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cherienymphe · 1 month

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His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

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The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

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

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jyoongim · 3 months

Note

Imagine though, you see Alastor and assume that he's the one in full control during sex but the reality is that behind closed doors his ass is absolutely pathetic for his woman, falling to her feet, kissing them and being a pretty little pet

Happy Valentines Day everyone <3, hope you get off to some nice fics today and take care of yourself babes

Themes: fem!reader, face-sitting/riding, fluff, antlers, soft!Alastor, pet names, slight begging, Alastor lowkey pussy whipped.

If anyone knew Alastor, they knew just how terrifying he could be.

The Radio Demon always wore a smile on his face.

He was intimidating, dangerous, cunning, and unpredictable.

So why in the seven rings, were You not afraid?

When Alastor came back for his seven-year absence, he had a pretty sweet thing by his side.

Unlike the arrogant demon, you spoke softly if not ever at all. You were kind and treated everyone equally.

You must be something real special to have been able to deal with the Radio Demon.

If someone took a look at you and Alastor, they would immediately think that it is Alastor who calls all the shots.

In some way that’s true.

In the public eye, though Alastor kept you by his side, it was often interpreted that you were more like arm candy, nothing more than a pretty face he kept.

But never trust appearances.

For the feared Radio Demon who maintained an air of confidence, behind closed doors always showed how much he appreciated you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggled at the sound of a record scratch as you got ready to settle in bed for the night.

Alastor was reading a book, sipping on some tea as you dropped your robe to get into bed.

His ear twitched at the sound of the fallen clothing and when he glanced your way, he short-circuited.

You were beautiful.

Hair tied in a wrap to make sure your curls stayed in place. Your thin, silk nightie clung to your full figure as you applied your lotions and ointments. You sighed happily as you finished up your night routine.

Alastor didn’t register that he had even got up until he was kneeling in front of you, smile soft as he caressed your legs, hands starting to at your foot

You tilted your head at the demon “Alastor?”

A chaste kiss was pressed inside your ankle as he rubbed your feet.

You relaxed as he worked the kinks out your legs and feet.

Maybe it was because he was a serial killer alive, but damn was he good with his hands.

You grabbed at his loosened tie, letting him crawl up your body. You peppered his face with kisses, shyly nipping at his lips. You figured that this was gonna turn into a lusty rendezvous ,so when you went to unzip his pants and he denied you, you were confused.

Alastor chuckled, kissing your shoulder “Let me take care of you mon cher you always do so much being my good girl”

He slipped back to settle between your thighs. His hands caressed and kneaded at the soft flesh, even giving you a slight nip to get a gasp out of you.

He flicked your nightie up, smirking at your bare cunt. A low growl rumbled in his chest as your scent wafted to his nose. He pressed a kiss your clit, causing you to jump

”Not yet”

Alastor hands roamed and kneaded you as he mumbled his praises.

Alastor was under your spell the moment he met you. You had a way of making him a bit softer than he was use to.

He kept you by his side without a deal and loved every moment of it.

He would do anything you asked.

Anything you want, it was yours by his command.

He would tear Hell apart if anything happened to you.

You were his muse.

His goddess.

His to care and provide for.

Only you were capable of getting the Radio Demon to be domesticated.

Only dedicated to you.

What a clever minx you were…

Alastor sucked a perky nipple into his mouth. Moaning as your body seems to light up. Your chest pushing the mound of flesh into his mouth as he tugged and teased the peak.

Deeming your nipple was abused enough, he switched to the other, pinching the other.

A whine tore through you as he teased soft circles on your clit. “A-Alastor”

He shushed you as you grinded against his hand

”Ask and Ill give you anything darlin”

”T-Ton…”you panted as he tugged at your ear with his teeth. He hummed ”hmmm?”

You took a deep breathe, head lolling as he dipped a finger inside you. “I-I want to cum o-on your t-tongue”

Though Alastor usually took the reigns in every other aspect of your relationship, in the bedroom it was you coaxing the maniac to be soft.

Alastor took orders from no one.

But he did like the praise and acknowledgment you gave and that was enough to fuel his ego.

”Then take it”

Your cheeks were heated as you looked at the red demon beneath you. He was smiling as he looked back up at you.

He kissed your inner thighs, waiting on you.

waiting for you to let your desires to overtake the usual sweet personality you had.

”Tongue out” you said softly, finding purchase on his antlers, that were now big as branches.

You felt his warm, wet tongue loll out his mouth, grazing your cunt.

You steadied your grip and without a second thought, sat on his mouth.

Your claws dug into his antlers as you moved against his tongue.

Alastor was quite happy underneath you, tongue lapping as you used him for your pleasure.

Soft moans and groans bounced off the walls as you coated Alastor’s face in your slick.

”Oooooh fuuccckk ah!”

Usually you begged.

Begged for Alastor to give you that sweet release.

But you were going to take it.

And make him beg.

”A-Alasstoorr ha!” His ears perked at your enticing moan around his name.

”You’ll look so pretty covered in my cum aha! Would you like that? Hmmm?”

You were riding his tongue as if his cock. Feet planted and thighs caging him in.

“I’m gonna cum Oh! Ah!” Using his antlers, you angled his head so his nose bumped your clit with each roll of your hips.

”c-cummin’ i-i aaahh! Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Take it take it. Be a good boy, Swallow my cum hmmmm yeeesss oh!”

The soppy slurps and curling of his tongue sent you over the edge.

Huffing you raised your hips, not wanting to kill the demon from being smothered.

”i-I’m sorry Al I didn’t mean-”

Your hand brushed against a heavy tent in his pants

But Alastor’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your sensitive cunt back down.

“I don't mind dearest. You should relish using me for your pleasure…I’m your good boy after all”

Alastor might be a scary powerful overlord…but he was a big softie when it came to his woman.

Absolutely worshiped the ground you walked on.

Only you could turn the monster into a purring kitten.

And he’d have it no other way.

@alishii @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @alastwhore666 @alastorsdear @okay-babe @sssandychemd @ioniiaa @catherine69420 @danveration @bookishcatcafe @altruisticalastor @markster666 @citrussmootee @brechdan-ham @wisteria-seal @dasimp777 @goth-mami-writer @gojosaturos-wife @alastorsfawn @coleisyn @horrorartsworld @dennsfz @fatnug @prosciuttosblog @spalimly @crazyforbarnes @eviebuggg @polytheatrix @queenariesofnarnia @lunaramune @kassa-stardust @alstorloml @scaramoochiie @strawberrypimp666 @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @absurd-ash @peachedtv @kiralaufeyson84

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor smut

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

Text

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #john price smut #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x you #captain john price x reader #pornstar!au

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

Text

Title: Intoxicated.

Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.

A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.

Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.

“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”

That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—

As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”

“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”

He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”

Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.

“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.

“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere oneshot

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harrysonlylover · 3 months

Text

Psycho For You*

Summary: In which jealousy runs deep in his blood.

Warnings: MEAN Harry, blood, mentions of violence, filthy rough smut, shower sex, choking, degradation, size kink.

WC: 1.4k

Main Masterlist

Y/n had good intentions in mind. Not pure or angelic, but the right amount of playfulness. She didn’t anticipate this to happen or meant to do any harm.

She should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to rile him up, and fuel his jealousy. All she wanted to do was mess with him, and it took a different route.

The blood was dripping on the tiles, but he didn’t wash it off because at the moment he had a lesson to teach.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” A sadistic smile was painted on his face as he nipped on her skin.

The blood belonged to the man she ‘flirted’ with, he didn’t kill him despite the burning urge he felt. Instead, others at the party had to pull him away before it escalated.

And the sick truth? She liked it.

“Don’t you know that you belong to me?” He grabbed her throat with a tight grip, staining her skin with blood.

The hot water poured on their naked bodies as he rested his forehead against hers, with his cock nestled deep inside her heat.

“I do.” She shivered from the thrill of it all.

“Tsk tsk, looks like your little brain forgot again.” He thrusted inside her, causing her head to tilt backward against the glass wall.

He refused her help once they arrived home, dismissing the need to clean and stitch his hands. That wasn’t what he needed. He craved having her warm walls engulf his cock as he watched her facial expression change for him.

The steam from the hot water covered the glass walls, and Harry had her body supported with his.

“Silly girl, pushed my buttons on purpose and now look what happened.”

The wet sounds caused by his thrusting could not be overpowered by the dripping water. He adored hearing how his cock penetrated her, and he was extra rough this time.

“Whose slut are you? Hmm?” His grip on her jaw would surely cause visible bruises in the morning.

“Yours.” She replied weakly and incoherently because of her smushed cheeks.

“Oh look, the brainless slut can speak. Looks like I’m too easy on you.” He suddenly stopped mid thrust, raking his eyes all over her gorgeous face. A grin slowly made its way before he pulled out and slid in again with a rough force.

He used his hands to bounce her body on his cock quickly. Her screams were music to his ears.

“Bet you liked how I almost killed him for you. You want that, don’t you?” His wet curls covered his forehead while he bit her shoulder.

Her answer was muffled by her moans and whimpers. He lived to hear her beautiful sobs and cries of pleasure. His cock was made to pleasure her always soaked pussy—or should he say his pussy?

“Not gonna answer, eh? No need darling. I felt the clench of your dirty cunt when I asked.” She tugged at his hair knowing how much he adored the pain.

If not for her mushy brain and feelings of euphoria, she would’ve answered him properly. She wasn’t even ashamed of it because he had corrupted her to the core. Fuck yes, she liked it.

She wanted him to protect her and loved the idea of him going crazy for her. Loved the idea of her man, exploiting his physical strength for her.

Her hands held onto his biceps as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His thrusts were merciless. He hit her G-spot repeatedly and stopped whenever she clenched a lot which was an indication of an orgasm.

He followed it with a wicked laugh and more aggressive kissing. His mouth nipped all over his body, whether it be biting, sucking, or ‘gentle’ kissing. He made sure to leave his marks everywhere. The bruises that will form on her body were the smallest example.

He would soon cum inside her walls, plant his seed deep inside her womb and give her the feeling she begs him for. And over the next few days, soreness will follow.

“Would you look at that?” He chuckled as he glanced down to where his cock pulled out from her warm pussy again. It was coated with their wetness but more specifically her juices.

“Pathetic slut, getting off the fact that I hurt other people for you.” He pulled her hair, causing a stinging sensation in her scalp. He gently tapped on her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth. He spat inside before guiding her lips to his and clashing his tongue with hers.

“Should’ve just spat on you instead from how filthy you are, and you’d like it anyways.” The steam from the hot water caused fog to arise in the small bathroom. She genuinely could not think straight. Everything was too overwhelming and euphoric. She couldn’t resist dropping her gaze to his glorious body where his cock was hanging.

No wonder her pussy felt empty.

She swallowed down her throat at his size, she really wondered how he fit inside her sometimes, but she was immediately reminded of how many tries and lube it took for him to fit in.

After that, he had her stretched properly to his shape and curve because he simply owned her.

“Little bunny, you’re about to drool.” He tsked, raising her chin with his finger. She gave him innocent doe eyes that had him weak in the knees.

“All for a cock?” He laughed, pushing hair strands out of her face.

“Fuck me.” She begged, digging her nails into his tatted skin.

“Should I though? I mean it’s too big for your tight cunt.” He pretended to hesitate, placing his cock from the base near her pussy, allowing it to stand reaching her stomach.

“See? I could probably move your womb if I want to.” He mocked her with every single word he spewed. And of course, she loved it.

She went crazy for how he degraded her and made her feel small. He knew that her exact weakness was their size difference and how he rearranged her insides with how deep he went.

“Please, I need to cum.” She grinded her dripping pussy against his shaft, earning a harsh slap to her her engorged clitoris.

“So fucking needy and whiny for my cock.” He lined up the tip with her entrance and slid in swiftly.

The relief on her face once he entered her was fucking priceless. God, he lived for her pussy and intimacy. She had him hooked.

“Is that how you want me to treat you? Like you’re just a hole?” His hips snapped against hers as her cries filled the small space.

“Well guess what darling? You’re nothing more than that.” He landed a harsh slap to her ass, before bringing his hand to her throat.

“Harder. You own me, Harry.” She managed to speak despite the tight grip.

“I know I fucking do.” He sneered, plowing into her like a madman.

It was on a whole other level of pleasure and craziness. A psychotic lust. He placed all of his godly stamina into claiming her pussy.

Her face scrunched in both pleasure and pain. An expression that he loved.

“Oh good, does that hurt?” He tilted his head to the side, not forgetting to glance at her bouncing breasts.

She nodded weakly at his question, with her nails scratching down his back over previous scars caused by their rough sex.

“As it fucking should. My pretty fuckdoll. What do you say?”

“Tha—Thank you.” She breathed out.

The sound of skin slapping intensified, he was hitting her cervix with every thrust, deeper and deeper. Their fucks were filthier than orgies.

“Now cum on my cock so I could fill this pussy up.” He whispered in her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.

She had been waiting all night for his cue, almost cried even. He teased her continuously for his pleasure and mocked her tightness when he knew how stretched she was.

“Uh—ohh.” Their faces were inches apart and he stared into her eyes right as her orgasm hit her. Her body was lit on fire as she moaned audibly, and clung onto him. He kept fucking her through her high, feeling the wetness drip down his thighs.

He was about to follow her and allow himself a release but instead, he turned the water off.

“Can’t have the water wash my cum away, it should be deep inside of you.” He panted heavily and caressed her flushed cheeks.

The moment he said that she knew she was in for a long night of rounds, orgasms, and humiliation.

And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

——————————————————

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hysteria-things · 3 months

Note

smut req ?! 😱

matt is streaming and you're bored so you send him little dirty texts to get him riled up while you're sitting on his bed behind him. he turns off his cam and asks you to sit on him (you can do the rest 😓🙏)

PLAYING DIRTY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought little texts were harmless; you were only bored and wanted some entertainment. you’ll learn that this is the first and last time you’ll be doing something like this.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, faux-sympathy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 578

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for 800 i love you guys so much❤️

i’m on a high rn hope you like anon!

you’ve been sending matt some dirty texts out of boredom as you sit on his bed while he streams. he’s been reading them, but not replying. half of your messages are for jokes, but you also meant it.

y/n❤️

i’m horny

please respond🙏

matthew🫶

stop it i’m almost done

you sigh loudly, opening your hidden album and finding just the right photo to send. you know for a fact that this will win him over.

y/n❤️

[attachment: 1 photo]

😇

“damn, my face cam died. sorry guys.” matt lies, his voice gaining your attention. he turns his gaming chair to face you and motions you to come over. you bite your lip in excitement as you walk over.

you go to sit on his lap but instead, he pulls you so you're laying across his lap on your stomach. “before the stream ends i think i’m going to answer some comments.”

matt’s fingertips reach to the waistband of your leggings and starts to pull them down. you help him by shimmying until they’re at your calves.

he mutes his mic and slaps your ass, taking you by surprise. you gasp loudly at the impact. “you think you’re so clever.” he mumbles, rubbing to soothe where he spanked you.

he unmutes his mic and starts scrolling through comments to answer, leaving you exposed on his lap.

your eyes almost shoot out of your head when you feel two fingers stroke your already wet folds. he starts with up and down then circular motions, a soft moan escaping your lips as he does so.

this time, he grips your ass in a warning.

when you’re wet enough he slips the two fingers inside of you, curling them and moving faster. “shit ma—”

a hand covers your mouth firmly. you look at him with puppy eyes, his brow arching as he looks down at you.

your grip on the arm of his gaming chair and moan into his hand, trying not to be too loud. he reads out another comment. “‘is y/n still there? i saw her on the bed before.’ nah, she had to go home.”

he smirks and moves his fingers more rapidly. you breathe heavily as your eyes roll to the back of your head. the sound of matt’s fingers pumping can be heard, but it’s low enough to where only you guys can hear it.

“i think i’m going to get off for tonight. thank you guys for tuning in.”

matt says some other words before turning off his PC and smacking the same cheek again. you yelp into his hand, your pussy clenches hard around his fingers. “are you going to cum, baby? i can tell that you are.”

you mumble a ‘yes’ into his hand, but he pulls his fingers out and releases his hand from your mouth. “wha-what are you—”

he tuts, now rubbing a finger on your clit. “fuck.” you exhale, a lewd sound following. “please. i want to cum.”

“i know,” he says nonchalantly, pressing harder on your sensitive area.

he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm right until it’s at its peak, but then the fucker moves away again. you whine and try to inch back onto his hand. “poor thing wants to cum so bad but she’s not going to.” he fake pouts.

then, he grabs your chin so you can look straight into his eyes. “pull shit like that again and see what happens.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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unreliablesnake · 6 months

Text

Simon says (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: Simon doesn’t want to let you be alone when you’re drunk, so you end up at his place. After he wakes up, the two of you play a little Simon says.

Note: That little snippet became pretty popular. Thanks, guys, here’s the whole thing. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warnings: smut. afab reader. minors dni!!!

“You suck!” you slurred once you grabbed Simon’s shoulder to steady yourself.

He only let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Things hadn’t been the best since the breakup, but he wasn’t about to leave you here on your own when you were this drunk. So he wrapped an arm around your body to keep you up straight, then began to walk towards his car.

Through the whole ride he was begging the universe not to make you throw up in the passenger seat, but you were a clever girl and knew when to make him stop the car so you would empty your stomach onto the street. He put his hand on your back, trying to calm you with a circular motion since you were cursing under your breath.

When you closed the door and signaled him it was okay to move again, Simon hesitated. “You okay?” he asked kindly. When you nodded in response, he let out a sigh and leaned his head against the headrest. “I’m not letting you stay alone tonight. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You’re staying at my place, okay? I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine,” you tried weakly before raising a hand and opening the door again for another round of vomiting. You didn’t see Simon roll his eyes at you, for which he was grateful, but he was glad to see a change in your behavior when you sat back. “Fine, let’s go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah.”

Simon’s lips curled into a smile as he watched you. “Can you say anything else?” he asked as he swept a strand of hair out of your face.

You made a face and he couldn’t help but laugh at it. Instead of making a comment about how weird you were whenever you got drunk, he started the car and began to drive to his place. You dozed off halfway there, and he listened to the quiet snoring as if that was the most adorable sound in the world.

Because in a way it was. When you were sober, you pushed him away. Now that you were drunk, you didn’t. He preferred this setup, he missed you every day, and keeping his distance was incredibly hard. He wanted to respect your decision to end the relationship, but despite your best effort to keep him at arm’s length, he was always drawn to you.

When he parked the car, you were still sleeping, so he decided to carry you inside instead of waking you up. You had changed your perfume. He remembered the scent of the usual one you wore when you went out, but this was certainly different. Simon didn’t like it that much, but he wondered if it was only because it told him you felt like it was time for a change after the breakup.

He took you to his bedroom, cautiously placing you on the bed then leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sleep tight, love. I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said quietly.

“Can you stay with me?” you mumbled in your sleep.

At first he thought he hadn’t heard you right, that he was just imagining things, but then you repeated it. Simon smiled to himself before lying down on the empty side of the bed next to you, an arm protectively wrapping around you immediately. You moved a little to be closer to him, your eyes still closed as you slept.

Eventually Simon fell asleep too, but his dream wasn’t free of you. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you might need to give him another chance. A friend’s advice? A big romantic gesture? Whatever it was, he was more than happy to give it to you.

In the early morning, before the sun came up, he woke up to you resting your head on his chest, while your arm was wrapped around his body. When he tried to peel you off gently, you just tightened your grip on him. “Stay,” you asked him. How could he say no to that? So he kissed your head and watched you sleeping comfortably, but he was soon reminded that you were slowly waking up. “Creep,” you noted with the hint of a smile.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Simon raised your hand and placed a kiss on its back. “You should make up your mind. One moment you want me to stay, the next you call me a creep,” he scolded you.

“Why did I let you go?” you suddenly asked, your chin now on his chest so you could look him in the eye.

“That’s something only you can answer. You never really gave me an explanation,” Simon pointed out.

You let out a sigh. He could tell you were thinking hard about the reason, but couldn’t really find what it was. Before speaking up again, you kissed his chest and tightened your grip around his body. “I was an idiot.”

Simon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from agreeing, too afraid a comment like that would push you away again. When he felt your hand slowly moving down his body, heading straight under his sweatpants, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should let you do this. He didn’t want to cross a line, he didn’t want to use you in any way, even if it was you who made a move on him.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely. As you reached into his pants and grabbed his semi-erect cock, Simon gulped. God, he wanted you so badly, it was torture. But he needed to know if you meant it, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Let’s play ‘Simon says’, love. How does that sound? Just like in the old days.”

“But you’re so mean when we play that,” you said with a pout when he pulled your hand away from his pants.

“Simon says kiss me,” he began with a smirk.

With a short giggle you did as you were told, giving him a slow, sensual kiss that he missed so much. Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, eventually slipping his fingers into your hair to grab a fistful of it. You moaned into his mouth, but never broke the kiss. He loved that; he loved it when you acted like a little kitten, sounding almost like you were purring while you kissed him.

After he kissed the tip of your nose, he looked you in the eye and waited to see if you wanted to say anything. But you knew the rules. No talking while you played this game. “Good girl.” He swept a strand of hair behind your ear, then said, “Simon says slowly take your clothes off.”

A small, wicked smirk crept on your lips as you stood up on the bed and sensually began to shake your hips, as if you were swaying to a song only you could hear. He sat up and leaned his head against the wall while he watched you slowly take your shirt off. You threw it away and reached back to unclip your bra, but instead of quickly removing it, you cupped your breasts and pushed them together for a moment.

Simon couldn’t behave, and he flashed a smile at you before he groped his cock through his pants. You pouted, clearly unhappy that he didn’t want you to help him with that. But he wasn’t about to let you handle it, instead he motioned you to finally get rid of that bra. Being the good girl you were, you did just that, and then moved on to your jeans which you unbuttoned and slowly pushed off of yourself along with your panties.

He drew in a sharp breath. “I wanted to take those panties off of you,” he complained, earning a surprised look from you. “It’s okay, I didn’t tell you. Come here, baby.” He opened his arms, but you didn’t move. “Look at my vigilant girl,” he laughed. “Simon says help me out of my pants.”

This time you moved and got his sweatpants off. Simon could tell drool was already pooling in your mouth as you watched his now fully erect cock fall on his stomach. You had always been like that, clearly nothing changed in the past few months. You kneeled next to him on the bed, sitting on your heels with your hands resting on your thighs. Weren’t you an obedient little girl for him?

“Simon says answer me this. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this?” You gulped and nodded. You looked certain and sober, so he gave himself the green light to go on. “Simon says give me a blowjob,” he finally gave you the order.

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, and you lowered your body to run your tongue along his shaft. His cock twitched in your hand, his excitement slowly getting the best of him. When he felt your soft lips around the head, he tangled his fingers into the hair on the back of your head and followed your movements without being too rough with you. There will be a moment when he can push you down on his cock, but now he just wanted you to get used to his size again.

You took him in your mouth, trying to take more and more in, while your hand twisted and turned around the base as you gently began pumping. He could see the satisfied little smile on your lips when he let out a deep moan and you let his cock fall out of your mouth with a loud pop.

He enjoyed it more than ever before. Maybe it was the months that had passed since the last time you’ve been together, but it was heavenly to have you like this again. He gently smacked your ass which drew a moan out of you. It wasn’t enough to stop you though, because you picked up your pace and began to let the tip get closer and closer to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re too good for me,” he said quietly, earning a side glance from you. “It’s okay, keep going.” He knew what was on your mind. You had always told him you were just right for him, that he shouldn’t belittle himself. He told you about his past before, so no wonder you became so protective of him. You’d always been like that; worrying more about others than yourself.

Simon was pulled back to reality when he heard you gag, but that sound only made him push your head down a little more. He knew he was close, he could feel the orgasm building up in his core, so he pulled you off his cock and told you to speed things up and don’t waste your town deepthroating him. Being the good girl you were, you followed his instructions and he soon came into your mouth. You swallowed every drop and then even licked him clean without being told to do so.

“C’mere, baby,” he told you, and you immediately moved over to kiss him. Simon let you, he took his time enjoying the kiss, but then you broke it and leaned back and put your hand in front of your mouth. “That’s right, you screwed up.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered guiltily.

“It’s okay,” he began as he rubbed your back. “But that means playtime’s over. You know the rules.”

You threw your leg over his body to straddle him, his cock touching your ass as you leaned down to l. “Come on, Simon, I know you want this. Let’s see how fast you can make me come,” you purred in his ear before playfully biting his earlobe.

He just shook his head at this. “Maybe it’s better this way. I’m not entirely sure those few hours were enough for you to sober up.”

“Please,” you began to beg.

But he only laughed at this. “You still have your hands, love, if you’re really that desperate for an orgasm, you could just as well give me a show,” he suggested.

“Can I borrow your fingers?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not good enough,” you said with a pout before lying down next to him.

He pulled you closer and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “I still love you. If you’re willing to give our relationship another chance, I promise I’ll make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop,” he told you, earning a stupid little giggle from you. “You don’t believe me?”

You turned on your side to look at him. “It’s the opposite. I vividly remember that happening before. So another chance, huh? Let’s see if you can do it again, big boy,” you said with a laugh.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #mw2 #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #smut

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

Price of a Coverup

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing for cover, grinding, neck kisses, mentioned sex work, teasing, as sfw as I could make it

Word count: 1.2k

Ao3

A/N: I can't, why is she so hot? Also I have a spicier version of this in mind so stay tuned!

The only thing that sucked more then having to sleep with men who don't care about you is waiting for them to approach you. You were able to count the number of men who actually cared about your pleasure as well on one hand, so you weren't exactly holding out hope for this night to be any different. To make it worse, it was damn cold out, with the only light and warmth coming from the houses inside, and most of the noise too, safe for a few shouts in the distance.

Said shouts got closer and closer with every couple of minutes and were then accompanied by the sound of running and cursing.

"Excuse me, can I ask-" You felt a hand wrap around your wrist before you could respond. You were met with the bluest eyes you've ever seen, but the face of the person it belong to was layered with pain, annoyance and slight fear. Looking down you saw a sword at the samurai's hip, with a fresh splash of blood. "I need your help."

"Help costs money, samurai." Mizu flinched at your tone and let go of your hand. Given that there was blood on the sword you knew this one would be some kind of trouble.

"I knew I should have killed them all." She mumbled under her breath, "I have some people chasing after me, luckily I don't think they saw most of my face in the dark, I only need you to cover for me until they pass through."

"Cover for you? How do you mean?" You watched as Mizu patted down her body, looking for something. "I'm not saying no, I'm only asking what you need."

Her head turned when the shouting grew closer, almost around the corner now, "I need you to follow me and play along. Is this enough?"

"Is that... how much do you have on you samurai?" The amount of money she was offering you was more then you made in the brothel for the whole month. Of course you pocketed it immediately. "Alright. What do you need me to do for you."

"Thank you. Uh..." She looked around frantically, her orange-tinted glasses almost flying off her face, "This way." Taking you by the hand she lead you in-between building's where the lighting was dimmer and obscuring your bodies and faces. You've been pinned down against walls many times for payment but Mizu was the first who looked so nervous and conflicted about it. "I... I have not done anything like this in a while."

She handled you with so much care when she cupped your cheeks. She was on the run, likely covered in blood many times over and this is where she stumbles? "Do you want me to take the lea-"

"I want to kiss you." Framed as a statement rather than a question was her clever way of not making a bigger fool of herself. The footsteps grew closer and closer and so did Mizu's handsome face. Her lips were softer than what you were used to, exploring your soft ones rather than just taking what she wanted. "You taste sweet."

"I am a prostitute. My job is to be and taste sweet." You husked against her lips as you pulled her closer, "Just like your job is fighting or hire, we use different tools but at the end of the day we do what we're payed for."

Mizu let out a barely audible chuckle, "I suppose so. Although your line of work is more pleasing to most people. Mine is... less so depending on the target." Her line of was also a whole lot messier, well yours was too, but there were more bodily fluids involved with her work at least.

She inched closer again, the kiss started out slow, only deepening when you wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in closer. Mizu sucked in a breath as she felt your tongue glide against her lips, asking for her to open them and have your own taste of her. There was a slight taste of copper in her mouth, probably left over from whatever fight she was just in. You can make her forget about that, even as the voices grew closer. Almost upon you.

"Can you hold me up?" You asked against her lips.

"What? I believe so?" Mizu didn't understand why you'd need her to but from what you could feel under her clothes she was fairly strong.

"Then hold my thighs. I promise you will enjoy this." You teased before you wrapped both legs around her hips, her sword digging into your thighs a little but you didn't fall. She was holding you, her rough warrior hands smoothing over your tie to find the best spot to hold you from. The rest of her strength came from her body, which was now fully pressed against yours.

Her lips pressed against yours, expressing a lot more passion then before, her tense muscles starting to relax against you the more you rolled your hips and arched into her. You were soft everywhere, while she was hardened by the battles and betrayals and years of running and training for her goal. When she pulled away she saw your smudged lipstick, the lipstick which was now on her own lips. "It tasted sweeter on you. Let me return it."

From sky to stormy blue her eyes darkened somewhere along the way from one kiss to the next. Instead of kissing your lips she went for your neck instead, nudging until your shoulder was bare and free for her lips.

"Moan for me." You heard those words many times before but not in that husky, sultry tone, usually really rough and aggressive. You had to fake it at those times, but when it was this handsome samurai saying it while starting to roll her hips like she was fucking you, well then there was no need to fake it.

"I heard a noise! This way!" Mizu cursed against your neck and spread your legs a little wider. Hopefully she couldn't tell feel you shiver at the action. Mizu hid her face closer to your shoulder when the lantern light shone on the two of you, she added a slow lick down your skin to make you moan again.

"If you want a turn you have to stand in line." You heard her chuckle against your shoulder. You were braver than she thought.

The men who saw you rolled their eyes in annoyance, "Fuckin whores... at least do it behind closed doors." They scurried away quickly but Mizu didn't stop kissing you, or biting you, or rolling her hips into yours.

"While I am happy you enjoy this, your enemies left and if you wish to take this further we really do need to go inside as they said." You felt her lips still on your skin, you knew she was considering it. She gulped, kisses your cheek fast and let you gently back down to the ground. "Is that a no?"

"I really cannot stay here. If they ran forward they will most likely circle back around. I need to get ahead of them before that happens." Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, saying the words her mouth wouldn't. "Thank you for your help. It must have been scary for you."

You giggled at her concern, it was more than anyone has shown in since you started this line of work. "I have seen much scarier people than you." If only you knew who you were talking to in that moment. But it would be several months until you would learn that it was the Onryo.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #bes #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #bes x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #mizu imagine #bes imagine #blue eye samurai headcanons #mizu headcanons #bes headcanons #blue eye samurai fanfic #bes fanfic #mizu fanfic #blue eye samurai fluff #x reader #x female reader

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bungalowbear · 8 months

Text

more husband!nanami x f!reader, inspired by this post

warnings: smut, reader being a brat, MDNI

wc: 550

You try to catch your breath but the pace in which your husband thrusts in and out of you leaves you breathless. Your face is turned away as he hovers above you, arms braced on either side of your head.

“Look at me.”

His tone leaves little room for argument, yet you squeeze yourself within that thin margin, raising your chin in refusal. A deep growl escapes him and you smirk, thinking yourself clever when the result is him pounding harder against that spot he knows makes you see stars.

You’re basking in hot pleasure when everything halts and you suddenly feel empty. Looking down, you whine seeing Nanami’s cock resting right at your entrance, glistening with your juices.

“Why’d you stop?”

“If you want to be a brat,” he drags his length through your folds, the tip catching the hood of your clit and making you squirm, “I’ll treat you like one.”

“Kento.” You grab onto his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you.”

“I know, dear.”

Your husband’s large hand takes hold of your jaw, turning your face upward. Your eyes are still closed but the warm breath against your face tells you how close he is.

“But you know what I want.” His forehead drops down to rest against yours. “Open. Your. Eyes.”

The sounds of heavy breathing fill your ears, yours and his, as you fight the urge to disobey his command again. But the needy throbbing in your core makes the decision for you. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

“There’s my good girl.”

The subtle tick of his jaw is the only warning you get before he suddenly shoves himself back inside you. You gasp, nails marking crescents into his skin that sink deeper and deeper with every strong thrust of his hips.

“Y-yes, Ken. Yes, yes, yes.” You’re bordering on delirious, but you have sense enough to not close your eyes. You don’t want this pleasure, the one only your husband can give you, to stop. “More, p-please, more.”

“Such a good girl. Using her manners.” Nanami’s strong arms curl around your back, arching you into him. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he presses closer, sinks deeper. “I’ll always give you what you need. All you have to do is ask. You don’t have to start petty little fights.”

The last word is punctuated with a rough thrust that turns you into a babbling mess.

“M’sorry. M’sorry. I—” You’re gasping between words. “I—won’t n’more.”

Nanami hums in satisfaction as you chant his name, like a prayer, as he brings you to the edge. When you’re toppling over into the abyss of ultimate completion you let yourself be cradled in the warm safety of his gaze.

—

Later that evening you’re at the kitchen counter humming a tune to yourself as you cut up vegetables to add to the soup you’re making for dinner.

Nanami walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, and leans over your shoulder to see that the veggies aren’t as precisely cut as they normally are. He debates whether he should make a comment, but ultimately decides against it when he catches sight of your expression, dazed and content.

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

#catalog #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #nanami smut #jjk smut #husband!nanami

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trensu · 9 months

Text

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #i don't even know what to call this #it's an idea i'm playing with but i don't know how well it works #if you're curious about the setting so am i!#if you figure it out do me a favor and tell me what it is #i have more written but it's not done #i'm hoping to post it as a oneshot on ao3 when i finish it #IF i finish it #we'll see i guess #ETA #came up with a title/tag for this #stasis in darkness

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