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#ARE THEY REALLY GOING TO GIVE US WHAT WE WANT
scientia-rex · 3 days
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One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.
He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.
But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?
Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.
You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.
I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.
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wosoreading · 3 days
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You know I love you
(love language series- words of affirmation)
Alexia Putellas x reader
Inspired by the love language physical touch- You and Alexia go out with the team and Alexia allows herself to get drunk, making her extra affectionate with you.
Perfect. A.Bonmati. Quality time.
Silent communications. M.Leon. Physical touch.
Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.
Let me spoil you. C.Coll. Giving/receiving gifts.
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“Ale, will you pass me my lip gloss?” you both were standing in front of your vanity, getting ready for a night out with the team. You had just won a big game with Barcelona so of course everyone was going out to celebrate. 
“Only if I get a kiss first,” Alexia gave you a teasing smile as she passed it over to you. You never turned down a chance to kiss your girlfriend, especially with how excited you were to go out with her tonight. Even though she was known for never drinking during the season, she had promised that she’d loosen up and have fun tonight which had you reeling in anticipation. 
You smiled up at her as you chased her lips again, eager for the night ahead of you. It’d been awhile since the team had gone out because of how busy your match schedule had been. Of course it had been even longer since Alexia had actually participated in these nights out so it really made tonight feel special. 
Normally neither of you took very long to get ready, just adding some light makeup and changing clothes. But because tonight felt so special, you both wanted to make the most of it. Each of you had finished off a couple glasses of wine while you took your time doing your hair and makeup. Alexia had put on some music while the two of you danced around your bathroom, constantly being distracted by each other. 
“Amor, hair up or down?” you stopped what you were doing and stepped back from the mirror to help answer your girlfriend’s question. 
Your head tilted as you tried to help her decide, “hmmm, I can’t pick, you’ll look perfect either way so just do whichever will be more comfortable.” She pouted at your lack of help as you leaned up to peck her lips again. “I don’t know why you always ask, we both know I can never decide, Ale.”
Alexia tried her best to hide her growing smile, unable to continue her pout when you were there to give her kisses. “Cause I value your opinion and you have good ideas,” she shrugged at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 
“Maybe hair up. It’ll probably be hot so then it’s out of your way?” you tried to offer her some sort of guidance even if it wasn’t a lot. 
“See I knew you would know. You always do,” The blonde pulled you in for yet another kiss before pulling her hair back into a neat low ponytail. 
Everyone always said Alexia was quiet and stoic. In a way, maybe she was, but you rarely saw that side of her. Socially awkward, sure. But not usually stoic. When she was with you she was rarely quiet. That was her time to let it all out, to not hold back. You were never going to judge her so she felt safe being her full self around you. She was somewhat chatty with her friends but with you she literally never stopped talking. Sometimes it surprised people but you were used to it. You loved it. Alexia was always making sure that you knew how much she loved you, constantly showering you with compliments. 
It wasn’t long before your girlfriend let you know that your Uber would be at your house in the next ten minutes. Alexia left the room to finish getting ready while you put the finishing touches on your makeup. 
When you greeted her by the front door, you were blown away by how good she looked. She had on a short-sleeved black button down that clearly had nothing underneath it. It had just enough buttons undone to drive you insane, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few more opened as the night went on. Your jaw was hanging open as you stared at her, lost in her beauty.
 Because of your own distraction, you had no idea Alexia was looking the exact same way at you. “Amor. You are so…” she struggled to find the word she wanted to describe you, “perfect. More than perfect.” You snapped out of your daze as she pulled you into her by your hips. All you could do was kiss her hard. “I cannot believe how beautiful you are,” she mumbled against your lips as she returned the gesture. “I am so in love with you, you don’t even know.” This wasn’t unusual for her- trying her best to talk to you and kiss you at the same time. Sometimes it was the only way she knew to express all her feelings for you. 
Your hands reached for the back of her neck, pulling her closer, being careful not to mess up her hair. “Just kiss me, Ale,” you practically moaned into her mouth. All of the sudden you were interrupted by her phone buzzing aggressively. You both groaned loudly as you reluctantly separated for her to see what the notification was. 
“Uber’s here amor.” your foreheads were pressed together as you both tried to catch your breath. She separated herself further before leaving one last kiss softly on your lips. “We continue this later, vale?” All you could do was nod your head desperately as Alexia grabbed your purse for you and led you out the door. 
Once you were both in the car, Alexia’s hand immediately found its way to your thigh. Your mind was running wild with anticipation for the night ahead of you. The night was going to be perfect. The team was finally going to have the time to let loose together and have fun. They really were your best friends, your family. Obviously afterwards with Alexia was going to be equally as fun, but you were still excited for the time with all your friends before that
You looked over to your girlfriend, only to see her staring at you with intensity in her eyes. Her look made you blush, just as it always did. The look on her face made you giggle, “Why are you staring at me, Ale?” You asked her teasingly, mocking the way her jaw had gone slack. 
Alexia wasn’t phased by your teasing, not even hesitating with her response, “Because you’re beautiful.” She smiled at you and offered you a shrug, once again acting like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “And cause it’s cute when you blush.” The smile on her face had transformed into more of a smirk. You just shook your head at her. You should probably be used to her compliments at this point but it made you blush just as much as when you first met. 
~
It wasn’t long until you arrived at the club and Alexia was leading you in, holding your hand tightly. Instantly, Mapi was yelling over at the two of you, “This round’s on you, Capitana! (Y/N) get over here and come see me!” Mapi’s words were already slurring as you broke apart from your girlfriend and joined the rest of the team. 
The second you reached them, Pina threw an arm around your shoulders and passed you a drink, ready for you to join the party. “I hear Capi’s drinking tonight, si?” The smirk was clear in her voice, excited to see her mentor let loose for once. You nodded and gave her a smirk in return, equally as excited as she was.
 It’s not that you minded when she stayed sober, she was still plenty of fun. It was admirable to everyone the amount of self control had. Your girlfriend always encouraged you to drink what you wanted and she would take care of you. She would always drive everyone home and make sure everyone ended the night safely, especially you. You usually didn’t get too crazy but Alexia would still always make sure that you stayed hydrated and made it home in one piece. 
“Hey Claudia, can I have my girlfriend back?” You giggled as Alexia pulled you into her side, watching as the younger girl raised her hands in self defense. Now that everyone had arrived, you all started your night with a few rounds of shots. 
At some point, you had ended up on your girlfriend’s lap as you talked with some of your team. Alexia's hand was snaked around your waist, holding you against her tight. At times she’d settle her chin on your shoulder or place a kiss to it, whispering more compliments in your ear. 
“Ale, I hear you’re having fun tonight, how many drinks in are you?” Mapi basically shouted as she tried to talk to your girlfriend who offered no response. “Ale?” still nothing. “Alexia!” 
You turned your head over your shoulder to see Alexia finally snap out of whatever daze she had been in. “Que?” For once, she seemed to have no idea what was going on which made you and the rest of the table laugh. 
“Quit staring at your girl! You’re forgetting about the rest of us!” Mapi looked at her with exasperation, basically whining. “You never get drunk with us so when you finally do you’re not allowed to ignore us. Come on, we’re dancing!” Mapi stood up quickly and the rest of the table seemed to be in agreement as everyone dispersed. In the process, someone had pushed another drink into your girlfriend's hand, hoping to see her really let loose tonight.
You looked at Alexia, prepared to try to convince her to join the others. Surprisingly, she spoke before you could, “well, let’s go dance, amor.” 
Your eyes went wide as you did nothing to hide the shock from your face, “really?” 
“I like looking at you, especially when you’re dancing. And I know you like it, so I want to have fun with you.” Your heart melted hearing her words. She would do anything for you and she was constantly showing you that. 
Alexia gave your hips a gentle squeeze as she helped push you up so you could pull her to the dance floor. Some of your friends let out a cheer at the rare sight of their oh-so-professional captain joining in on the run. You were facing her as you both swayed your hips to the music, taking in the moment. You felt all your worries and responsibilities melt away as you got lost in the music pulsing through you. 
The blonde’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you continued to move against each other. “Dios mio, you look amazing,” she all but groaned in your ear as she continued to stare at you. Her words had slurred slightly, finally noticing the effects of the alcohol setting in. Because of how rarely she drank, it seemed that it didn’t take much for her to get drunk as she practically whined at you, “amor, let’s go get another drink.” Alexia was tugging at your arm, already starting to pull you towards the bar. 
“How about some water first and then another drink,” you tried your best to bargain with her, not trying to get her too trashed. Your girlfriend nodded at you eagerly, before continuing to pull you to the bar. You caught up with her and wrapped an arm around her waist when she stumbled slightly. You decided that you weren’t going to be doing any more drinking yourself, instead focusing on taking care of Alexia. She had done it a million times for you so it was only fair that you took a turn. 
When the two of you reached the bar, the Catalan pulled you into her, holding you against her in a makeshift hug. “Estas Bien, Ale?” If you were being the responsible one for the night, it seemed important to check in, especially when she was being clingier than normal. She typically didn’t show you this level of affection when the team was around, trying to keep it professional.
Alexia hummed, satisfied with the night so far. “I’m so proud of you. You know that right?” Once again, your girlfriend was always giving you praise, no matter what the circumstances were. 
“Of course I do, I-” The two of you were interrupted by the bartender passing you your drinks (including Alexia’s water). You guided her back over to your table, hoping to give her a bit of a break before she continued. 
“I just hope you know how proud of you I am. You’re the reason we won today, amor.” She looked deeply into your eyes, willing you to believe her words. “You just work so hard and I’m so glad you signed with us. You’ve been playing better than I’ve ever seen you play before and it’s all because of the hard work you’ve put in. You impress me so much, amor.” It almost looked like she was going to start crying with the way she looked at you. So serious but also opening up further thanks to the alcohol. 
“Ale, I couldn’t have done any of it without your help. You’re the one that’s been pushing me and making me better.” She responded with a shake of the head before drinking some of the water you passed to her. She downed the glass quickly, before facing you again. 
Her forehead pressed against yours as she continued her praise, “You know I love you, right? I love your voice and I love how you listen to me and let me talk and I love how you take care of me and how you focus on the things that you love and I really just love you, okay? I love everything about you. So much.” Her rambling left her slightly out of breath as she leaned into you further. 
“Alexia Putellas I love you so so much,” you barely had words for all you were feeling. There weren’t words to express how much you loved the woman in front of you. How much you appreciated and admired her. “Do you think we should get you home, Ale? Hesitancy was clear in your voice. It’s not like she was wasted or anything but by her standards, she wasn’t far off. Being the one in charge of taking care of her, you were sure to take your job seriously just as your girlfriend always did for you. 
“Noooooo,” Alexia suddenly sat up much straighter, trying to keep herself from swaying. “Can we dance a while longer? Por favor? Then we can go home after that.” Her pleas instantly convinced you as you smiled at her and placed a short kiss to her nose. 
Your girlfriend giggled at your kiss which only triggered you to pepper a series of short kisses all over her face. She continued to giggle at you similarly to how a baby would respond to being tickled. As she often did, Alexia playfully pushed your face to the side, calming herself down slightly. “Amor, come dance,” she whined at you while pulling at your arm. Her unusually child-like behavior earned a chuckle from you as you stood up and followed her back to the dance floor. 
Alexia stumbled and swayed a bit more as she made her way back to where some of the team still resided. You held onto her tightly, keeping her safe while still letting her have a bit more fun. 
“Ale’s drunk!!!” Pina shouted as she jumped around you. Upon hearing this, cheers immediately erupted from the group. Alexia smacked Pina in the back of the head before also joining in the cheering. At that, the entire group erupted, everyone jumping and grinding against whoever was closest. Seeing your girlfriend finally let herself go filled everyone with joy. The whole group loved it but it was different for you. You had seen her at her lowest of lows. You knew how much she deserved this. How much she needed to relax like this. Especially when normally she was the one making sure everyone else was taken care of, it was nice that she finally got a turn. 
This newfound surge of energy was entertaining for everyone. At one point, you found her trying to twerk against you which you made no effort to stop. Grabbing her hips from behind, you only encouraged her as some of the others cheered her on. You’d stop her if she did anything too embarrassing but you’d let it slide for now. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already seen the rest of you embarrass yourselves. It only seemed fair. 
Mapi joined Alexia with two more drinks, one for each of them. You quickly decided that it’d be your girlfriend’s final drink of the night as you watched them have a contest to see who could chug faster. When Alexia won she immediately cheered for herself before giving Mapi a playful shove. Her best friend was clearly just as drunk as she was when she stumbled directly into Ingrid, barely able to hold herself up. Your girlfriend wasn’t doing much better, also tripping as she tried to celebrate her “win” with you. 
Ingrid shared a look with you as you both held up your extremely inebriated girlfriends, deciding it was time to get them home before they could do anything else. You put in for an Uber as you started trying to get your girlfriend ready to go. You wrapped your arm around Alexia’s waist, trying to steady her as best you could. She was slightly taller than you and quite a bit stronger which made holding her more difficult than you expected. Normally she was the one carrying you out of the club after a long night. 
“Here I got her,” Patri appeared out of nowhere, coming to your rescue. Sure she was drunk but nothing like your girlfriend. Between the two of you, you managed to get her outside just as your Uber was arriving. Alexia’s head came to lie on your shoulder, all but putting her entire weight against you despite Patri being significantly stronger than you. Of course Patri had to take a minute to laugh at you struggling to carry your girlfriend before finally helping you and getting your girlfriend settled into the backseat next to you. You gave her a quick thanks before the car started back towards your shared home. 
You didn’t even realize that your girlfriend was still awake until she lifted her head from your shoulder slightly, “I love you so much, amor.” Her words were barely recognizable between how heavily her words slurred together along with how her accent had thickened. You gave her a soft smile though, touched by the sentiment as well as how she still made sure to use your native language, no matter how drunk she was. “I don’t feel like I tell you that enough.”
“Ale, you definitely tell me enough, I promise.” You smiled at the thought- she was quite literally always telling you how much she loved you. Like nonstop. Constantly. 
Alexia’s head shook slightly before landing back on your shoulder. “I should tell you that more. You know if there was ever anyone who was made for me, it’d be you for sure.” Her words turned somewhat incoherent by the end of her sentence before her eyes fluttered shut. You pressed a long kiss to the top of her head. You knew you’d be in for a rough morning with her tomorrow but for now all you could do was revel in her words. It didn’t matter if she was drunk or sober or in front of her friends- Alexia would never stop confessing her love for you and you would never stop appreciating that.
Perfect. A.Bonmati. Quality time.
Silent communications. M.Leon. Physical touch.
Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.
Let me spoil you. C.Coll. Giving/receiving gifts.
Masterlist
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mischiefmoons · 3 days
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now that we're older
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a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 3.5k
summary: (established relationship) The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: its really something about me always posting at 4am.... listened to three songs on a loop while writing and they were all called ‘older’. 5sos-> gracie abrams-> lizzy mcalpine—this works for the trajectory of trouble & luke if you give it a listen; anyways you guys deserve the fluff. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS HAPPY (ignore the...tinge of angst) BUT THIS IS HAPPY RIGHT? RIGHT? scream at me in the comments & enjoy <3
(posted 3/26/24, semi-edited)
Luke lets you love him in the nighttime. 
It’s not to say that you don’t love him every second of the day and then some, but he’s much softer at night, weathered down and stripped of the many roles he carries. Maybe it’s the weight from the responsibility of being an all-star cabin counselor or the bone-deep ache of being camp’s best swordsman, perhaps even the ailment of being Hermes’ favorite forgotten son—but he endures until the night where he can lay it all down and be nothing but yours. 
And you let him. 
The mask usually starts to fall apart during dinner when he comes to sit at your table— besides the extra space, Luke likes intentionally knocking his knees against yours, the hand not holding his fork squeezing the inside of your thigh. He’s more open and receptive to your doting by the time the sun sets, fiddling with the hem of your camp shirt on the walks to the bonfire, letting you hang off his arm as you sidestep each other’s feet, hip to hip in hushed giggles. Whether it be chatty campers running through attempts at kisses, Chiron and Mr. D accidentally interrupting your loving glances, or occasional interference from the gods above, there’s only so many ways to be together in the in-between.
Tonight he’s yawning as he places his head on yours from behind, the both of you watching all your campers file out towards the amphitheater. A gentle smile graces your face and he’s warm all over, arms caging around your chest as you lightly sway against the summer breeze.
“You okay, angelface?”
Humming in response, he lowers his cheek to yours and whispers a proposition.
“Wanna skip the bonfire? Like how we used to…”
Turning to face him, your nose bumps against the scar on his cheek, and he feels the teeth of your smile on his skin as you mumble, “That was before cabin 7 needed an understudy for special requests, babe.”
“You could still sing for me. I’ll even clap if you want,” he muses before warbling out a few off-key notes to your favorite song until you’re a mess of giggles under him, fingers reaching up to cover his lips.
“That’s terrible,” you say between fits of laughter, until your eyes meet Percy and Grover’s wandering ones, “Hey! You two ready for your quest tomorrow?” Luke’s hold on you falters into an afterthought, fingers playing with your belt loops as the boys walk to the center of the clearing to meet you two.
He thinks about his little sister going on a quest to prove herself to her mother, even if it’s not her own cross to bear. He thinks about the satyr risking his life to protect another demigod who follows in his footsteps, and finally his dark eyes land on the sandy-haired boy destined to get caught in the crossfire. Luke’s feet feel heavy as if they’re cemented to the ground, and when you step away to greet the boys, he stays where he is. You misinterpret it for his fatigue, which is only part of what’s weighing on his mind.
“Luke? Go on ahead, I’ll cover for you. Get some rest.” But he can’t sleep without you; the times he’s tried are met with a touch of darkness only you can will away. He wants to hold on to you for as long as he can— Luke’s always been more vulnerable in the nighttime, with or without you.
Later he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin, thrashing in the twin bed against the back wall as he rests his eyes and tries to get comfortable. There are reminders of you wherever he looks, gauzy white curtains strung up around his bed like swirling clouds, pictures of the both of you pinned to the worn walls of Hermes’ refuge for the unclaimed, and though he’s always known his heritage—the way he can pick out your voice through the sound of all the others that file in reminds him who his heart belongs to. Luke shuts his eyes until he feels your lips on his forehead, balmy from your berry chapstick with a hint of your smile. He murmurs your name sleepily, but your hands tickle his torso as you lift the hem of his shirt up.
“Woah there, keep it PG. There are children here!” Travis says mockingly, and the sound of giggles and shuffling sheets fills the room as everyone gets ready for bed. There’s a resounding thud that follows and that makes him open his eyes.
“Mind out of the gutter, Stoll! You know your brother overheats at night,” you mutter, and his hands are already ghosting your hip in silent confirmation. Tearing your lavender gaze from Travis who’s spitting out feathers from across the way, you look down at him and mumble, “Sleepy, angelface? They’ll do cabin checks soon and then it’s lights out.” 
“Don’t wanna sleep without you. I can wait,” he slurs, saying your name slowly like he’s writing  it out. Luke looks at you blearily when he sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he pulls his shirt off from the nape of his neck. When the orange fibers lift from his vision, he sees you in sleepwear (all stolen from his closet, just the way he likes it) and your face shiny with skincare. 
“Was gonna get you ready for bed, babe. Got Lee to cover for me tonight and Beck and Katie are on morning shift. Wanna go to mine?”
He knows he should. The both of you never play hooky, not since taking up your counselor positions 3 years ago. Luke doesn’t remember the last time either of you were in bed before midnight and up before 6 the next morning. Never on purpose at least—the surprise jolts him awake a little as he cocks his head at you curiously. 
“Got off the hook, trouble?”
The question makes you bite your lip, “You’re acting surprised. Something told me you needed it.” He flops back down on the worn mattress, far too soft with age that his back tweaks a little when he moves over for you and pats the space you’ll take up. It’s his though—even if it doesn’t have his name on it, and for once he just wants to sleep in here with his girl like everything is right in the world (and ignore that he’s about to tear it all up). He thinks he might actually miss this cabin, the sound of his scuffling siblings, the way things quickly disappear and reappear at the change of hands in this community of outcasts, but most of all, he’s going to miss you and how you can settle them down with a single hush.
“Can we stay here tonight? Too comfy. Never get to admire the little setup you made for me here since we’re in 12 so often.”
“M’not going anywhere, my love,” you whisper as you push back the curtains, climbing into his bed to cuddle against him, but he shifts so that his head is on your chest. Luke’s hugging you like he’s a weighted blanket, and he strings a garland of kisses along your collarbone leading up to the space over your heart. Running your hands through his hair, you sing to him quietly until lights out, not even noticing the change while you’re looking at each other eye to eye. No one laughs at your lullaby, the sound of your voice tucking the rest of the cabin to sleep.
Almost losing consciousness again, his cheek shakes with the giggle that rises from your chest as you whisper, “Didn’t know you put our camp prom photo up on your wall. We look like we hate each other.”
“You were so mad because I kept stepping on the bottom of your dress. Had to get your attention somehow,” he chuckles, before tightening his hold on you, “I knew I liked you already by then, too. Wasted too much time trying to get Chiron in a prom dress with the boys that I didn’t get the chance to ask you to dance.”
“Ended up on a bead though. Is that what that memory tells you, angelface?”
“You’re my favorite memory, trouble,” he sighs, muscles relaxing at the feeling of your fingertips tracing stars into the planes of his back. Then hearts. A squiggle of something you tell him is obviously a centaur, which makes his brows furrow, before he kisses your chin when you spell out your name. Slowly, like you want him to remember it. He does.
“I’m still here, silly—pretty sure to be a memory, time has to take me away first. Not letting that happen. Me and you forever if I can help it,” you say breathily, voice tinged with sleep and so much love for him that feels like it chokes you, but that might just be the angle of your neck as you try to look down at him again. Dopamine lines your system at his words, and you let out a strained sigh—lovesick and heady with the feeling.
“I know but you’re in all my favorite ones too. When I think of you, everything’s better. Like I didn’t eternally fuck up my fate before I even turned 20,” he jokes, and like a lot of them, they fall flat. You hope that by wrapping your legs around him Luke will know how much you want to crawl into his skin and hold his heart to protect it. That with you, he won’t ever have to be alone. Words are never enough, after all. Even if you have nothing you need to prove, it won’t stop you from trying to show him.
“Still a few weeks off, so don’t try your luck. There are worse fates than falling in love with you, Luke Castellan.”
He turns from the wall at the sound of that, wanting to disagree, but you kiss him before he can protest.
“I’m the lucky one. Sometimes I think loving you was the only thing I did right,” he murmurs, before drifting off. You’re the last thing he looks at before he goes to sleep, the way he likes it—like a longstanding memory he gets to keep before he’s vulnerable again in his dreamstate. He’s the strongest when you’re with him, and his brain goes quiet. No one dares to break him when he’s with you like this. 
Not a dream, nor a titan.
You can't imagine sleeping another night without this crick in your neck with his name on it, the shape of him pressed into your body. With only the moon as your witness, you whisper words of devotion, sneak featherlight kisses wherever you can reach, and hope that they get to your love, wherever his mind is right now.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
You let him love you in the mornings.
Even unknowingly, it seems. On a normal day, your alarm would ring and you’d sleepily pat Luke (his face, chest, whatever part of him you could reach with your eyes closed) so he could shut it off. He’d let you sleep in a couple extra minutes (somewhere between 5-10) before pulling you from unconsciousness with a hug. 
This morning, with no alarms ringing in his ears Luke finds that he wakes up a little before you anyway. Down to his circadian rhythm, you’ve affected him, and he takes it with an upwards quirk of his lip as he squints at the sunlight through the sheer curtains that brush against your arms. He watches you delicately, even with the sounds of a lively morning filling the cabin—everyone up and ready for the day while you two are wrapped in your little bubble. It’s a stupid thought that crosses his mind, but a coherent one nonetheless; jealousy fills his chest at the sight of sunlight kissing every inch of your skin that he can only try to reach. He runs his hands from where they’re tucked underneath your waistband to the expanse of your back, and over your shoulders until you’re humming under your breath, midway out of a dream. 
Luke takes an extra moment to admire the way you latch onto him and he finds it almost frustrating how everyone from the gods above to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood down to the powers that damn him to Tartarus know you’re his biggest weakness. It’s almost unfair how you’re his strength too— the sheath that reminds him not to cut, the control behind his unbridled rage that heats up the back of his neck like a brand but instead of feeling fire, he feels sunlight.
You search for him in every sunrise, light refracting through your irises until a smile settles on your cheeks like you want to say, “Yes, I’m here with you. ” 
“Good morning, pretty girl.”
The both of you shifted during the night, almost as if in a dance of limbs and dreams, and somehow you’re nestled against his side and using his bicep as a pillow. It flexes as Luke raises his arm to brush the hair away from your face, when you kiss his scar and mumble, “Did we miss breakfast?”
“Almost over, but we can just grab something from the kitchens. Surprised everyone left us alone, actually,” he says thoughtfully, “the kids might’ve already left for their quest.” He likes watching you reorient yourself into the land of the living, before you step into your boots of being head counselor, before you put on the facade of being the perfect demigod—the protector and glue of Camp Half-Blood.
“Mmhm… was gonna offer my lighter to Percy and them last night for protection, but he was wearing your shoes. You gave them to him?”
Luke wipes drool from the side of your lip, watching you kiss his thumb in thanks with no thought as it was as easy as breathing. A half smile splits through the scar on his face as he says, “He’s gonna need them. For luck.” You lift your upper body up and look at him, hair forming a halo around your face and you sniff, “But you loved those shoes. Gift from your dad aside, I know they’re one of your prized possessions.”
He coaxes you back into his arms as he shifts up and leans against the wall. Prying eyes would think you’re hugging, sitting heart to heart on the small mattress.
“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”
He knows you’re rolling your eyes against his shoulder, feeling your fingers clutch at his curls to pull him away to look at you. You look at him knowingly and say, “Stop trying to change the subject. Anyways, Annie said if we help them anymore she’ll think we don’t trust them enough to come back alive.”  
“I mean it when I say you’re all I care about. Shoes…None of it matters.”
“What I care about is how you used to love flying around in those things. Even if you pissed me off a lot with them too,” you say, and the both of you laugh. They were a consolation from his dad after his quest, probably the closest thing to an apology (or even a “hello, glad you’re alive!”) he’d ever gotten from Hermes. Though the scar on his cheek was more than enough of a reminder of that—he didn’t touch the shoes until a few months after, when you taught him how to drive. Luke propositioned you promising to take you out on a spin once, and you thought he meant the car…
“You loved them more than I did,” he grins, and you recoil and slap his chest.
“You flung me onto the roof of the dining pavilion, Luke.”
“It was an accident! Plus it did make cabin checks go faster…Once I got the hang of them,” he snorts, deciding to pull you to stand. Batting away the curtain, he’s sliding into his slippers and Luke helps you step onto his feet and you groan into his chest, “What are you doing? M’gonna break your toes, Lu—”
“Shhh…I’m the strongest guy you know. Can handle anything for ya.”
He backs the both of you up to the center of the cabin, spinning you in slow circles to an imaginary beat. One hand around your waist and the other interlaced with yours as your smile feels like sun beaming through a window as you ask, “How did I ever get so lucky to fall in love with you, Luke Castellan?” 
You’ll never tell him, but that’s the only thing you’ll be ever grateful to Hermes for.
He shakes his head in astonishment as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” It hurts his head if he thinks too hard—how does a love so intoxicating manifest as something so gentle? How can he be powered by your love but still fueled by hate? How can he be both damned and saved by you? Luke wonders if his thoughts even break the surface of how busy the mind of a daughter of Dionysus is—to know insanity in love, and still be able to welcome it with open arms.
“Beats prom, huh? Am I a good dance partner?” 
You tilt your head, tongue in cheek as you gaze at your boy like he’s said something stupid, and though it’s been a year and change, you hope the fluttery feeling Luke gives you will never go away. With him, you never have to pretend—never needing to mince your words or soften the blow. You’ve never felt more yourself than how you feel hand in hand with him.
“We’ve always been good partners, me and you.”
He sways you in the momentary quiet of cabin 11 as you step away and hold the bottom of your (his) shirt out like the frills of a skirt, and Luke raises your arm overhead and then you’re spinning, spinning, spinning…
The front door swivels open, and Chris peeks his head in.
“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but Sword and Shield is starting soon, and Clarisse still has your names on the roster…”
You both sigh.
“You signed up for offense?”
“And you signed up for defense, so don’t look at me like that, trouble…”
Instantly the two of you harden your stances, parrying at each other’s torsos with hands as your swords until you try to make a run for it and drag Chris behind you to use him as a human shield.
“Hey! Oof—”
Moving as quick as a bullet, Luke accidentally knocks the wind out of his brother who’s now hunched over as you laugh at him like a madwoman.
“You two are going to have weirdly violent children one day,” Chris huffs, before stepping back towards the door, “See ya in 30!”
Cheeks reddening at his brother’s comment, Luke crosses his arms and takes a good look at you, bathing in the light of the open doorway and looking like the rest of his life.
“Well, back to work. Bit too good to be true, huh babe?”
“For now,” he says thoughtfully, “Summer will be over soon though. Gonna get quieter around here for sure…”
You’re already stepping off the front porch walking backwards as you grin, throwing your arms up in the air as you make your way across the path to your cabin to get ready for the day. You’d hate to leave camp—it's as true as your love for performing, caring for others, and most especially, him. He knows it because he knows you, and unlike most things, that’s never going to change.
Not if he can help it.
“Summer doesn’t last forever. But we’ll still have the fall, the winter, and whatever’s next…me and you.”
You’re yelling to him over the railing of your porch and he nods his head at you, turning away before you speak again, “Maybe one day when we’re older!”
“What was that baby?”
Looking at Luke like you already have it all planned out in your head, you say softer, “Kids. If that’s what’s in the cards for us. Though I do like practicing…”
Instantly he cracks up but nods, because there’s no future he can conceive without you being in it. There’s a serious turn in his response and it makes your heart beat out of your chest.
“Anything you want. You know I don’t leave anything up to fate. Not glory, not you.”
Everything you touch turns into gold, and he hopes somehow he would too. Two sides of the same coin, striving for a good ending, one worth remembering—one to last forever.
You get to love each other in the in-between, when time can’t get in the way. The clock is always ticking though, rattling against his brain as a reminder. 
Luke just wants to make sure there’ll come a day where there’ll be no more interruptions.
“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.” Caitlyn Siehl
 ½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01@poppysrin@ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri
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valeskafics · 2 days
Text
"Crazy In Love" - Dark Ex!Rafe Cameron x Reader
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a/n: a request from @eydi-andrius for crazy ex rafe heheheheh 🩷
Summary: Rafe doesn't seem to understand the concept of a breakup.
Word Count: 3,525
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: dubcon, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, intimidation, threats of violence (not against reader), jealousy, toxic relationship dynamic, references to mdma usage, stalking, choking, hair pulling, biting, fingering, slight degradation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, topper is a cunt, jj is a little shit
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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When Rafe wakes up, he expects to find you cuddled up against him. That things are going to be business as usual. After all, when you said you wanted to break up, you still kissed him back when he pulled you in. So he’s going to assume that the stupid little idea you had of trying to get some space from him is long forgotten. That is, until he sees you pulling on your clothes, sitting at the foot of the bed, getting ready to leave without saying goodbye. You haven’t even put your shoes on, no doubt to avoid him hearing them against the hardwood floor. Rafe jolts awake, staring at you.
“Where are you going, baby? Don’t you want breakfast?”
“Oh, hey…” You trail off, turning to face him, “Uh, I have to get to work, actually.”
“But you’re off today.”
You shake your head, dropping your sneakers to the ground and slipping into them, giving up on any chance of getting out of Tanneyhill unseen, “Boss switched my schedule. I’m off Thursdays instead of Fridays.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Rafe huffs, crossing his arms, “How am I supposed to know when to pick you up?”
“Because we’re broken up, Rafe.”
Rafe shakes his head, trying to hide how much that comment angers him, “No. We’re taking a break, if anything. We’re not broken up.” You don’t bother arguing with him, just continuing to walk to the front door, “Can I at least drive you to work?”
“No, it’s okay. I have my bike out front.”
He’s desperate now, and it seeps into his voice as he pleads, “Can I at least give you a hug goodbye?”
Rafe has always known how to get you to let down your walls for him. When he speaks to you, his voice cracking ever so slightly, letting you know he’s on the brink of tears. You turn to face him, your resolve faltering as you nod slowly. He pulls you into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his hands rubbing your lower back as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.
“Can you do me a favor? Can we meet up later?” Rafe feels you pull away, your eyes meeting his as you silently question what he wants, “I think we should talk about us… Please?”
You shake your head, removing yourself from his embrace, “I’m sorry, Rafe. It’s Friday, so I’ll be really busy at work and I’m just gonna wanna go home after. I’ll see you around, okay?”
He watches as you bike down the road, farther and farther away from him, disappearing into the distance. Rafe tries to call after you, pain in his voice as he questions whether you care about him anymore. Whether you still love him. But you don’t hear him. Or maybe you just pretend not to as you bike further and further away from him.
He shouldn’t be this fucking hung up over you. Granted, you’re gorgeous and probably the first girl he’s ever really loved. But you’re a Pogue. You work at the Island Club. Hell, the main point of contention between the two of you is your friendship with the other Pogues. It’s no secret that Pope, John B, and JJ have all had crushes on you at one point or another. He’s pretty sure those feelings linger even today with how much they resent him for being your boyfriend. You always tried to assure him that it wasn’t the case, but Rafe knew. He could see the way John B’s hand would linger on your lower back when he helped you into that fucking van of his, the way Pope smiled at you, the way JJ shamelessly ogled you. It was bad enough to try and get Topper and Kelce to stop checking you out, but these three?
He’s the only guy who should be giving you any attention at all. You don’t need anyone but him.
He just needs to remind you of that little detail.
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You’re clearly trying to avoid him. Rafe knows that. But he’s not going to let that happen. He parks outside your house, a little ways down the road so he can watch you get on that bike and ride to work at the Island Club every day. He sits down at the restaurant there for the entirety of your shift, just watching you. Topper and Kelce ask if he’s ever going to go play a round with them, but he ignores them, his eyes locked on your figure as you wait on the guests. You always manage to switch tables with one of the other girls, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see you.
Rafe isn’t over you. It’s been weeks since the breakup, but he knows he’s never getting over you. He watches as you smile brightly at the customers you’re waiting on before walking over to JJ, handing him the order slip to give to the kitchen. He hates it. He hates the way you giggle at whatever stupid joke JJ has made, he hates the way he leans in to whisper something in your ear, the way you don’t immediately push him away.
“Whoa… Is your girl with that dirty Pogue now?”
Topper’s words snap Rafe out of his trance, his head whipping toward him, voice coming out in a low snarl as he hisses, “What?”
Topper raises his hands defensively, exchanging a weary look with Kelce, “Oh, um, nothing, man. Sorry. Was just asking.”
Rafe grits his teeth, shaking his head, immediately staring at you again, hating that you’re so close yet so fucking far out of reach as he mumbles, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even care.”
“Yeah, Rafe can do way better than her anyway,” Kelce adds, “She’s hot but she’s a dirty Pogue too.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe glares at him.
“What? She is a Pogue-”
“I fucking said shut up, Kelce!” Rafe stands up, glaring down at his friend. Kelce shrinks slightly in his seat, not unused to Rafe’s mood swings, but surprised that he’s so angry despite claiming not to care about you anymore. Heads turn in the Island Club restaurant toward their table. Every head except yours. You stumble over something slightly while chatting with JJ, nearly falling, but he catches you, brushing a piece of hair off your face, the two of you laughing. And Rafe’s anger reaches a boiling point. He sits down with a low growl, yelling out, “God dammit!”
You walk over to them a few minutes later, your coworker having refused to take their table - no doubt after seeing Rafe’s temper tantrum. You greet the three with that ‘customer service’ smile, as you’ve referred to it so many times in conversation with Rafe.
“Boys. What can I get started for you?”
For a long moment, Rafe just stares at you, his lips slightly parted. You clear your throat awkwardly and Rafe finally catches himself, doing his best to ignore the way Topper and Kelce are practically undressing you with their eyes.
“Steak and potatoes,” he says flatly, looking back at the menu.
“I thought you were trying to cut back on your red meat intake-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head as if to remind yourself that he isn’t your boyfriend anymore, “You know what? Not my business. How do you want that cooked?”
“Medium,” Topper replies, leaning over Rafe and giving you a little smirk.
Rafe gives him an annoyed glare, his fists clenching, though he takes comfort in the way you snap at Topper, “I asked Rafe. Not you.” You turn to Rafe, “Medium well?”
He nods at you. You still know him so well. You always have. It’s been weeks since he’s had you in his arms, and it’s driving him crazy. He watches as you take Kelce’s order, just gazing at you intensely, and the way you scowl as you write down Topper’s order, muttering something under your breath before turning to leave.
Topper speaks up the moment you’re gone, “Why’d you even date a girl like her, man?”
“What do you mean a ‘girl like her’?” Rafe scowls.
“A Pogue.”
Rafe’s jaw clenches, “Keep your fucking mouth shut.”
You return a few moments later with their drinks, sensing the tense atmosphere. Rafe continues glaring at Topper, only turning to you when you place his lemonade in front of him. He hadn’t even ordered one. You just knew him well enough to know he would’ve wanted one. Then, Topper opens his big fucking mouth again.
“A Pogue’s the last person I would’ve expected you to date.”
Before Rafe can say anything, you give Topper a sarcastic little smile as you slam his drink down in front of him, one that Rafe knows all too well, “Maybe Rafe just has more substance than you.”
Topper looks at you, confused, “Substance?”
“Yeah. Substance. Like depth? Not to be confused with substance as in substance abuse. Like all the Molly you take that’s fried your fucking brain.”
It’s Topper’s turn to stand up, glaring at you, cursing you out, demanding you apologize, but Rafe simply shoves him back into his seat, watching the way you saunter off without a care in the world. You’ve always been like this. Confident, comfortable in who you are. Always willing to put people in their place. Hell, not even Rafe was ever spared from that.
He watches from a distance as you continue talking to JJ. He hates it. He’s so fucking jealous and he knows that you’re not even his girlfriend anymore, but fuck, he hates it. That smile? That should be for him. And when JJ wraps his arm around you, muttering something in your ear? He loses his cool. Rafe storms over to you, his voice a low, venomous hiss.
“Take your hands off her.”
Your eyes go wide at his words, “Rafe, JJ is my best friend-”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe says, ignoring your words, his jealousy growing out of control, “You don’t put your goddamn arm around a girl like that when her boyfriend is around. It’s disrespectful.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to respect you, Kook-”
You cut JJ off, giving Rafe a sharp look, “You’re not my boyfriend anymore. Rafe, stop.”
He looks straight at JJ, wanting nothing more than to beat his ass into the ground, to wipe that smug little smile off his face, “I’m giving you five seconds to take your fucking hands off of her.”
“Okay, fine. If she tells me to.”
JJ’s response makes Rafe’s blood boil as he turns to you, gnashing his teeth, “Tell him. Now.”
You duck out from under JJ’s arm, speaking quietly to Rafe, “Let’s just go talk, okay?”
He follows you to the breakroom, running a hand through his hair. He watches the way you pace back and forth, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance, your eyebrows scrunched together in that way they always get when you’re annoyed. Normally he’d just kiss your forehead and everything would be fine. You’d smile up at him and kiss him and forget why you were pissed in the first place. But now, you just sigh.
“Rafe, we’re broken up. We’re over. You can’t just act like this.”
He takes a step toward you, “Maybe. But I still have feelings for you. And seeing another guy fuckin’ touch you like that? I’m not okay with it.”
“It’s not just some guy! It’s JJ, my best friend! This is why we broke up, Rafe, because you can’t stop acting like a jealous asshole!”
Rafe scoffs incredulously, shaking his head, “So I’m the bad guy for not wanting other guys to touch you? That’s fucking bullshit, Princess, you know that-”
“Don’t call me that! You and I need to move on, okay?”
“Move on?” He shakes his head, running a hand over his face, “There is no fucking moving on for me! Do you understand that? I fucking love you! That’s not something that happens for me! I fucking love you. And I can’t move on. No matter how much you want me to. No matter how much you wanna pretend we didn’t happen, I can’t fucking move on!”
JJ pokes his head into the breakroom, his brow furrowed at seeing how close you and Rafe are, “Everything okay?”
You nod quickly, “Yeah, Jayj, we’re fine.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Rafe snaps without even looking at him, his gaze still trained on you.
“Come over here and make me, big fella-”
You shove JJ out the door, letting out another sigh before turning to Rafe, “Please just go. I’ll get fired. I need this job.”
Rafe nods before walking out the door, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go.”
He gives you one last lingering glance before leaving the room.
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It continues. Not for a second does Rafe let up. He’s constantly there, trying to get you to take him back. Your hangouts with your friends, dinner with your family, work. He’s always there. And you continue trying to ignore him. He’s fucking relentless. Rafe feels like he can’t even breathe without thinking about you, needing you back.
Today is no exception. He stands on the steps of your house, waiting for you to get home, elbows resting on his knees, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He knows where you’ve been. Out on your first date since the breakup. A date with none other than JJ. He always knew the little fucker had a thing for you. He hears the two of you pull up, hears you telling JJ to just drop you off here. He watches as JJ helps you off his bike and helps you out of your helmet. He watches as JJ kisses you. Rafe inhales sharply, trying to calm himself, waiting for him to ride off before making his presence known, standing up as you approach your door.
You look so fucking pretty as you walk toward your door, freezing in surprise when you see him. Wearing that cute little sundress that hits your lower thigh, your beat up Converse. You’re so fucking beautiful. You do your best to ignore him, reaching for your keys, but Rafe speaks, turning you around to face him.
“You kissed him.”
“I… Were you fucking spying on me?!”
“Yes!” He answers without hesitation, “Yes, I was fucking spying on you! Yes, I’m fucking jealous! I’m completely batshit crazy about you! I can’t even sleep at night because I’m going insane thinking about you!”
“Rafe, we broke up, we’re over! Move on!”
Rafe shakes his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips, pinning you against the door, “I  can’t. You’re the perfect girl for me. The only one who’s ever understood me. When I’m with you… You make me better. Less angry. I can’t do this without you.” His breathing is ragged and his gaze desperate as he stares at you, all rational thought leaving his body, “But I need you to understand something. If I see you with JJ again? I’ll fucking destroy him.”
Your jaw drops, “What the fuck does that mean?!”
“I’ll hurt him. I’ll fuck him up, I’ll beat the fucking shit out of him.”
“No, Rafe, you can’t, let’s be rational-”
“Rational?” His voice cracks slightly as he laughs, pushing his hair back, “You want me to be fucking rational? I have been doing everything in my fucking power to get you back and you keep pushing me away. Going out with JJ? I’m so fucking past rational, Princess.”
You take a deep breath, letting out a tremulous exhale as you question, “What do you want me to do? What will it take for you not to hurt him?”
“What do I want you to do? I want you back where you belong. With me.”
“But-”
“No! I don’t want you to see him or hear from him ever again. I want you with me. Where you fucking belong.”
“And if I don’t come back to you?” You ask quietly, “What happens then?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
“No, Rafe. I want to know. What happens if I refuse? You kill JJ, is that it?”
“Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, Princess,” he hisses, leaning down, his forehead resting against yours, “But yes. I’ll fucking kill him. And you know I’m capable of it.”
“You’re fucking insane-”
“No, no, no, this isn’t me being insane,” he laughs bitterly, his hand wrapping around your throat, holding you in place, “It’s me being what you’ve made me. You drive me fucking crazy. It’s your fucking fault. Your fault that I can’t get over you no matter how hard I try. Your fault I care about you so much I’ll do anything to keep you with me! And if that sounds insane, I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather be insane than lose you to someone else.”
You try to shove him away, fumbling with your keys, trying to get inside, but he manages to make it in with you, pinning you back up against the door. And when he kisses you, you hate yourself for it, but you melt into his arms. Rafe’s lips move against yours desperately, with a passion that you have never experienced with anyone else. His hand knots in your hair, tugging harshly. Your head falls back and he immediately begins biting at your neck, being sure to leave his mark. Come morning, everyone will see that you belong to him. That you always have.
“I hate you.”
Rafe’s hands move down your side, sliding under the hem of your dress to cup your mound over your panties, a dirty smile on his face as he murmurs, “Your pussy doesn’t. You could never hate me. You know I’m the only one who can love you like this. I’d kill for you. And there’s a sick little part of you that gets off on it. Gets off on knowing that I’m so crazy about you that I’d do anything to keep you.”
He’s right. You hate him so fucking much for it, but he’s right. He pushes two thick fingers inside you, making your lips part slightly, the hand wrapped around your throat squeezing harder as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your eyes roll back as he finds that sweet spot with ease, knowing your body better than even you do. He rubs his thumb against your clit, fingers moving in and out of you, ignoring your whimpering and whining, your choked gasps. Rafe stares down at you, his cock straining against his pants as he watches you come undone on his fingers. You look so pretty like this, staring up at him all fucked out. Needy and ready for him.
Rafe manhandles you onto your sofa, pushing your dress up just enough to reveal your ass, slapping it harshly once, twice, three times, admiring the way your flesh jiggles against the impact. He hooks his arm around your neck, his front to your back, as he pushes your underwear aside just enough to reveal your wet cunt. He pushes inside you with one fluid thrust, his fat cock filling you so fucking perfectly, the way it always does. You grasp at one of the cushions, moaning his name as he pounds into you, his arm restricting your airflow, his free hand slapping at your clit, making your entire body tremble against his.
“Yeah, you wanted this, Princess,” he snarls against your ear as he ruts against you, your vision blurring from the lack of oxygen combined with the pleasure he’s giving you, “Fuck, still so tight for me after I’ve fucked you so many times. Taking me like such a good little girl. My good little girl. All. Fucking. Mine,” he hisses, punctuating each word with a thrust, fucking you harder, deeper than ever before. You let out a whimper of his name, moving your fingers to circle your clit, only for him to slap your hand away, “Don’t be fucking greedy. You get what I give you, Princess.”
So you lay there and you take what he has to give you, the fat head of his cock rubbing against that spongy spot deep inside of you with every thrust. You moan his name, feeling his movements begin to slow, knowing both of you are close.
“Say it,” Rafe growls, “Say you’re mine. Say only I get to touch you, fuck you, love you like this.”
“I’m yours, Rafe,” you manage to eke out, eyes rolling back, “Only yours… Please… Let me come, Rafe, please…”
“Come for me, Princess,” he murmurs, rubbing at your clit furiously feeling the way you tighten around him, your walls hugging him tight as you reach your peak, his own following soon after, thick ropes of cum painting you white as he reaches his release, your cunt milking him for all he has.
He turns you onto your back so that you’re forced to face him, brushing his nose against yours as he whispers, “Don’t you ever try to fucking leave me again, Princess. You’re mine.”
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moonstruckme · 2 days
Note
Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊
Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3
cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words
You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 
Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 
“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 
“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 
“I, um—” 
“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 
“I broke my finger,” you admit. 
Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 
“Shut it in my car door.” 
James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 
Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 
You nod meekly. 
“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 
“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 
“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 
Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 
James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 
“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 
“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 
The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 
You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 
Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 
“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 
He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 
“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 
Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 
“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 
Remus tuts and lets his hand against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 
You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 
“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 
“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 
You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 
“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 
“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 
“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 
“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 
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bth3cowboi · 2 days
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love conjeture! lh44 x reader
pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader
summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)
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mercedesamgf1
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mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻
tagged yninmath;
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yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡💙 it was an honor to work alongside this great team
mercedesamgf1 👏💙
user1 omg work girlll!!
user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?
user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol
lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙
yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹
user4 ok this is cuteee
user5 you should be thanking him bffr
georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn
yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨
lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back
yninmath if you say so haha
yninmath
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yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘
on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)
tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;
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roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫
yninmath or hardly working🤔
bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something
yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls
bestfriend please never use # again
user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏
yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too
user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡
lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?
yninmath you know me already haha💞
user3 suspicious…
user4 what? they cant be just friends?
user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?
user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship
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f1paddockgossip
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f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.
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user1 NOOOOO
user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird
user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases
user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them
user5 right! she seems super nice
user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie
lewishamilton
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lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you
comments have been limited
yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise
lewishamilton 😂😂
lewishamilton anything for my girl
yninmath 🥹
yninmath
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yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven
comments have been limited
bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?
lewishamilton no but I was worried
yninmath booo tomatoes
bestfriend just buy a new one please
yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃
lewishamilton there has to be a limit
lewishamilton ❤️❤️
yninmath love you sm
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——
a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!
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weird-is-life · 2 days
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pregnant reader and Spencer fic where he makes her cry on accident 😭😭
Hii lovely, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kisses, like one swear word, reader cries (not because of something bad tho, it's cute), use of pet names (0.6k)
Spencer is running late at least later than he'd told you he would be and he can't stress it more. You've been home alone almost the whole day, and Spencer knows you are probably more than lonely.
But even if he's already late Spencer makes one more stop to get some groceries before heading home to you.
When he finally arrives home, he can't stop apologising as you greet him by the door, the baby bump very visible underneath one of his sweaters.
"Hi sweetheart, I'm so sorry I'm late there was a problem we needed to deal with," Spencer apologises and kisses your cheek.
"It's okay, Spence," you say into his shirt, already hugging him tightly, "I missed you a lot though."
Spencer looks at you like he always does with a too loving smile, "I missed you two, too."
Spencer ushers you towards the couch, he doesn't want you to be standing for too long 'cause he knows your feet would hurt, and also because he intends to cuddle you as much as possible there.
He quickly unpacks the groceries, and remembers the snacks he's bought for you. What he doesn't know is that you've been craving exactly the same snack he's bought the entire day.
"Here I got you these sweetheart," Spencer gives the snacks to you and rushes to the bedroom to change into something much more comfortable than the suit.
You stay still, your eyes filling up with tears as you hold the snacks in your hands.
When he comes back to you, he finds you eating the snacks while the tears run down by your cheeks.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" Spencer immediately sits next to you, and starts to wipe the tears away.
"I just....-" you start with small hiccup, "I just love you so much."
A warm chuckle escapes Spencer's mouth, before he's back to comforting you. He's read every single book there's on pregnancy, so he knows how tough it is with the changes of hormones.
"Oh, baby, I love you too is that why you're crying, huh? Or is it something else? Maybe me being late?" He really hope it isn't the latter.
"N-no, I just-... I just really wanted these snacks all day, Spence," you tell him as another set of tears escapes from your eyes, "a-and they are too good."
"Oh sweetheart, if I knew you wanted them so badly i would have bought more," Spencer tells you with a sympathetic smile.
He understands it can be a lot for you from time to time, even if it's something as simple as craving some snack, so he let's you eat your snacks while he wipes away the tears. He does that until the snacks are gone along with the tears.
You look just unhappy about finishing the snacks as you did minutes ago eating them. You give him a puppy eyes, and Spencer is up on his legs before you can even say his name.
"Spencer...?"
"Don't worry, lovely. I got it, I'll buy you more than enough," Spencer quickly gives you a kiss, and goes to put on his shoes, car keys already in his hand.
"Spence?"
"Yes?" he looks back at you so fucking lovingly completely unbothered about the fact that he has to go to the shop again that you think you might start crying again (Spencer loves you so much that it happens a lot, you crying about how much you love him).
"Of course, but only if you really want to. I don't mind going alone."
"I want to," you say enthusiasticly. That is all Spencer needs to take your shoes, and go back to you. He puts the shoes on for you, kisses your bump, and helps you get up.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want if you tell me about your day, " Spencer happily listens to you chatter about everything that crossed your mind through the day.
You and Spencer leave the shop with way too many snacks, but it's okay because you're happy as one can be and that's all Spencer needs, okay maybe the cuddles too.
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strnsvt · 2 days
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yoon jeonghan — pineapple's kiss and dad's wisdom.
dad!jeonghan ; mom!reader
jeonghan was greeted by the sound of laughter echoing through the house. a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he kicked off his shoes, the familiar warmth of home enveloping him.
making his way into the living room, he found you and ara sitting on the couch, your faces lit up with joy.
"what's all this laughter about?" jeonghan asked, kissing you and ara on the cheek before settling onto the carpeted floor, leaning his back against the couch, loosening his tie.
"go on, tell your papa what happened at school today," you prompted.
ara's laughter bubbled over as she leaned forward, eager to share her story with her father. "pineapple kissed me on the cheek!"
jeonghan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "pineapple kissed you on the cheek?" he repeated.
you nodded, adding "a boy in her class, she calls him pineapple cause he looks like one,"
jeonghan's eyebrows furrowed in bemusement, "first of all, how does one look like a pineapple?" he stammered, trying to wrap his head around the peculiar nickname.
"and secondly," he continued, his tone shifting to a more serious one, "you can't let a boy just kiss you like that, ara. you need to set boundaries,"
you nodded in agreement, placing a comforting hand on ara's shoulder. "your papa's right, ara. it's important to respect yourself and make sure others respect you too."
"i know, ma, papa. but i like him. and i liked when he kissed me. just like how you kiss ma,"
jeonghan sighs. his heart softening at ara's innocent nonetheless. "ara, sweetheart," he began gently, "i'm married to your ma, which is why we can do things like kiss each other. but for you, you're still very young,"
"that's right, honey. when you're older, you'll understand more about relationships and what's appropriate," you say, offering a small smile.
jeonghan paused, his thoughts swirling as he considered how to proceed. he recalled ara's innocent confusion about the concept of boyfriends, and he didn't want to inadvertently introduce more confusion into her young mind so he avoides using that word.
"ara," he began, "see, papa will be very upset if you allow a boy to kiss you," he says, his tone soft yet very firm.
ara glanced at you and then jeonghan as she nodded solemnly with a smile, "ok ma, papa. i'll listen," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.
jeonghan's heart swelled with pride as he reached out to gently ruffle ara's hair. "that's my girl," he said softly, a warm smile gracing his lips.
as bedtime approached, jeonghan lifted ara onto his back, ready to give her a piggyback ride to her room. ara giggled with delight, wrapping her arms around her father's neck as they made their way down the hallway.
once ara was tucked into bed and drifting off to sleep, jeonghan returned to your room, he noticed you chuckling to yourself, a mischievous glint in your eye.
"what?" jeonghan asked, his brow raised in confusion as he undos the buttons on his wrist.
"it was just a kiss, jeonghan," you replied playfully, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you watched him.
jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "i know, i know," he said, his tone light and affectionate. "but you know how protective i can get when it comes to our little girl. she's five. she doesn't need a boyfriend,"
"boyfriend? do you think she knows even the meaning of it?"
"she doesn't. that's why i avoided using that word infront of her," jeonghan smiles, scoffing, "pineapple," he muttered, the corners of his lips curling up into a fond smile.
you chuckle too, "that was the nickname me and my friends had for you,"
"huh? when?"
"when i was crushing on you, of course,"
jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise at your revelation. "pineapple? really?" he asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity evident in his tone.
you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. "yeah, it was just a silly nickname we came up with," you explained, your cheeks flushing slightly at the memory. "but it's funny how things come full circle, isn't it?"
jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head in fond disbelief. "i never would have guessed," he admitted, his gaze lingering on you with newfound warmth. "but i'm glad you stopped calling me that."
you grinned, reaching out to playfully poke his arm. "well, you'll always be my pineapple," you teased, a hint of affection in your voice.
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DM Tip: Creating a Campaign Skeleton
Learning to be a better dungeonmaster was a protracted process. A younger me was often so stressed out by the desire to be a better artist that I'd have legitimately mauled a person if it would've revealed to me the wisdom I sought (with my hands or even an actual maul given the chance).
One of my biggest hurdles was the idea of a universal framework for d&d adventures, a guideline that would tell me if the things I was creating were on the right track. It was sorely needed, I loved the process of being creative but without an understanding of how my creative energy was best used I ended up sinking days, weeks, or even months worth of energy into projects that went nowhere. Worse yet, when I DID get a chance to put my ideas into practice at the table they'd frequently spiral out of control and crash, resulting in even more stress.
Over time I learned from these mistakes, I got better, and then I got good. I moved from conscious incompetence to competence, and I ended up having a run of absolutely stellar campaigns that were everything my younger self could have dreamed of: stable, enjoyable, meaningful, and most importantly an absolute delight to my players. Routinely I'd have people, including folks that'd only played with me a few times, mention that getting together to roll dice and listen to me babel on in silly voices was a highlight of their week.
It was as one of these campaigns began to wind down (three years! a satisfying conclusion on the horizon!) and I started looking for a followup scenario that I decided to study all my really successful campaigns and figure out what connected them. The end result was something I'd been looking for for nearly a decade, a reliable format that I could build campaigns around.
I want to preface this section with the understanding that while this information is laid out in a vaguely chronological fashion there's no guarantee that these ideas will occur to you in any particular order. Inspiration is a funny thing, and each idea flows into the others to make a cohesive whole. Due to foreshadowing and setup reasons you're also going to need a pretty solid idea about all of these when starting a campaign, though exact details will likely change/ can be vague up until the moment they're needed.
The Reason: Who are we and what are we doing?
Gives your players a solid background to build their characters around and give them a reason to travel together, rather than having to ad lib one on the spot. Likewise sets expectations of what the campaign is "about" that you can build on or subvert in time. The reason doesn't need to hold true for the entire game, just long enough to serve as a framing device. EG: The Witcher starts out as a "monster of the week" setup and then uses that framework to pivot into politics and prophecy once we've seen the premise play out.
The Pilot/Crashtest Adventure: What's first?
I’ve already written about these, but the general concept is to give your party a mostly contained first outing that doesn’t have any larger bearing on the plot so they can focus on learning how their characters play/building the party dynamic.  By the time the party's finished this first adventure they'll have already started putting down roots in the world: they'll have in jokes, npcs they've started to care about, an understanding of what's on the horizon, and an idea of where they want to go next.
The Central Gameplay Pillar: How does this all work?
It's important to have an idea what your campaign is going to be about in a mechanical sense in addition to its plot and themes. There is a difference between an adventure that has the party delve a dungeon, and a dungeoncrawling focused campaign. I like to lead with these outright during the campaign pitch so that players can know what they're getting into. Your playgroup will likely have strong opinions about what they like and dislike, even if they don't have the words to describe it, so you might need to explain the ideas for them.
The Hub: Where are we?
I think every good campaign has a hub, some kind of settlement that the party returns to between adventures to offload loot, pick up supplies, and sift through the latest gossip to look for the next questhook. Letting the party return to the same place lets them build up a relationship with it, clarifying the picture in their mind as new details are added and they grow more and more attached. It's possible to have multiple hubs over the course of a campaign, but I'd advise really only having one per arc to best concentrate your efforts. Fill up your hub with distractions and side adventures, shorter stories that the party can get tangled up in while the larger adventure slowly reveals itself. Returning to the same hub also means returning to a familiar and expanding cast of NPCs, which helps your party become more and more invested in the setting
The Main Event: What's going to happen?
Here we get to the meat of the issue, the big story you want to be telling using this campaign. To pull off the sick narrative kickflip you wish to perform, you're going to need to lay a lot of groundwork, seeding in details left and right as well as giving the party a chance to stumble across evidence of your schemes without ever realizing the whole thing. To do this, you're going to work in the building blocks of your big reveal/twist/pending disaster into the setting along with those side adventures from the hub. This will give your party an idea that something is going on, but with more pressing matters to take care of they're going to be distracted up until the moment you decide to pull the trigger.
The Setting: What's over there?
While things like genre and tone are definitely things you should have a handle on from the outset, I personally feel like the details of a setting are best constructed on an ad hoc basis, either in a direct response to something required by part of the narrative (be it side story or main event), or pencilled in at the margins as the party explores the world.. That said, creation of the hub and setting often go hand in hand because it's important to match the settlement to the environment and then shape the environment to the quests inside the settlement. As for what's beyond your hub, I happen to have just written something about building out settings.
Now, this next option is one that I recommend you start thinking about only once your campaign is fully underway, so it doesn't clog up your creative process by focusing on something that you might not even get to
The Change: What the fuck?
A little while after the main event has kicked off and your party is off on the quest that will turn them from mere adventurers into heroes, they start to hear rumours of strange happenings. It's certainly not related to the present scenario, it may even be an unexpected windfall, but it's not something they have time to look into. Time ticks on, the land is saved, and the party is able to enjoy their victory lap as well as some dearly needed time off. Before they can get comfortable however they're slammed by some strange occurrence that they could have never predicted that changes the state of the world. A neighbouring kingdom invades, an important ally is murdered and they're blamed for it, a dragon starts rampaging through the realm. Its important that this event is outside the party's skillset, not necessarily diametrically opposed, but counter to what they were planning
artsource
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gothwineaunts · 2 days
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I tried my best to replicate the post that Tumblr ate earlier.
It’s not as good but you'll get the jist I think. :’)  
---
Hi again! I wanted to follow up on my post from yesterday. I’ve been mostly offline since then, and I feel much better now, especially after seeing the thoughtful responses y’all left. Where did you all even come from!? I don’t think I’ve ever posted this account anywhere, haha. But thank you so much. I’m horrendous at taking a damn compliment but I read all the replies and reblogs and I’m just incredibly humbled. You all brought up my mood a lot and highkey made me feel sane again. I’ve been so confused at why everyone in the WEBTOON comments seems to be so mad all the time, it kind of does my head in if I’m being honest.
But please don’t worry about me or Flynn. Or about Nevermore! We’d never change the story to fit what we think the commenters want us to do, for a lot of reasons. The most important of which is. If we had to do that, I think we’d rather just stop making it. What they seem to want is a story we’re not really interested in telling.
Wholesome wlw is a wildly important thing to be able to find if you’re looking for it. That really cannot be overstated. Until very recently, queer characters have been subjected by popular media to a disproportionate amount of anguish and violence. So the concept of seeing two women just, living a safe and fulfilling life together? I get why people want to see that so badly. And there’s so much beautifully written aspirational content for queer audiences out there now, and I’m pleased to death over it. But the thing is, it’s just not what we’re making.
Nevermore was always intended to be a dark gothicky romance with horror elements. Like Wuthering Heights, or Phantom of the Opera. Because those were the stories that always inspired us when we were young. Bloodsoaked stories of melodrama, intrigue, grief, and passion. Those stories would captivate me and get me asking all kinds of questions. Why can’t the Phantom be a beautiful woman? Why does Christine have the agency of a desk lamp? Why can’t sapphics have something cool like this?
So we decided to make it. Nevermore is not a wholesome romance. It doesn’t try to be. The point was never to explore sapphics having a healthy and (heavy air quotes here) “normal” relationship, like heterosexual couples get to have in real life. We already have that, together, Flynn and I. We live it, everyday.  In Nevermore, what we wanted most was to explore a sweeping sapphic romance full of danger, like heterosexual couples get to have in fiction. That’s why we love those kinds of stories so much, because of how divorced they are from the mundanity of real life. They’re fantasies.
I know that I'm preaching to the choir, aha.
But my point is: if you go to a hardware store to order a cake, you’re probably going to be disappointed. If what you crave is aspirational wlw content, there are so many bakeries you can go to that will give you exactly what you’re hoping for, and more. I especially recommend Muted by Miranda Mundt. It’s also on Webtoon, it’s completed, and it’s free to read.
And please know that I’m not saying to stop reading Nevermore, just maybe to adjust your expectations a little bit. We don’t sell cakes here, but I am pretty sure I've got a few 12ft tall skeleton lawn ornaments in the back if you're interested.
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trashmouth-richie · 22 hours
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eddie x reader ; a very light hint of steve x reader
a follow up to this which is a follow up of this
tw 18+ content, tied up, temperature play, steve is baby girl himbo in this very s3 coded, eddie is jealous + mean.
“that tickles, wow, cold— ow, very very cold— shit, shit!”
You slap a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into yours as if he is scared beyond belief.
“Shhhhh..” you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. 
Your body was pressed in his, an ice cube held limply in your fingers as you traced it along his veiny shaft. Leaving goosebumps on his summer tanned skin. 
“Eddie is home, do you want him to know that we’re fooling around? Cause I prefer to keep my bedroom adventures private.”
“No, no! You’re right, it’s just— really cold, when you said you wanted to get freaky I thought maybe you had a friend or something to go up my ass? I don’t know!” 
You stare at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding but it never came. You sit up, the ice melting on your fingers dripping onto his sack, little whimpers from his mouth. 
“Alright… King Steve is curious about assplay, noted. We can unpack that another time— for now, it’s either the ice or nothing, you choose.” 
You kiss his chest, waiting for him to decide. He’s mumbling to himself, and you work your fingers in between the tufts of hair, eyes on him, your nipples skimming over his hot skin. 
“…okay! Okay fine! Can I kiss you maybe?” 
Steve was stretched like a voodoo doll across your bed, large hands tied to each bed post, unable to reach you, his lip in a pout as he attempted to wiggle his wrists free. 
“Keep trying to get out of your restraints and you won’t be kissing me anywhere.”
He huffed, a strand of caramel hair tousling into his forehead, “I mean they’re tight— like really tight, you sure this is normal?”
You rolled your eyes and sat up again to examine the human ken doll that was played by Steve Harrington for the evening. 
His wrists were red, fingers pale… fuck. 
You tug at the knots, trying to wedge your fingers beneath them, and after five minutes of you trying you could see Steve’s hands looking worse.
“Alright— don’t panic!” you announced, sliding from the bed and pushing your arms through the red silk robe hanging from your closet, “and don’t move…. I’ll be…” scissors! “yeah, I’ll be right back!”
“What!? You can’t just leave me like th—!” he hollers your name and you try to muffle his calls of distress by shutting your door quickly.
Eddie was in his room, you could hear him playing his guitar— and he prayed he didn’t hear the muffled pleas from Steve. 
Rifling through the kitchen junk drawer you find everything but the scissors. Chopsticks from too many late night orders of chinese takeout, ketchup packets, pens, a pack of markers, Eddie’s fake ID he had in high school, Wayne’s expired ID he tried to use at the gas station when you were sixteen and more rope. 
The pair of you didn’t own a knife set, never having cooked anything that required culinary skills— you were at a loss— the only option left was to ask Eddie for his pocket knife. Goddamnit.
The walk to his room felt like miles long, and honestly you would have preferred if you never got there. His door was open, the low times of his acoustic guitar filled the air along with a haze of smoke. 
A quick rap on his door and Eddie was looking up at you, cigarette limp from his lips, as he motions to the other side of his room with a nod of his head. 
“…ham & pineapple no pepperonis, cash on the dresser.” 
“What? Oh yeah, sure— forgot it’s Friday. Hey, ummm. I need a favor.” 
Eddie smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not loaning you anymore bud, you already owe you twenty.” 
“No— I’m not here for free weed, I need your knife.” 
His eyebrows quirk and he waits for you to ask his silent “why?”
“It’s an emergency.” 
“Your boss sucks sweetheart, 100%— but you can’t kill him.” 
“Eddie shut up,” you whine, stomping your foot, “I just need to borrow it—I'll give it right back!”
He rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab his knife from his back pocket, “tell me what you need it for.” 
You stare at him, mouth open, “I…can’t.” 
“Okay? and why not?”
Your name is heard in a wail from your room and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 
“is someone in there?”
Scrubbing your hands down your face you finally admit it, “Yes! Jesus fuck! Now will you please either help me or give me the knife, he’s stuck!”
It takes everything in Eddie to try not to laugh, but he simple hides his lips and nods, thinking to himself what kid. of shit you’d gotten into now, and with who?
He follows you into your room, watching your form move beneath the silk robe, trying to keep his eyes from staring too long or imagining what lie beneath the thin fabric. 
Your eyes are covered when you open the door so you miss the shock on Steve’s face to see his best friend walk into your room. His dick is still out, laying against his hairy thigh, and the only thing he can do is an awkward jock head nod followed by a “sup?”
Thankful that he has a good poker face, Eddie nods back, ears crimson in anger, biting his tongue as he flips the blade out with flare. Behind his dark eyes He was fuming. 
Steve? 
STEVE HARRINGTON?
Of all people you could have tied up in here in some makeshift attempt at whatever you thought you were doing— it had to be him.
Heads would fucking roll when this was over and him and Steve were alone. 
Slicing through the ropes like they were nothing, Eddie simply raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, leaving with his mind grinding like gears on how to stop this from happening again. 
“Thanks for calling Family Video. Our hours are 10-10 Sunday through Saturday, stop in to rent our latest releases, this is St—”
“Harrington.”
“Hey man, hey— thanks for uh, helping me out the other night. I really o—”
“Yeah, you do,” the cord bounces on the floor as Eddie turns the corner, looking back at you in the living room asleep on the couch— walking to his room,  “that’s why whenever she calls… you are going to make up whatever excuse that big hair of yours can..”
“Wait..?”
Eddie grits your name out through clenched teeth. 
“If she calls to hang out, you will find a reason not to, y’ catch my drift, pal?” 
“Ye-yeah, sure thing… what should I say?”
“I don’t care Harrington, make something up… tell her you have a girlfriend, you have the measles, I really don’t give a fuck what it is, as long as I never have to walk into her room and see your dick again.”
Steve narrows his eyes, blurring the neon lights in the video store, “dude, what the hell?” 
“Sarah is single— I’ll give you her numb—”
“Okay? But so is she, why are you acting like an asshole right now?”
You. He was being a dick because of you. Sick and tired of you not willing to admit you both had feelings for eachother, and he was ready to pull out the big guns in order to make it happen. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r
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stars4chratt · 6 hours
Text
Subconscious
Pairing: Matt x fem!reader
Warnings: Again, smut / use of drugs / confessing / cocky to sub!Matt / softdom!reader / high sex (i do not condone this in any way guys, just a fair warning) / praise / stoner!Matt / grinding / handjob / vanilla(ish) / mommy kink / pet names (sweetheart, princess, mommy, etc etc) / a trip (no pun) / aftercare / a lot of swearing
Summary: The reader and Matt have been the best of friends ever since they were eleven. As they got older, the more vulnerable they were to alcohol and drugs. Matt would always be by her side getting high and drunk at desolate and abandoned parks, or maybe even in Matt’s room. Matt and the reader agreed to only stick to natural stuff like weed. But now, they’re taking it up a notch by taking a round and earthy psychedelic.
Author’s Note: stoner Matt > as i’m writing this i have Matt’s recorded twitch streams playing in the back. MY BAD I KEEP ADDING THE SWEETHEART PET NAME WITH MATT I JS LOVE IT SM ESP AFTER THE BAGS TT. Anyways, this wasn’t requested or anything this is something i just really wanted to write because i love it when there's a best friend trope weaved in <3 HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY. From Maxine, with love ♡.
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“Are we still friends? Can we be friends?” - ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?, TYLER THE CREATOR
╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗
Matt has always had an obsession with spirituality and the 60s. From the posters of Jimi Hendrix on his walls, to the deluxe edition Beatles vinyl records that sit alongside the vintage record player on his hardwood dresser.
Ever since Matt’s dad bought a collection of thrifted CDs for his car when he was only a toddler, he fell in love with psychedelic rock and the whole new era of love and peace and tranquil that came around in the mid to late 20th century.
Whenever he isn’t in his cramped and maximalist abode smoking bubba kush, he’s out going to underground stores which sell abstract and kaleidoscopic clothes and fashion statements in general.
The vibrant colours and the political mindsets and the pure lack of fucks to give during the time period has Matt enamoured. Calling him a big fan would be putting it extremely lightly.
You and Matt first met in 6th grade of middle school. From what you can remember, you were sitting next to him.
He was laser focused on his assignment with big and obvious headphones clasped onto his head.
Bobbing his head slowly to the smooth and flowy melodies, you pat him on the shoulder.
He turns his head and immediately pulls the headphones to the side so one of his ears perks out.
“What music are you listenin’ to?” Matt instantly thinks you’re about to ridicule him. He, for some odd reason, has always been the victim of mockery. You never understood why, he’s such a cool and chilled out kid.
“O-oh…um…” Matt stutters nervously. He was truly unsure of what to say or do in this situation. You could feel the fight or flight trigger in his hard gaze.
“Gimme the headphones! I wanna listen.” Exclaiming with an odd sense of compassion. Matt furrows his eyebrows and looks at you funny but still gives you his headphones anyway.
You whiz the headphones around your ears and onto your head. The hallucinatory notes mixing with the light and staticky voices put you in a heavy but pleasing trance.
You feel a big smile wipe across your face clean as you look back at Matt staring at you impatiently. Silently telling you ‘give me my headphones back, you weirdo.’
“This is so cool! What’s the song called?” You speak enthusiastically, still with a big grin on your profile.
Matt’s eyes light up slightly at you. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked at your interest in this type of thing or because he was alarmed by how bubbly and enthusiastic you are.
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds… It’s by the Beatles.” He drawls out, now looking down at the floor and fidgeting with his fingers.
“Siiiiiick. Are there any more songs like this one?” You hand him back his headphones, you start to rock in your chair in anticipation and out of looking for something to do now that you don’t have the sensory fulfilment that is Matt’s music taste.
“Oh of course. They’re a band with a bunch of other songs and albums, kid.” Matt calling you kid after almost instantaneously sparking an acquaintance with you makes you giggle to yourself. What a funny nickname for someone you just met.
“Well, can you show me them? Pretty please?” You utter with an exaggerated pout on your lips as you flutter your eyelashes at him. You intertwine your hands and rest them at the side of your face to hyperbolise the sad puppy look, making Matt chuckle lightly.
“Fine…there are many other bands like them, y’know.”
“Show me those ones too!” Yelling down his ear with eagerness, he flinches at your noisiness and covers his ear you just bellowed in.
“Ugh.” He scoffs in annoyance, whilst you’re sitting across him with the biggest twinkle in your eye.
“Yay! Thank youuuuu.” Your genuine excitement makes his face flush into a deep maroon. He turns his head around in embarrassment, trying not to maintain eye contact.
“Yeah whatever, kid.”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
NINE YEARS LATER
“Wanna try it?”
What Matt has in his hands is a vacuum sealed metallic bag. You could not make out what it is but you knew for sure it was some kind of drug.
“What the fuck is it? I thought we made an agreement that we weren’t gonna do chemical shit. Y’know how I feel about that.” You scrunch your nose in both confusion and disgust. Yet you were still curious as to what Matt was holding in his hand.
“Kid, have you never heard of magic mushrooms before? Jesus, for someone who smokes a fuck ton of wedding cake, you seem to have no clue what these boomers are.”
“I do know what a fucking magic mushroom is, Matt. I just didn’t want it to be a bag of heroin or some shit like that.” Your legs cross whilst you look at him through your eyelashes. You’re genuinely hesitant since you’ve never tried a mushroom before. Yeah, you smoked weed. But this is a whole different thing. This is a literal psychedelic.
“Heroin at mass is sold in baggies or balloons, stupid.” He chortles. “As I was saying, are you gonna try it with me or nah?” He chucks the small pouch at you. 
There’s a small plastic window where you can see the muddy fungi inside. You cringe in distaste, you wonder to yourself where the fuck he got them from. Incredibly skittish, you want to back out. But curiosity and temptation is killing you at the same time.
“I don’t think I wanna try this Matt. It seems stupid.” You scoff. Matt smirks down at you and grabs the bag again.
“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, kid. It’s just mushrooms, you’re not gonna die.” He waves the sealed bag tantalisingly around your face.
“Fine, fine whatever.” You give him the bird and suck your teeth. He chuckles like a little child at your offensive remarks. He offers you the bag again.
“Ladies first.” He remarks cunningly.
You break open the packet and receive a heavy waft of dirt. You turn your head the other way immediately as a natural reaction. The strong scent almost makes your face almost turn inside out in repulsion.
“You’re so dramatic.” Matt smirks. You turn back at him with a mean glare.
“You sniff it, then. ‘Cuz you’re soooo tough.” You jitter mockingly right up in his face. Dragging your hand right under his nostrils for him to get a whiff. His eyebrows knit close together and screw his eyes shut.
“Who’s dramatic now? Hm?” Your teasing rhetoric strikes one of his nerves. He immediately plunges his hand in the bag and takes the squishy piece of matter.
“Hey hey, slow down. Let me get one out.” You yell out at him in shock at his lack of hesitancy. He rolls his eyes with impatience while your shivering hand places itself into the plastic bag to pick one out.
“Oh yeah, just so y’know, this could last up to 5 hours.” Matt states super casually. Your eyebrows raise as you look back up at him. You’re not all that surprised though. What were you expecting? It's not plain jane weed, it’s mushrooms.
“I don’t give a fuck anymore, let’s just get this over with.” 
Soon after you said that, you both hastily gulped the abnormal saprophyte down. Both of your faces contort at the peculiar taste and texture.
“Eurgh… that was the worst.” You gag at the displeasure going down your throat and into your digestive system.
“Yeah, this is a one time thing for sure.” Matt affirms with a deep frown. He turns to his queen sized bed with silk sheets and plops down next to you.
“When will these hit?” You quiz him curiously. Tangling and playing with the strands of your hair out of a way to distract yourself from what you just did.
“It's the same principle as an edible, it’ll take a while to hit. So don’t take another one.” He mumbles inconspicuously since his face is half smushed into his soft mattress.
“Shall we smoke some weed while we wait?”
“No, dude. We’d literally die. Let’s not fuckin’ kill ourselves from severe psychosis tonight, yeah?” 
You smile at his stupid banter. It’s what made Matt so appealing to you. His dry humour alongside his ridiculous behaviour when you’re both stoned as shit is like taking a breath of fresh air. Knowing each other for almost ten years and you two still never get tired of each other. Constantly hanging out, doing stupid and reckless shit ever since you two were tweens. True best friends.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
A while has passed, and the both of you are so far out of your heads. Every single time you turn to look at each other, the more distorted everything gets. You see things you don’t actually see, you hear things you don’t actually hear, you smell things you don’t actually smell. The tie dye-like swirls on Matt’s tapestries that hang proud on his walls disfigure and circle around putting you under a strict hypnosis.
“Holy shit…” Matt’s voice rattles through your cochleas, making your head sting from the blare. You move around to see him while your vision oversaturates and wiggles with no rhythm or control. 
“W-what is going on…” The bare echoes of your voice tingles your senses. The soft scent of Matt’s white musk incense blazing in the background fills the crevices of your nostrils and massages your brain, it was the only thing soothing you from the extremity of the situation.
“Matt…I’m scared…What the fuck is going on.” Abruptly, the effects on your voice quickly transitions into a thick static. The sensory overload inflicts the both of you. You feel incredibly overwhelmed and almost spiral into a state of panic.
“I’m here, I promise.” Matt mutters under his breath. His clammy hands take a hold of your wrist firmly. You look up at him to see his pupils viciously dilated while finding it hard to breathe.
“I’m so scared.” You shudder. Pure anxiety soaks you up but is squeezed back out when Matt moves your head to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head so it lays on top of yours.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise.” Your heartbeat pounds rapidly. You don’t say or do anything both because you’re way too high as well as wanting to savour this moment since you purely assume this will never happen ever again.
Why is Matt being so soft with you? Ever since you two first met, he’s never been the type to call you these names.
“From now on. Weed n’ fuckin’ weed only.” You demand in a serious manner. Matt sighs out a laugh while he strokes your hair in reassurance. “Of course… p-princess.”
You purse your lips as a way to try and hide the excitement from Matt calling you these sudden names. A million thoughts come racing through your mind all at once. You’ve gotten both high and drunk with Matt on several occasions. Are the mushrooms that strong?
Your vision is still eradicated and infused with neon reds and pinks. You want to close your eyes but when you’re in pitch black darkness, the patterns become more prominent and it freaks you out to an extreme.
You hear Matt whisper delicately which makes your ears perk up indefinitely. You twist your neck to look up at him for his gaze to meet yours. His mouth hangs slightly open with his pupils large and his eyebags hang low across his defined cheekbones.
“l-like…you..” He sputters out. He sounds like he has no more control left in the muscles of his face any more. Jesus christ, this shit is strong. 
“...huh…” Rebound of the vowels smushed on your tongue and teeth is elevated by the effects of the drug. Both you and Matt are incredibly discombobulated. You raise yourself from underneath Matt’s figure for you to try your absolute best to attempt to understand what he just said.
Matt’s now looking up at you through the locks of hair that drape over his low and inflamed eyes.
“I really…really like you… like, ‘ver since… I-I got to know you better in 6th grade…I now have a decent excuse for why I’m telling you this... I’m fucking tripping balls.” He laughs it off as if he didn’t just confess his feelings to you off the rip right in front of you, face to face.
You just sit there gazing down at him bewildered with your mouth agape. He clenches his lips shut and frowns slightly, averting his gaze down to the bed in regret of just blurting that out.
“Matt…w-what the fuck…” Immediately after you utter this question, Matt slaps his hand over his mouth and starts to slightly curl himself up into a little ball like a shrivelled raisin. 
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I-I ruined the experience… I thought you felt the same way and I was thinking too quickly ahead of myself I-I’m really sorry-”
You pat both of Matt’s shoulders and force his head up to look at you.
“Matt, I-It’s okay… I promise you. I-I feel the same. I know we’re both high as fuck right now, but I know for sure t-that I’m telling the truth. I really like you, Matt.”
His body loosens underneath you in reaction to your words. Your thumb rubs softly over his defined cheekbones. The frown on his face turned upside down completely into a large smile. 
Your big and swollen pupils squint down at him. His heavy breaths, his cherry pink lips resting lazily and hanging slightly open, and his frizzy  and dishevelled hair that drapes gracefully over his droopy eyes.
Everything about him, the whole sight of him makes you soaked at your core.
Your thighs clench together in desperation and you grit down onto your bottom lip intensely. The flesh of your hand is still resting on Matt’s face. You can feel the pricklyness of his stubble on your very fingertips.
The two of you just stare at each other, admiring every little thing about one another. In a comfortable but loud silence. The effects of the drug are still sharp around the edge, jabbing and stabbing both of your 5 main senses.
You feel your body start to give in and fall forward into Matt. Your forehead clashes with his. Your large breaths blend together.
Abruptly, he tilts his head up. His lips just graze against yours. You can tell he’s desperate with his eyes full to the brim with lust and eroticism. You pull away lightly with a smirk on your face whilst Matt writhes and squirms. He tries to follow your head so he can make contact with your mouth. He really wants to kiss you.
Seeing him this vulnerable makes you melt. What once was a bad-mouthing, cocky and smug little shit who smoked with you every week was now gone. He’s now tripping on mushrooms underneath you with a throbbing semi.
You manoeuvre yourself over so both of your legs are spread on top of him. You’re in a cowgirl position, with Matt. 
His prick pulses harshly beneath your heat. The only thing stopping the contact between the two of you are your clothes. Matt’s now fully hard, to the point where his dick has developed a tent in his harem pants. 
You start to sway your hips back and forth. Matt’s head flips back fully and his mouth hangs open. His Adam's apple is fully revealed and bobs up and down marginally. His hefty breathing now transitioned into hot and rowdy moans and whimpers.
“Look at me baby, look at me while I grind on your cock.” You finally spoke, after there was nothing but whines and sobs filling the air.
“Y-yes mommy…” You sigh out a sharp laugh. Knowing your arrogant friend who’s always causing a riot with alcohol and dope is now rock hard thanks to you, moaning and whining into your ear like a little bitch fills you with an overwhelming sense of fulfilment.
“Yeah that’s right, be a good boy for me. Keep calling me mommy.” You feel as though you could do anything to him right this second. You had all of the power and control over Matt. Your teeth grit together and the smirk on your face largens.
“You make me feel so good, Mommy. Y-you’re gonna make me cum…” The words come spilling out of his mouth like calm waves of the ocean. What used to be the intense sound of his voice from the drugs now turned silky smooth from the euphoria spooling out from your sensitive nerves.
You stop rocking your hips on top of his cock. Matt looks up at you with his bottom lip concealed fully inside his mouth by his teeth. 
“Take your pants off baby, lemme make you cum properly.” You command him pompously. Immediately, he speedily grasps at his waist band and tugs it down his thighs.
His cock bounces out of the loose fabric. The tip was swollen and pink with precum dripping out thickly. The rhythm of his breath matched with the harsh trembling of blood flow to his dick. 
“Jesus Christ… and I barely did anything to you, not yet anyway.” You tease. Matt’s face jams up with impatience and knuckles his hands into his vibrant sheets.
“P-please just touch me. I really wanna cum mommy.” He pleads eagerly. His eyebrows furrowed deeply into his skin and his face splashed apricot pink. His whole body shivers. Anticipating heavily for your skin to press into his.
You reach out your hand and wrap it loosely around his large and thick cock. You slither down his shaft slowly in a jesting manner. You leer up at Matt to see him gaping down at you, panting stiffly.
Your pace on his dick starts to quicken. Your fingers clench tightly around him making his jolt up into your hand.
Matt loses all control within himself and starts to thrust up and down hastily. Practically fucking your hand. You push him down with your other palm and hold him into place. You shoot him a mean stare as he gulps down what was left of his pride.
“Don’t move.” The stern tone infused in your voice makes Matt quiver. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and pulls it up his face to conceal his severe embarrassment.
What’s happening right now tells you one thing that you never would’ve thought would be the case. Matt loves being controlled. He admires the idea of being dominated. And you are contributing to that fantasy.
The pad of your index and middle finger press onto his fleshy, rosy-red tip faintly. A choked up whine crawls out of his throat and his legs rise upwards but your weight stops them.
“M-mommy… please don't stop... I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it baby. Don’t be shy. Be a good boy for mommy and cum.” You start to go faster and more harsh on his sensitive tip. Matt’s entire body shakes and his hips buck and lock into place.
“Cumming mommy, c-cumming.” His tip suddenly spurts out long thick strings of his load. Onto your face, your hand, your clothes, your chest, everywhere. Every single time a white rope would come spilling out of his prick, an intense shiver would shoot through his body and his shirt now crumpled into its original place.
He gasps intimately while you sit there with his seed still dripping down your face. 
Matt’s eyes suddenly widen and he raises his entire figure in a panic to grab the box of tissues on his bedside table.
“No no, don’t worry. I got it.” You disclose to him delicately. You tug out a few sheets of tissue and wipe at his skin from the waist below.
“I’m sorry for making such a mess… I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Matt utters sorrowfully. He pulls his pants back up and you grab more tissues.
He takes hold of your wrist to take the tissues from you. He places his thumb onto your chin to position you as he folds the tissues.
“It’s fine Matt, I enjoyed it. A lot, actually.” You grin compassionately as Matt swipes at your face deftly.
“I think that’s the first and last time we’re ever gonna do mushrooms, though.” He snickers, crumpling the dirty tissues and chucks them into the bin lying at the side of the bed.
“Yeah, one time thing.” You rest your head on his stomach, you rise and fall with his breathing pattern.
"Can I braid your hair?" Matt casually inquires. "I have a bunch of charms and hair ties."
You beam a smile from ear to him, your face fills up with a cherry blossom pink.
"Yeah, of course Matt."
╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝
Author’s Note No.2: I think this will most definitely have a part 2. I have no complaints with making a series, if you haven’t already noticed with me always bringing up pins n’ needles. This took me a while to write because I’ve been busy with exams and social life. But I finally completed one after 2 weeks!!! Yayyy!! ‘Till next time, pooks.
༝༚༝༚, Maxine.
Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual @luvmxtt @tillies33ssss @breeloveschris
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hollyseb · 3 days
Text
I DO (part 2)
Mob! Bucky x Reader - Forced Marriage AU
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Warnings: MINORS DNI, swearing, violence, sexual content
2.2k words
Summary; Bucky, the leader of the mob, and the daughter of his enemy mob leader, find themselves entangled in a complex relationship
“We got a problem”.
Bucky sent a glance to your sleeping form, the sheets pooling around your waist, with your chest lifting rhythmically.
He ran a hand down his face and groaned, not wanting to leave you. “How bad is it?”, he asked, debating whether to throw the phone at the wall.
“Bad enough”, Steve replied grimly.
Fuck”, Bucky muttered, hastily shoving his phone into his slacks, throwing on the rest his clothes.
Finally reaching the foyer, he grabbed his keys from the table by the door and made his way outside to where his Mercedes was parked. The cool night air hit him like a slap in the face.
Dragging me away from my wife, on my wedding night. This better be fucking good.
“Steve”, Bucky said tersely, stalking into the dark warehouse, his men surrounding a table.
Bucky's gaze swept over the faces of his men, noting the glint of determination in their eyes. The room fell silent as he entered, a testament to his intimidation.
Steves eyes met his, his expression grim but determined. "Bucky, glad you could make it," he said, his voice low and steady.
"What's the situation?" Bucky demanded, his broad shoulders raising and falling in laboured movements.
"Hydra hit us hard tonight," he rasped, his jaw set with determination. "They took out one of our key operations."
Bucky's jaw clenched, “Do we know why?”
Steve faltered for a moment, before clasping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “They’re… not happy about the arrangement with Pierce’s daughter”.
Bucky smirked at that, “well he was quick enough to give her away to pay off his debt… fucking coward”.
“Bucky, they took out 14 of our men, brutally”.
Fuck.
Bucky's expression darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“Wipe out half of their men, now”, Bucky began, his lips beginning to curl into a dangerous smirk. “Send a message that we won’t tolerate their interference”.
Steve listened intently, waiting for Bucky to continue.
An intimidating glint flashed through the mob boss’ eyes. “Let them know we will track the rest of them down, one-by-one, take them hostage, and torture them until they are begging to die”, his voice dripping with menace.
This was the mob boss that Steve knew; ruthless, determined and downright frightening.
The warehouse buzzed with anticipation as Bucky directed his men to different parts of the city. The adrenaline from the operation faded, replaced by a growing unease, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. He hated how he left you alone on your wedding night.
Steve sensed his apprehension. “Go home, I got this”, he said assertively.
Bucky hesitated, usually reluctant to relinquish control, but the thought of you waiting for him at home spurred him into action. With a nod of gratitude, he turned on his heel and headed back to his car, eager to be by your side once more.
The first light of dawn was breaking through the darkness when Bucky was speeding home.
Upon entering, he found his home eerily quiet. The faint scent of perfume lingered in the air, a reminder of your presence.
His steps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way to the bedroom, his mind racing with worry. Had you left in the middle of the night? Did you really feel no connection?
Relief flooded through his body as he pushed the bedroom door open, and saw you tangled in the sheets.
Gently, Bucky pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
After he pulled away slightly, you pounced on him, eyes flashing with anger.
You pinned him to the mattress with a knee on his hip and a hand on his wrist. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, as you took in his bewildered expression.
”Where the hell were you?”, you seethed, your voice demanding. “Leaving in the middle of the night without a word”.
He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to respond.
You interrupted him. “It’s my first night in this house, and you fucking leave?”
”I’m sorry, doll”, he murmured, “it was just…business”, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair behind your ear.
Is he fucking patronising you?
You scoffed, shoving his hand away. “Business”, you repeated incredulously.
Bucky's jaw clenched at your tone, not accustomed to having his decisions questioned by anyone. His patience wearing thin, "yes, business," he replied firmly, his gaze unwavering. "I had to handle something urgent”.
Your grip on him tightened. “Something urgent, huh? How about I perform a disappearing act too?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You disappear and I’ll hunt you down”, his voice low and edged.
“Is that a threat?” you challenged, a smirk playing on your lips as you observed the way Bucky’s jaw ticked. You managed to piss him off.
“Call it what you want”, he replied evenly, his tone firm, “but you're not going anywhere without me knowing about it”.
You moved to release him, attempting to roll off of the man, but he had your hip gripped like a vice. The tension in the room thickened, each word hanging in the air like a silent challenge.
Bucky's lips curled into a predatory smile, “but trust me, I don’t need threats to keep you right where I want you”.
“Fuck you”.
Bucky’s eyes darkened with desire as he held you captive beneath him.
“Funny,” he smirked, his voice dripping with hunger, “that’s exactly what I had in mind”.
You sneered at that, but his smirk only widened in response before his lips crashed into yours. You hated his cocky attitude, but you couldn’t help succumbing to him.
Bucky grinned against your lips when he ran his fingertips from your hip to the swell of your breast, feeling goosebumps appear in his wake.
Gently, he cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, eliciting a gasp from your mouth. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, arching as he rolled your nipple between his fingers.
His other hand slid down your spine, swiftly flipping you onto your back. He pulled away slightly, his gaze lingering on your hazy eyes, swollen lips and the way your breasts bounced as you landed.
With a hungry gleam in his eyes, he began peppering kisses along your jawline and down your neck, until he reached your breasts. He licked the sensitive skin around your nipple tentatively, maintaining unbroken eye contact with you.
You couldn't help but let out a soft whimper at his deliberate slowness, your anticipation building with each teasing touch. He lapped up the sound, a low hum vibrating against your skin as he palmed your other breast.
Your eyes flew open in shock when he started kissing down your stomach, tugging at the duvet pooled around your hips.
“Bucky?”
He hummed in response, fingers curling around the fabric covering your form. His gaze flickered to yours, “relax, doll”, he whispered, his voice a soothing balm, “I've got you”.
With a shaky exhaled you surrendered to his touch.
He pulled the duvet below your knees, and gently placed his hands on your thighs. Slowly, he spread your legs apart, eyes falling from your face to your core.
”Fuck”, he murmured to himself, taking in the sight before him. “You’re so fucking wet”, he growled, a hunger evident in his voice. He needed this.
His gaze flickered back up to meet yours, a primal intensity burning in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head, his lips trailing a scorching path along your inner thighs.
Bucky's movements were deliberate and calculated, his tongue teasingly tracing circles along your skin. You squirmed beneath his touch, your breath hitching as he sucked a love bite into the plump skin of your thigh.
As he finally reached your core, he paused, his gaze locking with yours once more. There was a silent question in his eyes, a silent request for permission. You nodded silently.
With a devilish grin, Bucky lowered his head, licking a stripe through your folds. Your body tensed, breath getting caught in your throat. It felt so foreign, but so natural. His hands gripped your thighs, dragging you closer to his face.
With a stifled moan, you breathed his name. It was blissful, the way his tongue swept over your clit. His fingers traveled from your thighs, to spread your folds, allowing him to lick impossibly deeper.
“B-Bucky”, you stammered, a poor attempt at a warning as he teased you, bringing you to the edge, only to pull you back.
He hummed innocently in response, the vibrations going straight to your clit. You found yourself lifting your hips in an attempt to get him closer, grinding against his tongue.
You knew you were becoming delirious, losing yourself in his touch. Unable to control how your body writhed, and stringing his name between moans and whines. The knot in your stomach tightening.
He ignored your jumbled pleas, mercilessly lapping at your clit. Slowly, he sank his finger into your entrance, controlled and gentle, hardening at the way your walls clenched him.
“Bucky, please”, you whisper breathlessly. You tried to resist the urge to ride his fingers. He revealed in your submission, his gaze darkening with desire. He loved you like this, at his mercy.
”You’re making such a mess, honey”, the sound of your wetness filling the room.
Suddenly, he sucked on your clit and curved his fingers, just at the right pace. The knot released. Your legs shook around his head as your mouth fell open in ecstasy. Fuck. You forgot your own name. You’d never came so hard in your life. You were gasping for air.
He wouldn’t release you, prolonging your climax. He couldn’t get enough of the way you trembled beneath his touch.
As you came down from your high, chest heaving and skin flushed, Bucky crawled up your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin.
“Still planning on that disappearing act, huh?”, Bucky said, a smug grin playing on his lips.
In a dazed haze, you managed to lazily roll your eyes. “Gonna need more than just one orgasm to make me forget about that, Buck”.
Bucky’s grin widened at your response, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “Oh sweetheart”, he purred, leaning in closer, “I can make you forget your own name”.
You arched an eyebrow, with a smirk devious enough to match his. “Careful, you might end up forgetting yours too”, you retorted, your tone teasing.
Bucky’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, his breath grazing your ear. “It’ll be hard to forget my name with the way you were moaning it”.
Bucky’s grin faltered as a sharp knock on the bedroom door shattered the tranquil atmosphere.
Quickly, you pulled the sheets up to cover yourself as Bucky padded across the room with a resigned sigh. He swung the door open, revealing the man who you had seen briefly at the wedding, Steve.
The man stepped into the room, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to Bucky. You felt exposed under his stare.
”You’re needed downstairs. Now.” Steve's voice was urgent, his eyes darting between you and Bucky with unease.
Bucky’s brow furrowed, muscles tensing with apprehension. “Has Hydra attacked?”, he questioned, his voice edged with concern.
“Bring her downstairs too”, Steve added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Bucky looked at you over his shoulder. He hated the way you were gripping the bedsheets in fear. Both men fixed their eyes on you, their expressions unreadable. Silently, Bucky nodded to Steve, unease settling like a fog over the room.
“Give us a minute”, Bucky said to Steve, closing the door quietly.
There was a sense of foreboding in your chest as Bucky turned to you, his demeanor suddenly serious. You felt a shiver down your spine. You had yet to see his mob boss side in full throttle.
“Get dressed, now”, he instructed, placing a folded pair of his grey tracksuit bottoms and a plain white tee in your hands.
”Bucky?”, you whispered, alarmed by his haste, “is everything okay?”
“Get dressed”.
Without another word, you obeyed his instructions, slipping into the clothes he provided. You found yourself breathing in the scent of his cologne to calm yourself down.
Once dressed, you met Bucky’s steely gaze. His usual charm was gone. A reminder of the dangerous world he lived in.
Bucky took your hand in his, his thumb drawing circles over your hand. His touch grounded you in the midst of the chaos. together, you made your way downstairs.
As you reached the downstairs of his mansion, the atmosphere shifted palpably. Bucky’s men were gathered in tense clusters, their expressions grim.
"Stay close to me," Bucky murmured, his voice low and reassuring, as he led you through the gathering of his men.
You nodded silently, clinging to his hand tightly as you navigated through the tense atmosphere. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping up your spine.
As you approached the center of the room, Bucky's third-in-command, Sam, stepped forward, his expression grave.
“Hydra has placed a hit on your wife.”
—————————————————————————
Part 3 out soon!
Taglist!
@sashaisready @matchat3a @writingpastmybedtime @thealyrs @melsunshine @lex-the-flex @himawariizephyr @jbbarnesgirl @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sagebarness @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @selella @armystay89 @globetrotter28 @iwritewithpenandpaper @casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @buckydarling09 @kandis-mom @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90
292 notes · View notes
zentraex · 1 day
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Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.
Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.
Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader
(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.
Art by @asteriscks on TikTok
This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.
Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.
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It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 
You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 
Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 
_
It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 
Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?
Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.
"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.
"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 
What?
"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."
"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"
"No..."
You already knew what that meant: double payment.
"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."
You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.
 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."
Your eyes widened. 
Now?
"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"
"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."
Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 
"The keys?" 
With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.
What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  
You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.
Thank God, I didn't hit him. 
"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."
What!?
How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 
"You’re telling me this now!?"
"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 
That filthy bastard.
No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  
What were you going to do now? 
Shit.
"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.
Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.
Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.
"But maybe we can agree on something.
Then you stopped. 
"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."
Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 
"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"
"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”
_
Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 
Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.
But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.
_
"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."
After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.
I'm going to die today!
After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.
“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."
Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 
Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01
Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04
Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02
Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 
Mia Stone F03 – 01
Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04
Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 
"I wish you good luck."
C’mon Reader, be like Henry…
But better.
The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.
"Good evening."
Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 
With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?
Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 
Long hair
Small round nose
She has freckles
...
...
...
Freckles?
Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 
You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.
No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 
"You look different...", you murmur after a while.
"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."
Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 
Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 
You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 
Shit. 
She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.
Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 
"3312," you murmur to yourself.
"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."
Cleaning protocol? 
What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 
What if they will?
What if your judgment was wrong?
What if...
Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.
"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."
It took a while until someone finally came again. 
This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 
Milkman...
You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 
You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 
"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."
"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."
Long nose
Thin chin
Tired eyes
Short hair
Wears a hat
It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 
Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."
"Yes, today is my first day."
"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."
Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.
"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."
Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.
"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."
You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.
What milk do you mean exactly?
My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?
"I'd be delighted, Francis."
You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 
"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"
And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 
You pressed the green button.
_
"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 
It was your third day, your third time to change shift.
Well, it usually would have been.
Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.
He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.
You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  
"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"
He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 
"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"
The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.
Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....
Oh?
He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 
Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 
Were you so shameful?
"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."
You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 
His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”
If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?
Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.
_
"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 
Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.
"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."
Well, he had a point, huh?
No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 
You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.
"Have you killed more people?"
"Just more doppelgangers you let through."
Your eyes widened. 
You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.
"How many have I let through?"
Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.
"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"
You just nod, smiling.
"Are you going to kill others...?
You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 
"Would you kill for me?"
"Hooooonn"
When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 
You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.
_
Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 
But honestly? 
You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.
When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 
344 notes · View notes
valeskafics · 22 hours
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"Masks We Wear" - Ghostface!Coriolanus Snow x Reader
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a/n: an anon was super sweet about my ghostface au's and requested one for coryo - hope you enjoy this, nonnie! 🩷
Summary: Coryo finally drops the mask he wears around you and shows you what he really is.
Word Count: 3,020
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: DUBCON, murder, stalking, kidnapping, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, knife kink, blood kink, bondage, pain play, overstim, oral f receiving, tiddy succin, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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The saying goes that behind every man there is a strong woman. Coriolanus Snow knows exactly who that woman is meant to be for him. He once thought that it was going to be Lucy Gray, the sweet little ingénue from District 12 who nearly broke his heart, who nearly destroyed him. But no. Coryo realizes now that she was a placeholder for someone far, far more important: you, his childhood best friend. While the other students at the Academy often mocked him for his family’s fall from grace, you never once did. You were the sweetest little thing, always offering some of your lunch to him because “the cook made too much” or you “weren’t that hungry”. He knew what you were doing. He always knew. But, he knew you were doing it for his benefit, and so he accepted your kindness.
Coryo always thought you were too pure to be tainted by his darkness. That he ought to stay away from you for your own good. That the thoughts that infested his mind about all the things he wanted to do to you needed to remain a fantasy and nothing more. He thought he could enact those with Lucy Gray. That he could close his eyes and imagine it was you lying beneath him. He learned his lesson. There’s only one you. And you’re the one he needs by his side, supporting him as he works his way to the top of the food chain.
You’re the first person he sees after returning from 12. He comes to your home, at nearly three in the morning. You answer the door with a knife in your hand, poking your head out nervously. The knife gives him ideas he’s not sure your sweet, innocent mind would be able to comprehend. You let it clatter to the floor, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into your embrace.
“Oh, Coryo… I thought…”
He moves closer to you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “What did you think?”
“Nevermind,” you shake your head, “I’m just so glad you’re back. I’m so glad.”
Coryo smiles against your neck, a darkness behind his gaze, a possessiveness that you don’t quite pick up on. And you’re the same as you ever were. Blindly trusting him, his fingers running through your hair, his other hand resting on your lower back.
“Did you miss me?”
“Of course I did,” you beam up at him, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, Coryo. I even tried getting a train to 12, but they detained me!”
His expression grows stern, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice as he reprimands you, “Why would you ever think that’s a good idea, sweetheart? Traveling across districts to see me? You know how dangerous it is out there?”
“I would’ve been fine,” you protest, waving off his concern.
“You wouldn’t have,” Coryo says firmly, moving to cup your face in his hands, “I don’t want you doing anything like that again, alright? You could’ve gotten into real danger. And I wouldn’t have been able to protect you. You understand?”
“Yes, Coryo,” you pause before speaking softly, a sympathetic tone to your voice which he finds ironic in light of your words, “I’m so sorry about Sej. I know you two were like brothers.”
He can’t believe you actually think he cared about Sejanus. Truth be told, he doesn’t care about anyone except himself, you, and maybe his grandmam. He feigns a wistful smile, nodding, allowing you to embrace and comfort him, the feel of your warm, soft body against his enough to make him carry on the charade a bit longer as you promise that you’re here for him, that you’re never going to betray him or leave him. That’s when he notices it, his blood running cold at the sight of it.
The engagement ring on your ring finger.
Coryo pulls away from you, reeling at the realization.
“Coryo? What is it? Are you alright?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, not knowing what to say, his jealousy and anger nearly consuming him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. How can you be engaged? This is going to ruin everything. All his plans could go up in smoke.
“Who are you engaged to?” His voice is as cold as his gaze when he asks you.
“Oh�� Festus,” you tell him, a glumness to your voice that makes him feel somewhat appeased, “It’s an arranged thing. You know how marriages in our families are.”
It takes every ounce of self restraint he has to refrain from ripping that goddamn ring off your pretty little finger as he moves closer to you, “Arranged, huh?”
You nod, “Yeah. After Felix died then you and Sej were sent to 12… My parents got anxious to match me off.”
Coryo inhales sharply. Festus fucking Creed. He never thought he could hate someone more than he hated Billy Taupe, but here he is, his blood boiling at the mere thought of Festus’s fucking hands touching you.
“And you just went with it?”
“I wasn’t really given a choice, Coryo.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” you shake your head vehemently, “I mean, hopefully I can one day. Grow to love him, I mean. It would be nice to not be in an unhappy marriage, you know?”
Coryo remains quiet, his hands gripping your kitchen counter so tight his knuckles go white. Before you can say another word, he’s storming out of your door, ignoring your confusion as he slams it shut behind him.
He walks the cold, empty streets of the Capitol, only one thought on his mind. How to make you his. How to get rid of the obstacles that stand in the way of him having you. As he gets closer and closer to his family’s old home, he passes by the store where Tigris so often bought items for her designs. There, in the window, is a mask, made of what he assumes to be rubber, with black eyes, a black nose, and a black mouth in a grimace. A twisted smile spreads across his own face as he enters the store.
Oh yes, this disguise will do quite nicely for the task at hand.
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It doesn’t take much to memorize your schedule. After all, you’re so predictable. You leave to go to your University classes and you go straight back to your penthouse like the good girl you are. Sometimes, you stop by your parents’ mansion and have tea with them, sometimes you’ll go shopping with Livia. But for the most part? It’s the same basic schedule.
The worst days are the ones where you go with Festus to plan things for the wedding. Your discomfort is obvious whenever Festus leans in to kiss your cheek, wraps his arm around your waist. Coryo is doing you a favor by going through with this plan. It’s so obvious you don’t care about Festus the way you care about him. That Festus could never make you happy the way he could.
He makes his presence known to you after you go for your first dress fitting. A bouquet of white roses left at your front door, stained with blood, and an accompanying note saying how beautiful you look in white. Coryo watches with amusement as you panic and grab your videophone and call him. He ducks into the hallway and answers, feigning concern for you and offering to come right over, holding you in his arms as you cry against his chest, saying how scared you were, how grateful you are that he’s back. How Festus would’ve just made fun of you for being so terrified. And Coryo runs his fingers through your hair, shushing you, assuring you everything will be alright.
The next time, he pushes things even further. He leaves a letter, detailing all the vile things he wants to do to you, how he plans to get rid of Festus and then defile your pretty little body. Coryo is pretty sure he can hear the faintest hint of breathlessness in your voice. You like it. You like what he wrote. You liked him describing how he’s going to make you cry tears of pleasure, screaming his name as he fucks you, as he claims what belongs to him. God, you’re so fucking afraid. He loves it. And the ironic part? You keep running into his arms for comfort. It’s all going according to plan.
Coryo decides that it’s time for you and your secret admirer to meet face to face a few weeks before the wedding. You take a shortcut home on your way from the wedding planner’s office, into an alley that on any other occasion would be safe. But not today. He’s been following you from a distance, making you feel ill at ease. Why is there a man in a mask walking around in broad daylight? But, you chalk it up to the people of the Capitol having odd habits and try to ignore the way it feels like the masked man’s eyes are burning into your body.
When you turn into the alley, he makes his move, grabbing you by the arm and pinning you against the wall. You struggle against him, squirming frantically as you cry out, wanting to know who he is, begging him to let you go. And it excites him. Something about seeing you so vulnerable, tears threatening to spill from those pretty eyes? It’s intoxicating. It’s almost like he gets high off of your fear. He keeps the mask on, keeps his gaze on you. He pulls a knife from his pocket, holding it to your cheek, tracing the contours of your face. Your lower lip wobbles slightly as he runs the tip of the blade along it, smirking beneath his mask.
“Are you scared, sweetheart?”
You can’t quite place it, but that voice, no matter how much the speaker tries to disguise it, is familiar. You know this man. You look up at him, letting out a gasp as he drags the knife along your throat.
“Yes, I’m terrified. Please let me go…”
He shakes his head, a low, menacing chuckle falling from his lips as he leans in closer, grabbing your face with a leather gloved hand, “I think I should keep you here with me. After all, I don’t want you running back to that pathetic little fiance of yours.”
You let out a choked gasp as his hand moves down toward your chest, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your dress, “I promise, my family has money, I don’t have anything in my purse-”
Coryo lets out another dark laugh, grabbing you by the hair, pulling harshly to make you lean your face up to look at him, to look at his mask, “I’m not here for money, sweetheart. I’m here for you.”
He brings a cloth to your mouth and before you know it?
Your vision goes black.
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You wake up in an unfamiliar room, white rose petals scattered on the bed and floor around you. When you try to move, you realize your hands are tied to the bedpost, making you panic and tug at it, the headboard knocking against the wall. This seems to alert your captor to you now being awake. He walks in, that same mask on his face, giving you an appreciative onceover. You glance down and see that he’s dressed you in the skimpiest black lingerie you’ve seen in your entire life, complete with a pair of fishnet stockings. You glower at your captor from your spot on the bed as he comes to stand at the foot of it.
“Good, you’re awake.”
“You’re not going to get away with this!” You say indignantly, still tugging at the rope binding you to the bed, “My family, my fiance-”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that last part anymore. He’s been dealt with.”
Your blood runs cold at his words. You watch with horror as he opens the closet door and Festus’s body comes tumbling forward, his throat slit, his face twisted in an expression of pure terror. You scramble backward against the bed.
“Please…”
“Please?” He mocks, pulling his knife from his pocket, tracing your cleavage, down to your stomach, pressing down just hard enough to allow a trickle of blood to spill from your skin, “You still have no idea, do you? This mask… I guess I’ve worn a mask around you my whole life, truth be told. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you. For how long.”
Your jaw drops as he removes the mask, revealing his identity.
“Coryo?”
He smirks, nodding, tossing the mask aside and crawling over you, holding the knife to your neck, “I’ve hid it for so long. How much I’ve wanted you. They say we become the masks we wear, but I never did. I bided my time. And even though I tried to spare you, to take Lucy Gray instead of you, it was always meant to be you.”
“Coryo,” you whimper as he grabs your legs, bringing your ankles to rest against his shoulders, tracing the hilt of his knife against your cunt, smirking at the way you shiver, “This isn’t you…”
“Oh, sweetheart, it very much so is me,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your ankle, staring down at you, “And you’ll learn to love this side of me too.”
You’re helpless to do anything but watch as he kisses along your calf, your thigh, before mouthing at your pussy over the flimsy panties he’s put you in. You clench your fists, gritting your teeth, doing your best not to let any noises escape your lips. And so Coryo? He smirks up at you and renews his efforts, his blade set aside for the moment as he pushes your panties aside and spreads you open, his tongue delving deep inside you. Your head falls back against your pillow, an involuntary moan falling from your lips as he laps at your pussy eagerly, moaning against you, his hips rutting against the mattress. Fuck, he thinks he could cum just from your taste alone as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent, savoring your taste. He fucks you with his tongue over and over and over, letting out the most obscene slurping and sucking noises. And when you spill yourself on his tongue with a cry of his name, he just fucking continues. Your hips squirm away, seeking some reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure, but he chases you with his mouth moving his face from side to side, alternating between broad strokes against your cunt with his tongue and suckling at your swollen clit.
“Coryo…” You gasp as he wrenches another orgasm from you, making no movement to stop, your fishnet clad thighs shaking, ankles dangling over his shoulders as he continues, “Oh God…”
You wish you could grasp at the sheets for some form of purchase, but all you can do is writhe against him, even more violently when he uses the hilt of his knife to fuck you.
“Got to get you ready for my cock, sweetheart,” he coos, his tone equal parts affectionate and mocking, “Such a tight little pussy. I might just tear you apart.”
And you hate that you enjoy it. You hate that every time that blade brushes against your thigh, you grow wetter. That every time Coryo stares at you with those icy blue eyes, nearly blown black with lust, your stomach clenches. You’ve wanted him just as long as he’s wanted you, truth be told. So why not allow yourself to enjoy this?
He undoes his pants, his long, pale, veiny cock dripping pre cum from the tip as he slaps it against your clit repeatedly. You let out a whine of his name as he buries himself inside you. And he’s right. It does almost feel like he’s tearing you apart. Coryo smirks at the outline of his bulge against your stomach, his tongue tracing the cuts he left along your chest as he holds the blade to your throat and begins rutting against you. He tugs harshly at the bra, tossing it across the room, dragging his tongue along one of your nipples, his free hand pressing down on the bulge in your stomach, making you squeal and squirm against him. You’re so helpless and docile in his grasp, like a little kitten. And he can see it in your eyes as you gaze up at him. You want this as badly as he does. He drags the tip of his tongue along your pert nub before mouthing at the other, and finally?
Coryo presses his lips to yours in a ferocious, hungry kiss. One that you reciprocate as best as you are able to with your hands tied. Every thrust of his hips, every movement of his lips, his tongue massaging yours, his hand on your stomach, his knife at your neck. Every sensation is so mind-numbingly perfect that you practically leave your body when you reach your peak, Coryo fucking you through it. He’s determined to get one more out of you, moving his hand that rests on your stomach to pinch and slap at your pearl, his thrusts stuttering as he gets closer and closer.
“Going to fill you up with my cum, sweetheart,” he rasps against your ear, “Going to marry you. Not Festus. Me. Going to see you all pretty and round, carrying my baby. Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart, gonna make me cum, aren’t you?”
You nod wordlessly, lips parted as he spills himself into you, your own peak washing over you soon after. Coryo collapses against you, untying your hands and smirking as you cuddle up against him, his cum still dripping from between your thighs.
“I love you,” Coryo whispers, one of his hands cupping your breast, the other resting against your cheek, “I’m never letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
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cheriladycl01 · 2 days
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Baby It's Cold Outside - Carlos Sainz x BulgarianOlympicSkiing! Reader
Plot: You take your new husband skiing with your friends Alexandra and Charles.
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"How do you do this as normal training baby! I can barley do it two winter breaks in a row!" Carlos shivers looking around as you strap your gloves on.
"Come on! I want to get to the big slopes early so I can practice! Then we can have fun with Charles and Alex!" you smile at your husband as you pull your snow boots on that were at the edge of the cabin.
"But Alex and Charles get a lay-in why don't i?" he complains pouting at you and giving you the puppy eyes.
"Because you decided to marry me, and that doesn't lead to lay-in's on a Ski holiday!" you giggle.
"Okay, but over the summer you are coming with me to Mallorca and we are having lots of cuddles and lay-in's and walks along the beach and lots of morning sex!" he grins cheekily making you slap his chest.
"Okay, well lets go Skapi!" you smile taking his hand.
You guys headed first to the large slopes where you could go down and practice for the Olympics that were to be held in Milan in 2026. You practiced for around an hour, going at high speed and cleaning up your turns and corners.
Then Carlos decided it was time to head back to the log cabin you guys were sharing with Alex and Charles and ask them if they wanted to join you for lunch. You took a leisurely ski through the wooded ski area that was just a general skiing area rather than the specific slopes used.
He reached out for you, holding your hand as you both used one pole to change your directions as needed.
"It's a really nice day today!" you say after pulling down the bandana you had wrapped around your mouth currently. Usually you'd wear a full balaclava but where you were skiing with friends you wanted to be able to talk to them without shouting.
"Yes, the sun is bright!" he says looking around the white snow that if you both took the skii masks off you'd for sure be blinded by the dazzling white expanse.
"Mmm, so how do you feel about the rest of the year?" you carefully ask your husband. You had tiptoed around the subject of him having to leave Ferrari. He understood why they'd jump at the opportunity to take on a 7x World Championship when this year they had a car that was consistent and contending with the Red Bull, that didn't mean it didn't hurt though. You'd only found out a few days ago from Charles himself.
He'd found a true friendship in Charles and Alex, just like he had done with Lando. It didn't mean he would no longer see Charles but they were arguably one of the best pairing on the grid when it came to team-work and wins.
"Well, Audi have said they'd like to take me on in 2026, but that would mean a year out. Red Bull have also spoke to me about removing Checo, but I want a championship and with Max as Red Bull golden boy I don't think it would be feasible. Then obviously there's Mercedes but their car was so bad this year, so it really depends!"
"Well, whatever happens you know you'll have me right?" you say, slowly coming to a halt and pull him into a hug.
"I don't know what the best decision is, but I'm just going to try perform my best this season with Ferrari!" he offers and you nod, pulling him in.
"If you do go with Audi and have an off season in 2025 that means we'll have the whole year together!" he smiles at what you just said.
"Mmmm maybe we can travel without the stress of me racing each time!" he grins pulling you in and kissing you, your masks clashing together making you both laugh.
You walk back in to the cabin to find Alex and Charles cuddles up on the sofa under a fluffy blanket.
"Hey guys, want to go get some lunch?" you ask looking around.
"How on earth do you survive with it this cold!" Alex shivers looking at the snow that falls off yours and Carlos' boots as you slip them off.
"You are all from warmer regions. Mediterranean people" you sigh with a small laugh.
"Sorry we aren't Slavic or Balkan like you and can hold up in your insanely cold winters, I'm guessing that's how you got into skiing?" Charles chuckles.
"Yeah, my dad would take me up the mountains each winter and go skiing! It's how I got into it competitively!" you smile, remembering all the memories from when you were younger.
"It's amazing what you've achieved not only for yourself but your country!" Alex smiles.
"Thank you guys! Going for Gold in 2026 though! You guys will come support me right?" you ask, already planning to give them VIP seats where they could watch from.
"Of course!" they all reply while Carlos comes behind you and picks you up throwing you over his shoulder and launching you onto the part of the sofa next to Charles.
"Carlos be careful" you laugh at him, holding one hand on your chest and another around his neck.
"Just an hour of chilling? Then we'll do lunch and more skiing?" he asks using those big brown eyes off his.
"Alright fine" you smile, pulling him in for a hug as you tune into the show Alex and Charles had on.
You could 100% get used to this life.
y/user
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Like by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux
y/user: Holiday with Ferrari Family! Forza Ferrari <3 also Charles stole my phone :<
Tagged 3 People
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scuderiaferrari: We love our Core 4! Happy Holidays!
carlossainz55: mi amor you showed us all up, don't recommend a Ski Holiday with a Silver Medalists!
-> fan1: I was at the slopes and saw her helping Alexandra, was the cutest
-> fan2: not mans complaining about his literal wife's achievements!
formulasantander: Alex and Y/N repping the red! We love to see it!
charles_leclerc: I look good no?
-> y/user: no lol, jk don't cancel me
alexandrasaintmleux: love you my best friend! <3 thank you for the ski lessons.
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Instagram Story Caption:
Gang waiting on Carlos be like...
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