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perlelune · 3 days

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Lucky | Rafe Cameron

For years, you had a crush on your best friend, one he never returned. You thought he'd be happy to see you move on. You couldn't be more wrong.

Warnings: NON-CON, Kook!Reader, Jealousy, Angst, Pining, Toxicity

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your lips curl skyward as you scroll through your phone. As you read every message it’s hard to refrain from kicking your feet and giggling as if you were back in middle school. It’s how he makes you feel. Giddy. Wanted. It’s your first time experiencing such feelings and you’ve been perched on a fluffy cloud all afternoon.

But remembering you aren’t alone, you try your best to keep a straight face. You’re in a bikini bottom and an oversized shirt by the Camerons’ pool. It’s a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in sight in the sky above Tannyhill.

The unforgiving, North Carolina heat has already melted the ice cubes in your drink. If it weren’t for the generous amounts of sunscreen you've applied earlier, you’d already be sunburnt from hours spent outside.

Rafe lifts his sunglasses from the edge of the pool, curiosity dancing in his blue eyes.

“You’ve been glued to your phone all afternoon, princess.”

You suppress your smile. Feigning nonchalance, you flip your phone down for good measure.

“I have not.”

“Have too,” he counters, in the exact same way he used to utter those words when you argued back and forth as kids.

He hauls himself out of the pool. You’re graced with the sight of Rafe stepping out of the water, droplets glistening over his broad, toned chest, defined abs and thick, bulging arms. He’s been going especially hard at the gym since summer began. It shows. Your best friend now looks like a breathing, walking Abercrombie ad. You wouldn’t be surprised if the brand gave him a call soon. Not that you’d tell him that. No need to blow up Rafe Cameron’s over-inflated ego even more.

As you watch him run his fingers through his drenched blonde locks, his golden ring glinting under the sunlight, pride flutters through you. Once upon a time, the sight of Rafe Cameron in nothing but his swim trunks would have had your heart racing and your entire body flush with shameful heat at how unbelievably attractive you found your best friend.

That was before. When you still clung to the crush you harbored for him for years.

You and Rafe have basically known each other your whole lives.

Since kindergarten specifically.

Back then, you were heavily bullied...and Rafe was the worst of them. He would tug your hair, pull your chair out before you could sit so you’d crash on the floor and call you mean names while other children cheered him on. It only stopped when you had a crying fit in front of him one day. The five year old was stumped. He spent the rest of the year apologizing and bringing a variety of gifts to you. You forgot about the mean things he did and said easily, won over by his determination to make you forgive him. A peculiar friendship blossomed from that. The two of you have been inseparable since then.

Years flew by.

Then one day Rafe came back to school walking and talking differently. He had filled out during summer break. He was broader, taller, his towering frame even allowing him to reach above your locker. All the girls noticed, including you. You started developing a little crush on him. One he never acknowledged.

He had a girl on his arm at every party, often disappearing with them upstairs. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was up to with those girls. For many years, you daydreamed about what it’d be like to be one of those girls. The girl that caught Rafe Cameron’s eye at a party. The one that would have his full, undivided attention. The one he’d flash a flirtatious grin at and undress with his gaze the entire night.

You wanted to be that girl more than you wanted to breathe.

He never treated you that way though. The two of you hung out all the time. You would play video games, smoke weed, drink the expensive Kentucky Bourbon he stole from his dad’s cabinet and talk about everything and nothing.

He would always joke that you were like a sister to him. And based on the amount of time you spent at the Camerons house, you might as well be a long lost relative.

Getting over Rafe Cameron had been tantamount to an exorcism. Loving him was so embedded into your flesh, tattooed onto your soul. It was all you knew. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe…

He was everything you longed for. Until he wasn’t.

It happened one year when you attended the Camerons’ new year’s eve party. You entered the living room and caught him making out with a gorgeous brunette on the balcony. As your heart broke, again, realization slipped through the crack. Pining for someone who doesn’t see you, never saw you, will lead you nowhere. Your suffering was of your own making…and you wanted to suffer no longer. Why fantasize about something that will never come? You’d rather look to the future.

So you chose to move on.

As fireworks set the night sky above Tannyhill aflame, the last embers of your longing for Rafe Cameron flickered out.

It’s how you wound up giving dating apps a try. Talking to guys in real life is nerve-wracking but online, you find it much easier. While most conversations you had fizzled out quickly… Garrett has been different. He’s never tried to pretend with you and has been nothing but sweet and inquisitive about your hobbies, hopes and dreams. You’ve talked to him for hours on the phone and he’s made you laugh and smile a countless number of times. As for the icing on the cake…He’s been clear about wanting more than a hookup. He even suggested the two of you should meet up in person soon.

“What got you smiling like that anyway?” Rafe says, tossing the towel around his neck.

“Nothing,” you reply with a shrug.

“If it’s nothing, you can show me.”

He tries to swipe your phone but you’re faster. You rise from your chair and pick it up before he can take it.

His eyes narrow.

“I thought we had no secret for each other,” he says, an accusation laced in his tone. He’s never liked you keeping things from him, no matter how small or insignificant.

“We don’t.”

He gives a slow nod. Then he smiles. And you suppose it should have been your warning, that you should have seen it coming. But you don’t see anything coming. His hand shoots out and he shoves you aside.

He plucks your phone from you like it’s nothing, using his height to keep it out of reach.

“Rafe! Give me my phone back,” you urge.

He makes no effort to abide by your request, glowering at the screen while scrolling.

“Who the hell is Garrett?”

“J-Just a guy I started talking to on this app...” Your voice dwindles as you cower under Rafe's hard gaze.

Disgust scrunches his handsome face.

“I thought you deleted those dating apps. We talked about this.”

You did talk about it. After a dispiriting streak of bad luck on these apps, he wheedled you to delete all of them. Rafe said all the guys on these apps wanted was to use you for a quick, meaningless fuck. That you were too gullible and would just be taken advantage of. He said that you deserved better and the right guy would come along eventually. You found yourself believing him. A lot of time, you ended up ghosted or the guys failed to show up anyways. It made you question what is so repulsive about you that made guys steer clear.

“I wanted to try again.”

“Well Garrett’s a douchebag name. I don’t like him for you.” He snickers. “Look at that. He’s playing you and his game isn’t even good. You’re really falling for this corny shit, princess?”

He starts reading some of the compliments Garrett paid you aloud, drawing a round of guffaws from Kelce and Topper.

Your cheeks come ablaze.

“Now you’re just being mean,” you lament, using a lapse of distraction to retrieve your phone.

Gulping the tears threatening to spill, you rush back inside. Kelce’s taunting voice echoes behind you.

“Guess that one got past you, huh, Rafe?”

“Shut your mouth, bro,” Rafe snaps angrily.

You lean on the counter and gather your breath. The tears subside. You remind yourself that this is just how Rafe can be. Callous. Inconsiderate.

It’s not who he really is.

It’s just a bit hard to recall when he has those moments. Those aggressively insensitive moments.

You open the fridge and grab a cool drink. Your throat is parched and you could use one.

When you pivot, you nearly spill the can.

Rafe’s towering frame impedes your path.

“You scared me, Rafe,” you say, unleashing a tremulous exhale.

He studies you, concern glimmering in his ocean gaze.

“I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I swear.” He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “I just meant he sounds like an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole,” you say, bumping into his arm as you sidle past him.

His brows draw together. He isn’t used to you addressing him that way. With anything other than sweetness dripping from your tongue.

You can tell he’s reeling at that alone. Getting the tiniest taste of his own medicine…from you of all people.

He approaches you as you swallow a sip of your drink.

“Ouch. I’m just looking out for you, princess.” His fingers slot beneath your chin. “You know that’s all I ever try to do, right?”

He flashes you a charming smile. That smile you could never resist. It used to be your Achilles’ heel. Despite your changing feelings, Rafe still possesses the uncanny ability to make you forget why you were even mad at him in the first place. Like right now.

Your shoulders sag.

“I know.”

Blue eyes dive into yours.

“I want to meet him.”

You retreat, your brows knitting.

“Meet him, why?”

“I want to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“I can decide that myself.”

He snorts, his focus darting away before returning to you.

“You’ve never known what’s good for you.” You flinch. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me you were talking to someone. I tell you everything. Shit, guess I’m an idiot, huh?” His jaw clenches. “...Cause I thought you did too.”

You inch closer to him and wrap your fingers around his forearm.

“Rafe, I’m sorry, okay.” You gnaw on your bottom lip. “It’s just that…”

“Just that what?”

You pause, mulling over how to best word what you mean to say.

Your voice comes out a bashful whisper, your eyes clinging to the floor.

“Every time I’ve told you I liked a guy, it’s never worked out for some reason. It’s probably my fault but…I just didn’t want to jinx it this time.” You nervously swing your gaze back to him. “I figured if I keep it to myself I don’t have to get my hopes up.” You can’t quell the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “Garrett and I are just seeing where it goes right now. So…things are good.”

“Oh, it’s Garrett and I, now?” he sneers.

“Rafe, don’t be like this,” you beseech, squeezing his arm. “You’ll always be my best friend; you know that.” You shift in your spot, your tone pitching with hope as you ask, “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

He stares at you a long time, so long that his eyes on you grow unnerving. After a while, he releases a deep exhale.

Ignoring your question, he steps back from you.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he announces.

“Rafe?”

You never get a response, his form vanishing down the hallway. A sigh ripples through your lips as you lean against the counter. Why is he being so difficult about this? It’s not like you’re not seeing him with a new girl every other week. You never batted an eyelash. You even encouraged him to seriously date some of them, the ones who seemed to sincerely like him and reminded you of yourself back in the day.

You’ve always cheered him on no matter what. So it baffles you that he can’t return the favor. Crushes you even.

For the rest of the week, you don’t hear much from Rafe. He pretty much ignores you and even leaves you on read after you send him a string of pleading messages, which is your cue that you wounded his feelings somehow. You surmise Rafe isn’t used to your attention veering towards someone else. Perhaps he’s miffed at the prospect that getting a boyfriend means you won’t hang out as much anymore, that he’ll have to share you. Your friendship’s been a fixture in both of your lives for so many years. The one unwavering, steadfast foundation nothing could topple. Whatever occured in his life or yours, you’ve always had each other.

Change can be scary.

But you don’t plan on neglecting the bond you have with Rafe just because you’re dating someone. He’ll always be in your life. He’ll always matter to you. It's what you meant to tell him. What you would tell him if only he bothered replying to your texts or answering your calls.

Rafe has always teased you for bartending at the Island Club. In his eyes, you’re much too Kook for what he calls a ‘Pogue job’. But you enjoy it. There is a certain comfort in having things you earned through your own hard work and not your parents’ money.

…Though you can’t deny you might not have landed this position if not for your dad’s close friendship with the owner of the private club. You’re also painfully aware you don’t get yelled at or scolded for making mistakes as much as other employees.

And on days like today, after you end your shift, Rafe has never failed to pick you up in his Jeep.

He’s never missed a day. Which is why you wear a dumbfounded expression as you note the glaring absence of the familiar black car in front of the country club. It takes you a while to accept and realize the cold, hard truth. Rafe isn’t coming to pick you up today.

It’s not the end of the world, of course. But it still makes your heart ache that he’d ditch like that without so much as an apology or heads-up. You feel kicked in the gut.

You try to call him but it goes straight to voicemail. Resigned, you resort to calling for back-up.

Sarah shows up in her truck with a bright smile.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” she quips, winking at you.

You climb inside the passenger seat.

“Thanks for coming, S.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Since the oldest of the Camerons is currently denying your very existence, you figured you might as well call the Kook Princess herself to the rescue. His sister, Sarah Cameron.

“I brought snacks so I better get a five-star review,” she jests, wiggling her eyebrows. She tosses you a bag of M&M’s that you gleefully tear open. “Doesn’t Rafe usually pick you up after work?”

The sugar melting on your tongue sweetens the bitter taste of abandonment.

“Well, he’s sulking, so…” you mumble around a mouthful of candy.

“Sulking?” Shock colors her tone. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make my brother mad. You’re like the only person he’s not a complete jerk around.”

“Well, he was one last time we talked.”

Sarah arches a puzzled brow.

You sigh and explain, “I started dating someone…Actually, we’re still at the talking stage, but…I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” she dismisses cryptically.

Her peculiar tone peeves you.

“I’m not gonna forget, Sarah.”

Her shoulders rise and fall.

“It’s not my place to say. It’s between you and Rafe.” She throws you a cautious glance, marking a brief pause before inquiring, “You’re not still in love with my brother, are you?”

Heat creeps inside your cheeks.

“I was n-never in love with Rafe,” you stammer. Inwards, you’re screaming. Was it that obvious at the time?

Sarah’s plump lips quirk in a lopsided smile.

“Sure.”

Gratitude fills you. You’d rather leave this can of worms permanently closed. Lid tightly sealed and all. And the can tossed at the bottom of a lake. It’s embarrassing enough that you mooned over Rafe for as long as you did.

At least you find comfort in the fact that you’re over him now.

“You mind if we stop for ice cream on the way?” Sarah asks, adjusting her rearview mirror.

“No. I could go for one myself. This heat is killing me.”

“Cool.”

For the rest of the week, Rafe continues to dole out the silent treatment. You allow his childish antics to chafe you to a point. Then you elect to not let it bother you anymore. He can throw a tantrum if he wishes. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re growing weary of being treated like you have.

For over fifteen years, you’ve been a great friend to Rafe, listening to him rant whenever he needed an ear, making time for him whenever he requested it. The fact he’s being a dick right now is staggering.

He frankly has no right.

After everything the two of you have been through, you hoped for more from him. While you’re aware he can be a jackass, you thought it was different when it came to you. That you were different. You suppose you were wrong.

Friday comes around and with it arrives the excitement of the plans you have for the night. Garrett asked you out on a date at a fancy seafood restaurant. It’ll be your first time meeting him in person. You’ve been looking forward to it the entire week.

As you’re putting the final touches to your makeup in front of the vanity mirror, your phone flashes with a request for a facetime call.

You swipe towards the green icon to accept the call.

Rafe’s face fills your screen.

“Hey, princess. I thought we could talk-”

“I’m kind of busy right now. Rain check tomorrow?”

“Busy doing what?” He squints, seeming to register your attire. A brand new sundress you purchased with your tips from the Island Club. You paired it with wedge heels. You also switched your hairstyle to something more sophisticated for the night. “W-What the hell are you wearing? Where are you even going dressed like that?”

You heave out a deep sigh.

“Good night, Rafe.”

You tap the screen to end the call.

A rush of power floods your insides. You hung up on him. This is your first time doing that, hanging up on Rafe Cameron himself.

Still, a sliver of guilt lingers alongside your pride. You quell it swiftly. You can’t be at his beck and call your entire life. Tonight’s about you. For once, you’d like to put your needs before Rafe’s.

Garrett comes to your house some time later. He has flowers in his arms. You soak in their scent for a few minutes. No one’s ever given you flowers before. It makes you feel special.

As he opens the door of his truck for you, he whistles in admiration.

“Wow,” he says, his gaze dragging over your frame.

Your skin warms at the attention, the kind you aren’t used to receiving.

Fiddling with the flowy sleeve of your sundress, you inquire, “Am I what you expected?”

A besotted smile spreads on his lips.

“You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“Thank you.”

You peer at him. His pictures don’t do him justice.

“You look very handsome. I like your shirt.”

His cheeks redden at your praise.

You get inside his car. The two of you exchange casual chatter on the way to the restaurant. You’re amazed at how easy talking to him is. You’re a little shy but his clear interest in you helps you slowly climb out of your shell.

Once you arrive at the restaurant, you’re escorted to your table. The light conversation resumes its flow, the two of you growing even more comfortable with each other. You like how intently he listens to you, even if his intense eye contact makes you wrestle the urge to look away. You nibble your lip as you peruse the menu. Mirth sways in Garett’s brown orbs when your stomach growls. You mumble an apology under your breath and he beams at you. You’ve been so anxious about the date for the whole day, you’ve forgotten to eat.

A familiar voice erupts from behind you.

“Well, look who it is. What a coincidence.”

You whirl, a gasp bursting from your throat.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?”

He stands besides you and Garrett’s table, his arm slung around a gorgeous redhead’s shoulders. It occurs to you haven’t seen him with that one before. Though you reckon Rafe rarely does repeat encounters.

What shocks you more however is his very presence here. Of all places, Rafe and the girl he’s with could have been tonight, it has to be the exact same location of your first date with Garrett.

What are the odds?

However, you recall that with the assistance of the friend-finding app both you and Rafe have on your phones in case of emergencies, figuring out your whereabouts would be about the easiest thing.

Would Rafe go that far just because you wouldn’t yield to his whims one time? Would he truly be that selfish?

The shit-eating grin unfurling on his face answers all your questions.

“Well, I heard this was a good spot so I thought…” Rafe’s brows furrow as he waves his hand before the girl’s face, appearing to struggle remembering her name.

“Jessica,” she finishes for him, disappointment decorating her pretty features.

He beams at her.

“Right. I thought that Jessica and I could check it out.”

He plops down next to you, forcing you to make space for him on the upholstered booth seat. Meanwhile his date sits next to Garrett.

“You mind, princess?”

Awkwardness fills the air. The heavy tension sits on your throat as Rafe makes himself more comfortable, going as far as spreading his legs.

You scold him with your gaze, all but spelling out ‘Yes, I do mind indeed’.

You clear your throat and shift your stance, resenting how every tiny motion has your thigh grazing against his.

“Actually I…We’re kind of on a date, Rafe.”

He places his arm on the wooden edge above your head, his smile expanding.

“So are we. So why not double date?”

“I don’t mind,” Garrett offers as he takes in your concerned expression. “You two…know each other, right?”

You open your mouth to speak but before words can pour from it, Rafe wraps his arm around you.

“Best friends. She and I go way back. Isn’t that right, princess?”

His intense blue eyes settle on you. You swallow the lump in your throat. Anger can’t begin to describe how upset you are with Rafe right now for crashing your date, but you also don’t want to cause a scene, make things even worse than they already are.

So you force a smile on your lips and nod.

“Y-Yeah, we do.”

Throughout the night, Rafe’s presence causes the date’s slow descent into a nightmare. Every time Garrett tries to strike up a conversation with you, Rafe interjects, his comments toeing the line between innocently inconsiderate and outright rude. He never lets the two of you have a moment, interrupting whenever Garrett looks at you for more than half a second. You grow weary of his antics. So does Rafe’s date. You can see the pretty redhead in front of him growing frustrated as he treats her as if she were a potted plant.

She ends up leaving the table to go to the bathroom but never returns. It doesn’t shock you. If someone inflicted upon you what Rafe has to the poor girl the entire night, you might take your leave as well.

By the time dessert comes, you’re on the cusp of tears. This is not how you envisioned your night going.

The awfulness doesn’t stop there.

When it’s time to part ways, Garrett finds his truck in an unfortunate state.

He curses under his breath as he hunkers down in front of his car.

“Some punk sliced my tires.”

In the back, Rafe shakes his head.

“Damn, tough luck. Guess I’ll have to drive you home, princess.”

You scowl at Rafe before placing a hand on Garrett’s arm. He’s already on his phone to contact someone to help move his truck.

“I could wait with you,” you say softly.

“It’s fine,” he replies. “Just go home. We’ll text, okay?”

Your tone turns contrite. “Okay. I’m so sorry… about everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. I still had a good time.”

“Me too.”

Despite his assurance, you aren’t too hopeful he’ll want to see you again. You know this wasn’t what he had in mind for the night. And neither did you.

You reluctantly trail behind Rafe, looking daggers at him when he opens the door of his black Volvo for you.

Not an ounce of guilt lurks on his handsome face, which tosses more fuel on the flames of your ire.

You don’t utter a word, almost too angry to speak. The last shred of your patience fizzled out in the restaurant, as your so-called best friend basked in your misery, getting a kick out of making a mockery of your night.

If you talk, it won’t be to have a calm, level-headed conversation with Rafe. It’ll be to spew venom at him.

As he parks into the driveway of your house, he lets go of the steering wheel and says, “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

You draw a long, slow breath.

“You think?” you snap icily. You jump out of the truck and slam the door closed.

Rafe follows you to your doorstep. You fumble with the lock. Your fingers quiver so much, you can’t even open the door. After a few unsuccessful tries jamming the keys inside the lock, Rafe takes them from you. He opens the door and you stomp inside.

You toss your clutch on a nearby table and whirl.

“What the hell, Rafe?” you shout. “You embarrassed me!”

His shoulders lift and slump.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

Disbelief rounds your gaze. “What?”

“You heard me. You shouldn’t have been on a date with him.”

Folding your arms, you scoff, “Right. Why is that?”

Rafe inches closer to you, his eyes locking with yours.

“Because you should have been on a date with me instead.”

A weary exhale drops from your chest. Rafe’s declared many things while hammered but this one takes the cake.

“I think you’re drunk,” you dismiss. “You need to go home, Rafe.”

Rafe’s jaw ticks.

“My mind is perfectly clear, okay? If you’ll just listen to me-”

“Go home, Rafe.”

You nearly turn your back on him but Rafe’s sturdy hand fastens around your arm, yanking you back.

He takes a long pause, drinking you in.

Rafe takes a deep breath before confessing, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” His throat bobs as he adds, “And I know you love me too.”

Your mouth tumbles open, shock snatching the very air from your lungs. You stare at Rafe. Perhaps you heard him wrong. In your wrath, his words may have landed in your ears a little warped.

But as you get lost in his sea gaze, the truth sinks into you. He is serious. Very serious.

A war of conflicting emotions breaks out inside you. For years, you longed to hear those words. But not like this. And the insinuation that he knew how you felt…That he let you suffer in silence while gallivanting around with those girls.

A fast surge of tears blurs your gaze.

“You knew?”

He cradles your face.

“I’ve always known.”

A shudder wracks through your frame.

“So w-why did you never say anything?”

“I figured you’d wait for me, that I could just have some fun. That it wasn’t a big deal.”

Ice fills your blood. Your tone becomes clipped, detached.

“I want you to leave.”

His hold on you doesn’t loosen, his cheek pulsing in frustration.

“Really? I tell you I love you after all this time and this is your response?”

“I haven’t had those feelings for you in years, Rafe. And right now…I don’t even like you as a person.” Rafe bristles at your blunt words, looking like you slapped him. Your mouth wobbles as you say, “You’re not who I thought you were. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

Something shifts in his blue eyes. The air around you drops a few degrees as he pushes you further inside the room. Desperation lurks in his deep timbre.

“Come on, we can talk about this, princess.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Dread escalates within you when he doesn’t move. You’re hit with the daunting realization that you’re alone with Rafe, your parents away on a trip right now. Usually being alone with him wouldn’t have fazed you, may have ensconced you in a sense of security and comfort even. Not tonight. Tonight, you don’t recognize the Rafe standing in front of you. Your voice trickles out small and shaky. “R-Rafe, get out, I’m serious.”

His expression hardens. He shoves you into a nearby wall. You gasp as pain prickles along your back.

“Just admit that you love me too,” he roars.

“I don’t,” you whimper as water brims under your lashes.

This propels him to the brink. There’s no time to process anything, Rafe hoisting you with ease. As he takes long, determined strides to your bedroom, your fear grows. He hurls your body into the bed. He fiddles with the buttons of his khaki pants until they come loose. A scream builds inside your throat, refusing to break past your lips as you linger in bewilderment. Rafe isn’t doing what you think he’s doing…what he’s preparing to do. There's no way. He wouldn’t.

Stupor girdles your motions. For a while, you gape at Rafe. As he approaches the bed, adrenaline rushes through you. You remember how to move.

But it’s for naught. Rafe is quicker than you, catching you when you rise and slamming you back on the sheets. He crawls over you. His blue gaze glimmers strangely in the darkness. Streaks of moonlight pour between your half-draw curtains, casting ominous shadows over his broad frame.

He cages you beneath him, shushing you as you croak out pleas for him to stop.

“I know you’re lying,” he rasps, scattering sloppy kisses alongside your neck.

He yanks down your dress and your breath hitches.

“I’m not. I don’t-” Words wither on your tongue as he flicks his thumb over your nipple, his other hand patting underneath your dress. “I-I don’t love you anymore, Rafe.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His fist curls around the vee part of your thin lace panties, tugging roughly enough to tear the delicate material. You squeal as the lace dents your flesh when it rips.

Your heart bounces. You push against Rafe’s chest with newfound urgency.

“Rafe, stop.”

He snatches both of your wrists and traps them above your head. Helplessness chokes your airways as he pokes lightly at your entrance. He slides one finger between your walls and you keen, breath faltering at the abrupt intrusion. His lewd gaze remains trained on you as you squirm beneath him.

“Why do you keep lying, huh?” he accuses, forcing a moan from your throat when he curls his digit inside you. When your eyes squeeze shut in denial, he lets go of your wrist to frame your jaw.

A sob spills from your throat, your eyes flying open.

“Nah…I want you to look at me, princess,” he orders, jerking your head up so your gazes lock. You choke on your breath when he shoves a second finger inside you. He slowly drags his fingers in and out of you. Heat gathers in your core. You writhe against the sheets, resisting the urge to buck your hips to seek more of the friction. He grazes a uniquely sensitive spot and your lids quake, a soft whimper flying from your mouth. You clench around Rafe’s fingers and he unleashes a sigh of pleasure as you grip him. You feel him harden against you. Your stomach knots at the pressure. His eyes are glued to you, soaking every minute shift of expression while he pumps his fingers inside you.

“I know you never stopped loving me,” he whispers, the alcohol on his breath seeping through your senses. “Think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

As you near your undoing, he removes his fingers. You sag against the sheets. The sudden emptiness leaves you with a mix of emotions you’re too ashamed to admit.

He presses his thick tip against your dripping entrance, gathering your arousal when he runs it along your folds. He pushes in slowly, his eyes rolling back at the sensation of your velvety warmth welcoming him. You tense at the intrusion. Your fingers curl into the sheets. Rafe’s broad frame covers yours, his forehead resting against yours as he whispers, “Say you love me.”

When you don’t reply, he slams his cock inside you in one swift stroke. Your back curves, a quiet scream ripping from your throat. Your chest lifts and falls rapidly as Rafe’s thick girth fills you up completely.

He begins moving inside you, his pace relentless and unforgiving. While his length is splitting you apart, it’s hard to deny the warm tingles pulsing through your core, joining the pain in devious harmony.

You go limp on the bed, his thick cock stretching you more than ever before. Every time he grazes your sweet spots, you spiral further down, your thoughts melting in the flames consuming your body.

“Say it,” he grunts, his warm breath fanning over your face.

His bulging muscles coil beneath his clothes from the force he exerts to shove all of himself inside you. Heavy breaths drop from Rafe’s chest as your walls squeeze around him. Drenched locks of his dirty blond hair cling to his forehead, beads of sweat collecting between his furrowed brows and dripping to your parted lips.

When you remain silent, Rafe’s large hand wraps around your throat, his tone more firm and menacing than before as he snarls, “Say that you love me, princess.”

His fingers crush your windpipe until you give in.

You can barely eke the words out, every harsh snap of Rafe’s hips into yours filling your vision with stars.

“I l-love you, Rafe.”

The words ache as they part from your throat. A bitter truth you buried long ago, beneath thick layers of heartbreak and denial. One you hoped would never crawl its way back to the surface. One that hurts even more now, shatters you as it leaves your lips. Because you can’t tell if Rafe forced it out of you or if it was there all along. Perhaps it never left you. Perhaps, even after all your attempts to purge Rafe Cameron from your flesh and soul, even after he’s done the unthinkable to you…Part of you may still love Rafe, may always love Rafe.

As you grow overwhelmed with warring emotions, his cock still viciously ramming into you, you don’t know who you hate more. Him. Or yourself.

Salty streams spill down your cheeks.

Rafe kisses them away, gently cupping your cheek while thrusting roughly into your cunt. His other hand explores your curves, clutching your flesh possessively. You can already feel bruises forming beneath his rough, insatiable touch. His eyes find yours, a possessive glint swaying in his intense blue gaze.

“Of course you do.” His lips stretch in a smug smile. “You’ve always been mine, princess, you just didn’t know it yet.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader #dark rafe cameron

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sinsandsweetness · 9 months

Note

something about hyperfeminine reader x rick.... another anon said he'd adore pink nail polish & i so totally agree. maybe cause he's so rough and sharp edged? and it's the very opposite of him? so the pretty pink skirts & sweet perfume you always wear would make his brain fuzzy in the best way !! 🤧

using this as an excuse to write something extremely self indulgent 🤍 obsessed with this sweet, girly, almost bimbo reader that Rick can’t help but be a little extra soft with… <3

When he steps out of the shower and onto the bathmat, he can’t help but smile at the sight of you sitting on the sink, one foot up and crouched over, focused intently on the toenail you’re currently painting. And he can’t help but notice how cute it is that your tongue is poking out the side of your mouth.

Rick rubs a towel on his hair and then wraps it around his waist, walking over to the dresser in the bedroom and grabbing some boxers. You’re a little too immersed in perfecting the pale pink pedicure to notice that he even finished his shower.

“Need some help?” He asks, coming up to the sink and reaching into a drawer. Grabbing some shaving cream and a safety razor.

You look up at the sound of his husky voice. Taking in the sight of his wet hair. Curls forming and dripping onto his shoulders. His torso, glistening with little beads of water that are racing to meet the waist band of his plaid boxer shorts.

“Hm?” You say. The sight of him went straight between your legs, making you almost immediately forget his question.

“D’you need some help there, sweetie?” He nods towards the hand gripping at Essie’s ballet slippers.

“Oh. No, I just finished. Thank you though,” you smile up at him sweetly, screwing the cap back on the bottle and turning to let your legs dangle off the marble countertop.

He positions himself in between your legs and against the vanity, while you lean back on your hands. Watching his brows draw together in focus as he rubs shaving cream along his jaw, his chin and the bottom half of his face. Grabbing the razor, he starts to make long, languid strokes down his face and neck. The blade moving with ever curve of his jaw, so smooth and intentional. But he can feel you staring. Glancing from the mirror to your gaze and then back. Trying to fight the smirk from forming on his face.

“Is it hard?” You ask, oblivious to the teasing grin on his face.

“Shaving?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you scared you’re gonna cut yourself, or somethin’?” You ask, doe eyes wide and curious. And the sight makes him think about you on your knees, having looked up at him in nearly the exact same way, all sweet and eager and so fucking perfect.

Rick shakes his head, at both the intrusive thought and your question, “Not really. Don’t you shave your legs? It’s the same thing, sweetheart.”

“But this is on your face. And you’ve seen how many times I end up nicking myself.”

He smiles, knowing that it’s true. Watching you sit on the side of the tub, silky robe leaving very little to the imagination as you glide a razor up your legs, trying to go nice and slow and get every little hair. Turning sharply to look at him with wide eyes and a hand on your mouth when you both notice a crimson droplet, trickling all the way down to your ankle.

“Yeah. You aren’t so good at that are you?” He chuckles, pressing a quick peck to your mouth which you immediately wipe off because now there’s shaving cream on your nose.

It takes everything in his power not to kiss you again.

“So how do you always get it so good?” Your honeyed voice brings him back.

“Practice I guess. You wanna try?”

“And leave you with any more scars? No thank you.” You joke.

“C’mon. Give it a try.”

“You sure?”

He nods, urging the razor into your hand and leaning in for you, “Mhm. I trust you.”

You gulp at that comment. Hoping he can still keep that trust in a few minutes when you’re all done.

You try to copy what he was doing, going extra slow over the ridge of his jaw and the bump of his adam’s apple. He hums in approval and you take it as some kind of praise. Sitting up straight and a little more confident now that his hands have moved to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Panties now flush with his groin.

“I did it.” You say triumphantly, handing him back the razor and letting your hands slide around his waist, fingers interlocking on top of his tailbone. Cheek pressed to his chest as he leans forward to rinse the razor under the faucet beside you. Tapping the metal on the counter twice. The sound echoing through the room, before he places it on a folded towel on the other side of the sink.

He leans back up to look at you. Pretty eyes and pouty lips. Hair all soft and natural, and tucked behind the dainty gold jewelry dangling from your ears.

“Y’look so pretty.” You marvel, one hand coming up to his jaw. Freshly shaved, so smooth and warm. With just the tiniest strip of leftover shaving cream that needed to be washed off.

You are so much prettier, sweet girl, he thinks to himself. Unable to form a verbal answer now that you’re touching his face. His heart doing somersaults like it was the first time. It isn’t. But he loves feeling like it is.

Being with you in this moment makes him forget what was stressing him out before his shower. Completely unbothered by the tedious week he’d had helping the Tobin with the walls.

Now, all he can even think about is you. Your face. Your voice. Your long legs and the holy temple in between them.

He closes his eyes at your touch, soft and delicately tracing your way down his jaw. The attention sending a tingly, serene feeling up his neck and down his spine.

He can’t even help what he does next. Not that he really needed to. And definitely not that he wanted to. He pulls you in, tangling his fingers into the locks at the nape of your neck. Kissing your soft, plush lips and tracing a tongue over your bottom one.

You taste like candy. And you smell like a vanilla cupcake. And the combination of the two makes him want nothing more than to take a damn bite.

Gosh, you couldn’t be more different from him. So pure and soft and sweet. So fucking kind and perfect. And though he may be a bit biased given your relationship and all, he’s positive that not a soul in Alexandria would disagree.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls your legs around his waist, and he can’t help but smile against your lips and think to himself how fucking lucky he is that he found someone who can be his escape. Who can make his brain feel all fuzzy and his heart feel way too full. Who effortlessly distracts him from everything that’s wrong with in the world, just by being your beautiful self.

#rick grimes smut #rick grimes x y/n #Rick fluff #Rick grimes fluff #Rick grimes suggestive #rick grimes fanfiction #twd fanfiction #rick grimes #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes imagine #Rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #Rick daydream #t’s daydreams <3 #hyperfeminine reader #hyperfeminine reader x Rick

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rosedom · 2 months

Note

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—”

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”

“Lyn—”

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on.

“‘m already prepped.” Oh.

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.

You’re so, so glad to love him.

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.

“Patience, pup.”

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters.

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—”

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.

Really, clean-up can wait.

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord .#top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months

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How can you tell them apart? [Fred Weasley]

(Gif not by me)

Title: How can you tell them apart?

Pairing: FredWeasley x Gryffindor!reader, background Ginny x Harry.

Timeline: Non-specified, mentions of a non canonical kiss between Ginny and Harry.

Summary: Reader is the only person able to tell Fred and George apart and the twins have never known how she was able to, until one of them overhears, learning a little more than he had intended.

Warnings: a few swear words, mentions of kissing, brief angst and utter fluff. Not beta read nor spellchecked, we die like Sirius.

As always, I have used a little artistic license when it comes to the dorm accessibility between boys and girls, in order to fit the story.

"How the bloody hell can you tell them apart? Our mum can't even tell them apart!" Ron says exasperated as he flings himself down on the couch inside the Gryffindor common room, bumping clumsily into Hermione as he takes his place.

"Yeah I've been wondering the same thing..." Fred says suspiciously, moving closer to you as he fixes you with a mock glare which is juxtaposed by the glimmer in his eyes and the threat of a smirk tugging at his lips. George tails closely behind him and looks more than a little confused but happy to go along with it, a fake accusatory glare fixed on you, though it is much softer than Fred's. You fight to push down the nervous butterflies that build within you as Fred stalks darkly over to you, hovering like a looming shadow. "What can I say, it must be a gift," you shrug smugly, averting your eyes towards Hermione who looks upon you in amusement.

The twins had come down from their dorm for breakfast wearing one of their signature Weasley sweaters, emblazoned with their stitched initial on the front. You'd said nothing further than a greeting and had slipped them a knowing smirk before tucking into your breakfast. When the twin wearing the G sweater had asked for your opinion on something, you hadn't hesitated to correctly address him, much to everyone's confusion.

"I don't know Fred, maybe it's better that you leave it this week."

"Umm y/n, that's George," Ron had said wearily, with a cringe on his face at your mistake. You'd simply snorted in reply, barely looking up from your buttered toast and replied, "yeah and I'm Hermione."

"How!?" George had blurted out, outraged that you'd seen straight through their little scheme. Fred simply looked at you with a questioning gaze, trying to read your face but you had remained resolute, sitting smugly as you finished your breakfast.

Fred refuses to acknowledge your answer as an explanation and crouches down in front of the loveseat you are sat on so that you are eye level with each other. His eyes wash over your face, the suspicious look still plastered on his face as he tries desperately to search for some kind of clue.

"Try again," he whispers darkly as your eyes meet, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous glimmer. Refusing to be intimidated, you simply allow a smug smile to bloom over your face as you smile up at him innocently with doe eyes, showing him that you won't be exposing your secrets.

Not once taking his gaze off you, he bites his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth as he often does when he's concentrating. “Georgie, I think we need to test out her gift," Fred says darkly, almost as if he's trying to call your bluff.

"Fred, I was thinking the same thing," George says ominously behind his brother as he moved and crouches down beside his slightly older twin, both of them now facing you with a dangerous look in their eye.

Much to your disappointment, Ginny had chosen that exact moment to burst through into the common room and immediately required your attention, pulling you and Hermione away from the intimidating twins and ushering you both into your shared dorm with only a questionable apology shot in the direction of her brothers at her interruption.

Once back in your dorm, Ginny immediately began retelling the story of what had just happened between her and Harry, finally kissing after years of flirting and building tension. You had almost forgot about your moment with the twins as you listened to your friend gush, so overwhelmingly pleased for her that she was finally getting the boy she had longed for, for years. "So, you seemed awfully close with my brothers back there," Ginny finally says, shooting you an accusatory glance as Hermione giggles, explaining on your behalf what had happened.

"So how can you tell them apart? I still have no clue and I'm related to them!" Ginny says, pulling the pillow beside her into her lap as she leans in slightly, intently listening to your answer.

You shrug slightly, not wanting to make it a big deal. "I don't know, there's loads of little differences between them, you just have to know what to look for."

"Like?" Ginny says, trying to bait you. You huffed out a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sigh, knowing there would be no escape from the questioning.

"Well, Fred has a slightly rounder face and a straighter nose than George and his eyes are a slightly different shape. He's got a scar on his left eyebrow and a little mark on his nose and George had two moles on his neck which Fred doesn't have. Fred used to be slightly taller but now it's George, not by much but it's noticeable if you're looking. Fred's hair sticks out like a flick at the end whereas George's doesn't, it sort of lies flat but with a little kink where he tucks it behind his ears when he's concentrating. Fred's slightly broader than George, like his shoulders and back are a little wider. Fred is usually always the one to speak first and then George will follow behind explaining whatever Fred has said because most of the time it's a blunt statement or an implication without any context."

You immediately felt embarrassed as your little rant had come to an end, never intending to spout out all your knowledge on the pair as Ginny and Hermione look at you with a mixture of shock and amusement.

"How much do you actually look at them?" Ginny teases, only furthering your blush.

"That's quite a list," Hermione says with a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Fine, fine thank you," you say sarcastically, trying to get them to shut up as you sit there mortified at your confession.

"So it's Fred then?" Ginny asks, making you frown in confusion. "Well most of the list was Fred this, Fred that and only a little bit of George sprinkled in. It's Fred that you like?" She's dropped her teasing tone and asks you honestly as a friend. You know that there's really no way you can deny it at this point and simply nod your head, biting your lip to hold back your smile. She immediately squealed and did a little dance on the bed at your confession.

"I mean, in the beginning I just really wanted to be able to tell them apart. I didn't want to be just like everyone else who either guessed or limped them together or ignored them because they couldn't tell, I wanted to be their friend," you shrugged gently. "The more I noticed the differences, the more I realised that it was Fred that I felt more connected to and I guess I started to get feelings for him and it's just carried on really."

"How long?" Hermione asks delicately.

"Years," you huffed out a laugh at your pathetic confession.

"But to answer your question, I can use those things to tell them apart but mainly it's just the feeling I get from Fred, like my mind knows when it's Fred and when it isn't," you shrug again. "He walks into a room and I just feel like magnetic pull like an invisible string that I don't get when it's George. Ughr I'm so pathetic." You drop your head into your hands as the realisation washes over you. The girls immediately try and comfort you but are quickly silenced by a knock on the dorm door. You each look around scandalised at who would be knocking now and you immediately feel a sinking feeling that someone might have heard your confession. Ginny goes and answers the door and awkwardly shuffles to the side at the caller steps into the room.

Fred. Shit.

You're sure you can't go any redder than you already are, wishing the bed would just swallow you up right then and there. "Just checking in on you ladies," he says but you can see his eyes shoot to you with a look you couldn't place, as if he was lying.

Ginny suddenly launches towards him and pulls at a wire hanging out of his pocket, gasping as she pulls out the extendable ear that he had clearly used to spy on your conversation.

Tears began to brim in your eyes as you thought of how much he'd heard, your whole world crashing down at the very thought. You were so painfully embarrassed you wanted to run away and sob but you were completely frozen in place, wishing it all to go away.

"Um, could I talk to y/n/n?" Fred asks shyly, running his hand through his hair. His sudden uncharacteristic shyness only fuelled your desire to cry, solidifying the idea that he was embarrassed and offended by your unwilling confession of feelings for him. He was probably mortified too that someone like you had feelings for him, no doubt either disgusted by the idea or trying to hold down his laughter at your pitiful crush.

"Y/n?" Ginny asks, turning to you to wait for your consent, subconsciously defending you like the great friend she was, even if it was against her own brother. You felt Hermione's stare on your sad form and you simply nodded, knowing you just needed to get it over with, like pulling a plaster off of a fresh wound.

"We'll be right downstairs," Hermione said, not missing the opportunity to glare at Fred as she walked past, trying her best to appear threatening. You couldn't meet his eyes, not even when the door clicked closed and you were left alone. You had never felt so achingly awkward in his presence and you tried your hardest not to let your thoughts spiral as you considered his next move. Fred crept closer to you, no doubt judging your demeanour carefully to check that you wouldn't launch yourself at him or run away if he spooked you. You felt the bed dip as he took a seat beside you, sitting on the edge of the bed just close enough to reach out to you.

He said nothing but reached out slowly to gently place his finger under your chin and lift it so that your eyes were looking into his. His eyebrows bunched together slightly as he noticed the unshed tears in your eyes. "I'm so sorry," he says quietly and your eyes closed at the pain consuming you as he began his rejection. "I only intended to hear what Ginny had to say, I wanted to make sure she was okay and that that little shit hadn't upset her. But then you started talking and I was intrigued, I'd always wanted to know how only you were able to tell me and George apart like some kind of superpower. You've never once called me the wrong name, or George and you've never once made us feel like we were the same person, just like everyone else has." His tone was soft and honest, two things you hardly knew Fred was actually capable of, which caught you completely off guard. "It was interesting to hear how well you know us, I never noticed just how well you do, mostly because my attention has always been on you."

Your eyes flashed up to his again at his words and he let out a little smile at seeing your shock.

"I'm sorry I found out like I did, but I'm so fucking glad I know now and I can't say I regret it." His words only surprised you more and you had to stop yourself from gaping at him.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong, but I really, really want to kiss you right now," he says, chuckling slightly as your eyes widen, the thumb of his hand that was cradling your chin absently stroking your cheek.

You don't waste another second and slightly lean into him, trying to close the distance between you as he leans forward, bridging the gap and capturing your lips in a kiss that sets off butterflies in you. The kiss deepens almost instantly as he pulls you closer to him, your arms snaking around his shoulders as you put every ounce of emotion into kissing him back, feeling like Weasley whiz bangs were going off all around you. His hand cradles your chin and neck as he holds you, dominating the kiss which you never want to end. You pull apart eventually, both a little out of breath as you look at each other with a little laugh shared between you at the sudden shift in mood.

"I'm a complete fool, if I'd just told you how I felt at the beginning we could have been doing that for years," he says with his signature smirk back in place, still a little breathless from the searing kiss you'd just shared.

You huffed out a laugh in reply, "not a completely fool, just a fool," you teased. He immediately launched himself at you, wrestling you to the bed as he climbs over you, planting another kiss on your lips as his hand tangled into your hair to hold you close to him.

"I'm not wasting anymore time," he says, pulling away as he gazes sincerely into your eyes, "be my girl?"

"I've always been your girl," you reply quietly, looking up at him with a sincere, loving smile. He smiles, chuckles and reaches down to give you one more kiss and you're convinced you could die happy now.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter #fred Weasley x you #emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites

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philzasjuicyass · 3 months

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Ok, so. Heaven.

In the court in ep6, we see 5 different types of angels (on top of the Seraphim).

In the middle there are moth/bug-looking ones (mix of antenna/no antenna). Then we've got the birdies (the ones at the top have extra Long Feathers) and the very demonic looking horned ones at the bottom. (And this one guy at the top with the eyed appendages)

On top of those are what I think are Ophanim; wheels with eyes on them at the top. We see them in the beginning narration of ep1,

And it looks like two of the angels we saw creating Earth might also be Ophanim (the 2 lower ones)

One of these angels was clearly Sera, a Seraph we later see accompanied by Emily. Sera is the "Head Seraph" and expresses that it's her job to take care of things since she's older.

People have theorized that Seniority is an important thing among angels because of that and how, in the ep1 narration, it's said the Elders of Heaven disapproved of Lucifer's ideas for creation.

We are shown 6 angels here (7 including Lucifer), all of them with unique halos (and heads!) making them distinct from each other.

And in ep5, we see the same group of 6 with the exact same halos again

Except this time they're even more distinct, with distinguishing silhouettes&markings added.

Seven angels, including Lucifer? Almost like... the Archangels?

#hazbin hotel #my hazbin posts #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin hotel analysis #im just tryna put it all down in an organized way to well. organize my thoughts #also WARNING i dont know much abt christianity and the bible and whatever so. sorry for any inaccuracies there #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel angels #going insane abt heaven I NEED TO KNOW. I NEED TO KNOW. TELL ME WHATS GOING ON UP THERE TELL MEEE

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redbullgirly · 3 months

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Hi! Can you write something about Lando x reader where she wants to wait till marriage to have sex and how'd he react to this? I'll leave the rest to you, it doesn't have to be a whole fic, maybe just a small blurb. Thank you <3

SAND AND CONFESSION [LN4 oneshot]

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: You and Lando have been going out for few weeks, maybe months now. While you're enjoying each other's company on a beach with sunset behind your backs, you decide to tell him you want to wait with sex till marriage.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: English isn't my first language and I honestly didn't write for a while, so if some sentences are kinda weird or sloppy, I'm very sorry! Don't be afraid to correct me if you find some errors.

Author's Note: Hi Anon, thanks for the request! I hope you and everybody else will like this shorter fic I wrote based on it. I'll appreciate likes, comments, follows, reblogs and any other form of support! :)

The sand beneath your feet was still warm, though the sun had almost set behind the fluffy clouds on the horizon. You ran up the beach, trying to get as far from the sea as you could, before the curly-haired man could throw you into the waves, messing up your hair. He followed you, laughing and almost tripping, which was probably the only reason you actually managed to escape to the laid out blanket with your things and bags.

You laid on it, your chest covered in droplets of salty water heaving with uneven breaths. Some sand probably stuck to your wet skin, but you didn't mind.

“Y/N, you left me there all alone!” Lando faked a pout, standing above you with crossed arms and a silly smile.

“Yeah, 'cause you tried to drown me!” you fired right back and stuck out your tongue.

He shook his head and stretched out his arm, helping you stand back up. Then, without any warning, he slapped your ass. You squealed his name and tried to punch him, but he dodged effortlessly. May his fast reflexes be damned.

It was getting darker by every minute, the sun now nearly gone from the evening sky. Shadows slowly crept to the beach, and you shivered in the cool air. Lando, the caring boy he was, instantly noticed the goosebumps popping up all over your body. You were both still just in your swimsuits, and it was getting cold.

He bent down to the bag you took to the beach with you and took out a big towel. “C'mere baby,” he mumbled, and when you took a step towards him, he wrapped you and himself up in it.

Suddenly, you didn't feel cold at all — quite the opposite, really. Lando's firm body was pressed against you, his hands around your waist and faces impossibly close to each other. You could feel his warm breath, smelling after the vanilla milkshake you drank at a cozy café before going to the private beach.

One of his big hands cupped your cheek, your eyes locked in with his intense blue stare. Lando and you were going out for a few weeks, even months now. You didn't put any label on it, maybe too afraid of the feelings that bubbled in your stomach every time that exact expression appeared in his eyes. The one of pure adoration and happiness, as if you'd give him the Moon. And honestly? If he ever asked, you probably would. Or at least try.

As if the boy could read your thoughts, his smile deepened, and he finally closed the remaining distance between you two. His lips felt soft and hard against yours at the same time, asking and demanding all at once. Lando was always careful at the start, but as soon as your body relaxed, and you gently bit his bottom lip, the kiss heated up pretty quickly.

He moaned into your mouth and his hold on your waist tightened. This wasn't your first time making out, but it never felt so intense, so breathtaking before. You struggled to keep pace with him, though you'd lie if you said you didn't like it. However, when his hands slipped under the towel that was still wrapped around your bodies, and tugged onto your bikini straps, you pulled away. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen and hair messy.

He stopped, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and looked at you questioningly, eyes wide. You realized Lando thought he did something wrong, again. And that made you feel even worse than before.

“What's wrong, babe?” he asked in a quiet voice, his hand still cupping the side of your cheek. You wanted to look down, ashamed and not knowing how to say what had to be said, but Lando didn't let you. “You can tell me Y/N. I won't be angry or anything.”

It was his assurance and sweet voice that caused you to sight and swallow thickly.

“I… there's something I need to tell you,” you whispered. He just nodded, listening curiously. “So, I feel weird saying it, but… I never actually… you know.” You point between you and him. “I never did this before,” you confess, not able to look him into the eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That's no problem at all-” You put your finger on his lips, silently asking him to be quiet.

“And,” you say, making him know that's not all you wanted to say, “I don't want to. Not until marriage.”

Now he seems surprised, taken aback even. It's clear he's processing your words for a moment, while you almost faint from the nerves. You're worried he won't understand. That now, when you told him he won't get what most men want, he'll break up whatever you two have going on.

But he does nothing like that. No, he nods slowly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A smile that soon turns into the grin you know so well by this point. And then, Lando pulls you closer and whispers in your ear: “Well, good thing I plan on marrying you one day.”

And even though he says it in a joking voice, wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, you know right there and then that deep down, he means it.

THE END

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months

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matching injuries, matching fits

part 2 of acl tear #2 acl couple #4

surgery day for reader!

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it's that the surgery was outpatient. You hated hospitals, so at least you wouldn't be stuck in one for any longer than necessary.

Accompanying Leah for her surgery just a few months ago didn't help settle your nerves. You remembered more than she did how much pain she'd been in, and it scared the hell out of you. Leah had handled her surgery so well though; she never complained. She was frustrated, sure, but Leah was good at handling pain.

Your relationship was so new, and you didn't want to seem like a baby, so you tried to hide how nervous you were going into it. Apparently you weren't doing a very good job.

"Are you nervous, darling?" Leah asked, looking over at you from the driver's seat. You just shrugged in response, continuing to bounce your good knee up and down rapidly. She reached across the center console, intertwining her fingers with yours. You sent her a weak smile, and she returned it, much more enthusiastically. You remained silent all the way to the hospital, and through the prep. Leah was growing more concerned, watching you grow paler and paler as the clock ticked by. You were so in your head, she could practically hear you thinking.

"Hey, love," she said, gaining your attention. "It's gonna be fine, okay? They do this every day, and I'm gonna be right here when you come out, alright?"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," you said, blinking back tears. She stood from the chair she was sitting in, walking over to the bed you were laying in. She leaned down, blonde hair falling into your face, wrapping you in a tight hug, as best she could from her position. You hugged her back tightly, burying your face in her sweatshirt, the feel of it on your face making you feel better.

Leah had come home yesterday with a new matching pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt for you, calling it your "comfy surgery outfit." You'd teased her for it, but appreciated her thoughtfulness. You'd really teased her this morning when she appeared out of the closet wearing the exact same outfit. Leah was adamant that matching with her would make you feel better.

Leah stayed hugging you for longer than was probably comfortable, before pulling back, hearing the nurses come into the room. You looked up at her nervously, realizing it was time. She gave you an encouraging smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then your lips, before whispering an I love you against your mouth. You really smiled up at her then, whispering the words back. Leah watched as they wheeled you off, more nervous than she'd been for her own surgery.

-----

When you blinked awake, the bright lights of the room immediately assaulted your eyes, and you closed them again, sleepier than you'd ever been in your life.

"Hey baby," a voice whispered from right next to you. Cracking one eye open, you saw Leah looking at you, sitting in a chair next to the bed, holding your hand tightly in hers.

"Leee" you said happily, puckering your lips for a kiss. Leah. Man you loved her. She was so pretty, so perfect.

"Hi love," she said, laughing, before kissing you sweetly. "How are you feeling?"

"So good. They gave me a whole new knee!" You said, grinning. Leah laughed again, quite amused at your state. Suddenly though, the smile dropped from your lips, and you looked at her critically.

"Leah," you started seriously, although you were still slurring your words slightly, "you should get bangs."

Leah burst out laughing, not expecting that at all. Her laughter was cut short, though, when you looked at her in horror, your face flushing red. She watched, as if you were in slow motion, as your bottom lip jutted out, and your eyes filled with tears, like a cartoon character. She'd laughed at you!

"No, baby," she tried, but you were already crying. She was having to work even harder not to laugh at how fast your mood had changed, as you cried into your hands. "Don't cry, I thought you were kidding,"

"No! You hate my idea," you wailed, and Leah's hands fluttered uselessly over you, trying to figure out how to stop your tears.

"Woah, what'd you do, break up with her?" came a voice from the doorway, and Leah turned to see Viv and Beth walking in, looking amused. Leah scowled, but turned her attention back to you.

"I'll get bangs if you want, my girl, anything you want," she said, pleading with you. Your tears stopped comically fast.

"Really?" you asked hopefully.

"Yes, baby, seriously," Leah replied, fully convinced you'd laugh at the idea with her when you weren't high anymore.

"Bangs?" Beth asked, as her and Viv took seats on the other side of your bed, looking at Leah with a smirk.

"Wouldn't she look so good with them?!" you replied, staring intently at your teammates. Viv's poker face was much better than Beth's, and Leah glared at the blonde, not wanting you to start crying again. Viv elbowed Beth.

'Yes, so good! She'd really rock a fringe." Beth said enthusiastically, and you smiled, not aware you were being teased. Now Leah was glaring for a different reason, but at least you seemed content. You all chatted for a little while longer, until you got the go ahead from the doctor to leave.

Leah got you changed back into your matching outfit, and when Beth and Viv reentered the room, they were once again fighting fits of laughter.

"Leah picked them out, she wanted to match," you told them, and Leah blushed furiously, having not thought ahead to your friends seeing your matching outfits.

"That red really brings out the color in your cheeks Williamson," Viv joked, referencing Leah's deep blush, and the crimson clothes she had on, because what color was Leah going to get you guys, blue?

Grumbling slightly, Leah helped you into the wheelchair, and the four of you set off to the car. Beth and Viv helped get you in, before they headed to their own car, promising to stop by with dinner later. Leah gave them both hugs before getting in the car, quietly thanking them for their support.

Since they'd found out about your guys' relationship Beth and Viv had been interested to watch the change they'd noticed in Leah. She was normally a serious person, but she was serious with you in a different way. She looked at you so intensely, and they didn't know how'd they'd missed that the 2 of you were together; the look on her face when her gaze met yours was one of someone fiercely in love. Leah wasn't normally one to express her thanks in such a forward, vocal way, but when it came to you, it seemed like all bets were off. They smiled to themselves as they walked back to the car, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Leah fussed over your seatbelt.

-----

Leah got you home and into bed with little drama, and no more tears. You were sleepy again, and she made sure you were asleep comfortably before heading downstairs to obsess over the post op instructions she'd gotten. Even though they were the same as hers, and she probably could have written them, she still read every page, back to front, not willing to risk anything.

When she went to check on you around 45 minutes later, bringing with her an ice pack to replace the one that would be warm by now, she found you in a decidedly less comfortable, and less happy, state than she'd left you. You were still laying in bed, but your face was screwed up in pain, and there were tears leaking out of your eyes. You were staring at your knee, which was propped up in front of you, glaring at it. Leah hadn't been expecting the pain to hit so soon, but clearly, it was.

"Oh, baby, why didn't you call for me?" she asked, having left you with strict instructions to tell her when you woke up. She sat on the edge of the bed, using her sleeve to gently wipe the tears off your face.

"Didn't wanna bother you," you mumbled, and Leah looked at you, confused. You seemed more out of it than you had been before, and she figured you were just still loopy.

"You could never bother me, pretty girl," Leah said, watching as your lips turned up into a watery smile. "You can't have anymore pain medicine yet, but I can brought you some ice," she said, carefully unwrapping the ice wrap from around your knee and replacing it.

"Thanks," you said softly, still looking slightly teary.

"What else can I do, love?" She asked, hating to see you so upset.

You thought for a moment, eyes fluttering open and shut as you fought sleep again. "Hold me Lee?" you asked quietly. Leah recognized the vulnerability in your voice, and nodded softly. She climbed into bed next to you, ever so carefully, shifting to allow you to lean back against her. You settled your head on her shoulder, tucking your nose into her neck.

"Goodnight," you said drowsily, snuggling closer to the blonde. She smiled down at you, not thinking it important to let you know that it only mid afternoon.

"Goodnight, baby," she responded, kissing the side of your head gently.

You drifted off, the pain in your knee somehow dulled by the beautiful girl next to you.

-----

part 3? if yes please give me ideas

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #beth mead #vivianne miedema

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sinnersweets · 3 months

Text

DogDay x Reader Valentines Special

A/N: This is set a few months ahead of the actually story. I hope you all like this and Happy Valentines!

Today was Valentine's Day and Playcare did not slack with the decorations. I should’ve known since for Christmas they didn’t hold back on the decorations either. I laughed thinking back to that day. DogDay was so excited to give me his present. I looked down at my wrist and admired the handmade 'friendship' bracelet that he gave me. On the bracelet was his name and on his was my name; well actually it said 'Angel' which is my name for him so yeah, haha. I gave him a handmade bandana. He hasn’t taken it off since then. Well unless he needs to get cleaned then he’ll take it off but other than that nope.

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

As I exited the cable car there was a lot, and I mean a lot of hearts scattered around the place. There was some on the lamp post, on the floor, everywhere! I noticed that around the statues of the Smiling Critters were streamers with hearts. There also seemed to be string hanging down from each of their hands, er, paws..feathers..whatever. It seemed like there was supposed to be something attached at the bottom for each of them but there wasn’t. I’d have to ask someone what it’s for.

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

The counselor's office was decked out with streamers, candy, balloons the whole fixings. I set my stuff down in the lounge for us helpers and took out some Valentine Day cards that I made for the kids that were normally assigned to me and DogDay. As I was heading out, I spotted Sarah, Catnaps helper and asked her if she knew what the strings were for on the statues. “Hm? Oh, so like at the end of the day all the Smiling Critters are gonna go in the playhouse and us helpers must write some sappy crap for them on this big heart and attach it to the string. We do it allll the tiiiime. Oh, and like when we’re doing that, they’re in the playhouse doing the exact same thing. It’s dumb.” It didn’t sound dumb to me; it seemed sweet. I haven't been here as long as the other helpers, but I was looking forward to this. I thanked Sarah and made my way to the school.

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

It looked like Cupid himself threw up everywhere. Along the walls there were hearts with the children’s names. I recognized a few of the names: Miley, Jason, Henry, Todd, and Damian. Damian was a good kid. To be honest, I’ve grown attached to all the kids. I know the day will come when they’ll get adopted, that’ll be the last I see of them. I shook my head and walked over to the art room. On my sheet for today it said that I’ll be stationed here along with DogDay.

As I was approaching the art room, I saw Craftycorn along with DogDay through the glass. Craftycorn was short enough to not need to hunch over, unlike DogDay. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by the kids. “Angel!” I laughed as I shut the door. DogDay chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Craftycorn waved hello and DogDay picked me up and hugged me like always. “Hiya Angel, we were just talking about you!” As he put me down, I got a good look at his face. He had a heart painted over his little brown patch. Cute. “Oh? And what were you all saying about me?” I set the bag of cards that I had on a table. “We said that we like having you around and that we hoped you brought us our gifts.” Damian spoke out. He had hearts painted on his cheeks. “I like being around you all as well and yes, I have your gifts.” I reached for the bag and started to hand out each of the handmade cards to the children that were assigned to me.

The kids from Craftycorn looked sad that her helper didn’t get them anything, luckily, I had extra to give out. “Look at you Angel, so thoughtful.” DogDay spoke out. “I made some cards for you guys as well but there put away in the counselor's office.” DogDay wagged his tail while hearing this. “Oh, wow Angel, you shouldn’t have.” I knew DogDay was just saying that playfully. Damien told me yesterday that DogDay was hoping for a card from me. “Now, let’s get you all dolled up like me Angel.” DogDay then grabbed me and set me down on a chair in front of him. I came to about his chest when he was sitting like an actual dog would. Craftycorn then walked over to me holding a paint brush with red at the end. I smiled and closed my eyes as she also painted a heart over my eye.

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

My shift was ending soon which meant that it was time to attach a heart to the strings on the statues. I walked around and placed the cards that I made for each Smiling Critter into a little basket on the floor right below the string. After I placed all the cards I walked to right in front of Dogdays' statue and attached the giant heart onto the string. “I hope he likes it.” I said to no one in particular.

Soon a bell rang, and all the Smiling Critters came outside of the playhouse. I spotted DogDay and waved hello and he immediately waved hello back. All of them soon then stood right in front of their helpers and in unison said “Happy Valentines” while handing us a gift bag. “Happy Valentines Day Angel, I hope you like your gift.” I looked up and smiled. “Happy Valentines Day DogDay, I also hope you like your gift.” “I’d be happy with anything Angel; heck you can even give me a rock and I’ll be happy with just that!” He’s so silly. “Well sorry to disappoint but I did not get you a rock.”

I moved out of his way so he could see his letter on the heart. While he read my letter, I opened my gift bag. Inside was a picture of me and DogDay. He was holding me in his arms, and we were both showing off our painted faces. The picture frame was covered in little hearts and dog bones. I turned the picture around and saw a note attached. Before I could read it DogDay snatched me up and buried me into his soft, fluffy chest. “Thank you Angel! This letter means the world to me. I promise I’ll cherish it forever and ever!” I laughed at his reaction. Dogday then held me up to his face and moved me closer. His nose booped my nose. “I love you, Angel.” “I love you too, DogDay.”

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #x reader #dogday x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 15 days

Note

Idk if you take requests but i had this idea in my mind of bestfriends eddie x reader who grew up together, they were soulmates and everyone knew they were each others person. Stuck to each others sides and never bothered dating anyone else. They never spoke about it, never said bf or gf, never asked each other out, they just were and that was perfect for them. They did all the things couples do like cuddling, holding hands. Theyre all gooey and mushy but people cant help but root for them anyway

And oneday despite never technically "dating" or acknowledging it, Eddie proposes to reader and she says yes and everythings perfect, a beautiful heart warming happily ever after they both deserved

Hey! Yes, I am taking requests and I love this one!

Eddie x bestie!fem!reader

word count: 1,141

cw: none!

You weren’t sure there was a time when you hadn’t known Eddie. You couldn’t even remember the exact moment when you had become friends. He was someone that was just always around. The two of you had been attached at the hip, wherever one went, the other wasn’t that far behind.

It was to the point where you always had to be touching each other. Whether you were holding hands or an had arm around each other’s waists, it didn’t matter. Seeing you two behave that way definitely made people question whether you were together, but you had never discussed it. It was always just assumed by everyone that you were a couple.

Your first sign that you were more than friends should have been when you shared your first kiss. You had been at a party together and found yourselves on the couch, side by side. You had been making conversation since you hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone else and for whatever reason, you couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

You felt weird that you had wanted to kiss Eddie. He was your best friend and friends didn’t kiss, did they? They most definitely didn’t. You knew that for a fact. But you went for it anyway. You grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed your lips to his and he was quick to return it. The whole thing was messy and neither of you knew what you were doing, but you both liked it.

Neither of you had ever been in a relationship, but that was only because you had each other. You hadn't been interested in anyone anyway. Eddie had been the only person you had wanted to spend your time with and he felt the exact same way about you. It was as if there had been some sort of string tying the two of you together.

The second sign should have been when you bought your first apartment together. It only had one bedroom but you didn’t even think about it. You just bought a bed and shared it together, not even paying any mind to anyone who told you that it was weird. Because to you, it wasn’t.

The two of you had been cuddled up on the couch while a movie had been playing on the TV. You had been in the same position for hours; him with his back on the couch and you directly on top of him. It was the way you always laid together there and it has been the most comfortable way for the both of you to fit onto the thing. Although, sometimes you’d be on the bottom but that was rare since Eddie always thought he was crushing you.

Eddie had been staring at the screen, fiddling with the velvet box that had been in his hand. He knew that there wasn’t a label on what the two of you had, but he so desperately wanted to call you his wife. He wanted to see you wearing a beautiful dress and walk down the aisle to greet him at the altar where you swore to love each other in sickness and health, til death did you part.

He had bought the ring weeks ago but couldn’t get the balls to actually ask the four words that had been on his mind. You wouldn’t have said no, he knew that for a fact. It hadn’t been something you ever discussed, but he somehow knew that the whole thing had been meant for the two of you.

“Y/n,” he said your name and you quickly turned to him, your chin resting on his chest. He hoped that you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. That you would avoid the sweat on his forehead.

“Yeah?” He loved the look in your eye that you got when you looked at him. All warm and filled with love. It always made him feel better no matter what. Except now. He was the most nervous he had ever been.

“Can I ask you something?” You could hear the trembling in his voice and wanted to know what was wrong with him. He was always so calm around you.

“You can ask me anything, you know that.” You gave him a sweet smile despite his nervousness, hoping that it would be reassuring.

“Can we sit up for this?” He leaned up and you went with him awkwardly, wanting to put an end to his weird behavior.

“Eds, what’s going on?” You asked as you got off of him, now standing in front of the TV. “You’re sweating bullets, honey. Is everything okay?”

“Y/n, we’ve known each other for a long time,” he said, completely avoiding your question. If he didn’t ask his own soon, he never would and buying that right would have all been for nothing.

“We have,” you nodded, your hands moving to your hips.

“You’re my best friend and have been since I can remember. You’ve been there for my highs and lows and there’s honestly no other person that I love more in the world than you. You’re everything. You’re it for me.” His speech caused the gears to turn in your head. He had always been a mushy guy, especially with you, but this has been a lot. Even for him. You tried to figure out what he was trying to say, what the whole reason for saying all of that was, but your mind went blank.

“Eddie, what-”

Before you could finish your thought, Eddie was on his knees, opening a blue velvet box, the most beautiful ring sitting inside it. You hadn’t even thought about it, but it was the exact one you had wanted. Marriage hadn’t even been on the table, but you would have happily married Eddie in a heartbeat.

“Will you marry me?” He asked and you gasped, still unable to find the words even though you knew exactly what you were going to say. You were just so overwhelmed with joy.

“Yes!” You replied and he quickly slipped the ring onto your finger before gathering you into his arms. He captured your lips between his in a brief kiss before pulling you into a tight hug.

The two of you were now engaged. Engaged. You never thought you would have found your person, but he had been right in front of you all along. You hadn’t even been looking for anyone, but there Eddie was. Really, you had been together the entire time, but neither of you felt the need to address it. That wasn’t how your relationship worked. You never talked about that kind of thing, but the more people had mentioned it, the more you realized that they were right. You and Eddie had been meant for each other all along.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

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tsunaaism · 1 year

Note

Okay i know you just posted a part 2 of the submissive and breedable ask but pls consider doing it for Tendou, Suna, Kageyama and Hinata this time? Thank you 💕

You tell your friend that they, “Look like a bottom.” + "Submissive and breedable."

GN!Reader ft. Kageyama Tobio and Suna Rintaro.

Warnings: suggestive content.

A/N: I'll include Tendou in the next batch. Here's a little treat for you ♥️

Bokuto, Kuroo, Ushijima’s ver.

Miya twins + Oikawa’s ver.

Kageyama Tobio

What are the chances that Kageyama Tobio is actually familiar with the term 'submissive and breedable'?

Zero? Maybe 0.05%?

There's no use pondering about it. You'd have to put it into test.

“Huh? What?"

See? It’s the exact reaction you expected. It’s funny, you think. Tobio has always been so innocent; it wouldn’t hurt to prank him a little.

"Mmhm. You look really submissive and breedable today.” You chuckle, repeating the words once more, earning another confused glance from the athlete.

“Hm?” His brows furrow, eyes flicking up and down your form, then to his own reflection in the mirror.

He’s so clueless.

So... clueless.

Or is he?

"Me..? clueless?"

Uh-oh.

You said that out loud, didn't you?

Snap. This wasn't what you planned. He's starting to look a little sad now, and this is all your doing.

"It's not a bad thing to be clueless, Tobio."

He tilted his head.

"Well, you do have a point,"

He pauses, taking a last look at your form.

"But i've never been submissive and clueless. Maybe breedable, though."

Huh...

What was that?

Hold up.

HUH?

Seeing the bewilderment on your face, his eyes narrowed. A faint, lopsided smile crawled onto his lips,

"It's not a bad thing to be clueless, (Y/n)."

Lesson learned: never mess with kageyama, ever again. He knows more than he seems to.

Suna Rintaro

Ideally, he's not someone you would want to tell this to.

But, you're feeling a little bold today.

"Rin." You hover above his laying figure, snatching a chuupet away from his hands.

Clearly, you're feeling extra bold today.

"Give it back." He grunts, clearly displeased that you stole his beloved jelly fruit sticks, "What do you want?"

"Noooothing. Just wanted to rile you up."

Yes. Extra bold.

By now, he'd forgotten about the half-eaten chuupet in your hand. He crosses is arm, staying silent as he waits for whatever you're doing to be over with,

"Because you look really submissive and breedable when you're angry."

Now you've done it.

What did you expect, honestly? Pure silence? If so, you might be correct.

Ooor not.

He chuckles, clearly amused with your antics, "You wanna put it into test and see what's up?"

"Is that necessary? I know i'm right, Rin. Always am."

"You think so?"

He peers into your eyes, challenging your own confident, playful stare. Brows raised, a cheeky smile climbed onto his face.

"Don't be an all bark no bite now."

He leans closer to you,

"Lets see if you can say the same thing after this."

Err.. Good luck (3).

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zarla-s · 6 months

Note

i forget if you ever said before, but how much of handplates was planned from the beginning and what was added as you went?

Almost all of it pretty early on, haha. Well, at least the main plotpoints...

I knew Sans would push Gaster into the core (not exactly how but I knew it'd happen)

I knew the brothers would stay with Asgore for a while afterwards to adjust to normal life

Knew the brothers would slowly grow and mature into their canon forms while aligning with canon itself (befriending Undyne and Alphys etc) although not the specifics of it

Knew there'd be a murder run that'd get reset and a pacifist run after

Knew Gaster would come back (not exactly how) and the brothers would have a final confrontation where they'd show they were adults now with the strength to face and fight him/their trauma and they'd eventually convince him to come back and try again

I knew a lot of the main points but not how to tie them together exactly or their exact execution, that came as I went along. As an example, shots of Asgore with the brothers were VERY early in my sketchbook... you can see me sketching out some of the layouts for the one with Gaster trying to get Papyrus to kill something at the bottom.

I was drawing Asgore from memory, that's why he looks off, haha. There are also sketches both for Gaster facing off with the monster (although I hadn't worked out exactly what the monster would be at that point), them back in the lab/finding the drill in Gaster's house, and Sans sassing Gaster on the same page about ten pages later in my sketchbook. I also knew that World Revolution was set in the Handplates timeline when I did it but I didn't tell anyone since it'd be huge spoilers at the time lol.

So you can see I was working out multiple parts of the story at the same time, haha. Some of my one-shot ideas got scrapped or reworked, but the basic shape of it stayed intact throughout. A lot of sections had a lot of wiggle room as they came to me - them in the lab, them with Asgore, them in their house, them on the surface, that kind of thing. So what happened during those times and how long I'd spend there I didn't know for sure, I just knew the basic shape of the story and where I was going eventually. It was an interesting way to do it! I had a lot of freedom to run with any sudden idea for the most part, but I also always had a direction and plan for where I was going.

I had absolutely no idea it'd be this long or take this long to finish though lol.

#asks and answers #xxvampkitt3nsnugglz #undertale #handplates

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heavenlyhischier · 6 months

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐙𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬

word count: 3.4k

summary: three’s a party, right?

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT BELOW— smut, threesome, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), spitting, slight degradation maybe, drinking mentioned

note: i’ve never written something like before so like pls don’t judge me too harshly ahhaha. z is a tiny bit neglected but not by much

It was the weekend before the actual day of Halloween, and Nico’s apartment was packed to the brim of people dressed in various types of costumes. Some went all out, while others grabbed a last minute costume from spirit halloween, but one thing everyone had in common tonight? They were all absolutely hammered and having the best time of their lives.

You had gone dressed as Sidney Prescott with Jack going as Ghostface, and you would be a liar if you’d said his costume didn’t turn you on a little. When he’d slipped the mask on, all you could of was him hovering above you as you laid underneath him, completely and utterly at his mercy. The most unholy thoughts flooded your mind, and they were all you could think about as you watched him mingle with his friends.

Nearly everyone doubled over in laughter when Trevor, whose team was conveniently in town the same day, showed up to the party dressed in the same exact costume as one of his best friends. When the two of them playfully pointed at the other before embracing each other in a friendly hug, you couldn’t stop yourself from biting your lip as you let your mind wander to something that is shameful for someone who was secretly in love with their best friend. You blamed it on the alcohol, but God you couldn’t stop imagining them both.

You were talking to some of the girlfriends and lost sight of Jack a while ago, but you didn’t really mind much. He was off having fun with his teammates and that’s all that really mattered to you. The girls around you were keeping you plenty company, and you enjoyed being around them just as much, if not more, than Jack and his friends. Cat was finishing up some of her work gossip when you politely excused yourself to go to the restroom.

The half bathroom was occupied when you tried the door, so you went further down the hall to where the guest bedroom was. Ensuring that no one was fucking on the bed, you pushed your way inside and darted towards the bathroom. Breaking the seal wasn’t exactly ideal for the night, but you couldn’t hold it in any longer without risking a UTI and you’d simply rather die than do that.

You were in the middle of washing your hands when the door was pushed open and someone was stepping into the bathroom with you. You came face to face, well face to chest, with a ghostface costume, but you couldn’t tell if it was Jack or Trevor. You knew that Jack was slightly shorter than Trevor, but in the moment, you couldn’t fucking tell, or maybe a part of you didn’t care.

“Jack,” You’d still asked as you wiped your wet hands on your jeans.

He simply cocked his head to the side, taking another step towards you so that your chests were touching now. He carefully dragged his fingertips from the back of your hand and up the exposed part of your arm, sending a shudder through your body as goosebumps rose on the skin. You can faintly make out the silhouettes of their eyes through the mesh part in the mask, but it was giving you no clue as to who was behind it.

“Trevor,” You tried again, heart slamming into your ribcage as his palm hovered over the expanse of your neck.

All he did in response was take your jaw in the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing over your lips. He applied a slight pressure to them, silently telling you to open before he slid the digit into your mouth. Your eyes were wide as he gripped your jaw and held your mouth open before carefully lifting the bottom of his mask to show just his mouth.

Definitely Trevor, you thought to yourself. If Jack knew that you were in such a position with his best friend, you’re certain that he would never talk to you again and any chance you’d had with him would be out the window. A part of you felt guilty, but another part of you wanted this as much as he did, so you told yourself to give in to your desires for the night.

You let him tilt your head back and watch as he brings his lips close to yours, but he stops just before they’re touching. Your fingers twitch towards him, wanting to pull him close and close the gap between you, but you stop when you realize what he’s doing. Trevor lets his saliva slowly fall from his mouth and into your own, keeping your mouth open by squeezing your jaw.

“Don’t swallow,” He orders, letting his mask fall back down into his face as he lets go of your face, “On your knees.”

Without hesitation, you sink to your knees and peer up at him, waiting for him to make another move. Trevor rips the cheap black piece of cloth off his body, revealing a tight fitting t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants underneath it. It also provides you with the exact confirmation you’d needed that it was him; his unbelivably attractive tattoos.

He quickly slides his pants down his legs and lets his cock spring free in front of you, your pupils dilating and your already open mouth dropping even more. He jerks his head towards you, and that’s when you take his length in your hand. You grasp the base of it, gently squeezing as you lick a strip from where your hand ends to the tip before wrapping your mouth around it. Trevor lets out a low moan, his hand cupping the back of your head as your tongue swirls around the sensitive head.

You use his saliva mixed with your own to wet his cock as you slowly took him in your mouth as much as you could until tears were pricking the corner of your eyes. Just as you’d moved your head back, you heard the guest room door opening and you were pulling away from Trevor with eyes as wide as a deer who’d been caught in the headlights.

“Hey have you seen- Oh,” Jack stutters when he sees you kneeling in front of his best friend, “What’s going on?”

Trevor says nothing, instead looking down at you through the mask that’s still covering his features, but you know he’s got a smug look on his face. Your already racing heart increases tenfold as you stare at Jack, trying to get your mouth to form a coherent sentence, but you were coming up blank. How do you tell the best friend you’ve been sleeping with that you were about to give his best friend a blowjob?

“Jack, I—,” You tried, but you snapped your mouth shut when Jack switched spots with Trevor and he stared down at you.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind sharing,” He teased, tilting your chin up with his fingers so you were looking directly at him, “Now, why don’t you go take your clothes off and lay on the bed.”

Your throat dried as you attempted to wrap your head around what he was saying. He remained standing in front of you, his mask discarded somewhere that wasn’t his head as he waited for you to do what he’d asked. Jack could see the gears turning in your head, and it amused him. He’d caught you off guard with his suggestion, little did you know he’d planned it.

You slowly stood and walked out of the bathroom, taking notice that Trevor was locking the door as you started to strip yourself out of your clothes, but you were stopped by Jack grabbing your bicep.

“Are you okay with this,” He asked, his voice soft and careful, “All you have to say is no and we can walk away.”

You always melted into him when he looked at you the way he was; like you mattered. His soft blue eyes were boring into your own, calculating the way your face moved as a way to gauge what you were truly thinking. He wanted— No he needed to know you were okay with it before they continued.

“I’m okay with it,” You nodded.

Jack let go of your arm and let you finish undressing while he watched, admiring each and every inch of your body as he did. His eyes flicked towards Trevor, who had now removed his own mask, and was mirroring the same expression, minus the hint of love that Jack held in his gaze. He felt his cock strain in his pants when you were completely naked in front of them, eyes still wide and full of feigned innocence as you glanced between the two.

Jack knew you were waiting for him to tell you exactly how to lay on the bed, so he did. He’d wanted you on your back with your head slightly hanging off the bed, and that was the moment you knew exactly what was going to happen. The pool between your legs grew with anticipation as you crawled onto the bed and positioned yourself like Jack told you.

You felt someone move between your legs, their hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. It was only when Jack stood in front of you that you realized who was were. You felt Trevor began to kiss up the expanse of your inner thighs, and the feeling had you throwing your head back in pleasure, your mouth dropping open in a soft moan. Jack used the opportunity to grip your chin and keep it steady as he brought his dick to your mouth.

“Be a good girl and open your mouth for me,” He goaded, gently caressing your cheek.

You did as he asked, doing your best to stay still when Trevor swirled his tongue around the swollen bud between your thighs. The moan you let out vibrated against Jack’s dick, and he swore he could’ve came then and there from the sensation alone. You hollow your mouth out and flatten your tongue as Jack begins to thrust into your mouth and Trevor licks between your slit before his tongue finds your clit again.

Trevor’s fingers slide through the slickness of your center, brushing against the place his tongue just was and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He slides his fingers into your aching pussy, and you had to force yourself to focus on the fact that Jack was in your mouth so you didn’t unintentionally hurt him. Trevor flattened his hand on your pelvis and pushed down, holding you in place while also intensifying the feeling of his fingers as they curled inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing such a good job,” Trevor prasied from between your thighs, his words humming against you, making the coil in your stomach tighten.

Jack said something to Trevor in return, but you could barely focus on anything as fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, brushing against your g-spot with every curl of them. From the feeling of your lips wrapped around his dick and your moans and whines that vibrated against him, Jack was nearing his breaking point. His hips slowly began to stutter as he thrusted into your mouth, and it was only when he’d thrusted a little deeper and elicited a gag from the back of your throat that he was releasing himself in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Trevor was working his mouth against you as he quickened the pace of his fingers when he’d felt you wiggle your hips down closer to him. Jack watched as his friend devoured you like he hadn’t eaten in his days, and he watched as your fingers tangled in his hair while moans of ecstasy filled the guest room of his captain's apartment. He’d felt bad for anyone who walked by, but it was only a fleeting thought before your moans grew heavier and louder as you came all over Trevor’s mouth and fingers.

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave of euphoria, stars dotting your vision and mind hazy as you fell from your high. When Trevor removed his fingers from you, your walls clenched at the empty feeling, yearning for something more. Your eyes were still closed as you felt Jack’s hands lift your body up so your back was pressed against his chest, his lips attaching to your neck and fingers ghosting over your nipples.

“Thought you could sneak off and fuck my best friend like a slut and I wouldn’t know,” Jack groaned when you pressed your ass into his hard-on, “Gonna give Z the same attention you give me?”

“I don’t think she was gonna do that,” Trevor snorted, climbing onto the bed in front of you, “She thought I was you at first, anyways. It was hilarious.”

Your cheeks flushed as Trevor outed you, but you had no time to speak up before he was crashing his lips on your own. Jack had dropped his hand down to your center and was sliding his fingers through the remnants of your orgasm. A moan tumbled from your lips when he prodded at your entrance, and Trevor used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You maneuvered your body so that you were sitting on Jack’s thighs, pressing against his hard length as he fingered you. As Trevor’s hand grasp at your breasts, you blindly reach out and take his cock in your hands, swirling your thumb over the head.

“Oh fuck,” Trevor groaned, briefly pulling away from your mouth as you pump him in your hand.

Jack removes his fingers from your center, and the whine you let out into Trevor’s mouth morphs into a moan when you feel him slide the tip of his length through the juices between your legs. Your grip on Trevor tightens when you feel Jack slightly push into you, both boys hissing at the feeling.

You can’t think of anything other than the way they feel, the way they sound, the way they touch you. Your mind was clouded by only Jack Hughes and Trevor Zegras, and that was okay with you. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up in the position you were in now, but you know that it was something you were never going to forget.

“Scoot back, Z,” Jack tells him, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of your hips to stop you from taking any more of him inside of you.

Trevor pulled his mouth away and carefully moved away from you, tossing you a wink as you gave him a confused look. Jack’s grip on you tightened as he lifted your hips up and pushed your body forward, your hands coming out in front of you and his cock staying in you.

You fell him press his chest against your back, his fingers carding through your hair as he huskily speaks into your ear, “You wanna be a slut, I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

“What about Trevor,” You ask, noting the way a flicker of jealousy flashes in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Trevor teased, taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and moving your stare away from Jack, “Hopefully your jaw isn’t too tired.”

Your jaw was tired, but you didn’t mind it when Trevor was presenting himself in front of you. The pressure on your back from the man behind you disappears, but it was replaced by a pressure in between your thighs. If it weren’t for the hold on your jaw, your head would have fallen forward as a whimper passes through your lips when Jack buried himself inside of you.

Trevor gathers your hair in his hand like a makeshift ponytail as he guides your mouth to his cock. With the force from Jack’s thrust, you unintentionally take all of Trevor in your mouth and he’s hitting the back of your throat. A mangled gag escapes you as bob your head against Trevor and Jack is slamming himself inside of you.

Jack’s hand comes in contact with your ass, a sharp, pleasurable sting coursing through your body. He’s set a rhythm that he knows you enjoy, but he’s hitting into you deeper than he ever has before. He feels you clench around him and he’s letting out a string of curse words as he stutters in his pace.

Trevors grip on your hair tightens when your teeth carefully scrape against him, and he finds himself slightly enjoying the feeling. You had pulled your head back, Trevor’s length nearly all the way out of your mouth so you can swirl your tongue around the head. The moan he lets out mixes with Jack’s, and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven in that moment.

Jack is reaching around you to place his hand between your legs, his fingers rubbing circles in your clit as he quickens his thrusts. Tears of pure rapture fall down your cheeks as you take both of them inside of you, the feeling inside your stomach growing with each thrust and each passing movement of your head.

Trevor’s cock begins twitching in your mouth, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he was releasing his load into your mouth. You let out a quiet hum, a trick you’d learn from the many blowjobs you’ve given Jack before, and it sent Trevor toppling over the edge. His hips stutter into your mouth as the sticky liquid shoots down your throat.

Jack watches as his best friend removes himself from your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with cum falling from your mouth. A part of him is grateful that Trevor was done with you, because now you were all his. He can sense you’re close by the way your walls clench around him and your moans become breathless and needy, and he’s not far behind.

“C’mon, baby,” He prods, “Want you to cum on my cock.”

You let out a scream that you’re certain anyone within a close proximity could hear, but that was a thought that was so far out of your mind it might as well not even be there. Jack slams into you a few more times before your second orgasm is crashing into you at such a force that your arms give out from underneath you.

Jack is still ramming into you, but you feel him start to slow as his own release nears. Your walls milk Jack for everything he’s worth as you clench around him, his hips bucking into you as he fills you with his cum. Your face is pressed against the mattress as he stills inside of you, his breathy pants echoing throughout the room.

You feel him pull out of you, and that's when you open your eyes to see that Trevor had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Jack carefully lifts you off the bed and pulls you against him as the both of you attempt to catch your breath. Your mind is still foggy from what had just occurred moments prior, and your vision is still slightly blurred from the tears.

“Good job, pretty girl,” He mumbles into your ear, hand stroking your hair as he holds you, “You took us so well. Now, get dressed before someone else needs to use the room.”

Once your clothes were back on and you’d tidied the room after Jack left, you carefully slipped out of the guest room and joined the rest of the party. You found the girls, who were still in their same spot from before. They’d asked where you had gone, and your cheeks flushed as you replayed what just happened in your mind. They immediately began teasing you, begging for details, asking if it was good, asking if they were good.

You weren’t ashamed of what occurred, but you’re aware that wasn’t exactly a group setting conversation, so you just shook your head and mumbled something about kissing and telling. You hoped that no one knew, but when you glanced at Nico, the way he avoided eye contact with you told you that he’d heard. Well, at least you took the sheets off the bed.

let me know if you see any mistakes! also ik the ending kinda sucks but endings are my worst enemy

#jack hughes #trevor zegras #jack hughes imagine #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #jack hughes smut #trevor zegras smut #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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