on pillows at the top of your bed. Your eyes couldn’t help but trace his long legs. He smiled at you, holding out the cardigan that you had pulled off of him when he came in.

“I figured you’d like to sleep in it.” You smiled and nodded, slipping it on and buttoning it up. As you both settled down and turned off the lights, all you could think about was how happy you were he was home and safe.

You slept together with your legs intertwined at the bottom of the bed. Spencer didn’t have any nightmares that night.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 50 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley surprises you with something at the hospital tour that leaves you smiling. And you fall asleep that night in the one place he didn't know would make him even more sure he wanted to marry you. He has the ring ready to go, excited to propose to you at the air show, but the look on your face leaves him wondering if it's too soon.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley smiled in contentment as you laced your fingers with his. The tour of the children's hospital which was affiliated with the air show was interesting to him, but as someone who worked in pediatric medicine, you were enthralled. "Daddy, look," you said, pulling him off to the side as the tour guide started to lead the group down a flight of stairs. "Noah would love this." 

Bradley was getting some looks from another man in the tour group, because you clearly had no shame when you called him that in front of other people. "Princess," he whispered, kissing your ear as you pointed out the window to the colorful courtyard filled with toys and jungle gyms. "Every time you call me Daddy, that guy smirks at me."

"Who?" you asked, turning to glance at the rest of the group headed for the stairwell. "The one in the green shirt?"

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, watching him look at you. 

You laughed softly and turned back to Bradley. "He just wishes someone would call him Daddy."

"You're probably not wrong," he replied with a smile. "The group is leaving without us."

"We can catch up," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him in his rough flight suit. You were a soft and warm presence, your cheek coming to rest on his patch that said ROOSTER. "Thanks for bringing me. I didn't want to have to call Jake and hit him up."

Bradley could tell you were trying not to laugh. "What did I tell you about acting like a brat?"

He rubbed soft circles against your back and you sighed. "Why would I stop now when you so clearly enjoy it?" 

Bradley groaned. "Let's get going. The tour is almost over, and then I can load you up with champagne and take you home."

You and he had to rush down the stairs to rejoin the group, and of course the man in the green shirt was looking at Bradley like he'd just fucked you in the middle of the hallway or something. But your fingers were laced with his again, so it didn't matter. 

You ended up asking the tour guide so many questions along the way that he learned your name and that you were a pediatric nurse, and he answered you in great detail each time. The hospital provided state of the art treatment for children, and when the group walked past an indoor play area where some kids were coloring, you paused and waved to them. They waved back, and you whispered, "Why does everything remind me of Noah?"

"Because you're his mom," Bradley replied without really thinking about it. That was the most natural response. Why did you care so much? Because you were his mom. Why did you prioritize Noah above everything else? Because you were his mom. Part of the reason Bradley let himself indulge in those early fantasies about you was because his son fell in love with you first. 

"I miss him a little bit," you whispered, nibbling on your glossy lip. Bradley brought your hand up to his lips and kissed along your purple nails. 

"I'm sure he misses you, too. But he's probably getting in bed by now. Let's enjoy the rest of the night?" Bradley asked. 

"I'm spending it with you. Of course I'm going to enjoy it."

-------------------------

The cocktail reception was beautiful. That colorful courtyard that caught your eye had been lit up with strings of white lights, and the tour group had been led outside into the warm evening air. After two glasses of champagne, you were still pouting over the fact that there were no berries at the bottom, but you were also feeling nice and loose.  "Maybe I should go tell the green shirt guy's wife that he'd love it if she called him Daddy," you remarked as Bradley brought over a plate of hors d'oeuvres to share with you. 

Bradley gave you a bland look in response as he dipped shrimp into cocktail sauce and set the plate down on the tall table where you stood. "If you go over there and say anything involving the word Daddy, they will probably try to get you to be their third."

Heat rushed to your cheeks immediately. "Bradley!"

He just shrugged in response and offered you the plate. You plucked up your own piece of shrimp wondering how on earth a comment like that from your boyfriend could make you want to take him home to bed immediately. But it did. And your desire for him only grew as you watched him unzip his flight suit and pull out his checkbook. 

"Please. You know what that thing does to me," you whispered, fumbling your food before you managed to get it to your mouth. 

Bradley laughed as he uncapped a pen. "My checkbook? The thing you always make fun of?"

You shook your head and took another bite of shrimp. "You know I think all of your old man stuff is sexy. But what do you need a check for?"

He examined your face before he leaned on the table, pen hovering over the check. "You said Jake was going to donate five thousand bucks if he got to fly in the air show?"

"That's what he told me."

Bradley hummed and wrote the check out to the children's hospital for six thousand dollars. "Can't have him showing us up. You wanna sign it?"

You were wiping your fingers on a cocktail napkin and admiring your nails as you said, "How am I supposed to sign your check?"

He set the pen down on the checkbook and pushed it across the table toward you before picking up the plate and eating an eggroll in two big bites, eyes firmly on you. He was acting weird now, but you dragged your gaze away from his face down to the table and gasped. The top corner of the check said BRADLEY BRADSHAW in bold font, but now your name was listed right under his along with the address of the cute, blue bungalow in Coronado where you lived. 

"Why did you do that?" you asked, staring at your name. 

"Because I trust you. And now I can drag you down into my deep, dark, embarrassing, millennial rabbit hole where I still pay for things with checks and don't know how to use my phone. And you can pay for daycare when I'm not home."

You tried to fight it, but a huge smile broke out on your face. "Casey is going to hate this."

"Casey isn't going to know what hit her when she sees you next week, Princess," he said as you signed your name on the bottom of the check and tore it free. You tucked yourself against his side and looked at the two names together while he polished off the rest of the food on the plate. 

"Thanks for letting me be your date tonight," you told him, and he laughed. 

"Who else would I have asked to come with me?"

"Skittles."

He kissed the top of your head. "Okay. You got me there. Ready to hand in our check and go home before the guy in the green shirt and his wife get any more ideas?"

"Yeah. Let's go home."

------------------------------

Bradley gave you a piggyback ride in from the Bronco while also carrying your high heels and your bag. He could tell you were a little tipsy by the way you were giggling softly next to his ear and running your nose through his hair. "Daddy," you whispered as he put his key in the front door. "Are you going to fuck me on the living room floor or in bed?"

"Shh," he coaxed, pushing the door open to reveal Amelia sitting on the couch, reading a comic book. "Can you behave for like five minutes, please?"

You erupted into laughter as you held onto him, and even Amelia was laughing as Bradley asked, "How was Noah?"

"Great," she replied, tossing her comic into her backpack. "He had two slices of pizza. I put the leftovers in the fridge. I just wiped him down instead of giving him a bath, and he was asleep by 8:30."

Bradley shook his head as you kissed his ear. "This one should have also been in bed by 8:30," he mumbled, making you laugh more. He set you down so he could get his wallet out.

"Thanks, Amelia," you told her kindly before turning back to Bradley and smirking. "Please give her cash and not a check, old man. I'm going to give Noah a goodnight kiss."

Bradley shook his head and handed Amelia what was owed for the night while she laughed. "Thank you," he told her, opening the door and watching her walk to her car. He stood there until she started the engine, and he made sure she pulled away with a wave. 

Skittles was already curled up in her bed, but you were nowhere to be found when he got to the bedroom. "Princess?" he called out with a chuckle, doubling back to the bathroom. Not three minutes ago you were all smiles, and he was getting ready for you to tease him relentlessly before maybe getting that black dress off of you. But as he unzipped his flight suit a few inches and peeked inside Noah's bedroom door, he found you. 

A beam of moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating your face and Noah's as both of you slept curled up together in the twin sized bed. Bradley stood in the doorway for a long time, trying to decide what to do with you as his smile grew. This was all he wanted. Just his family. He strode the rest of the way into the room and brushed Noah's soft curls back from his forehead before kissing him there. Then he leaned over and kissed your cheek. "I love you," he whispered to you both, ultimately deciding to leave you with his son for the night. 

Bradley moved your phone charger into Noah's room along with your phone which he took out of your purse. You had given him your passcode before, but he hated using it without your permission. When he entered it, he saw a few new texts from your coworkers and one from Nat. That made him smile as he set an alarm for 8:00 to ensure you and Noah would get to the air show in time to see him fly. His plans were relying on that. 

He kissed you both once more each and left your charging phone on Noah's dresser before he went to get himself ready for bed. He groaned, remembering the ungodly early hour he had to get himself out the door in the morning. At least you could follow him to Miramar a little later. Before he climbed into bed, he made sure he had everything ready that he would need for the air show: a clean flight suit, phone, wallet, and the ring box.

----------------------------

"Mommy!" 

You opened your eyes to find Noah giggling right in front of you. As you looked around, you realized you were in his bedroom. When you sat up, you noticed your phone alarm was going off.

"Why did you sleep in my bed?" he asked as you reached for your phone to silence it. Amongst your notifications, you saw a text from Bradley and quickly opened it.

Bradley Bradshaw: Good morning, Princess. You looked so adorable in bed with Noah, I didn't want to move you. I hope you slept well, and I can't wait to see you both after I fly at 11:00.

You tossed your phone aside and kissed Noah on the top of his head. He was wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas, and he looked so perfectly sweet. "I guess I needed some extra cuddles last night, and I knew just where to find them."

He let you pull him against you for about twenty seconds before he started to wriggle away. "I'm hungry. I want to see where Skittles is."

You watched him take off down the hallway as you rolled onto your back. You were still in your black dress, and you could barely remember getting home last night and seeing Amelia reading a comic book. You stretched and made your way into the kitchen relieved that you had plenty of time to get you and Noah dressed in your matching outfits and on the road to the air show. You turned on the coffee maker as you watched him petting Skittles by the back door. 

"Here, let's see if she needs to go outside," you said as you slid the door open for the dog. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Cereal and probably some fruit."

"Good choice."

Once you had Noah and Skittles both settled with some food, you kissed him on the forehead. "I'm going to take a really fast shower while you eat, okay? Just stay at the table, and I'll be right back." Noah nodded as he ate one of the pieces of banana you'd cut up for him. You dashed into the bathroom, cranking the shower to hot and stripped out of your dress and the lacy underwear Bradley didn't even get to see. But there would be plenty of time for that sort of thing later. 

You started to make a mental list of everything you needed to take with you to the air show. You had some snacks already prepared, and you'd need the beach blanket from the hallway closet. Sunblock and maybe a towel or two. Earplugs for you and the noise canceling headphones for Noah. Did you need to take some tampons with you? What was today? It was Saturday. Should you take tampons?

You dropped your razor with a clatter as you spun around and got yourself rinsed off while your heart pounded. You turned off the water and stood in the middle of the bathroom, dripping water onto the mat. When you reached for a towel, you cracked the door open. "Noah? You still okay?"

"Yeah, Mommy."

You wrapped yourself up and tried to remember if you'd had your period even once since Bradley flushed your birth control down the toilet at the lake house. No. No you had not. Not even once. But the thing you had been doing was having almost nonstop unprotected sex with your boyfriend. 

"Shit." You brushed your teeth and started moving as fast as you could while your brain was in such a fog. You needed to get dressed and find your car keys. You needed to go to the pharmacy. "Noah," you called out as you ran around. "We need to run to the store as soon as you're done eating!"

Somehow you managed to get yourself dressed and somewhat presentable looking, and then you pulled the yellow shirt over Noah's head that matched the flowers on your dress. You couldn't tell if you were more nervous or more excited at the thought of buying a pregnancy test with your Princess credit card, but in that moment, you really did feel like you were Noah's mom. He reached for your hand, and you led him outside to your car. Bradley put you fully in charge of his son, and you'd do anything for this child. Even the idea of Noah as a big brother had you buckling him in faster. 

"We'll just run to the store and then come back home really quickly," you whispered in excitement. 

"I want to go to the air show and see Daddy," he whined. "You promised."

You kissed his chubby cheek. "You're right. I promised. And I will always keep my promises. We'll go to the air show right after we stop back home."

-----------------------------

Bradley was restless. He originally thought this was a great idea, zipping the engagement ring inside one of the many pouches on his flight suit. But he kept checking relentlessly to make sure it was still there. And all he'd really done all morning was wait around after he landed his Super Hornet in Miramar. The other pilots were fine. They seemed nice. But they probably thought Bradley was a complete basketcase. Now he was pacing the tarmac, anxious to get into the air as he checked his phone again. 

My Princess: Hey, Daddy. Noah and I arrived! We have a good spot in the grass on the west end of the runway. Can't wait to see you fly!

This was good. It was good that you were already here. He should be in the air in about thirty minutes. He knew what he needed to do. The flight formation was ingrained in his mind. It would be a snap. 

But he needed to get this fucking ring on your finger. He should have just proposed the night he brought it home. He'd thought about it then and every day since. For some reason he'd convinced himself that waiting for today was his best move, but now he couldn't even remember why. God, he just wanted to hear you say yes. He wanted to know you would be his and Noah's forever. He wanted to sit up with you later and hold you on his lap while the two of you read over the adoption paperwork. 

"Fuck," he muttered, checking the time again. It was so obvious from the very beginning that you belonged with him, and he'd fought it for long enough that he had hurt you. Some of the decisions he made weren't the best, but as soon as he picked you up from that fraternity party, he knew that was never going to happen again. 

"Rooster? It's almost time to go."

"Yeah," he agreed, patting the pocket of his flight suit again. "I'm ready."

As he climbed up the ladder into his jet, he glanced toward the west end of the runway. The entire event was packed, and it was impossible to pick the two of you out, but he waved nonetheless, hoping maybe you could see him. This combination of nerves was new to him. Settling into the seat and running his fingers along the controls was always exhilarating, but now he was starting to think you'd say it was too soon to be engaged. He had been trying to make his intentions clear for weeks, getting little to no resistance from you. But there was always a chance.

"It's time!"

He closed his canopy after securing all of his harnesses and strapping his helmet into place. At least you and Noah would be able to see him fly for the first time. Then even if you said it was too soon, you'd know he was ready when you were, and that there was a ring waiting. 

The sound of his engines roaring to life brought him comfort and kept him feeling grounded even as he started to taxi. He took off past the packed end of the runway where you were surely sitting, and he knew you'd point him out to Noah. Maybe he was sitting all snuggled up on your lap with his big headphones on. The cozy idea made Bradley want to be down there as he pulled his first roll high above the ground in tandem with the other pilots. The comms crackled to life as he banked out toward the water. 

The sky was clear in every direction; the perfect day for flying. He felt calmer now as he cut graceful movements through the air past two of the others, and even though you were just a speck on the ground from this altitude, he knew you could see him. And he knew you were perfect. And he somehow knew you'd say yes.

As soon as he landed to the crowds of people along the runway cheering and waving Navy flags in the air, he taxied his jet back where it belonged and climbed out as soon as the ladder was available. When he saluted the officer in charge he asked, "Am I dismissed?" He didn't want to wait another minute as he once again checked inside that zipper pouch. 

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant. Thank you."

He started off at a bit of a brisk walk that turned into a jog. He passed through the guarded chain link fence lined with barbed wire and turned in the direction where you said you were sitting, texting as he dodged spectators in the crowd. 

I'm on my way to the two of you.

Without waiting for a response, he moved as quickly as he could past food vendors and flight simulations. All he could picture was the way you'd slept all night curled up with Noah, because when you were with him, everything that was important to Bradley was all in one place, and it made him ache. His flight suit felt restricting now, and he wished he'd taken the time to unzip the top of it. But he had his mission in mind, and nothing was going to stop him. 

Eyes searching the crowd for your floral dress pattern and Noah's yellow shirt, he finally saw you pop up from the blanket you were sitting on to wave at him. A smile found Bradley's face as his feet carried him in your direction. You were holding Noah's small hand in yours as people started wandering around the area before the next set of aircrafts took off. Bradley wiped his brow with his sleeve as he got close enough to see your purple nails as you picked Noah up to wave.

"Hi, Daddy!" his son called out, the noise canceling headphones slipping out of place as you laughed and removed them for the time being. The headphones dropped from your fingertips and landed on the blanket just as Bradley wrapped both of you in a hug.

"Hey, Bub," he said as Noah climbed into his grasp. 

"We saw you in the air!" you gushed, wrapping your arms around him. "Noah loved it so much."

His lips were on yours instantly as his fingers flexed against your back. With one hand around each of you, Bradley wished he'd taken the ring out on his jog over. Now he was out of breath and sweaty and trying to juggle Noah in one arm while the child talked a mile a minute about the airplanes. Because when Bradley broke the kiss and looked at your face, all he wanted to do was hand you that ring and his heart and his life and beg you to always be with them. 

"Princess," he rasped, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he pulled his hand back to find that zipper. He fumbled a bit with it as you bit your lip a little nervously, so he leaned in to kiss your cheek before turning his attention to Noah. "I really need your help, Bub."

"With what?" he asked, arms still wrapped around Bradley's neck. 

As his fingers closed around the ring, he whispered, "We have to ask Mommy a question."

The crowd was loud enough that Bradley thought there was a good chance you couldn't hear his words to Noah as he finally shared his plans for the day with his son. But as he sank to one knee in front of you with Noah perched in front of him, you looked more apprehensive. He handed Noah the ring and watched as his son reached his hand up to you. It was too late to stop now as you caught sight of the princess cut diamond that Bradley thought you'd love from the first time he saw it. Your eyes went wide, and you gasped loudly, eyes fixed on Bradley as you froze. His brain was screaming at him that you were going to say no.

Then Noah's sweet voice filled the space between the two of you as he held the ring up a little higher and asked, "Mommy, will you marry Daddy?"

You were looking from Noah to Bradley as you pressed your fingertips to your lips, and your response was neither a confirmation nor a rejection of his proposal, but rather something Bradley had been hoping for but thought was still a long way off. Tears filled your eyes as you said, "I'm pregnant." 

-----------------------------

Double. Whammy. What's your move, Daddy? What are you thinking, Princess? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 51

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[reiding-writing]

hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3

spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH

SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]

1. “You’re bleeding.”

2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”

WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3

spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!

a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.

If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.

Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.

It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.

He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.

Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.

How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?

They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.

All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.

You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.

You weren’t that lucky.

You never were.

—

“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.

Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.

You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.

The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.

Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.

At least you were okay.

“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.

It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.

It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.

“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”

The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.

You looked bad.

Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.

“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.

“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.

“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.

“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.

“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.

“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”

Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.

“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.

“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.

“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”

“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”

“But…”

“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”

He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”

“Just keep your eyes open okay?”

You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.

“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.

“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.

“But you are though,”

“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”

“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”

“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”

And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.

You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.

At least he stays by your side the entire time.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

[rafescurtainbangz]

Breaking Dishes (Rafe Cameron One Shot) +18

Minor DNI

Rafe x female reader

Rafe's best friend helps him make the best of his buzz cut era and he gets whatever he'd like in exchange.

Warning: SMUT, lots of pet names, lovey Rafe, friends to lovers, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v

********

"It hurts."

"Does it hurt? Or does it itch? There's a difference.

"Both, Y/N... This is fuckin' stupid."

"No. Nah. Nope... What was stupid was the fact that you, a grown-ass man, didn't know how to do his own laundry."

"That's what you're for."

You flick your eyes from his hair to the mirror, catching him with your death stare. "Keep going." He gives you a shit-eating grin, making you fight off a smile of your own.

"This has to be done." He looks at his hair in the mirror, the bleach altering his dark blonde buzz to an icy white."

"Almost," you sing, running your polished nail through the bleach, eyeing your work.

"And I get whatever I want if I do this. Yeah?"

"Anything you'd like."

Anything.

It started simply with you and Rafe. He looked like a pouty little man-child, holding his Ralph Lauren polo by the shoulders, his privilege showing as he eyed the streaked bleach stain across the front. This sort of shit had gone on for days. First, it was no detergent, then fabric softener only, followed by straight bleach on the third day. He looked pathetic, desperate to accomplish this simple task. You helped him on the fourth day, sparking a friendship in the process, making your first year at college a little easier.

There was so much stuff he just didn't know how to do... Stuff that he could fully figure out on his own, but if he did... Then, he wouldn't need you. And both of you knew that.

There was a spark. There always was. But this time, it was a loaded exchange. You do this for me, and I'll do anything you'd like, Rafey.

"Purple shampoo?" He mumbles.

"I’m being proactive. Gotta tone it. Don't question it," you giggle, emulsifying the shampoo, watching the suds and bleach swirl down the sink. "Gah... Looks so fucking good." He grunts in reply. "Stay here." You run over to the rack, grabbing a fluffy white towel. "Stop!"

"What? Why? It's my hair, Y/N. Jesus fuck."

"'Cause... It's a surprise," you practically growl out the words through your excitement, swathing the towel around his head; pawing out the water.

"What am I gonna do if this looks like shit?"

"It won't. It won't," you smile. "What are you gonna tell Topper?" 

"That I lost a bet. I don't know. You're takin' advantage of me, y/n."

"You're the only person I know with a buzz cut, Cameron. It fits your aesthetic. Lean into it."

"I'm not leaning into shit."

"Stand up." You feel your cheeks redden as Rafe rises from his hunched-over position in the sink, his muscular frame bare, just a pair of gray sweats on his tight body. "You blushing, Y/N?" He asks as a cocky smile spreads on his lips. You bite yours, casting your gaze away as you try to collect yourself. "I look that good. Huh?" He taunts, hooking his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to his. You stare into his beautiful baby blues, feeling your heart start to race.

"Yeah, Cameron."

He bites his cheek, holding back an all-too-wide smile as his cheeks redden as well. You reach up, tapping the high point of his face, silently calling him out.

"Got me," he whispers, making your heart flutter. "Alright... So, can I look?" You smile and nod. Rafe turns on his heels, eyes widening as he takes himself in. He goes through all the emotions at once, landing on a meh. His lip tugs slightly, shoulders shrugging in acceptance."It's not that bad..."

"I love it," you praise, smiling brightly back at him.

"You're way too fuckin' excited about this, Y/N."

"Nah... You wouldn't get it."

"M'Kay. What now?" He cops a slight attitude, unenthused with the rest of your request. You snatch your phone out of your pocket, flicking to your camera, turning it on record. "NO!" He rips it out of your hand, turning it off before passing it back.

"What..." You pout.

"The fuck do you have to record this for?"

"Me!"

"What are you gonna do with it, Y/N? This goes nowhere."

"It's just for me, Rafey. Jesus Christ. Calm your tits."

"Don't tell me to calm my tits," he huffs. "I'm so fuckin' serious, Y/N."

"I promise," you answer earnestly. "And, you have to say the thing."

"I forgot."

"Bullshit."

"When?" He crosses his arms before his chest; his hip popped slightly.

"After I start the song, of course," you tease. "Alexa play Breaking Dishes by Rihanna."

"This is weird," he snips, looking down at you disgustingly.

"It's alright, baby girl. You don't have to get it."

"Don't call me baby girl, Y/N," he huffs as the song starts to build.

"Fine. Alright, Rafey. Lights, Camera, Action."

"A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an..."

Rafe rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth, throwing his arms to his sides. His ab muscles flex more than before, making you squeal internally. Fuck, he looks good.  Your eyes widen, threatening him with your glare to say his fucking line.

"Snow always lands on top."

"Ah! Yes, Rafey!"

You press the little red button, ending the recording, letting out a delighted squeal before jumping into his arms. His eyes fall down your body, roaming back up nice and slow. Rafe's gaze gets stuck on your lips, wetting his own; tension building between the two of you as you wait to see if he'll ask for what you both want.

"You know, Y/N... I wouldn't do this shit for anybody else," he mumbles. 

"I know," you smile. "So, what do you want, Rafe?" You ask, drawing his focus back to your watch.

"Helped you set up that big mirror last week," he rasps.

"Mhmm..."

"Wanna fuck you in front of it, Y/N." You feel your stomach flip; your heart instantly picks up pace.

"Oh."

"That okay?" He asks, leaning in slightly.

"Yeah... That's okay."

"You want that?" He smiles, his lips mere centimeters from yours, breathing softly against yours.

"Yeah."

"Words, Y/N," he whispers.

"I want you to fuck me in front of the mirror, Rafe," you respond, voice hoarse and breathy as your nerves start to get the better of you. Everything fades away as Rafe's lips crash into yours, taking your breath away; claiming your mouth against his.

Heat rolls over your skin. Your body starts to tingle, hands moving from his neck, wrapping around his broad shoulders tightly, drawing him closer. His lips are sweet, just like you expected. A soft moan escapes your lips, landing in his. You feel him smile against your kiss, making you do the same.

"You sure this is okay?" He mumbles between kisses as he walks with you into your bedroom.

"Perfect." Rafe's tongue slips through your lips, greeting yours, rolling softly with your rhythm.

Fuck...

He draws back from you, looking at the two of you in the mirror. "First thing I thought about when you asked me to put this up, Y/N. Been thinkin' about it ever since."

"Yeah?" You smile as you look back into his blue jean eyes. "Why do you think I bought it?" His smile shifts to a smirk at the sound of your admittance.

Rafe sets you down, making quick work of your clothing, peeling it off between kisses. You bite your lip as your fingers dance over the indentations of his muscles, working down to his waistband, his slutty gray sweats, hiding absolutely nothing.

You work the material over his thighs and down to his ankles. He kicks them off, just a pair of white cotton Calvin's on his tight frame. You take your time, revealing his thick cock inch by inch. His dick springs free, standing straight; a bead of cum gathered on his swollen tip.

His rough fingers ghost over your soft skin. Rafe takes hold of your breasts, pressing them together. His touch lightens; feather-soft circle over your nipples.

"Rafe," you whine as you throw your head back.

His mouth quickly greets your skin, sucking harshly, skimming and flicking your hardened nipple with his tongue.

His hands roam down your body as his lips return to yours. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It's happening. Rafe's hand disappears between your thighs, making you moan. He runs his finger along your silk. "So fucking wet for me, y/n," he hums, turning you to face the mirror.

You feel your whole body start to pulse, every nerve firing hot. Rafe's fingers meet your bud, circling softly. You'd always look at his hands, wondering what they could do. "Feels so good," you whine, causing him to chuckle sinfully. Rafe pulls another moan out of your parted lips, his dark gaze matching yours over your shoulder.

He adds a second finger, curling it inside of you, thrusting in and out. Rafe moves his thumb to your clit, adding a little more pressure. "I've always wanted you," He growls, lips grazing your ear.

"Yeah," you mewl.

"Do you think about me a lot, y/n?" He breathes.

"Yes," you press out the word through a moan.

"And you wanted to know what my hands could do. Didn't you? I've seen the way you look at me," he taunts. "Are they doin' it for you, Y/N?" He works you a little harder.

"Yes! Yes." You cry. Your thighs start to tremble. Rafe's lips lock on your neck, licking you, marking you as his own. "I'm gonna cum."

"I know, baby; I know," he whispers against your skin. "Can you be a good girl and cum when I tell you?"

"Rafe, I... S-Shit."

Your eyes flick open, resting on him as you fight back your pleasure, Rafe working against you, trying his very best to push you over the edge.

"Cum."

"Fuck!" You lose yourself, fluttering around his fingers. He continues to please you, toiling harder and quicker than before. Your lips crash into his, cries of pleasure against his mouth. The two of you are breathing heavily; Rafe sucks off your bottom lip slowly.

"I can't wait to have you, y/n," he groans huskily. "Fuck. That was beautiful." Rafe wraps his strong arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "How was that, baby?" He drawls.

"Fantastic... Holy shit."

His hands fall down your skin, landing on your hips, turning you before pulling you close. Rafe circles your ass, squeezing you, giving you a little spank. Your urges are too strong. You just can't resist.

You throw yourself in his arms, lips locking with his. He moans into your kiss, tongue rolling with yours. Your hands grasp the front of his thighs, nails sinking in slightly.

You drag your fingers down his tight body. A smile spreads on Rafe's lips as you wrap your hands around his thick dick.

"Shit, y/n," he chuckles raspily as you fall to your knees.

"Can I suck your cock, Rafey?"

"Mmm... Mhmm," he groans, a lusty chuckle leaving his lips. "Hell fucking yes, Y/N." You feel your confidence building by the moment.

You swirl your tongue on his velvety head, collecting his precum on your tongue. Rafe takes a sharp breath, followed by a loose, drawn-out moan.

"I've always wanted you in my mouth, Rafe," you pant. You trace the head of his shaft, lips close, breathing warmly against him. "Do you want my mouth?" You whisper onto his tip; his lashes flutter.

"Ugh, Shit. Yes, y/n," he groans. "I need your mouth on my cock." His voice is coarse and delicious, driving you wild. You flatten your tongue, licking him from base to tip. Rafe's fingers rake through your hair, his hands gripping the back of your head.

His hips thrust into your mouth slowly, pushing you to see how far he can go. He draws out; your tongue swirls to the tip. "Fuck me, Y/N," Rafe hums. The grip on your hair tightens.

Each thrust is deeper than the next, a soft swirl to his tip. Your eyes start to water. Rafe readjusts his stance, his eyebrows furrowing. Bringing your hands up to his balls, you play with them as well. Rafe bites his lips, grunting with each thrust as he starts to buck his hips into your mouth.

You're choking on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks. You bring your fingers down to your warmth, pleasing yourself as well.

"Y/n," Rafe grunts, taking notice; his breathing increases. "You're going to make me cum, baby," he sears. He adjusts his stance, thighs quaking. "Mmm... Y/n. I can't wait to have you. I'm going to fuckin' ruin you, Y/N," he growls, eyes pinched shut.

Hollowing your cheeks, you increase your suction, causing his lips to part. You feel his dick twitch on your tongue. Rafe thrusts into you roughly, his climax spilling deep into your throat.

He throws his head back again, holding yours against him as you scratch your nails along his ass. "Y/n, f-fuck," he pants, breathing rapidly. "Ugh... Holy shit."

You come off him slowly, eyes set on him.

"Best blowjob of my life.."

"Stop," you giggle.

"Fuck, y/n. I mean it." He helps you to your feet, quickly pulling you in tightly. He presses a kiss against your forehead, breathing rapidly, still coming down from his climax. "Can't wait to taste you, Y/N?"

"M'so wet..." You hum, fanning the flame. His eyes darken, trailing your curves before tossing you down on the bed. You feel your pussy throb, craving Rafe's lips; his fingers; his cock. He wraps his arms around your thighs, drawing you toward his face.

You throw your arms above your head, arching your back as his tongue glides through your silk. "Shit," you mewl as you feel the warmth of his mouth, and the whisper of his breath against your sex.

Rafe buries himself between your thighs, nose brushing your clit; tongue dipping into your entrance. Your heart starts to race again. You prop yourself up on your elbow, meeting his stare. Drawing your hands up your body, you take hold of your breasts. Rafe moans against your pussy, watching as you play with yourself.

He whispers your name softly against your clit; you toss your head back. Feeling the roughness of his hand against your stomach, working higher. Rafe palms your breast, rolling your nipple softly between his fingers.

You feel your pleasure building. Your body moves, grinding your hips to get a little more friction. Rafe's hand lowers; your anticipation builds. He licks a line up your slit.

His fingers toy with your entrance. "Rafe, please," you wail; your thighs widening, pressure building in between.

"Ugh... Fuck!" You cry; Rafe sinks two fingers deep, his soft lips sucking roughly. Your thighs start to quiver as he thrusts his digits in and out. "Can you cum on my fingers?" He breathes. "Can you soak my hand for me?"

"Yes... Yes."

"Mmm... My cock's gonna feel so good sliding in and out of this pretty pussy, Y/N."

"Yes!" You punch out the word, back arching off the bed.

You feel your release, just like he asked, making a mess of his hand as you grip the sheets. You can hear the sound of it. His fingers working sloppily, in and out.

"Baby..." You stutter, relaxing around his fingers, craving more.

Rafe grips your hips in his strong hands, tugging you even closer to the edge. You tilt your head up, watching as he takes a grip on his cock; hard and throbbing. Your eyes shift as he guides himself closer.

He seizes himself by the base, tapping his dick against your clit. Your thighs tremble with each touch, spurs of pleasure, your sensitivity at an all-time high.

"So fucking wet," he praises. Rafe's hands shift, taking a harsh hold on the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. "Mmm... Hold these f'me," he groans. You relax your head to the side as Rafe runs his tips through your silk; his eyes meet yours in the mirror, a smile spreading on his lips.

His mouth parts, mirroring yours as his cock starts to stretch you out. You let out a soft whimper; your eyebrows knit as he gives you all of him. Every inch pushes you to your limit; your eyes roll back as he draws out, quickly thrusting back in.

Your hands grab his forearms, holding on tightly, drawing him closer, pulling him deeper. "Look at me, Y/N," he moans, his eyes shifting from the mirror, driving into yours. He leans into you, folding you in half, pinning your thighs against the bed as he kisses you deeply. Your tongues intertwine; moaning and blissful cries are exchanged between your lips.

You separate slightly, breathing rapidly, lips hovering close. His skin slaps against yours, your forehead, nestled against his. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he pants.

"God, this feels so good."

"So good, baby," he echoes. Rafe picks up speed, feeling your walls drawn in around him. His strong hands grip your hips, using them as leverage to drive deeper.

You throw your head back, eyes shut tight as you feel yourself about to fall apart. Your mouth draws open; a string of curses and praise flow freely. Rafe's lips lock onto your nipple, sucking hard.

"Rafe. Fuck!" Your pleasure releases; your body pulses around his shaft. Your hands reach for him, pulling slightly, tugging him toward your lips. Rafe picks you up swiftly, taking a seat on the bed, his cock still deep inside.

"Are you okay?" He pants with a smile.

"So good... So fucking good."

You start rolling and grinding your hips on top of him. Rafe starts to bounce on the mattress. His breathing increases; you can tell he's close. Grabbing his shoulders, you press him down on the bed.

Rafe's hands squeeze your ass tightly, guiding you, setting a rapid tempo. "Fuck... Ugh," he whimpers. "I'm gonna cum." He takes you by surprise, drawing out quickly, rolling you to your back.

He plunges back in, reaching for air as he grunts and moans incoherent words. "I'm cumming... Shit," he groans as he climaxes; Rafe continues to drive his release deeper. He presses his lips and body against yours, rocking slowly to a stop.

"Holy shit...." he pants, holding you close. Rafe nuzzles himself into your neck, breathing rapidly as he kisses you softly. You sigh blissfully, relaxing into the bed, giving him better access to your skin. His lips work over your neck, moving up to your jaw.

"So..." he whispers.

"So," you giggle, your heart racing rapidly against his.

"I like you, Y/N, if that's not clear. And that... Fuck. That was so damn good," he groans blissfully.

"I like you too," you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently.

"And, just so we're crystal clear, you pictured yourself fuckin' me and not..." He points to his hair, narrowing his eyes on yours.

"Rafe? No, President Snow. Of course, I pictured myself fucking you and not Rafe Cameron."

"Brat." He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"Fuck, Rafe!" You whine as you look back, watching the print shift from white to red.

"Ah, shit. You don't like it rough, Y/N?" He taunts through a snickering laugh. You lower your lips to him, brushing gently.

"You owe me now, Rafey... Round two. I like it rough."

A/N Thanks for reading. Kel♡

#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey #rafe cameron one shot

[peachtarto]

Now or Never

Pairing : Luke Castellan x reader

Word Count :

Summary : Luke missed his chance to ask you an important question, and is painfully unaware of it.

Warnings: mostly fluff! nothing crazy- Luke is dumb, Clarisse is an overprotective bestie, talk of self-doubt etc.

Masterlist here!

A/N : thinking of making this a little series of moments in your relationship- let me know if that’s something you guys would like!

‘Don’t you think it’s a little much?’ You questioned, eyeing your own reflection with what some might call a generous amount of scrutiny.

Silena gave no indication that she’d heard and continued talking, ‘there’ll be such good food, and wine of course, lots and lot of wine..’

The pins in your hair were already beginning to ache, and you tried not to wince as she added yet another one to the elegant braid she was painstakingly creating.

‘- imagine if we made this much fuss for our birthdays,’ she continued, ‘like, I get that he’s the god of festivity but I’ve got to question why he wants to party with a load of hormonal teenagers. Not that I’m complaining, we could all use a good party.’

Silena was already dressed: a deep purple gown of silk accented with golden cuffs, and little combs fashioned like gilded laurel leaves swept her hair away from her face. She looked beautiful, and there was not a doubt in your mind that she was the daughter of Aphrodite.

She’d picked out your dress which had been a relief, a soft chiffon that seemed to float when you moved. It was simple but elegant, she’d insisted- perfect for a daughter of Athena. She’d also said that the hair should match, but it’d been half an hour since she’d started and it was starting to feel everything but simple.

‘And can you believe we’re allowed to switch tables tonight? I can’t wait! Charles said we’d sit together obviously and I’m sure the Hermes boys will join as and..’

Her smile faltered when she saw the look on your face and she quickly halted her movements, ‘oh, don’t you like it?’

‘No no, it’s beautiful!’ You stammered quickly; she’d curled and brainded your hair back in a thick, loose plait with little gold pins shimmering throughout. Even in cabin 10, her skills were unrivalled. ‘I just- do you think it’s too much?’ You questioned again.

‘Too much?’ She scoffed, and then her full lips parted in a dazzling smile, ‘of course it’s too much, that’s the point! We want every boy in this camp on their knees! Figuratively of course.’

You tried to hide the smile that tugged on your lips, ‘You’ve already got Charles drooling after you non-stop, leave some for the rest of us.’

‘Some?’ She said and grinned rather fiendishly, ‘or do you want me to leave just a certain son of Hermes for you?’

You rolled your eyes and gave her a smooth, and rather horrible gesture as she went back to toying with your hair, giggling to herself.

Silena had been the one to introduce you to Luke two years prior. She’d gracefully swept you into her circle the moment you’d arrived in camp, convinced you would be claimed by her mother too. Had Luke not intervened and taken you to cabin 11 she probably would’ve had you sleeping top to toe in her bunk; she’d reluctantly handed you over, but not before she’d seen the look that had passed between the two of you. Love at first sight she’d insisted, and maybe she’d been mistaken on his end, but she hadn’t on yours.

‘You know, he really does like you. I can tell, and you should believe me because it’s literally my thing.’ She sighed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She pulled and prodded at a few loose hairs until she seemed satisfied, then dragged you over to the long mirror at the back of the cabin.

You didn’t know how she’d managed it, but for once you didn’t cringe at the reflection you saw and a part of you couldn’t quite believe what stared back. There was no denying she was a master at her craft.

‘You look so beautiful!’ Silena squealed, her hands clasped together in pride. Then, without warning she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug that had the air leaving your lungs. ‘Tonight’s the night, for both of us, I can feel it!’

You hoped she was right as you followed her out of the cabin, towards the glittering lights in the pavilion.

Luke stood with Charles and Chris at the edge of the party, sipping slowly on the glass of wine in his hand. He supposed Mr D had been granted a night of reprieve.

‘Seriously man, chill out,’ he whispered over Beckendorf’s shoulder, ‘she’ll be here. Keep frowning like that and you’ll pop a blood vessel.’

He could sense Charles shifting in his feet nervously and his mouth twitched slightly, he knew the feeling all too well. He’d been on edge all day too. Chris was smirking too, but his was all smugness; he’d asked Clarisse outright to attend the party with him and much to everyone’s surprise, she’d said yes immediately, which was lucky for him because the alternative would almost certainly have been the loss of a limb.

‘How can it possibly take this long to get ready?’ Charles said, turning to face Luke. It was odd to see the son of Hephaestus so flustered when he was normally immune to the whims of teenage hormones; apparently he was not at all immune to the power Silena Beauregard seemed to hold over him. ‘Maybe she’s not coming man, we should just go before- oh..’ he trailed off. His eyes went starry and Luke whipped his head around to see what had entranced his friend.

There was Silena in her finery, tossing her hair over a shoulder as she swept into the pavilion. She threw a dangerously beautiful grin at Charles who was beginning to look a little like he might faint.

‘Hi Charles,’ she offered as she sauntered over. Anyone else might’ve missed the shake in her voice, but Luke caught the slightly nervous wobble of her tone and smiled. Good for Beckendorf.

‘You look great Silena,’ he managed to cough out. He quickly eyed Luke who gave an tiny nod of approval as if to say ‘keep going buddy!’

‘I know,’ she sighed dreamily, giving a little twirl of her dress before looping her arm through Charles’ who was now definitely holding his breath. Silena giggled and patted his chest sweetly before throwing a mischievous glare at Luke, ‘Just wait till you see her, I think you’ll get a little breathless too Castellan. Now come on Charlie, let’s get a drink.’

Luke watched her lead his friend away to where Chris stood with an arm slung around Clarisse’s waist; she’d opted for a gown of stormy grey adorned with tiny silver chains, as close to armour as she could get he guessed. She looked slightly terrifying, until Chris whispered something in her ear that had a blushing like crazy and stepping even closer into his side.

‘They make a great couple, don’t you think?’

Luke spun around quickly at the sound of your voice and cursed silently, Silena had been right. All the air left his lungs in a great breath and he was instantly lightheaded at the sight of you.

Devastating was the only word that came to his mind. Truly devastating. You could’ve walked into Olympus then and there and they probably would’ve pronounced you a goddess in an instant. He was struck dumb, and silent. He wanted to say something about how beautiful you looked, or how he’d been wrapped around your delicate finger the day you’d walked into camp; instead his frantic brain settled on, ‘nice dress, did you borrow it from Silena?’

You flinched. ‘No. We were sent a trunk to pick from from her mother.’

‘Oh.’ Was all he could reply as his gaze raked over you again. ‘That’s awfully nice of her.’

‘Very.’ You said through gritted teeth, trying to stop the scarlet blush you could feel rising to your cheeks. What was his problem? It wasn’t unusual for Luke to be blunt, he always struggled to keep his opinions to himself and it had gotten you both in hot water a hundred times before; but it was unusual for him to be blunt with you.

He’d been distant all week, he’d managed to miss three sparring sessions with you and counsellor duties on several occasions. The first few times Chris had been polite enough to make excuses for him, but when the two of you walked into the arena one morning to find Luke and Travis swinging swords at eachother, he’d stayed silent. He didn’t have to tell you what was already painfully obvious. Luke wasn’t ill, and hadn’t ’slept in late’, he’d just been avoiding spending any amount of time with you. You hadn’t had any idea why; and now, standing in the pavilion with the air thinning in between you both, you were even more confused.

He ran his eyes over your dress yet another time and something seemed to snap in your chest. ‘If you’re going to keep judging my outfit,’ you managed to spit out, ‘do it at the dinner table, I’m starving and don’t have the energy to defend myself. Let’s go sit with the others.’

You span away from him so quickly you missed him opening and closing his mouth as he tried to explain himself. As you stalked towards the table your friends had gathered around you must’ve been wearing a murderous expression, because Silena quirked her eyebrow at him with a face that said ‘what did you say?’ He responded with a small shrug before slipping into the seat opposite you.

Luke tried, and failed, to catch your eye throughout dinner. Food came and went, and glasses of a sweet amber wine refilled themselves as soon as the last drop hit the drinker’s lips. Silena had made her way through at least five glasses by his count, and was whispering something in Charles’ ear that had the man choking on his strawberry tart. You’d barely touched yours, and had politely declined his offer to get you something else to drink. You’d barely touched your dinner either, pushing things around your plate with your fork until Connor had unceremoniously dumped the contents of it onto his own. He felt he should apologise for his brother’s behaviour, but when he’d tried, you’d turned to watch the campers dancing by the fire.

The soft light from the flames flickered over the planes of your face and he knew he shouldn’t stare, but after starving himself of you for almost a week, he was finding it hard to look away. If he was honest with himself, it had been almost impossible to endure. You’d spent almost every day together for two years; a week apart had him feeling like he was missing a limb.

But a week apart was better than a week of watching male campers saunter up to you in a flurry of proposals. He’d managed to stick around long enough to see two Ares boys crash and burn and that was more than enough. If the failures were that bad, seeing you agree to attend the party with someone would probably have finished him off. He wondered which insufferable git you’d given in to, which one you’d been stood up by.

Curious, he leaned forward and asked loud enough to get your attention- ‘where’s your date?’

You slid your eyes away from the dancers and faced Luke. He was toying with the stem of his glass. Your throat tightened, and your face warmed uncomfortably. ‘I don’t have one.’

‘What?’ He asked incredulously.

‘Loads of people came alone Luke.’ You said replied quietly, keenly aware of the sudden silence of the conversations between everyone else at the table. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

‘I know, I just thought you would’ve put someone out of their misery. Every guy at camp must’ve asked you.’

‘Almost every guy.’ Chris whispered into his drink, rolling his eyes.

‘A few asked, yes.’ You murmured.

‘And you came alone anyway?’

You could’ve sworn Chris was wincing now, and Clarisse had the good sense to find the lights strung above the tables incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Silena however, looked like she was about to explode. You didn’t even know where to begin, your cheeks weren’t warm anymore, they were burning.

‘Yes.’ You ground out, hoping he’d take the hint and keep his mouth shut for once.

Luke went to speak, but Charles cut in before he could begin. ‘We should go dance!’ He declared, slapping his knees over-enthusiastically and standing so quickly he nearly toppled over his chair. The others rose with murmurs of agreement, eager to get away from what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.

‘You guys go ahead,’ you said, rising from your chair ‘I’m going to get some fresh air.’

You hoped no one would mention that you were already outside, surrounded by fresh air, and thankfully no one did. Silena gave you an apologetic look but you shook it off. The lights suddenly seemed much too bright, and the table of your friends was starting to feel like an audience to your embarrassment. As they all walked towards the fire you began in the opposite direction, lifting your dress slightly to allow your feet to travel quickly towards the cabins.

Luke felt Silena’s hand meet the back of his head in a swift slap before he could reach out to stop it.

‘You are as dense as old bread Castellan!’ She hissed as he cradled his neck. The boys were looking at him disapprovingly, but Clarisse was just glaring at him like she was sizing him up for a fight.

‘Chris where’s my knife?’ She asked coldly, holding her hand out in her boyfriend’s direction.

‘Woah- what did I do?’ Luke exclaimed, which earned him a hard flick right in the centre of his forehead. Whoever said Aphrodite’s children weren’t vicious fighters was beginning to sound like a goddam liar, he thought.

‘Do you know how many guys she turned down for tonight?’ Silena continued, ‘almost every guy at camp! And do you know why Captain No Clue?’

Luke just stared blankly until she let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Because she was waiting for you to ask her! I was hoping you’d pull your finger out by the end of the week but you didn’t, and you let her come alone.’

He flinched. Silena’s face tightened and her dark eyes flicked to Charles. Something unsaid flashed between them before she turned her gaze back on Luke; her anger was gone, replaced with something strangely close to pity.

‘You wanted to ask her, didn’t you?’ She asked- carefully. Her eyes were beginning to crinkle like she was about to burst into tears. She dashed forward and forced him down into a tight hug. ‘Oh Luke, I’m so stupid!’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘Daughter of the goddess of love and you didn’t see this one coming? Even Chris figured this one out!’ She chided, then added sweetly in his direction, ‘no offence babe.’

He thought of every moment he’d spent with you; the hours of sparring sessions under the heat of the summer sun, the picnics out in the strawberry fields, sneaking between your cabins in the middle of the night to swap stories of your lives before all of this. He’d known the risks of falling for you, and he’d done it anyway. He’d thought about telling you a hundred times. He had thought about telling you that he didn’t want or expect anything from you in return, that he just needed you to know how he felt because it was torture to suffer it in silence. Over the months he’d managed to convince himself that you didn’t feel anything close to what he felt for you, and had resigned himself to living in the wake of your existence.

Luke’s heart stumbled, taking all the confusion and doubt with it, he blurted, ‘I should go after her,’ and started after you, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Even at a fast-paced jog, he only managed to catch up with you when you were rushing up the stairs to your cabin, the skirts of your dress billowing out behind you.

‘Wait up!’ he shouted through heavy breaths.

You didn’t let him continue and just increased your pace, rushing to get to the door. If you could make it inside and shut him out, perhaps he wouldn’t see the tears that had begun fall. A small part of you ached to stop and turn to him, but you knew what was coming. Silena would have tried to intervene once you’d left, and he was probably coming after you to let you down gently. You weren’t sure you could survive that.

‘Gods will you slow down!’ Luke yelled, ‘I want to talk to you!’

‘Don’t bother,’ you said bluntly, ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘Oh yeah? What am I going to say?’

He’d taken the Athena cabin steps two at a time and was right behind you now. You could hear his ragged breathing, had he ran here? He must really want to get it over with, you thought bitterly. ‘Does it matter? Just go back to the party Luke, they’ll be missing you.’

‘It matters to me. I don’t want to be there if you’re not.’ He said softly and reached out to grab your hand. His fingers grazed your own, warm and steadfast- patiently waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t, you couldn’t bare it.

As you turned to face him fully you realised you were close enough to share breath. In other circumstances you might’ve stared up at him with longing; now all there seemed to be was the awful sinking feeling that you were about to lose him.

You opted to not meet his eyesight, and instead studied the scuffed wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet.

‘Then why didn’t you ask me to go with you?’ You managed to ask. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin like a brand. ‘I thought we were friends Luke, I thought that would be enough to get you to tolerate me for one evening so neither of us had to go alone.’

‘That’s not..’ he took a deep breath before he continued. Now or never, he thought, and opted for now.

‘I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want to go as your friend. I wanted to go as your date. I knew you’d say no, because every guy here was chalking up how to ask you themselves and I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand it. I’d prepared myself to see you with someone else tonight and it caught me off guard to see you alone. I had all these things I wanted to say to you, about how beautiful you looked, but I panicked and said some really stupid stuff back there. And i’m sorry, for all of it.’

It was your turn to take a deep breath, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his own. The air was too tight, humming between your bodies, between your joined hands.

‘Ask me now then.’ You dared.

He was silent for long enough that you dared to look up and meet his eyes. You were sure your expression was mirrored on his own: shock, longing, and then something like amusement.

He was smiling like a kid on Christmas at your offer, broad and unrestrained. ‘You want me to ask you to go to the party with me? Now? After I’ve just poured my heart out?’

‘If you don’t want to that fine.’ You teased, a small smile returning to your face. ‘What was it you said about every guy at camp?’

Luke let out a laugh and took a step closer, ‘I don’t care about the party. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow, today, hell let’s go now. I don’t care. Just go out with me. I’m not waiting another two years for this chance.’

‘Of course I’ll go out with you Castellan.’ You replied softly. You didn’t even have to think about your answer, you’d been preparing it for months.

‘Really?’

‘Yes really.’ You laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

With a sudden burst of confidence, Luke leaned down to brush his mouth against your blushing cheek. You thought you might burst then and there as he pulled you into his chest to whisper in your ear, ‘you look beautiful. You are beautiful. Always. Even covered in sweat during sparring practice, or windswept from the chariot races. I can never look away from you.’

He was blushing too when he pulled away, leaving you staring up at him, breathless again. His smile was nervous as he said, ‘I want to do this properly, I’ll plan something great I promise. But for now, I would be honoured if you’d come back to the party with me, as my date.’

You quirked an eyebrow. ‘Will you dance with me?’

‘Of course I’ll dance with you,’ Luke said, wrapping an arm around your waist, ‘I plan to show you off in fact. I’m pretty sure I’ve just achieved the impossible as far as the guys here are aware. I reserve bragging rights.’

#luke castellan x reader #imagine #imagines #percy jackson #luke castellan #fic #annabeth chase #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #disney #clarisse la rue #silena beauregard #charles beckendorf #chris rodriguez #camp half blood #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #charlie bushnell

[carolmunson]

the boy is mine (carol's edition)

you know i had to do it to 'em. if you'd like to take a crack at the 'the boy is mine' writing challenge, you can check it out here. you can also see the masterlist of everyone's works here. a/n: for me, how eddie was fleshed out in FOI has always been how i see him. hurting, but goofy, but snarky, but sweet, but loving, but scared, but all that. eddie 'has taken care of himself since third grade' munson just makes sense to me. in this ficlet, our romantic night in gets muddled when eddie doesn't know how to just let someone love him right. i've also always have written eddie as older than he actually is, so here -- he's 25. argue with the wall. tw: 18+, angst, hurt/comfort, some smutty references but no smut, references to smoking and drinking. some arguing but nothing crazy.

The day was hard on his shoulders and back, no one should be hunched over the hood of a car for this long -- and even being young isn't saving him from the grimace he makes every time he gets out of his bed with a decades old mattresss. Eddie cracks his neck each way while he chugs down the road leading to Forest Hills, slick and shiny with rain from the afternoon. The orangey yellow headlights on his beat up '71 Chevrolet bounce cheerily off the darkened asphalt, but the scrape, clatter, and growl of his engine and whatever else was a stark reminder that this van was on it's last leg. As bright as the headlights were, the gloomy purpled evening sky was a perfect match to his mood.

Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.

For the past few years, Eddie has spent his birthday working double shifts at the auto shop and then meeting the guys at the Hideout to get so drunk he can't see. Can't be sad about your birthday if you're too drunk to think about how your mama's dead and your dad won't call. Can't be sad about how you won't ever get to hear her sing you happy birthday, or put on a record, or dance with you in the living room. Or have your dad make dinner and put the six pack away if only for that night. To not run out on 'a job' or 'work a late shift' where he won't come back for days afterward.

He'd drink and drink until you had to hold him up to get him out of the bar, piling him into the back seat and having the guys follow you home to help load him into bed. He always looked forward to the greasy diner hangover breakfast in the morning where it could be just the two of you, and not his birthday, and not all the awful things he thinks he is.

The gravel groans and crunches when he pulls in at the side of the trailer he used to share with Wayne. With another roll of his head and shoulders he kills the ignition, hopping out of the van and leaning over to grab his bag. It's only when he slings it over his shoulder that he notices the warm glow of the kitchen light on, passing muted through the small curtains. He hip checks the door shut and makes his way up the steps that need repairing -- another thing to add to the list for 'Spring Cleaning' in a couple weeks that he knows he'll forget to do until you remind him or one of the boards rots out. Eddie's ring tap against the metal handle and he braces for the screech of the door, only to be met with the cozy blend of garlic, onion, and rosemary hitting his nose first. He swallows while he kicks off his work boots, turning the corner to see you in the kitchenette, putting the lid back onto the one large pasta pot he has and turning the burner off. "Oh!" you jump when you see him, shock turning into a smile, "You're earlier than I thought you'd be. Hold on!"

"What're y--" He's interrupted by you hurrying into the fridge, glass clinking when you pull out a Mionetto bottle that was already opened to reveal the cork.

"Surprise!" you ring out, popping the bottle with a little flourish, "Happy birthday!" He stands there, unsure at first what he's looking at, trying to take it all in. You in the kitchen with an apron on, the table set nice, a cake set on the counter to cool with a covered bowl of what looks like home made vanilla frosting next to it. To the side, a familiar small notebook lays opened to a buttercream recipe -- his mom's buttercream recipe, still scrawled in her loopy handwriting on yellowing pages with fading blue ink.

"Melvald's didn't have any like, nice cups," you say with a scrunch of your nose as you pour two glasses of prosecco into flimsy plastic flutes, "Is that okay?" "Uh..." he snaps back to reality when you hand him the cup, "Y-yeah that's okay." "Happy birthday, handsome," you smile, raising your drink before you take a sip, he follows suit.

"What is all this?" he asks, voice sounding like it's coming from someone else. Objectively, he should be falling to his knees right now, crying with adoration for you. Sobbing over the clear effort you've put in for a romantic night together at the trailer. "Um," you suck in your lips quickly, and release them, eyes lowering to the scuffed linoleum, "I uh, I made braised short rib and mashed potatoes, some broccoli. Wayne told me that um, that your dad used to smoke them for your birthday but we don't have a smoker so..."

"Why?" The swell in his heart builds from genuine affection to suspicious bitterness, this was way too much.

"Did you not check the calendar today or something? It's kind of a big day," you try to lighten the mood with a laugh, taking the apron off and hanging it on the hook by the hallway, "Sit, sit." He follows your direction, sitting at the table where the place setting is the best it can be with what you have. You even folded up the paper towels nicely. He silently sips on the bubbles, uncomfortable on the makeshift throw pillow cushion on the chair, while you take the plate in front of him and begin serving.

"I should um," he starts, voice gravelly, "I should wash my hands and uh, and change or..." "Yeah," you nod, voice higher pitched than expected, "Go, go ahead. It'll all be ready when you're done washing up." He leaves the glass behind, thudding into the bedroom where he notices a Frederick's of Hollywood bag sitting at the end of the bed. A small pile of gifts in shiny blue paper lay stacked up pretty on his dresser -- a card front in center 'Eddie My Love' - you write it in the same way you sing it to him absentmindedly every now and again. Flipping the lyrics every time. He swallows again, pulling in his cheeks and biting down while he peels off his coveralls and slips into what he was planning to wear to drinks later -- a band tee and some worn jeans. It feels cheap to wear this now, now that you've put in all this effort. Now that you're looking all sweet and put together in the kitchen for him. He rolls his shoulders again, trying to stretch the frustration out. He doesn't wanna be mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong. He doesn't wanan feel so sick in his chest over it -- but he does. All this work for what? Eddie takes his rings off to wash his hands, using the same Dove bar soap to wash the remaining grime off his face from work. Big inhale, big exhale into the towel on the door before making it back to the kitchen where the dinette table was ready for dinner, two tapered candles lit in old holders on the side. He sits across from you, your eyes glittering in the light of the flame.

"You didn't have to do this," he says quietly. Your lips twitch into a half smile, head cocking slightly to the side. "I know, but it's your day...it's a big one, too. The big two-five," your voice doing its best to soothe, "Can't just, I dunno -- get plastered at The Hideout every year..."

"Sure I can," he shrugs with a quirk of his brows, pushing the mashed potatoes around with his fork. He watches the melty pat of butter ooze off one of the edges like a volcano, pooling in next to the broccoli. "And you like that? That's fun for you?" you chuckle before noticing he's just playing with his food, "You gonna eat?"

"Getting plastered at The Hideout is like, tradition," he mutters, looking at the clock over the cabinets, "And we're gonna be late meeting the guys."

"Ed..." you say, a vapor of disappointment floating through his name when you say it. He winces.

"Like I said, babe," he says, "You didn't have to do all this -- y'know, spend all this extra cash on dinner and --"

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to -- I wanted to do something nice so that your birthday could be sp -- " "Okay, well I don't need my birthday to be special, it never is," he snaps, he doesn't mean to, "I didn't ask you to do this for me." You hold your soft gaze at him, shoulders round down while you rest a cheek on your palm. If Eddie's mama was still alive, she'd tell you to get your elbows off the table.

In the flame, your glittering eyes turn glassy. You let a soft breath out through your nose, a sulk clear in your posture. "You're right," you mumble, a soft squeak of a sound while you slowly stand, shaking your head, "You're right, you didn't ask. I shouldn't have assumed that you..."

You trail off while you flick the lights on in the kitchen, leaning forward to gently blow out the taper candles. Your hand swishes away the smoke and soot, pushing out out of the cracked kitchen window before the smoke detector catches it. The cabinets creak while you take out some Tupperware from the top shelves, the good stuff that the ladies in the park sold Wayne back in the 70s. They click and clack as the bowls and trays and their tops hit the formica counter top.

"Well--well, wait -- you don't have to pack it up, babe," he says, sitting up a little taller in the chair. When he hears the shudder in your breath he stands, "You don't have to put it away."

"No, it's fine," you assure, a small strain coming through from your chest, "It'll be like -- you'll be so excited when you get home and there's all this food. I just gotta call the guys and tell them to just go to the bar instead of coming here."

"Whaddayou mean, coming here?"

You turn around, eyes wet now but not crying, a tug on your brow and taughtness in your jaw from where you try to hold it back.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you shrug, "But like, it's not important. Lemme just pack this up and I'll get it figured out." "What's the surprise?" he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you. "Well I..." you let out another breath, lower lip wobbling; an action your stop with a sharp inhale through the nose. "Well I thought it would be fun if the guys came over and did a birthday oneshot campaign with you. I helped Gare and Jeff write it and Jeff was gonna DM," you let out in one breath, "And it was gonna be like, a silly drinking game version." "You were gonna play?" he asks meekly. You nod. You rarely play, always watch. Always make snacks or help him clean up the trailer, always order the pizza because Eddie forgets to. Always add extra mushrooms on one because Richie likes extra mushrooms. Always make sure to get one with white sauce cause red cause doesn't sit great with Dustin.

"Did a, um, did a character sheet and whatever," you say, defeated, while you open the utensil drawer to pull out an extra pair of tongs and a serving spoon, "Drew her -- it's in your card."

You start to pack up the food and the tears start up again, welling in your eyes but still not spilling over. Eddie steps forward, getting between you and the pots and pans on the stove.

"Hey, wait," his voice bare audible, "Babe, don't."

"It's okay," you sniffle, "I just have to call them."

"No -- baby, stop," there's an edge now, ring hand falling on your wrist, "Stop packing it up."

"It's fine--"

A waltz between you, him, and the tupperware on the counter.

"Don't make me..." he huffs, trying to maneuver the tongs out of your hand, "If you don't stop, we're gonna have a pr--"

"Ed, enough! We will go to the bar, it's fine," you urge, anxiety heightening in your chest where it bursts, you start to cry, "Please, let me put it away. It's fine. I just -- fuck --"

"I feel like such an asshole," you sigh, breaking. You relent, letting go of the tongs where he takes them and leaves them between the burners on the yellowed stove.

"Don't be like that, you're not," he soothes, closing in on you against the counters edge, "You're not, I'm sorry."

"I really just wanted your birthday to be special," you weakly murmur, wiping at your eyes.

"You know how I get," he says, rough hands coming up to cup your face where he leaves a soft kiss to your cheek, "M'just not great at bein' fussed over."

"You deserve to be fussed over, doofus," you garble out, his thumbs replacing your fingers to catch the tears as they fall.

"It's hard, babe," he nods, "You knows it's hard for me. Y'know with my mom's stuff gone and my dad being...who fuckin' -- who fuckin' knows. The Hideout just makes sense. That's y'know -- that's what I deserve."

"That's not even true," you shake your head, "Don't be stupid."

"Well, I barely graduated so," he offers you a peck to each salty, wet cheek, "Stupid's my middle name." "Don't cry, sweetheart," he breathes, leaning in with a slow kiss. A kiss drenched in apologies and thank yous, breaks away just to kiss again. And again, and again, and again until you're both breathless under the sickly yellow green glow of the overhead kitchen light. "How about I change into something nicer than this, and we'll pop these plates in the microwave and start over," he asks, a smile toying on his full lips, "'Kay?"

You nod back, getting another peck stolen from you, and following him down the hall. "Oh, yes, yes, allow me to slip into something more..." he announces with flourish, posing half sexily half awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom, "Uncomfortable." You snort, giggling while you follow in after him, settling on the end of his bed, "You don't have to dress up fancy." "'Course I do," he tsks, brows furrowing, "M'going to a five star restaurant doll, I can't look like a slob." He pulls out a pair of slacks from a funeral he went to two years ago, discarding his jeans and sliding them up over his pale legs. To your dismay, he plucks the t-shirt with a screen print of a tux out of his closet, and exchanges the worn Dio tee with that. You'll always prefer the Dio tee. "Classy," you tease. He winks, and that's enough to make you okay with the tux shirt. His fingers trail over the stack of presents and land on the envelope.

"Can I open the card?"

"Sure."

"Am I gonna cry over it?" he asks, looking at you over the dull paper when he flicks open the top.

You shake your head, "Nah, it's not sappy. You're the sappy card writer."

"I'm so sappy," he agrees, pulling out the card, "I gotta work on that, huh?"

"No, I like when you're sappy, ya sap." You watch him read the card, blush evident in the warm wash of gold from his bedside lamp. You're not a sappy card writer, but you always know how to make him feel like a kid with a crush. When he opens up your character sheet his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. "Shit," he grins, "Rogue tiefling, huh? You tryna kill me?"

"I thought it could be fun," you titter, standing up to look at the pages next to him, "Chaotic evil. Look at me."

"Ugh, baby's first villain," he gushes, "I love it."

"Look at the picture," you bounce on the balls of your feet while he goes to the next page. A much quieter 'shit' falls from his mouth. It was not a drawing that was for the rest of the guys to see, a sketch of a tiefling version of you in an outfit meant for his eyes only. "So you are trying to kill me," he asks, fingers tracing the curve of 'your' hip on the page where the outfit digs into the fat of 'your' hips.

"No, that'll be later," you smirk.

"Hm?' his brows raise.

"What do you think is in the Frederick's bag?" you ask, faux innocence smattering into your tone.

"Ah, you put a little costume together for me?" Eddie's mouth waters at the thought, brain fuzzy as he looks at the picture and then at you.

"Something like that," you tease, making your way back out into the hallway. "Something like that?!" he repeats back, hurrying back out to pull you into a searing kiss before you can make it back into the kitchen. The kind from the movies where he dips you down toward the faded carpet. As he pulls away, he nuzzles your nose against his, staring at you through lowered lids, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," you nod, both of you making it back to full height, "Happy birthday."

You relight the candles on the table and nuke the plates of food, topping off each others plastic flutes with the left over Prosecco. There's three cases of beer in the fridge and you know Gareth is bringing Absinthe and it's something you pray doesn't mess your boyfriend up too much.

Dinner is the best meal Eddie's had in years, unable to keep his eyes off of you in between bites while you rehash your day and him, his. You're picking up the dishes off the table when the boys show up and they deliver. Taking the heat off you, they provide the snacks and even more extra booze. Jeff passes out party hats that make you all look ridiculous -- Eddie can remember laughing this much on his birthday, not even when he was a kid. Not even when his mama was alive.

After the oneshot completes and everyone is ankles deep in a tipsy haze and the smoke from a few joints lingers in the air, you walk in with the cake that is finally frosted -- the 2 and 5 confetti colored candles dancing in front of him while the rest sparkle in the middle of the coffee table. He makes one thousand wishes that he knows will come true because his friends are all still there with him and so are you. You're one room right over, cutting the cake and plating it up, and you'll be there when the boys leave in your skimpy nerdy costume that you bought just for him. And you'll be there while he sleeps and you'll be there when he wakes up. You'll be there across from him the next morning when he feeds you fries dipped in chocolate shake at the diner.

Today is Eddie Munson's birthday. And his mother's buttercream frosting is the sweetest it's ever tasted.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #the boy is mine challenge #eddie munson x y/n

[darby-rowe]

18+ | nsfw | mdni cw sub!coriolanus snow, fem!dom!reader, reader gets mean, mentions of dead parents, mentions of sex work (reader fantasizes about coryo selling his body for money), handjob, edging, cock slapping, nipple play, humiliation, degradation, slight dacryphilia, mentions of mommy kink, light bondage, male squirting/piss

"you're a piece of shit, you know that?" you growled through gritted teeth as you enter the thirty-minute mark of edging coriolanus snow. the squirming blonde boy was trapped in between your legs with his hands cuffed behind his back with a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs, and gagged with a thick, pink strip of cloth tied around his head. the head of his cock was nearly purple with how badly he needed release, but alas he was at your malevolent mercy, and deep down he knew he wasn't getting what he wanted anytime soon.

you reached your other hand around coriolanus's body and started tweaking at one of his hard nipples, causing him to whimper and squirm even more against your body. "poor, poor coriolanus snow," you cooed into his ear, your voice oozing with venom. "you've got such a big attitude for such a small boy. barely hanging by a thread as you continue to bleed your dead daddy's money bone dry. what? too self-righteous to get a fuckin' job?" you slap the shaft of coriolanus's cock, eliciting a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and sob.

"i think you'd actually make a decent handful of cash if you just sold your body," you turned your head to gaze at how coriolanus laid his head back on your shoulder, eyes brimming with tears and drool dripping down his chin. your hand left his dick to slowly ghost your fingertips up his torso. "you have such a pretty body — so fuckable and fun to play with. i'm sure there are plenty of men and women who'd love to get their hands on you, baby,"

you gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at you. the way his blue eyes looked so wet and puffy with tears made your pussy throb. "maybe i can even watch as your body gets used by desperate capitol perverts. how does that sound, huh?"

coriolanus shook his head in disapproval, making you tut. "aww, does my baby not like that idea?" you mocked. "well, guess you're stuck with me," you hand traveled back down to coriolanus's cock, but instead of going back to mercilessly pumping his shaft, you began rubbing the palm of your hand over his tip. you watched as his baby blue eyes widened then snapped shut, and you laughed as he began bucking his hips against your touch.

you gasp playfully. "does that feel good, you stupid slut?" you taunted, slapping the shaft of his cock before going back to torturing the tip. "open your eyes, fuckin' bitch. look at me while i play with you like the worthless fuckdoll that you are,"

and he did exactly as he was told, fluttering his pathetic eyes open to stare into yours while you tortured him so exquisitely. "you're nothing," you told him. "your family name means nothing without your daddy's money, and you know that. i mean, look at you — getting your cock tortured and ruined by a girl. is it because your mommy's dead, too? you don't have a reliable older female figure in your life so you cry and beg for the approval of pretty girls like me? huh? what's next, you're gonna start calling me mommy while you plead to cum? god, you're pathetic. i wish you could look at yourself and how close you are to shooting your load while i talk about how much of a worthless piece of shit you are. think about this the next time you wanna humiliate me in front of the entirety of the academy's senior class,"

as you continued to palm the head of coriolanus's cock, you noticed something different in the way he breathed and jerked his hips. this piqued your curiosity, so you kept going. and going, and going, and going, until you watched as coriolanus's face went beet-red as an unknown fluid came gushing out of his cock — almost as if he were squirting or pissing. he blinked and tears came strolling down his cheeks as he whimpered and groaned and bucked his hips. you couldn't help but to watch in amazement as this new discovery in coriolanus's physiology made your cunt ache with arousal.

and you laughed. you laughed right in his face as sobbed with embarrassment, kissing at his tears.

"aww, baby..." you cooed. "look at that — i made you squirt like a girl!"

banner credits: chilumitos & eloquentreverie

#♡; dally writes! #cw piss #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #thg tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader smut

[winkwonkwankwenk]

Good Boy (Virgin!Choso x Fem!Reader)

☆*: .｡.Wrote this a while ago but didn't post here. Check my Ao3 to be updated first when I post oneshots!!.｡.:*☆

Word count: 1.5k

SFW/NSFW

☆*: .｡.Summary .｡.:*☆

You teach Choso how to touch himself- and you.

Something’s wrong.

You had just come back from grocery shopping but you weren’t wearing what you left out in. Your hair is down, tight shorts clinging to your rear but not covering your thighs. You bend over to set down the heavy bags, mumbling under your breath about how he should’ve helped you bring things inside. You’re not actually mad at him, you just love seeing him purse his lips together and pout. You turn around, expecting him to be fidgeting with his hands per usual but instead you find him in tears.

“What’s wrong?” You tease, pointing to the tent in his sweatpants. “Aww, do you need help with that?~”

Choso wasn’t used to his half-curse body, hell, he barely understood his human one. He didn’t think about it often, the two of you were normally too busy on missions to exchange more than quick kisses or glances. You had been dating for a few months, a word still foreign to him. He had always been close-knit, but he never saw himself in a romantic relationship. Nevertheless, he was happy to be with you. Now, during a peaceful period, the two of you were supposed to be having dinner together and watch a few movies. That was the plan, not what was happening now.

“I-It’s not supposed to…” Choso trails off as your fingers brush against the front of his pants, his hand trembling as you place it on your breasts. “Feels…weird.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to touch yourself.” You whisper in his ear while sliding into his lap on the couch, keeping him straddled with your hands. You lick your lips in anticipation

His eyes widen when you pull his pants down, exposing his throbbing length to the cold air.He’s so hard his tip is stiff, the veins in his cock peeking from his shaft. He looks away, face as pink as his dripping tip. His cock is a little over half the size of your forearm, as wide as your wrist. He’s shaking, face flushed, lips parted as your hand wraps around his cock. You leave wet kisses down his neck then move to his lips, sucking a strangled moan out of him as your hand moves down his length. His cock twitches in your hand, dripping precum and his scent. You grin as he groans, stroking faster until white spills from his tip. You keep going, faster, harder, squeezing his thick cock until it shoots his load. He can’t think, mind a melted mess of lust and love as he returns your kisses with equal fervor. Hot, he’s burning, your touch setting his body ablaze. 

“Y/N~!” He’s gasping, squirming as his cock spits up again. “Hnngh~!”

“Two times already…does it feel that good?” You tease, sucking his bottom lip until it’s kiss swollen.

“Good, so good, please~!” Again, again, again, all he can do is coat your hand until it’s sticky and slick from his semen. “Y/N~!”

Choso slumps down the couch as you milk a clear load out of him, panting, crying as pleasure sparks and pops around his body. He’s a mess, purple eyeshadow dripping from his lips as his hair sticks to his face. 

“Feeling better?” You nip his neck, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Good boy.”

Dammit, he’s hard again.

“Y/N, i-it’s back-”

“Fix it yourself this time, do it how I showed you.” You smirk as he looks up at you with hazy eyes, leaning down. “You can do it.”

Choso gulps, hand wrapping around his cock as he stares at you. You’re perfect, so pretty. The way your lips move when you say his name, God- your voice, so smooth. His hand moves as quick as his heart but it’s not as good as yours, not as soft. His brows furrow as his cock pulses in his palm, oozing out nothing but a clear liquid that reminds him of slime. He moans as you bury his face between your breasts, your hands massaging his scalp as his thumb circles his tip. A familiar heat swells in his stomach and he whines as his cock shoots a blank shot down his hand and your stomach.

“Good job.” You coo into his ear, caressing his warm cheeks as he catches his breath. “Now you know how to do it yourself.”

You giggle as he clings to you, not letting you leave the couch. You were going to go get something to wipe his hands but you can’t leave him like this. You kiss his forehead, whispering praises in his ear as he whimpers, cock limp in his hand. He’s never felt this good, never been so at ease. Choso nuzzles your neck, a soft smile on his face as you hum. He doesn’t sleep well but he always manages to get a full night’s rest when he’s with you, his eyelashes fluttering as he drifts off. You can’t even slip away while he’s sleeping, his iron grip holding you close.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s been days and he can’t stop.

Every time he sees you he has to lock himself in a bathroom and jerk off, rubbing himself so hard his wrist hurts. He can’t help it, not when you look at him like that and touch him so gently. Even now, he’s missing a mission to cum into a toilet while thinking of you, pretending your lips are on his and hand around him. 

“Choso?” You’re back. Too soon, he can’t let you see him like this. “Are you home?”

“Nnh- N-no…not home.” He muffles his moan with his free hand, leaning against the wall.

You giggle as you push the bathroom door open, smiling as Choso attempts to slink away. You pin him to the wall and kiss him, pulling his tongue into your mouth. His hips arch into your hand as you stroke his shaft, eyes rolling back. This is what he missed, what he needed. He can’t finish, not by himself. 

He needs you.

“Y/N~” He whines with a quivering voice. He’s biting down on his scarf, crying while cumming. 

“Good boy, good boy~” That’s all it takes for him to crumble and slump against you, “Do you like that? Do you like being a good boy?”

“Ye-anngh~”His words slur together as his body trembles from his orgasm. 

You turn around, bending over the way he likes and spreading your legs. You look back at him, slipping your skirt down and watching his half-lidded eyes widen. You're wet, your juices trickling down your legs. Choso can’t help but stare, hand slowly reaching out to your cunt only to pull away. He shouldn’t do this, not until you tell him you can. His cock aches but he can wait, he’ll always wait for permission. 

“It’s okay, you can touch.” You smile sweetly as he steps closer, hand sliding between your legs to pull his cock between them.

“G-Good~” God your thighs are amazing, plush like pillows. He rocks his hips against yours, hands burying in your thighs and holding them around his member. “Feels good~”

“Put it inside, it’ll feel even better."

Choso groans as he presses in, your walls clenching around him like a suction cup. He doesn’t know how to describe this, how to process this in his foggy mind. Your pussy is a ring around his cock, squeezing and sucking it back in when his hips move back. His tongue traces around your neck, leaving trails of his spit. Your moans echo in his ears as he thrusts faster, his fingers digging into your hips so hard they leave behind marks. Tight, so tight- so warm, so wet. 

“G-Good boy- Choso~!” You cry out as he hits your G-spot, back arching. 

He angles his thrusts, spreading your legs apart further as he frantically thrusts. His lips find yours, savoring them until spit trickles down your chin. Messy, he’s so messy when it comes to you. His cock spills load after load in you until your stomach swells, stuffing you with his fluids until they ooze out. His eyes dart to the bulge in your stomach, worry wandering into his mind. Is he too deep? What if he’s hurting you? You don’t sound hurt…you sound like you’re in heaven. 

“Y/N, I’m going to keep going.” He rasps into your ear, pressing down on your stomach and grunting as he feels his tip twitch. 

He doesn’t stop for hours, pounding into you fast and hard until your pussy is pouring a cocktail of your juices. The bathroom reeks of sweat and sex, the scent only heightening his arousal. He flips you around on the wall, twisting his cock inside you in the process. He doesn’t want to see the back of your head, he wants to see your face as he fucks you, watch your legs spread and squeeze around him and watch the “O” shape your mouth makes. 

“Choso~!”

That’s what he likes to hear. 

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