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#I want to sleep with you more than I care to admit
moonstruckme · 1 day
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hi!!! i love all ur marauders works they’re seriously so cute and i love how you write them!! idk if you’ve done this one already and if you have just ignore this lol but could you do remus having a nightmare and reader comforting him? ik you’ve done the reverse but i wanna know what he’s like lmao. i need to see more confer remus i can’t get enough
Thank you lovely <3
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
It’s already graying outside the window when you wake. Remus has been having some agitated nights lately, and the dim lighting of the bedroom lets you see that this has been another one. 
You’ve probably woken from the cold, all your sheets and blankets kicked mercilessly to the end of the bed. Remus’ face is twisted up tight, his hands twitching like they’re trying to grab for something, and he’s making soft, distressed little sounds that threaten to crack your heart clean in two. You hate to think how long he’s been like this without you waking. 
“Rem,” you start soft, reaching for his hand as you’ve learned to do. Touch his shoulder or any other part of him and he’s likely to wake jolting, your offending hand gripped cruelly by the wrist. Once, before you’d learned your lesson, he’d kicked himself fully out of bed from the start you gave him. You’d sat in the living room with a hot pack on his tailbone, murmuring apologies back and forth until the sun came up. 
You needle your fingers underneath his gently. “Remus, honey, you’re okay. You’re home.” His fingers twitch closer around yours, and you’re careful not to grab him back even though you want to, running the pads of your fingers down the length of his to loosen them. “You’re safe. You’re at home.” His eyes start to move faster behind his lids. “Rem.” 
That last whisper does it. He doesn’t startle, which is always a victory, but Remus still inhales sharply as he wakes. His muscles seize as though they mean to propel him somewhere, then relax shudderingly. 
You entwine your fingers with his, stay quiet. You know he knows you’re here but he won’t look at you just yet, hiding away the most frantic parts of himself before he’ll let himself turn towards you. You don’t love that he does it. You know better than to push him, though. It unnerves him worse when you try to jimmy your way into his thoughts while he’s still raw like this. 
“Sorry,” he says on an exhale. 
“Don’t be.” You start to stroke up his wrist, but Remus pulls his hand from yours, slipping out of bed and walking from the room. 
You tail him. This is part of your routine, too. You think he likes to give you the option of going back to sleep, though you can’t imagine he’d actually feel any better if you did. He’s fooling himself. (It’s okay; you’re a fool for him sometimes, too.) 
Remus isn’t surprised when you wrap your arms around his middle in the kitchen, resting your cheek against his back. He’s already got the kettle going. 
“How are you?” you ask, though you think you have some idea. He’s still trembling gently under your hands. 
“Alright.” He sets one hand over your two clasped around his front. “You should go back to sleep.” 
You almost smile at his predictability. Remus isn’t usually so stiff around you, but even he has admitted he reverts back to a younger, terser self when he’s feeling vulnerable. You could tell him that you’d have been waking up soon anyway, or that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew you’d left him like this, but you go with the truth that you know you’d want to hear. 
“I want to be with you,” you say simply. 
Remus turns in your arms, resting his lips on top of your head. “Thanks, dove.” 
You hum like For what? and step around him as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing his favorite mug from the cabinet above. Remus lets you take care of him this little bit, but he doesn’t go to sit down in the living room until you’re headed that way too. 
You curl up against him on the couch, your knees tipped over his thighs while his legs bridge the gap between the sofa and the coffee table. He blows the steam off his mug. 
“Do you remember what the dream was about?” 
“Bits and pieces.” Remus’ voice is still a bit raspy with sleep, and you know exactly what he’s thinking when his lips twitch: you’ve told him more than a few times how attractive you find it like this. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about.” 
“Okay,” you say. You’re both speaking softly, like the house itself is still slumbering as morning creeps up on the outside world. After Remus’ nightmare, you imagine he appreciates the peace anyway.
He sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been waking you so much lately.” 
“Sorry you’ve been sleeping so horribly lately,” you counter. 
Remus smiles ruefully. “I think it’s all this stuff going on at work. Rude of it to fuck with me even when I’m sleeping, though.” 
You hum, tracing a scar near his elbow with your finger. “I didn’t realize you were so stressed. I’m sorry.” 
“I’ve hardly realized it myself,” he admits. 
You frown, and Remus looks back into his mug, shying from your scrutiny. “Do you think it might help if we relaxed a bit more here?” you ask him. “We could start reading that book together again.” 
His eyes are soft when they meet yours, the color of honey and just as sweet. “That sounds really nice,” he says. 
You smile. It feels good to have a plan. “Hug?” you ask him. 
Remus sets down his tea to make room for you, and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands spread out on your back, tentative at first and then firmer as you snuggle up to him. 
“I’ll make cheese toasties and soup tonight,” you say softly. Remus sounds almost like he could purr as you start playing with the hair at his nape. He gives your hips a little tug, getting you closer. “And we can read or watch something or do a puzzle, whatever you feel like when you get home. We could talk about the work stuff, if you wanted to.” You say this last part hesitantly, but Remus hums his approval. 
“You’re so good to me, do you know that?” 
You grin. “I do my best.” 
He huffs a laugh, the sound gruff and heart-squeezing. You lapse into a thin silence, each listening to the other breathe but feeling the beginning of the new day pressing at your windows. 
“We have some time before we’d normally start to get ready,” you try. “Want to stay like this for a bit?” 
“Yeah,” Remus sighs, settling his arms around you more securely. “Yeah, good idea.”
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anadiasmount · 8 hours
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we’re pretending? - jude bellingham x reader.
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quick sum: no date to an upcoming wedding, you use your best friend as last resort. what happens when your best friend isn’t playing pretend anymore and you’re left conflicted with these unusual feelings…
wc: 4.6 k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist
psa 🗣️: i used my og ‘glory box’ fic to get some inspo while writing this fic ngl!! 😣 this was so fun to write not only by the trope but the DRAMAAAA!! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍
“yes mom, i know. i picked my dress up yesterday, and my flight is booked as well,” you sighed and rolled your eyes knowing she wouldn’t be able to see you through the phone. she knew how important this wedding was but she kept putting the pressure on you. it was the last thing you needed especially after you told her you’d bring someone along.
that someone was now you’re ex-boyfriend. you had less than 48 hours to come up with an excuse or show up alone.
"are you still bringing your plus one?" she asked, the line going silent for a few seconds before she spoke up again. "y/n? are you there?" you should've just lied or said the truth, all you could think of was how happy and super excited she was when you told her you'd met someone and began dating.
"yes mom... we both will be there," you closed your eyes, disappointment in yourself filling the void in your head. you could hear her squeal in the background, telling a voice there with her about the good news. you chewed on your lip anxiously, wanting to cut the call or else you'd break down.
"listen mom, i have t-to go okay? ill call you tomorrow. try not to stress so much," you smiled weakly hearing an "i love you", ending the call after gifting your goodbye. there was no avoiding the mistake you had committed. you wanted to slap some common sense into yourself, because where the hell were you about to find someone?
you clearly remembered the day telling your mom you'd met someone at uni. she was over the moon and wanted to tell everyone but you dismissed the idea, not wanting to rush since you had recently met. you would call her and tell her about him, and she listened so attentively, just like in the movies.
you couldn't bring yourself to tell her when you and max had broken up. your whole life has always been surrounded by being told you needed to be more like your older sister, the pressure of being a golden child laid on you. for once you had something, but that had to get ruined as well.
the scolding, the perfect grades, friends, hell even family. you had to be so careful and live up to their expectations. you loved them, you did, but at times you just felt like moving away was the best idea. and you did just that, the first to move out to a new country, breaking records at uni, and even finding a suitable job.
your boss loved you, and coworkers admired you for the passion and dedication you carried. so why did it have to go all wrong with max? you had an image of him in your head that he was madly in love with you, though you'd later be proven wrong when you found out he was sleeping with his boss. finding them in the act on your 6th month anniversary.
you still can recall the feeling of being unable to breathe, their screams and his pleading going quiet as you could just stare into the room, not once being able to see his eyes. disgust, and rage, but mostly sadness, a heavy heart, and the lump in your throat. he hurt you terribly and you would forever resent that.
after the call, you sat quietly on the couch, hands in your hair as you thought about everything. looking around seeing your bags packed, the blue dress hanging by your room, pictures everywhere. you hated to admit but you were living in a hell, life messy and a disaster. your buzz ringed, seeing through the tiny camera your best friend jude in the frame.
you allowed him in, walking over to the large mirror and wiping away the dry tears, making yourself look more presentable. you looked worn out, eyes droopy and low, lips slightly chapped, and to make matters worse a zit on your chin. you exhaled a breath, keys jiggling as jude came in.
he set his training bag down, took his shoes off, and walked to you, giving you a small hug. "you look terrible," you gave him a warning look, "but lucky you, i brought us food," he spoke cheerfully, the mood inside you going from gloomy to content. "it's raining like crazy, i almost fell coming up. also i brought some packages and your mail," jude continued.
"thank you, i haven't had the time to go down and pick them up! i've been so busy packing and planning last-minute stuff," you groaned, going to the kitchen and washing your hands. "watch, in the next few minutes i'm going to get a call," you theorized. jude pulled out the food and served it into your plates as you grabbed a water for him and a soda for yourself.
"how was training?"
jude shrugged unimpressed, "same old. didn't really have to go in, but they needed me for a small campaign shoot, so i had no choice. also cama and tchou send their hello's."
you and jude spoke amongst yourself. just about each other's days and catching up from the last time you guys were together. you teased him about losing a bet with his little brother, jude whining about how he cheated. new music that came out, and a pop up store that opened lower in downtown.
"so what's got your head in a twist?" jude sipped on his last few ounces of water, leaning his head on his propped-up arm and hand. you awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, pick up the dirty dishes, and walk to the sink. "okay don't make fun of me-"
"you're basically asking me too... also no promises since you just made fun of me for losing against jobe," jude chuckled.
"jude."
"oh it's serious then... what did you do?" he saw the serious look on your face, a small worry constructing in his chest because he rarely saw you like this. you close your eyes, feeling the anxiety build in you once again, "i told my mom i was still bringing max..."
jude scoffed in denial, or trying to cope with the confusion, "y/n, you what?"
"i know! i know! i should've just confessed and coughed up the truth but i- i couldn't! she was so excited jude! i feel terrible for lying believe me i do, but after telling her about him and filling her with hope to break her heart, i just c-c-couldn't," you ramble, dishes clattering as you freaked out.
in your head it didn't seem as bad, but fully saying it out loud to jude, seemed even worse. jude grimaced, knowing you had messed up bad especially since the wedding was right around the corner. "i'm just embarrassed... i know they will start something and just talk down on me if i showed up alone."
jude knew how heavy-handed your family could be, often wanting to resent them because he cared for you so much. he saw how physically and mentally they could rain you even with the smallest sentence. they seemed so worried with their lives instead of the ones they should most value and care for.
jude gave you a concerned face, "what?" chuckling nervously when you gasped out, almost being able to see the lit-up light bulb on top of your head. "jude, I'm a genius!"
"well i beg to differ-"
"shut up," you pat your finger against your chin, a mischievous smile on your lip taunting jude's concern even more. "i don't know why i didn't think of this sooner! why don't you pretend to be my boyfriend? just for the wedding that's it!"
jude shook his head, hands coming up to back out of the idea. it was one thing you lying, but now asking you to play pretend was something totally different. "that's not a good idea y/n..." jude clenched his teeth forcing a smile. "oh cmon why not?"
"well, first of all, that's an even bigger lie to your mom. second, pretending would seem impossible. third, i don't want the first time meeting your parents to be a lie because of what happened," jude defended and stated his case.
"it's a huge favor but you'd save my life jude! one weekend and that's it! you have plenty of suits, you're also off this weekend, and they would never suspect a thing! please jude! i wouldn't be asking if i wasn't so desperate," you begged, seeing the hesitation in his eyes.
"it seems like a bad idea... you don't know what you're asking for y/n... were pretending to be a couple when were not! we have to make it believable even under the pressure of the wedding. a theatrical play, a stunt!" jude exclaimed standing up from his chair.
"jude please, please, please! it might feel weird but it's for the night only! after that, we go back to the good old y/n and jude," you followed him as he paced in your living room thinking of his answer. would it be back to normal even if he continued to feel the same for you? the unknown loving feeling he had for you?
the pretending would be hard when all he could hardly think of was you. how he felt recently and how nervous he got around you. he would do anything for you in a heartbeat, but this would break jude further than now. he couldn't fake pretend holding your hand, or kissing your cheek when he meant and wanted to do that with you currently.
as bad as the idea was, here he was hugging you as you cheerfully yelped when he agreed. time moved slowly for him, the sensation of regret and curiosity as what was yet to come from both of you. all he cared for was to make sure you were happy, and if faking being your boyfriend would help you, he was willing to do it, no matter the consequences.
as jude was fixing his hair, you finished setting your makeup with some powder and setting spray. nerves bubbling in you after the first test you encountered last night after your arrival. you let out a laugh at the tiny bed you had to share with jude. seeing his uneasy face even after he offered to sleep on the couch.
"we're running on schedule," you spoke, finishing clasping your jewelry around your hands and rings. jude came behind you, his shirt unbuttoned and abs in full view, as he finished zipping his pants. best friend or not, there was no denying how incredibly sexy jude was. the name should speak for itself, but with the looks and personality he had, it was too good to be true.
"need some help?" he asked seeing you nod slowly and looking down at your feet. he took the necklace, your skin on fire as his fingertips grazed your skin accidentally, almost jumping on the spot, goosebumps grazing your body. he clasped the necklace, grabbing the pendent and fixing it so it laid in the middle. "perfect," he cockliy smirked.
"thank you."
"are you almost ready?" he looked at you as he buttoned up his shirt, you almost stuttered but regained consciousness, "yes, just need to put my dress and shoes on," you turned back quickly furrowing your brows, wanting to slap yourself for allowing yourself to get carried away, or maybe at the uneasy desire in you when seeing jude.
you went to the bathroom, grabbing the lacy undergarments and the blue dress. the color was to die for, the perfect length even with your heels on, the opened back with the front just showing the perfect amount of cleavage, and the whole dress just accentuating your body even more.
you felt the need to throw some water in your face though you couldn't or else it would ruin your makeup. you settled with fanning yourself with your hand, the tense in your chest getting to you as it was becoming real now. you were just pretending with jude. nothing more right?
you looked in the huge light-up mirror, and suddenly the confidence you had dripped away as you thought of jude in the next room over. why did all of a sudden everything feel like it wasn't before? as in, things changed drastically since the night at your apartment? you've never felt this clumsy or as edgy around him.
when you woke up this morning, with jude on top of you laying peacefully, you couldn't help but feel overjoyed, as if it was a natural state and you've done it before. in your own world where the only thing that mattered was him and you. since then you were slightly freaked out, butterflies in your chest when he left or walk into the room.
jude double taked a look as you walked into the room again. the tiny room that felt like a joke to him after walking in hand to hand last night. his eyes roamed you, lips slightly separated as he admired your beauty, heart hammering in his chest. he watched as you grabbed your cheeks, immediately offering to help.
he leaned down, gently grabbing your foot and placing the white jeweled heel on you. your hands were clamped around the small bench cushions, jude looking up then and there to make sure they felt comfortable. once again, his touch felt like fire, playing with your head even more.
when he finished clasping the heel, he extended his hand helping you up. "you look absolutely gorgeous y/n... this dress was made for you," jude croaked, hearing you laugh shakily. "thank you jude. likewise," jude smiled at your reaction, "i mean as in you look super handsome with the suit, not a dress!" you explained.
"i think i got what you meant..." he joked, his eyes roaming uo and down again at you. "good. good. shall we head out?" you swallowed heavily, grabbing your purse, phone, and other stuff you needed for the night. you were in a rush, wanting to get some fresh air or you would explode in the room with jude inside. "lead the way y/n."
jude helped you in an out of the cab, his hand on your bare back as he guided you to the double doors leading into the reception. "how are you feeling? any nerves?" you spoke quietly to him, looking around as people were taking their seats or had their own conversations.
"some but not too many. like you said, it's just for today," he whispered along your ear, gently giving your shoulder a kiss as his hands went to your hips and walked you forward. your mom and aunt gasped, grabbing their dresses and walking towards you, almost sprinting. "here goes nothing," you say.
"oh my god! so you are real!" your mom yelped, making you give her a glare and eyes pleading not to make a scene. "i was starting to think my sweet y/n was lying to me about this boyfriend she had," you almost choked on your saliva, clearing your throat at her words. "i am y/n's mom, what is your name?"
"i'm jude. it's a pleasure to finally meet you ma'am," jude shook her hand and leaned down to kiss her cheeks in a greeting manner, the same with your aunt. jude's hand interlocked with yours, the happiness in your mother's eyes never leaving, almost tearing up at the sight of you with your "boyfriend."
"i can't believe it! it's a miracle, my daughter finally has her first boyfriend," she clapped her hands making you wretched at her choice of wording. you did everything to have her at least praise you once in life, and all it took was to have a boyfriend? you brushed away the glum feeling, jude kissing your hand, distracting you from the small burn in your eyes.
"oh my! look at them! they make such a beautiful pair," your aunt gleamed. "we do, don't we?" jude teased them, "took her a while to say yes to me, but i'm very fortunate to be here," jude resumed. "we're very pleased to have you here, anything you need don't hesitate to ask."
after saying hello to other family friends and cousins, you sat for the ceremony. jude wiped a small tear away after your old school friend finished her vows, slapping his shoulder when he made a small joke about your mascara running. "its not funny! the vows were so beautiful," you said.
"it's like we are watching me before you again," he said making you gasp. "jude what are talking about? you literally cried with me?" you recalled laughing, jude looking around scared if someone was hearing you. "please don't remind me... in my defense, i didn't see that ending at all."
after the ceremony, you and jude greeted other families, and most importantly congratulated the bride and groom. their faces ushered with happiness, overall content with how their day was turning out. you had to excuse yourself from jude at one point, your mom dragging you away for your help. jude was left behind with your dad.
"since she was little, she always hated getting thrown or dragged around," your father spoke, taking a sip of his whiskey. "seems like nothing had changed?" jude asked carefully with a playful smile. "oh not even close! it's my wife doing," he winked.
"jude right?"
"yes sir," jude nodded, presenting the dad talk coming up. "I'm gonna save the unnecessary talk and get straight to the point. it's so weird to see my baby girl all grown up, with the lusting and loving eyes she gives you. you love her very much and i can see that which is why i'm not worried about you hurting or losing her trust."
hell if jude didn't feel guilty before, he did now. he gripped the glass harder, nodding to your dad who looked upset. "she may have told you some stuff about us, but at the end of the day, she's my daughter and i love her the way she is... please just take good care of her for me... she been through enough as it is..."
"i only have good intentions and i promise you i won't ever break her heart," jude promised to your dad, but also himself. he would never be able to forgive himself if he ever did break your heart or make you lose the trust you had. max did it once and jude would never do it. even if it meant keeping away these long feelings for you.
when you returned you saw them laughing and chatting away, your heart full of emotions at them getting along. jude was so mature for his age, and it didn't come to a surprise when he got along with your dad so fast. his hand would naturally lay on your back or on your hip.
the next few hours were filled with more people dancing or chatting away. jude insisting you sat on his lap for a picture when the photographer passed, smiling wide, looking like a happy couple. it seemed so natural to you, being this close and intimate you were getting scared at how fast everything was being thrown at you.
"i had to see it for myself! y/n bagging a footballer? never saw that coming," your cousin approached you giving you a high as he dabbed up jude. "jude meet my cousin adrian, he's a huge fan of you, and just successfully signed with a small club," you introduced them to each other, with a huge grin on your face.
jude’s hand snuck around your waist, his thumb drawing shapes as his full attention was with your cousin who spoke about sports. you listened then and there, but your feet began to ache, switching your weight back and forth uncomfortably.
jude was quick to notice, leaving down to your level and asking if you were okay. “i’m fine i promise, these shoes are killing me that’s all,” you reassured with a smile, jude nodding before cutting the conversation after a few minutes. “i’m going to get her a chair and drinks for us,” you froze when he kissed your temple, “i’ll see you around later,” jude said his goodbyes dragging you along slowly.
like before, your chest beat faster, if he stared, smiled, even touched or got near you, you’d get nervous immediately. the familiar string of falling for someone filling the empty space left behind inside you. he was super good at pretending and it didn’t feel like that anymore.
it felt real. was he just pretending? or was he actually taking this fake relationship seriously and real?
all you could do was stare at his face, mostly his gorgeous brown eyes as he helped you get seated and served you some water, making sure you were fully okay. he sat next to you, his hand interlocking with his, and placing it on his lap as he paid attention to his surroundings. you become quiet, so into your head and questioning his every move now.
“jude?” you spoke softly, a confused smile on your face as he immediately turned to you with a soften gaze. you inhaled a breath, unable to look away from him, his ínstese state causing you to feel intimidated. “is everything okay?” he asked, leaning slightly over to you, pushing a small string of hair back. “is it supposed to feel like this?”
“what is?” jude shook his head not understanding.
“us? why am i getting the idea we’re no longer pretending…”
jude tore his gaze from yours, the panic growing more intense when he wouldn't reply back. "jude please... don't push me away. are we just pretending or has something changed?" you persisted, your hand gliding against his back to get his attention. jude debated, afraid of losing you right here and now, or having the possibility to maybe hear you feel the same way.
"come with me," jude demanded, helping your and dragging you to the dance floor where no one could really see you besides the other happy couples. his hands circled your waist, as yours went to his shoulders, unable to look away from him. "tell me i'm not the only one who feels it..."
"tell me what you feel y/n... what your head is begging to scream out..."
"i can't, i don't know jude. i'm afraid yet so confused? since we got here yesterday things feel different between us. it happened again when we had breakfast, when you put my necklace on, my heels! all of this is giving me mixed signals jude... i haven't felt this in so long.." you confess, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he pulls you closer and kisses your head.
"like now. i can't if you just did that out of pretending or because it came naturally to you. i've never had to worry about what you think till recently... it feels strange... yet ican't help but get hope that it means real," you rest your forehead on his shoulder blinking away the tears that slowly begin to let out.
jude could see how this was affecting you, holding your lower body with one hand and the other smoothing down your spine, feeling how you immediately let loose and relaxed by his praise and touch. jude could also feel the heavy weight beginning to feel heavier if he kept his true hidden feelings away. it was a sign, and there was no going back.
jude's hand cradled your chin, forcing you to look up at his, his brown eyes gazing over your teary face. he was truly amazed and so in love with you it made his head feel cloudy, almost dizzy, at how perfect and pure you were. his tummy fluttering at his gorgeous girl who was confused at how she felt... but in this moment jude knew you were in deep as well.
"tell me something, when you see me, does it make your heart race, like i'm the only person standing there?" you nod, "does your head tell you one thing but your gut tells you another when you see me?" you nod again, this time blowing the air out of jude's lungs. "my head tells me i shouldn't, but my gut tells me i waited so long that maybe it's now to late for us..."
"why would it be too late y/n...?" you shrug your shoulders. "because i don't you feel the same way i'm feeling." jude smiled weakly, his thumb brushing along your jaw, hearing your hum in delight, "how can you know when you haven't asked me?"
your eyes search his for any sign but you don't find any, "what are you feel in this moment jude?"
"that i'm the luckiest man to be here with you tonight," he says proudly, "that i don't think we've wasted any time, rather i feel we're barely getting started on this new branch of our lives... i can't pretend when i'm with you... because pretending to hide how i feel has been so hard, when all i want is you. all of you y/n..."
"i had to see you go through that idiot max, how he hurt you? when you were hurt i was even more devastated because i couldn't protect you. i'd do anything to make you happy or laugh because it's what i want to do. i want to be the only one who gets to do that. i promised your dad but myself also, ask me what the promise is..." jude insisted.
"what's your promise jude?"
"that i'd never break your heart or give you a reason to doubt me. that from this day forward, i completely will give you my all to care and relish our love once and for all. i'm tired of waiting and holding back of what should've existed and started when i first met you."
"jude-"
"i want to give you my all, to be devoted and in love with you forever. you have no idea what you make me feel, think! i wake up longing for you, at work, at my own home. you're the only girl i want and need in my life y/n," jude confessed, the weight finally lifted of his shoulders, now being able to feel like a free man.
you closed your eyes, breathing out a happy chuckle in relief. you sniffled, "you've ruined me jude, completely ruined me with your words, your confession! look at me, i'm worse than when we finished watching the vow!" you joked, hand nestling on the nape of his next, stroking his soft skin.
"you love me jude?"
"more than what you think."
"i need you to know i'm giving you my all as well. I've always sensed how different what we had was, and come to find out, i was just scared and felt the need to push away because you didn't feel the same way. what i feel for you never happened with who shall not be named..." jude chuckles, closing his eyes and swallowing a heavy gulp like you.
"i'm so hopelessly in love with you jude bellingham... so in love, i want to grow old with you, make every promise we said out loud come true. i knew i loved you as soon as we laid eyes, and you stumbled over your words," jude squinted his eyes, shaking his head embarrassed. "kiss me jude."
jude kissed you exactly how he dreamed. your lips soft and sweet as he imagined, even better. cradling your chin to tilt and pulling the kiss deeper. it felt so right, so amazing, so passionate. he was lost, his tongue entering your parted lips when you let out a small gasp and whimper. there was no more pretending, this was more real than ever.
"could get lost in how you taste. how you feel. i love you so much angel."
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cameronspecial · 2 days
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I saw you were looking for some angst ideas lmao
So rafe and reader are together. Loves her more than life but his addiction gets in the way of that. One night they have a fuming argument and she doesn’t talk to him for a few days. He then makes a plan for them to talk about it somewhere private at nighttime, but when she shows up he’s not there. She waits for him for a while then she gets attacked by the rafes dealers because he owes them money and she was the next bet. Rafe finds her and he’s freaking out but she won’t let him near her and she blames him. You can choose how this ending goes or if you even want to write this but this has been on my mind
You Deserve Better
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Stabbing, Blood, and Death
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.1K
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The centre of Rafe’s life wasn’t always the white powder that tumbled around the little Ziploc bag that lined his pockets. His centre is supposed to snort or wheeze a little whenever she laughs, refusing to use her inhaler because she doesn’t want to embarrass him. It will stay up past her bedtime because she is in a flow with her work. His sun crosses her eyeballs whenever he presses a kiss on her nose because she knows it would make him chuckle. Y/N Y/L/N used to be his rock and now, all because of an accident, she isn’t anymore. That is something not a lot of people know. They assume his addiction started because he was a bored rich kid who had the money to spare. However, in reality, it began with a torn ACL. One wrong shift of his leg and his football career was over. At first, the oxycodone was only to manage the pain from the ACL surgery. He had the hope that he could recover the way he needed to get back on the field, but then the news came that he wasn’t progressing the way his doctor wanted… That was when the problem started, suddenly the drug he was taking to help ease his physical pain became the one to take away his mental pain too. The pain of not being able to play football. The pain of missing out. The pain of not knowing where his life was going.
Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was by his side the whole time, except a person can’t be everything to someone else and he needed a therapist. He just wasn’t ready to admit that. It was only when he stopped being prescribed oxycodone that he turned to cocaine to fill the mental hole the prescription used to be for.
———
Rafe’s blown pupils are hidden by his eyelids as he lies back on the couch. Y/N is still out with her friends, so he isn’t sleeping. Not when she is not at home. The front door opening and closing makes him jerk forward. His eyelids are just a sliver because the light from the ceiling is too bright for him. Her footsteps approach the living room and the large sigh she lets out makes her arrival known. “You didn’t do the dishes,” she states, her hand resting on her jut-out hip. “And the hole in the hallway is still there.” Yesterday, Rafe, in a high state, accidentally made a hole in the wall when trying to put up a picture frame for her. He promised her before she left for work this morning that he would get what he needed to fix it this morning and in the afternoon, he would fix it. However, before he could get himself to the store, he saw a post from one of his old football teammates, who went pro and he spiralled. 
He doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, yet it happens and this causes her to let out another huff. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the store,” he grumbles like he didn’t care. He really did though. He wanted to be able to do something that simple for the girl who meant everything to him, except his mind seemed to disagree with his heart. It is easier to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Her eyes narrow in on the residue of powder on their coffee table, “Let me guess, you got your nose caught up in some business. Rafe, you promised me you wouldn’t do that shit at home.” He can’t keep looking at the way tears start to appear because he knows how worried she gets when he does drugs, always scared he might overdose. He looks anywhere but at her. “Don’t get on my ass about this again Y/N. You don’t know what I am dealing with,” he argues.
“I don’t and that’s the problem. You need to talk to someone about how you are feeling because you are going to put yourself in an early grave if you keep doing what you are doing now.”
“Seriously, we are going to argue about this again because I didn’t do the dishes or fix a little hole in the wall.”
“No, we are going to argue about it because you aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore and I don’t think if I can do this anymore. I want to be by your side to help you get better but if you don’t want to, then I don’t know if I can be here forever.”
Her words hit his ears at the same intensity as they would if he were sitting next to an airplane engine. They had arguments about his sobriety so many times before, yet those fights always had the underlying understanding that she would be there to help him. She never once mentioned the possibility of her leaving him because she truly did want to help him find his sobriety. His mouth falls open to talk. No words come out. How can he possibly swear that he wants to get better when he isn’t at the self-realization point in his journey? She takes the silence as an admittance that getting clean isn’t on his mind. “I need some time apart. I’m going to sleep at Deliah’s place tonight,” she informs, turning to leave. He doesn’t stop her; he wants to give her the space she needs in hopes that she realizes she can hold on for a little bit longer. The only word he can respond with is “Okay”, right before she closes the door behind her. 
———
She hasn’t answered any of his texts and calls. Her night of taking some space turned into a week and it is driving him crazy. Her non-existence return may have to do with his unwillingness to agree to go to a therapist. After the thousandth attempt at calling her, she finally answers the call. “Normally, when a person doesn’t pick up the call, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” He lets out an internal sigh, “I know, I just need to talk to you. Please, can we meet at our spot, Sunshine?” She could never resist the usage of his nickname for her. “Okay, meet me there in an hour,” she agrees. The call drops right after her response and he gives himself a small smile. Not only does he get to see her again, he gets to try to get her back. 
———
By the time she realizes she is being followed, she is alone under the bleachers, where she and Rafe used to spend their time in high school. It was where they found themselves when they didn’t feel like going to class or they needed to get away from the chaos after his team won a game. It was the place she fell in love with him in because even before they were dating when they were just friends, it was their spot. She spins around at the sound of grass being pressed down by a set of feet, ready to scold him for being late. It isn’t Rafe as she expected; instead, an average-height man with a dangerous air that scares her. The gleam behind his eyes tells her the bald man is up to no good, which is confirmed when he pulls out the hunting knife from his hoodie pocket. She steps back in an attempt to get away from him, but her back hits against a metal beam. The man rushes toward her and presses the sharp edge against the soft skin of her neck. “Your boy owes me money and since he is taking too long to get it back to me, I thought I would hold onto something precious to him until I get what I want,” the man explains with a wicked grin. She refuses to show him fear and looks him dead in the eyes, “Rafe’s dealer is Barry so I have no idea what you are talking about.” “He stopped going to Barry because Barry started getting on his case about how much he is using,” the male growled, not enjoying the bite to her bark. She chuckles like a maniac, “When Rafe comes, he is going to beat your ass.” “Shut up, Bitch.” Angered by his words, her knees find their target between his legs. 
He lets out a howl and doubles over in pain. She uses this as her opportunity to attempt an escape, trying to run past him. Unfortunately, he reaches out to stop her and this results in the blade driving into her abdomen. A gasp passes her lips, causing the dealer to look in her direction. “Shit.” His eyes bloom open and immediately begins to pull it out. “No. Don’t pu-,” she warns, except it is too late. The weapon is already out and he is running toward the exit. She hunches forward and stumbles back against the beam, pressing her hand to her stomach to keep from bleeding out, feeling as though she has been punched. Calling 911 seems to be the logical answer; however, when she goes for her phone, she finds it broken on the floor. She thinks about going to her car and is stopped by the feeling of even more blood gushing out of the wound as she tries to push off the beam. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. 
“Sunshine,” rings through her ears. Her dizziness makes it difficult to focus on the speaker, yet she knows who it is based on the nickname. She slides down the beam because her legs lose all their strength. Rafe rushes to her side and kneels beside her. “Shit, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call the police. They are going to fix everything,” his voice breaks as his hand joins hers to stop the flow of his blood. She can hear him relaying the information to the dispatcher, but her body is telling her something Rafe isn’t going to be ready to hear. He places his phone on the floor so both of his hands can press on her abdomen. “They’re coming, Sunshine, just hold on. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.” Her handshakes as she raises to his cheek, staining it with her blood. Her tears water at the edge of her bottom eyelid, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” His head shakes vigorously. “Don’t say tha-.” She cuts him off, “Can you please just listen to me?” He nods to let her continue. “It was your dealer. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Just to make sure he gets arrested. But I need you to know that you are more than just your addiction and football. I know you don’t think so, but you are and if you just realize that, then you will see the man that I fell in love with.” “I don’t deserve that though. Look at all the shit I put you through. You deserve more than a druggie as a boyfriend,” he cries, holding her hand against his skin.
She smiles up at him, “You deserve more too. You deserve to be truly happy. You deserve to try to find a new purpose in life. I want that for you.” “How can I find all of that if you are gone?” he questions. Her breathing begins to become laboured, “You’ll find yourself and once you grieve, you’ll find someone who can help heal your broken heart. That’s how.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please, don’t go. Will you please stay if I promise to get sober?” 
“I will be with you every step of the way.”
The words tear his heart in two. He knows what it means. She truly doesn’t think she is coming out of this alive. “I want you to see me get better though. Please. Just hang on a little longer.” His tears cloud his vision. When he doesn’t hear a response, he wipes his eyes to get a closer look at her. The world goes dark at the sight of her glassy eyes only reflecting back his face with no recognition or life behind them. The rise and fall of her chest have stopped. The universe decides to answer his calls for help at a cruel moment as he hears the siren finally approach. There is no use in their hurry if the person who needs saving is the one to do it because Rafe isn’t going to let her last words die with her. He is going to get better, not only for her but for him too. He deserves more than a life of chasing his pain away with drugs and he is determined to achieve that.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura
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forthevillains · 2 days
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Albert Wesker headcanons
[these will be purely my opinion on what he does and how he is in and outside of relationship. Also let me know if I should write NSFW headcanons too!]
~ Albert is not a very open person so it’s difficult to get to him in the first place. It’s not like he lacks emotions, but as he can get easily attached, he prefers to only interact with people he must and that stays professional
~ though if you managed to get through that tough facade of his, you’ve earned yourself a loyal ally, a partner, a friend. People always make him seem bad, but gladly you didn’t care and wanted to find out for yourself, determined to find out as much as you could about this mysterious guy. And Wesker really appreciates it, even though someone being so interested in him that much feels odd
~ he is still distant at the beginning of the relationship, but it slowly develops into something warm and intimate. You have to give the poor man time, he hasn’t been in a proper relationship in ages if ever at all
~ the definition of you fell first, he fell harder
~ also he’s an active pet name user, so it’s very rare for him to call you by your actual name, though the more he falls for you, the more common it is for him to actually do that. Definitely adds ‘my’ before he says any pet name when he’s talking to you, just to make it known that you are special
~ he very much prefers women younger than him for a mere reason of spending as much time with you as possible. He doesn’t age like a normal person and he needs someone who would meet him at the very end so that you could leave this world together. He also wouldn’t want you to stay behind, however if you were actually his age, he would surely take care of you and make sure you still feel beautiful despite getting old
~ with the relationship come the secrets that he was able to hide from you before you got together. It’s safe to say that this man is not really a green flag due to the scars his trauma left on him. He’s not good for you and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he’s aware (somewhere deep down)
~ Albert insisted that you two live together, he needs you by his side and even when it might come off as if he’s trying to just be controlling - he’s just very scared of either you running away or someone hurting you while he’s not there to protect you
~ when it comes to sleeping by his side, for the first few months he just sleeps on his side of the bed, leaving you enough space only until he’s deep asleep. Then he’ll subconsciously wrap his arms around your body, pulling you close and making a personal teddy bear out of you. He’s touch starved after all the years alone, so much that even if he tries to give you enough space, his body won’t let him do so. You better not tell him though, because he’d feel embarrassed. Just wait for him to do it consciously and enjoy it;)
~ he’s often busy meaning you’ll have to find a hobbies of your own inside the house
~ he’s very keen on taking care of you in his free time, especially your hair. It’s kind of a therapy to him, not just playing with it, but also washing or braiding, even dying it. He’s up to do all of that for you
~ when there’s something going on with him, he probably just leaves, so that he doesn’t bother you with his problems, but if you come to him, offering your love and affection, he’s up for it. He will gladly lay on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, closing his tired eyes. Might as well fall asleep in that position because the exhaustion would get to him
~ if you worked in Umbrella with him, then you’re aware of his plans for the future, though if you haven’t, he’s gonna keep you unaware for the rest of your life, feeding you with delusions he came up with. But don’t you worry, it won’t affect your relationship at all, he’s gonna make up for all the lies;)
~ he wouldn’t dare cry in front of you, if he ever cried at all. He’s not the type of person who would go cry to the corner, he usually overcomes the sadness with anger, so good luck calming him down
~ Wesker is actually a really good cook! He doesn’t have much time for it, of course, but when he does, he makes you delicious meals (he really likes to spoil you)
~ speaking of spoiling… His favorite thing to buy you is lingerie, without a doubt. It’s just a bad habit of his, whenever he sees something you’d look good in (which is everything in his eyes), he just has to buy it for you and then watch you try it on knowing that it’s going to end up torn apart in less than a week. He tries not to do so, but he’s so eager to have you at times he just rips your clothes off:( so he buys new new ones quite often
~ he often comes home too late, finding you asleep on the couch as you were waiting for him for too long. His heart aches at the thought of someone being so excited just to see him, of someone actually caring about him and loving him as he knows how much of a risk he’s putting you in just by being with you. He would come up to you, gently taking you in his arms and carrying you to bed. He wouldn’t join you anytime soon, but he’d definitely stop by just to look at your peaceful, sleeping form, wondering just why on earth did you choose him
~ loves it when you sit on his lap while he’s working or even while he’s just reading a book. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, while he holds a pen/documents/book in the other. Your presence is very important to him, he loves touching you, feeling you. He needs you and having you so close brings him enough comfort to let loose (and if you’d look up at him you’d probably see a tiny smile on his face)
~ absolutely loves listening to you. Even when he’s exhausted after a very bad day, he’ll pull you close to him, asking you how your day went and just lets you talk, only reassuring you that he’s still listening whenever you stop. Your voice is comforting to him and it’s his way of relaxation, to just be close to you and listen
~ underrated opinion, but in my eyes he’d hate smoking. It’s basically killing you, so why would you do that? If you’re a smoker, he’ll ask you to stop, but won’t do anything against it if you tolerate that he doesn’t want you to do it inside the house. He’s still annoyed whenever you light up a cig though
~ he likes it when you take his sunglasses and try them on. It always gets him to smile for some unknown reason as he watches you giggle, happy that you have a thing of his in your possession, even if for just a few minutes
~ secretly, his dream is to settle down and live a life he never got to have. He’s just a broken man after all and having you gave him a different view on life. Of course, he still wants to save the world (in his own ways), but he also wishes he got to have a peaceful life by your side, seeing you smile everyday, traveling across the world if you’d like to. He wished he could be the perfect man just for you
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reallyrallyauthor · 2 days
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Heyyy it’s Snips🖤!
I was wondering if I could get something romantic with blue? Don’t mind if it’s orderly or club i love them both (not as much as I love you)
Mwah mwah mwah!!!
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Summary: Captivated by your charms, Blue wants you to be his girl. Written back-and-forth between both Blue Jones(es). (~1.8k)
Contents: club!Blue in the club, orderly!Blue in Lennox House, fluffy romance, a little possessive b/c… Blue
an: written for @justafandomgvrl (ily snips!!!!!)
-----
To other people, there’s nothing romantic about Lennox House.
But you know better.
There’s something daring and tender about the head orderly and most notorious patient falling for each other.
You’d fought every step of the way against being admitted here. Fought Blue. Fought everyone for weeks until you'd exhausted yourself and hadn't left your room for days.
Blue had come to visit you, concerned you weren't eating or sleeping.
He'd said, "I'm not asking you not to fight, sweet girl. I'm asking you to stop fighting me."
It was surprisingly easy to melt into his arms.
As you walk out of your room tonight (Blue doesn’t keep you locked in like the others), you have an almost happy feeling.
It’s quiet this time of night. Blue’s finishing up paperwork in his office usually, but when you stop in, he’s not there. 
Just a note on his crowded desk: meet me at our old spot.
You think back to your early days with Blue. Stolen kisses in the courtyard, a touch of your hands at mealtimes, and if you could manage it, an hour in the shower room.
The theatre. 
Gorski had tried and tried again to get you to respond to her therapy. It didn’t work on you. Better doctors than her had tried.
You’d told her your trauma wasn’t performative, but if she’d let you make the music instead of whatever she played on her reel-to-reel, that might help.
So you’d started singing. Quietly at first, but as the songs came back to you, louder and more confidently. It calmed the other girls. And it did heal you some, like you’d known it would.
Blue said it’s what made him fall in love with you in the first place.
That, and how you took in all the Lennox drama with your big eyes, perfectly able to use your charm or your fists if necessary. You don’t like to make a fuss, though.
You hadn’t wanted to make more work for Blue.
In fact, you spend most of your time keeping peace between the other girls, or helping Blue with his office work (apparently no one before you had had ever offered to help him with it, which you’ve always thought was very rude).
You were used to taking care of yourself.
Which had made Blue want to take care of you even more.
The theatre’s quiet when you get there. He’s left the door unlocked for you.
Blue leans against the stage, fresh white scrubs even though he started his shift hours ago. Sometimes, he doesn’t even leave Lennox House and spends the night with you.
“Smart,” he comments with a smile, “I bet you came straight here. Didn’t even make a wrong guess.”
You shake your head.
He gets up on the stage and holds his hand out to help you up.
“The day you were admitted was the best day of my life,” he says as he sits you down at the table on the stage. He busies himself getting a couple of glasses and the bottle of liquor he hides behind one of the cabinets.
“I need you, sweetheart, you know that right?” He sets the glasses down and cups his hand around your cheek. “You’re more than just another set of eyes and ears to me. You’re my girl.”
“I know, Blue,” you say.
“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He pours you both a drink and moves his chair so he can sit next to you. He holds up his glass with a sweet smile. “Here’s to you. An angel too good for the world outside.”
You touch your glass to his and sip your drink. It burns beautifully on your tongue.
“Blue, this tastes expensive. What’s the occasion?”
He toys with the ends of your hair. “I don’t need an excuse to spoil you.”
*****
You do a slow circle so Blue can see the new dress he had made for you.
It’s so tight you can barely breathe. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you that’s making you short of breath.
He sits back on the couch in his office, a smile on his face.
“If you were any prettier, I’d die of a heart attack, doll.” He lays a hand over his chest. “You’re like living art.”
“Oh, go on,” you say with a half-smile. “Thank you.”
“Leave the dress on, sweetheart. Come down to the floor with me. We’ll have dinner.” He stands and buttons up his suit jacket, then takes your hand.
“I thought you said I wasn’t working tonight,” you say.
You’d thought it odd, that Blue would keep you off stage on a Saturday, but he is the boss. You hadn’t challenged him. Maybe he’d changed his mind.
He lays his hand on your lower back to guide you down the stairs.
“You’re not going on. You’re gonna wear that beautiful dress, and show everyone that pretty face, and we’re going to have dinner in the center booth, you and me.”
You stumble a bit on the bottom step. Blue grabs you in his arms.
“Problem, sweetheart?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. 
You look up at him uncertainly, lean back against the wall with your heart pounding.
He leans one of his forearms next to your head, his other wrapping around your waist. He bends his head closer to yours.
Blue likes to think of himself as cool-headed, but you know him better than that. His emotions run strongly, deeply, and his love is all encompassing.
“I don’t like the way the customers look at you anymore. I can’t stand it.” He rubs circles over your back. “So, we have dinner out there, you and me. You looking like an angel from heaven, and that’s how we let everybody know. You’re my girl. Mine. Are you good with that, sweetheart?”
Warmth fills your chest, over your body from the tips of your toes in your high-heels to the top of your perfectly done hair. 
“Yes, Blue. I'm more than okay with that,” you smile.
He tucks his fingers under your chin. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Are you just another one of my girls, or are you my girl?”
Your heart beats faster. “I’m your girl, Blue.”
He dips his head to rub his lips briefly over yours before he kisses you.
All encompassing. Burning, blinding, passion since the day you’d met.
It wasn’t special treatment, Blue had said. It was love.
*****
“I got you a little something,” Blue says, still sitting across from you at the table on the stage. He takes a small box out of his pants pocket and slides it across the table to you.
“You don’t have to wear it under your shirt. Don’t hide it. I don’t care if people see. If they have a problem with it,” he licks his lips, “I’ll give them something bigger to worry about.”
You push open the top of the velvet box. It’s a necklace. The chain is delicate, but the facets of the stones sparkle even under the dim lights of the theatre. The different colors held in place by metal vines and leaves. 
Blue lifts it out of the case and unclasps it.
“It reminded me of you. All kinds of sparkly and beautiful. Lift your hair,” he says, getting up to stand behind you. He lays it over your skin and fixes it around your neck.
He crouches in front of you afterward, looking at the way it lays on your chest. A smile flits over his face. He rubs his lips with his fingertips, then touches the necklace.
He almost laughs he’s so happy. “It’s perfect. Do you love it?”
Blue leans up to kiss you hard on the lips.
“Yes, I love it. I love you,” you run your hand over his short hair and down his cheek.
“You’re the most beautiful girl who ever walked in here,” he says. “Can we go back to your room so you can sing something for me?”
You smile. He asks you every day.
Truth be told, it’s the reason he stays the night most of the time. You lay on your bed together, Blue holding you close while you sing him something quiet and sweet.
His even breath and the feel of his arms around you lull you to sleep. Peace. Another thing you’d never found in the so-called real world. Hadn’t known it until you’d come here to Lennox House and met Blue.
He stands up and takes your hand, leading you off the stage and back through the hallways to your room.
You used to think of it as a prison cell. Not anymore. Blue’s made it feel like home.
*****
Blue’s had someone draw you a warm bath for after your very public dinner down on the club floor.
He finishes up some business and comes in just as you’re sinking down into the water and relaxing.
He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the hook on the bathroom door, crouches down by the tub with a smile, his eyes wrinkling at the corners.
“This is too much,” you say, looking around the bathroom. “You even had your guys light candles.”
“It’s the only useful thing they did tonight,” he says with an annoyed look. “Everyone’s always bothering me with nonsense, doll. You’re the only one who understands.”
He shakes out his hand and you reach out from the water to take it and kiss his knuckles. They’re split open from a customer who’d looked a little sideways at you for having dinner with Blue, enjoying yourself instead of working.
Blue had shown him the door, split his lip as a reminder not to come back, and blackened his eye for interrupting your dinner.
It’s not the first time Blue’s had to defend you. But it is the first time he’d made it personal. Beat up a guy for insulting his girl and not just interrupting club business.
Spoiling you, showing you off, that’s what people see when you’re on Blue’s arm. And it is a great perk.
But the real romance is what most people don’t see.
What you and Blue do for each other.
Watching each others’ backs, caring for one another.
Blue making sure someone puts a warm cup of tea on your bedside table for when you wake up. You massaging his head when he gets out of the shower. The way neither of you can fall asleep until the other comes to bed.
Nights like tonight.
Blue helps you out of the tub and dries you off.
He holds you close as you lay together, the sun starting to come up behind the curtains. Blue whispering in your ear about the new number he wants you to star in. Aphrodite. Love and passion and beauty.
The things you’ve brought into his life, and, you think as you drift off to sleep, the same things that Blue is to you.
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Sprace- Call
MODERN AU TW: Swearing??
(I've never posted on here lol)
Spot cringed as his phone call was answered. Usually, it just went straight to the far too familiar  “Hi it’s Racetrack! Don’t leave a message!” voicemail to hurt him even more with the fact that he was either blocked, or Race was declining all his calls. A harsh ‘What do you want?’ may not have been ideal, but Spot still smiled softly at the sound of his ex’s voice.
"Hey…Race," He started. The same words he had said almost every day a month ago. Throwing his bag down as he got back from work, striking up conversations at 2 a.m even though they both needed to be up early, Starting a call much like this one if anything happened. "Do you still have my white shirt with the sleeves?" 
When Race’s phone displayed Spot’s caller ID, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, maybe an explanation that it was a dare, or maybe some tearful confession about how his love never died. Anything with more emotion than requesting an old shirt.
“Um… I’ll look around.” The conversation was too stiff, too formal. Race fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt that definitely wasn’t Spot’s (it was) that he was wearing and paced around the couch he slept on. 
“What do you need it for?”
He’d never admit it, but Race missed Spot more than he could tell. Hearing his voice again was painful, but something to feel. He had been a mess the last month, living with his best friend, missing sleep and working his ass off to help pay the rent when it was paying the rent that got him into this mess. Spot had walked out after the topic of money had come up, only after many anger-clouded words had been thrown between him and Race. Just thinking about it, Race could taste the regret and adrenaline and feel the knot of codependency tighten as it had done that night when he realized how alone and helpless he was. Even though he hadn’t anticipated a break-up, it wasn’t like Race was expecting-
“A wedding,” Spot answered coldly and quickly. Dwelling on love around him wasn’t going to help him swallow the lump in his throat.
He regretted walking out every day. He knew deep down, that he could’ve walked back in at any moment with nothing fixed, another argument ignored, but weeks passed and Race lost the apartment he could only afford with Spot’s help. Spot lost the one stable thing in his life, the one person he felt like he could talk to, the stupidity, wittiness, energy and affection that came with Race and he missed it more than he was willing to admit. He knew it was his chance to salvage any scraps of a relationship but didn’t know how to begin. 
“I’m sorry.” It was a struggle to force the words out of his mouth, but Spot managed to sound a lot more stable than he felt. 
Race’s reply was so emotionless it hurt. No sadness, not even a quiver in his voice, no hope. Just a bland question reminding Spot he’d made more than enough mistakes;
“About what?” 
“Um, This. Calling you, acting like nothing’s happened, acting like I don’t care.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone and Spot knew he would have to address the elephant in the room.
“...And leaving. I was- I am so stupid for walking out. It sounds pathetic but I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I really lo- I really loved you.” 
Race’s soft smile threatened to fall at the use of past tense.  His mind tried to object, but a smirk tugged at his lips and words crawled out.
“You miss me.”  He observed, a mix of teasing and astonishment now unmistakable in his voice
“No, I just really want my shirt,” Spot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as if Race could see him over the phone.  “Yes, I fucking miss you.”
Spot hated himself for giving in that easily. But at the same time, he knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere or anyone for that matter.
Warm hope bloomed through Race at the less-than-heartfelt confession, sudden longing for the one person he thought he’d never be allowed to long for again. A million hazy emotions flew through his mind but he couldn’t articulate everything he was feeling and couldn’t force every heavy sentiment through the phone. He needed to know this was genuine before pouring his heart out. 
Spot’s finger was over the ‘End Call’ button when Race interrupted their silence, “But you said-”
“I said a lot of things,” Spot cut him off, “We both did. But I’d bet this month's rent you didn’t mean half of it.” 
Race wanted to object, but it was true. He hadn’t meant anything close. And while he prayed to every god that he wouldn’t regret it again, heavy words slid off his tongue;
“I miss you too. But look, we can’t just…go back to whatever we had a month ago.”
“Bad communication and not-yet-healed commitment issues?”
Race exhaled deeply, “Yeah, that. But I can’t- I mean- I’ve got your shirt. Please just come and get it so we can at least talk in person.” 
Spot running down apartment stairs full speed to reunite with his ex-boyfriend was probably something countless medical professionals would advise against but, quite frankly, he was more than willing to break a wrist or two for another shot. He managed a couple of breathless words that were essentially just ‘See you soon’ before falling into his car in a haze of nerves and emotions pretty damn close to excitement. Serious conversations weren’t his forté but were better than a familiar voicemail.
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pacificgasandelectric · 3 months
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Current Events in Silm fandom rlly reinforce my feeling that, despite claiming an ethos of acceptance/tolerance of anything that doesn't hurt ppl, a lot of ppl in the section of Silm fandom I frequent do follow a set of socially-agreed-upon mores about what concepts are "not acceptable" to discuss or propose (or the ways in which certain topics must be discussed to be acceptable), that you all seem to have agreed on despite the things those mores restrict not being harmful to anyone.
And when someone does say smth that violates those mores, the response is disproportionate to the amount of harm done (which is typically none, imo). I know it's tempting to say "but we just want people to be comfortable and safe", but treating ppl badly for the sin of sharing thoughts you dislike is NOT the same as preventing people from doing things that are harmful. The former is much more of a harmful behavior than the sharing of the thoughts that sets it off. Fannish etiquette, people: you shouldn’t act like someone’s meta makes them morally suspect just because you disagree with it; save the “this is morally bad” for things that are ACTUALLY harmful. We're all stuck on this website together & if you want to have any sort of community, you need to ACT like you're in a community, and that means letting other people say things you dislike. Block them if you need to! I block people all the time because i know it's better for me AND for them if we can both blog in peace.
I am not particularly comfortable with the young-queer-on-tumblr silm fandom rn due to this tendency to rebuke things that are uncomfortable rather than harmful. Maybe that's fine with you. But if your goal is to make all fans feel comfortable and accepted, you need to actually do that. If your goal is to make people who share your unwritten rules comfortable in your space, you need to admit that, and write those rules down, and curate your space so it follows them.
Edited 8:10am PST to clarify the specifics of the behavior I find concerning.
#mine#if there had been Actual Harm done i'd feel differently#but when ppl are this worked up over 'what if [female character] was Also a bad person in a way that's reprehensible to our current morals'#and start going ‘hm this person is morally suspect for their Taste In Fiction’ im like. yikes! and you do this in the War Crimes Fandom?!#and like listen i Get that esp in this fandom there's a high incidence of like. ppl who are genuinely bigoted and stuff#and it can be stressful to see stuff that reminds you of that bigotry and the way those ppl use the work to justify their own worldview#but that STILL doesn't give anyone the right to police stuff that Isn't Bigoted. that's just not how this works.#and then in terms of 'well it's not policing it's just disagreeing' i have to say. that's where Etiquette comes in and i'm frankly#unhappy & annoyed that so many ppl in my age group seem to care more about being Right than being comfortable to share a fannish space with#but again whatever maybe they don't want me in their space. that's fine! i don't want to be in your space if it doesn't want me.#but i wish they'd fucking ADMIT THAT instead of going 'ooooh we accept everyone' and then turning around#and censuring ppl whose ideas they find icky. you can't have it both ways is all i'm saying. pick one and actually do it. for all our sakes#haha i might regret this tomorrow but i'm sooooo sleep-deprived and so annoyed#sorry to my non-silm followers it's just that i'm right and i should say it
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tender-rosiey · 8 months
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“A BIT GENTLER, PLEASE?”
— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna feeling their baby kick (f!reader)
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GOJO SATORU:
satoru was always all over you, one clingy and affectionate husband.
truthfully, while you would like to say that he is annoying and is making you regret ever getting pregnant, you have to admit that he makes being pregnant a lot easier to endure. his light-hearted way of speaking puts you at easy somehow.
he also made it very obvious that he is excited for the baby, maybe even more than you’re. one of the many ways he shows his enthusiasm is through buying baby clothes and baby equipment and I mean a shit ton of them.
that’s why you’re not surprised when he enters the house with yet another batch of baby clothes, “wifey, I am home!”
you get up and waddle your way to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what did you get this time?”
“I thought you would never ask,” he smirks before pulling out each and every one of the outfits he got.
you’re sat on the couch with a cup of your favorite warm drink as you listen to his rambles, “first off, I got this really cute blue dress! call it a dad’s instinct but I think she will have my gorgeous eyes,” he grins.
you nod absentmindedly as he continues, “second, I got this yellow jump suit? overalls? dungarees?” he switches his accent in the end and you roll your eyes. he resumes, “eh, I don’t care, but it’s pretty so who cares?”
he puts the clothes aside before kneeling in front you, hand resting on your stomaxh, “right, baby?” he coos, “daddy’s going to get you all the pretty outfits you want!”
you’re about to drift to sleep while your husband busies himself with the baby, but you’re quickly brought back to consciousness when you feel her kick against your stomach.
your husband’s gasp quickly follows after before he presses his ear to your stomach, “can you do that again for me, pretty?”
his other hand moves to hold your own and he guides your hand to his hair, “somehow, this is making me realize just how close she is to finally join us, right, wifey?”
“right, ‘toru,” you smile softly and he quickly starts peppering your face with kisses, murmuring about how his pretty wife is simply irresistible.
NANAMI KENTO:
whenever someone asks you about kento, you can’t find the words to stress just how much of a sweetheart he is. he was always a caring and attentive man.
yet, somehow it amplified after your pregnancy: he helps you rest as much as he can, cooks for you, and gets you all the snacks you would like.
you also remember the first time you told him that your feet hurt, and he ended up massaging it for you. you cried that day.
in summary, he never left you in need of anything, like right now for example.
“y/n, would you like anything else?”
a dopey smile is plastered on your face as you relax further in the cushions, feet propped up on the pillow your sweetheart of a husband got.
he places your favorite snacks right by your side. you cup his face and press a lingering kiss on his cheek, “no, thank you, kento.”
he nods and takes a seat beside you. he takes your hand into his and starts rubbing your hand, “we should start preparing the baby’s room,” he murmurs softly.
you nod, head resting on his shoulder, “you’re right. we need to welcome our little princess well.”
he chuckles and his hand moves to rest on your stomach, “I assembled the crib already so that’s something to be proud of.”
nanami’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder and you snuggle closer into his chest, giggling, “my strong, independent, and reliable husband,” you sigh happily, “whatever will I do without you?”
he half-heartedly rolls his eyes, “flattery is getting you nowhere.”
“but it does!” you laugh and he lightly tickles you. your hand rests on your stomach, alongside his. you smirk, “what do you think, baby? is mommy right?”
to your absolute delight, the little girl kicks against your womb making you squeal and instantly look at your husband, “kento, did you feel that?!”
“…yeah,” his face is one of awe. she kicks once again and nanami can’t help but press a kiss to your stomach, “looks like she is a strong, healthy baby.”
 “just like her dad,” you chuckle but stop to think about it for a moment before concern over takes your face.
nanami’s gaze quickly snaps to you, “what’s wrong?”
“if she will be as strong as you then god help my uterus.”
GETO SUGURU:
geto gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you.
in addition to that, nanako and mimiko love hanging out with you so it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you’re accompanied by someone.
today, he was doing some of his usual works in the establishment? shrine? eh whatever.
no fiber of his being expected the girls to burst into the room, grins filling their faces, as they urgently call him, “geto-sama! you have to see what just happened!”
with no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the girls. he asks them, voice laced with concern, “is y/n okay? did something happen?”
the girls giggle as they finally near your room. mimiko speak up, “she is okay! but something important really did happen!”
somehow, it sends geto more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?
after a while, they are finally there, and geto wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.
you giggle, “’calm down, suguru,” you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, “can you feel it?”
“feel it? what do you mean—“ he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.
you nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.
he rests his head against your stomach, “how are you, little buddy?”
geto chuckles softly, “better not cause trouble for your pretty mom,” his eyes lock with yours, “I hate to see her in pain or discomfort.”
you roll your eyes before patting your husband’s head, “you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“I would rather only charm you, y’know,” he chuckles.
the both of you completely forget about the pair of girls standing at the door way, each snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you.
nanako snickers a little before teasing, “that line was a bit cheesy, no?”
he quirks an eyebrow at them and they quickly flee away. with a soft sigh and a gentle chuckle, he goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.
RYOMEN SUKUNA:
it’s safe to say that sukuna was surprised with the news of your pregnancy, but he came to terms with it quicker than you expected.
he just had to sit with himself a bit and understand that the ‘brat’ in you was his ‘brat’ as well.
he also found himself staring at your stomach longer than he would like. he started to really think about how life will go on from this point onwards.
he is a feared man, the king of curses, with no weaknesses to ever exploit.
that is until you came into his life. he grew fond of you and the rest is history. right now, though, you’re carrying his child.
after a long day, he finally enters your chambers and finds you fast asleep.
he guesses that carrying a child of his own must be more exhausting than that of a normal man. his feet take him to you and his figure towers over your sleeping form.
he watches your expression contort ever so slightly as you stir, perhaps in seek of your comfort.
he sits by your side and his hand traces your every feature, nails slightly grazing you but never hurting you. finally, it reaches your stomach and he frowns lightly.
he sighs, “just what the hell am I going to do with you?”
he feels a light kick against his palm.
his eyes widen at the movement and his hand involuntary presses against your stomach once more, wanting to feel the kick once again. he narrows his eyes, “what? you think that light kick is fit for the kid of the king of curses?”
as if understanding what he said, the baby delivers one rough and tough kick to your abdomen. you wince and whine at the pain, “sukuna, don’t be mean to the baby…”
“I am not trying to, woman,” he grumbles, “that kid is just short-tempered.”
sukuna is sporting quite the frown but it doesn’t stop his hand from massaging your stomach and you hum in content before sassing him, “oh wow, I wonder where did he get that from.”
you squeak as you feel a pinch to your side. you glare at sukuna who glares at you back before replying, “he got it from one stubborn woman who happens to be mine.”
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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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cbini · 10 months
Text
sharing = caring
snippets of chan sharing you with each of his boys for the first time
pairings: skz x afab!reader
warnings: smut!!!!🔞 multiple partners, threesomes, unprotected sex, protected sex, daddy kink, exhibitionism, smidges of mxm but nothing too serious, oral (f & m receiving), wet and messy, finger sucking, gagging, little bit of spit play, cum swallowing, light degradation, phone sex, slight voyeurism, pussy jobs, mutual masturbation, pet play, hair pulling, loss of virginity, spanking, whole lotta tags for a whole lotta boys!
notes: well.... i did it! inspired by chan's section in this post of mine since literally one singular person asked for it. this is just straight up NASTY.. you're welcome?? or sorry?? idk but anyways im abt to post this and then dip so i can sleep. pls enjoy!!! <3
chan 
“baby, tell me,” he whispers into your cheek. you’re on your back and he’s on his side facing you, a strong thigh thrown over yours that’s closest to him. he’s had his hand in your panties for the past thirty minutes, and it’s got your brain leaking out of your ears. “here, let’s take these off, yeah?”
he sits up, his hand finally leaves your panties so that he can drag them down your hips and have you kick them off with your foot. chan settles back down beside you, propping his head up on his palm and bringing his other hand back to your cunt to play. 
you’re so worked up you could cry. you could scream, but it’s your own doing. you know all you have to do is tell your boyfriend what’s on your mind. he tells you just that.
chan leans down to kiss your neck before murmuring against your skin. 
“all you have to do is tell me, love. i want to give it to you, hm?” you slowly nod your head and wrap your hand around his forearm. when you turn to look at him, he meets you halfway for a kiss. it’s sweet, nothing more than a press of your lips together, but yours are quick to drop open in a yelp when chan pinches your clit between his fingers. chan takes this opportunity to lick into your mouth and does his best to swallow the noises you can’t seem to stop making. 
he can tell you’re about to cum when you start to hump his hand, thighs shaking. chan smiles against your lips and gets you there, but right before you can tumble over the edge he removes his hand and trails it up your stomach to circle your belly button gently. the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic, desperate, and you can’t help but bring your own fingers to your pussy to pick up where he left off. chan is quick to grab your hand and pin it to your side, dropping a swift smack to your cunt in retaliation that makes you cry out.
“this is mine.” his fingers wrap themselves around your neck. “that pussy is mine, and i’ll play with it how i see fit.” you’re nodding your head along with his words because of course, you know it’s his. 
“that’s right sweetheart. you want me to make you cum?” another nod from you. “why don’t you tell me what’s got that pretty head all dizzy then, yeah? daddy wants to give it to you, baby. i want you to have it.” 
you do tear up this time, and chan smiles at you, dimples showing. “my crybaby. how can channie help? what if i touch your little clit again, would that make it better?” he asks. 
“y-yes, channie, daddy,” you whine. his hand once again travels down to your pussy, and your hips arch into him to welcome them back home. so fuckin’ precious, he says.
chan kept his end of the bargain, so you know it’s time to keep yours, despite how nervous you are about admitting it out loud. you doubt your sweet boyfriend would think any different of you for this, but still. 
“want, ah, want you an’ your friends to fuck me, channie,” you whisper. “‘m so good for you, i am, jus’ want everyone to know.”
chan thinks he’s about to pass out. no way did you just say what he thinks you said, what he hopes you said. he’s fantasized about that for months, sharing you with the rest of stray kids, but was too ashamed and embarrassed to ever admit it out loud to you. then again, he thought, you had always been the brave one out of the two of you. 
“oh honey,” chan coos, “you’re right, you’re so good for me. you’re so wonderful, you want ‘em to see how sweet this pussy is? how good you treat me?” 
he doesn’t let you answer before he’s pulling you into his chest and making you cum so hard you’re out cold the second your head hits the pillow.
this is how it starts.
minho 
chan had texted you earlier, a short and simple me and minho need your help haha. you weren’t sure if it would lead to what you were hoping it would lead to, but god were you crossing your fingers. the second chan let you into the dance practice room, he locked the door behind you. you stopped in your tracks and raised your eyebrows at him, searching for some sort of hint to clue you into what was going on. your boyfriend cocks his head towards minho, who’s sitting on the leather couch and fiddling with his phone with a scowl on his face. 
you let out a quiet ahh and shoot chan a thumbs up. he responds with that squeaky laugh you love so much and gently pulls you in by the back of your head, wrapping his arm around it and guiding your face to his neck so you can hug him. 
“the second you say stop, we stop, ‘kay?” chan asks into your ear. 
“yes!” you say, excited, now bouncing on the balls of your feet and nearly headbutting him in the chin. you kiss him once and pull away, smiling. out of the corner of your eye you see minho lock his phone and place it face down on the couch, focusing his attention on you and chan. 
the next thing you know, you’re half naked on the couch. minho has your ass pulled to the edge so that he can have easier access to your drooly cunt on display for him, your panties dangling from one foot. he’s kneeling in between your spread legs. chan’s sitting on the cushion beside you, content for now to let minho explore your body for the first time. he’s holding your hand and rubbing slow circles on it with his thumb.
your head is thrown back against the backrest of the couch as minho is nipping at your thighs, startling moans out of you when he decides he wants to bite down harder. 
“show him your tits, baby,” chan tells you, squeezing your hand once. you comply immediately, using your unoccupied hand to pull the hem of your t-shirt up above your tits, and you wiggle when you look down to see minho’s dark eyes roaming your chest. 
“mm,” minho hums, “pretty. pretty body. can i kiss you here?” he asks, eyes flicking down to your cunt. you nod your head but are quick to glance over at your boyfriend. chan doesn’t say anything, but he does grab you under your knee and pull it up towards him so that minho has an even better view of you. minho hisses under his breath when it opens you up more for him, pussy lips parting and cute little clit peeking out to greet him. 
you all three let out a noise when minho gets his mouth on you, and you’re quick to bring the hem of your shirt to your mouth to bite down on it. 
you’ve always known lee minho was gorgeous, but the way he closes his eyes when he tastes you has you reeling. his long eyelashes flutter against his cheek before he opens his eyes again. you think it’s cute how red his ears are, and you bring a hand down to rub at one of them and he sighs into you. 
you’re honestly surprised your boyfriend has been sitting still for this long. he hasn’t moved to touch himself once, despite how hard you can see his dick is straining through his athletic shorts. he looks antsy though, and you don’t want that. 
“baby, channie, what is it?” you ask, fighting hard to make your words steady while minho continues to fuck you with his tongue.
“fuck,” chan grunts. “fuck, i want a fucking taste.” before you know it, chan’s on his knees beside minho, once again pushing your knee to your chest, and minho copies his movement with your other leg. minho shuffles over on his knees to give chan more room, and your breath stutters in your throat when their tongues touch you at the same time. 
you couldn’t look away if you tried, your eyes are locked on the way minho and chan’s tongues lave over your cunt at the same time. one of chan’s hands comes up to cup your breast, and you rest your hand over his, squeezing it. 
the noises are filthy, even more so with the acoustics of the practice room. you can’t tune anything out. not the way your pussy is soaking their faces, the hungry noises both boys are making, or the way you’re almost squealing. your noises raise in pitch once you see how their tongues are batting against each other and rubbing over your clit, and you’re cumming before you get the chance to warn them. your back arches almost painfully, hips bucking so wildly that chan and minho both have to hold you down. 
you reckon you damn near pass out because when you come to, you’re nestled against chan’s chest and minho’s head is resting on your shoulder; he’s playing with your fingers. 
“morning, sunshine!” chan jokes, and he laughs when you groan. you open your bleary eyes and take in your surroundings, relaxing further against chan and minho.
“minho?” you ask, and he hums to show you he’s listening. “why are you wearing different pants?” 
“because i came in my other ones, why else?”
changbin 
“holy fuck, that’s good,” changbin grunts, reclining himself further into the computer chair in chan’s studio. his legs scramble to give you more room where you’re settled sweetly between them. 
chan sits on the couch, relaxing into the corner while he palms himself over his shorts. 
you pull off of changbin’s cock and stroke him in your fist. you spread your legs so that you can settle closer to the ground and smile against the underside of changbin’s cock, figuring it turns him on to loom over you like that. changbin growls, and you’re still smiling when you travel lower to suck on his balls, humming in your throat. 
changbin’s head smacks against the headrest of the chair when you suck his cock into your mouth again. 
“can i- ah, please, your mouth feels so good,” changbin whines. he wants to fuck your face, you can tell by the way his hips stutter, but he stops himself because you haven’t told him he could. mhm, you hum, and changbin’s quick to lift his hips to see how much you can take. 
if you can deepthroat bang christopher chan, you figure changbin will be no problem. 
“gag on it,” changbin murmurs, hands gripping the arms of the chair. you do, pushing yourself all the way down on his cock and holding yourself there. changbin lets out a cry when you look up at him through your teary eyes, and his hand cups your cheek so that he can wipe a tear away with his thumb when it falls. you move your head slightly, ignoring the discomfort on your nose when it rubs against his trimmed pubic hair.
you finally hear chan make a noise when changbin starts to fuck your face in earnest. the wet sounds your throat is making carries throughout the small studio, your face a mess of tears, snot, and drool. you’re thankful changbin’s chair is pushed back against the desk because otherwise it would be rolling across the floor from how hard he’s fucking into your mouth. 
“fuuuck, like that. just like that. fuck, can you spit on it?” you pull off of changbin’s cock, a thick string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick when you pull away for a breath. 
“mm, yeah,” you say, moving your tongue around in your mouth. chan sits up from his spot on the couch and scoots closer to you. 
“here,” he says, leaning up and turning your head towards him. chan shoves two of his thick fingers in your mouth, fucking them in and out. you whine, gagging slightly on his fingers, body lurching as chan continues fucking your mouth with his fingers. he goes to pull them out, but you’re not done with him. you grab onto his wrist and suck harshly on his fingers, batting your eyelashes at him. 
“little fucking slut,” chan grunts, “open your mouth.” you do as he says, and he fucks your mouth again, gagging you on his fingers over and over. spit is cascading down his hand and forearm, and he tsks at you. your mouth is still open, thick saliva collecting in the back of your mouth, and chan leans forward one more time to add his own spit to the mix. he turns you back towards changbin. 
changbin has been watching the whole scene with his jaw dropped, hand working furiously on his cock, but not enough to make him cum. he wants you to do that. 
he holds his cock out for you as you settle back comfortably between his legs. your hand joins his on his cock, and you let the collected spit pour out of your mouth so that it seeps down his cock. your hands catch most of it, and you use it to pump his messy cock. changbin’s pants are soiled at this point, but that’s the last thing on his mind. your hair keeps getting caught in the mess and you’re growing frustrated with having to repeatedly tuck it behind your ears. you’re a little miffed you forgot a hair band before you left your place. of course sweet changbin notices, and he uses both of his hands to keep your hair from your face. 
you hear chan lean up from his spot on the couch again, and he collects your hair in his hands and holds it back for both of you. 
“‘s it good bin?” chan asks, looking up at his friend. 
“holy shit, you’re crazy. it’s so fucking good, so fucking good,” changbin laughs in disbelief. chan uses his hold on your hair to move your head up and down on changbin’s cock. he holds you down on it when he sees fit, moving you how he wants, toying with you and changbin both. it’s all too much, so you can’t help but start to touch yourself. 
chan catches on quickly, but changbin’s too busy looking wide-eyed at the ceiling to notice. 
“bin, look. isn’t that cute?” chan asks. your whimper is muffled by changbin’s thick cock. 
“oh my god, are you touching yourself, baby?” changbin whines, chest heaving. “that’ll make me cum. keep touching your pussy for us and i’ll cum in your mouth.” 
as you start to hump your hand, chan tightens his grip on your hair and forces your nose to changbin’s skin. when you cum you grasp onto changbin’s leg with your other hand, and the way your throat constricts pushes changbin over the edge with you. 
hyunjin 
“hyung it’s so wet, so wet, i can’t,” hyunjin cries. you giggle at that, and hyunjin huffs out a laugh too.
he hasn’t fucked you yet, but this is good. hyunjin has been grinding his long, pretty cock against your pussy for the better part of fifteen minutes. “yeah, ‘m wet for you hyune~” you croon.
hyunjin’s thighs shake where they’re pressed tight against the backs of yours. 
chan breathes a curse through the speaker of your phone. you hated that he had to leave to check on something at the company, but you figured hyunjin would be fun to play with by yourself. despite not being present in the room, you still wanted chan involved somehow, but it was hyunjin who suggested calling him up.
“how does hyunjinnie feel, baby?” chan asks, and you give yourself a couple of seconds to collect your thoughts.
“channie, he feels so good on me,” you tell him, voice lilting in a sultry way to drive your boyfriend and his friend crazy. “his cock is so fucking big.” you wail when the head of his cock catches on your clit. 
you hear chan say something along the lines of my sweetheart loves a big cock, huh? but you’re too busy crying out over the way hyunjin grabs his dick and shakes the head of it against your clit to be certain. your hips spasm, and hyunjin leans more of his weight forward to cage you against the bed. 
hyunjin plants his hands on either side of your head and ruts his hips down faster, jolting your body up the bed. 
“pussy. so. fucking. warm. so wet, smells so sweet,” hyunjin punctuates his words with fluid thrusts against you.
you cup your hand over the top of his cock so that it presses him harder against your pussy, and that makes you both moan. hyunjin leans down to kiss at your chest. he sucks kisses onto the underside of your breast and pops your nipple into his mouth, making you keen. his deft fingers softly tap at your other nipple, faintly tracing around it with the tip of his finger to feel it pebble up and harden under his touch.
“what’s got my baby making such pretty noises, huh? you have to tell me since i can’t see you. i have to know what to touch my cock to.” you cry out chan’s name, and hyunjin lets out a soft noise as well. 
“channie he’s- he’s rubbing his cock on my pussy. it’s so hard, feels so good… an’ he’s playing with my- with my nipples too, baby, ah!” you cry out as hyunjin bites down gently on your nipple. 
“hyung, channie hyung, my thighs are soaked. it’s so slippery, ‘s dripping. shit! how do you do this? it’s so good i’m gonna die…” hyunjin’s sentence trails off as he fucks his cock against your pussy faster, movements sharper as he gets closer to his release. 
“fuck, i know, hyunjin-ah. sweetest pussy ever, isn’t it?” chan says through the phone. if you listen close enough you think you can hear the slick noises of him jerking his cock. 
“hy-hyunjinnie,” you mewl, “c’n you, can you put it in, please? just the tip, please, just the tip! that’s all i need, i just wanna cum. i wanna cum on your cock.” hyunjin cries out and his arms shake.
“hyung, can i please?” he almost sounds close to tears. hyunjin bites his lip and hangs his head, silky black hair brushing against your chest. 
“you’ve got my baby begging, hyune, go ahead, it’s alright.” chan answers, voice tinny through the phone’s speaker. 
you’re whispering pleasepleasepleaseplease as hyunjin takes hold of his cock and guides it to your hole. he does as promised, fucking the tip in, and you both look at each other with mouths wide open. hyunjin re-positions himself so that his thighs aren’t pressing yours to your chest anymore, now there’s a little more room between the two of you. he takes both of your ankles in one of his big hands and pushes your legs back to your chest, the other hand occupied with holding the base of his cock. 
hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward, grinding inside you repeatedly with the tip of his big cock. you’re so wet that you start squelching when he fucks in, and as hyunjin whimpers at the noise you throw your arm over your eyes to hide. 
“nonono, look at me, please don’t hide. you’re so beautiful, you feel perfect,” hyunjin tells you. “will you cum? can i make you cum?” 
“baby, touch yourself for us, let hyunjinnie see your pretty face when you cum on him,” chan says. he’s breathless. you follow his instructions, looking at hyunjin through your eyelashes and rubbing your clit in small little circles. it catches up to you quickly, your face scrunches up as you hit your high, pussy clenching around the head of hyunjin’s cock. 
“oh! oh, keep clenching on me. please, yes, keep cumming!” hyunjin cries, fist jerking the part of his cock that isn’t snug inside you. that’s enough to push him over the edge, he rushes to take his cock out and he cums in streaks all over your stomach. you smile sleepily at him as you pick up some with the tips of your fingers and bring it to your mouth.
“don’t fucking go anywhere,” chan growls. you had almost forgot he was on the line. “i’m coming home right now.”
jisung 
you’re putting on the best show of your life, you think, as you sit in the computer chair in chan’s studio while him and jisung lounge on the couch. chan’s already got a hand down his pants, but jisung is holding onto the spotify pillow tightly, covering his lap with it. 
you smirk at your boyfriend and trail your eyes to jisung, making sure to spread your legs wider for him to see. you settle both of your legs over the arms of the chair. you notice jisung’s eyes widen, but he still doesn’t move to touch himself, and that has you pouting. 
“come on, hannie, don’t you want to play with me?” you ask, cocking your head as your fingers begin to pinch your own nipples before the real fun begins. 
you see jisung gulp, and you’d laugh if it weren’t so cute. 
“you wanna watch me touch myself?” you ask him, pulling at a nipple and watching him watch your breast jiggle with the movement. 
“baby don’t tease, be nice.” comes chan’s response. 
“‘m always nice, see?” you say back. you roll your neck and your fingers inch to your pussy. you form a vee with your fingers and spread yourself open for them. you let them look their fill for a moment and then start to rub your clit when you deem necessary. “i’m so nice, aren’t i hannie?” 
“yeah, sooo nice, so nice, yeah,”  jisung replies with a cough, eyes fixed on your fingers that are coated with your slick. he finally removes the pillow from his lap and reaches a hand under the band of his sweatpants to touch himself. 
“take out your cocks, pleeease.” it’s more of a command if your tone has anything to do with it, but since you’re being nice you tacked on a please at the end for good measure. chan readily complies, always prepared to get his dick out for you, but jisung pulls at the drawstring of his sweats and hesitates. 
“please hannie? i’ve seen that one before,” you wave a passive hand at chan. “can i see yours?” you ignore chan’s squawk of hey! you happen to love this one, brat! to bat your eyelashes at jisung. 
jisung laughs, which is what you wanted him to do, and finally loosens the drawstring and shimmies his pants down a little bit so you can see him. 
“mmm,” you hum. “yes, good. touch it for me.” his cock is almost purple at the head. it looks like you worked him up even more than you thought. good. 
sure you were putting on a show, acting out a little bit, but it was easy to start touching yourself genuinely with two of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen in your life sitting in front of you jerking their cocks. to you, to your body. you’re soaking wet. thankfully chan had the forethought to lay his discarded jacket in the chair you’re sitting on before you started your little magic act. 
your fingers dip into your entrance, and it makes your hips jolt. ooh! you say.
“you wanna taste, jisungie?” you ask. jisung stares wordlessly at where your fingers are disappearing into yourself. you kick your foot out to get his attention. “i saaaid, you wanna taste?” he wastes no time in nodding.
you pull your fingers from yourself and sit up in the chair, the wetness sticking uncomfortably under you. you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the smile spreading across your face when jisung nearly goes cross-eyed as you bring your fingers to his lips.
you mouth the words ‘say ahh’ and jisung listens instantly. he opens his mouth for you, and you’re quick to acquaint your fingers with his tongue. he closes his lips and his eyes shut with them, gently sucking on your fingers and swirling his tongue around the digits. you thrust your fingers slowly in and out and let out a breathless moan when jisung bobs his head to meet your fingers.
chan’s still touching himself all the while. 
“oh, channie my love, i’m not being fair am i?” you ask. looking chan in the eyes, you lean back in your seat again to repeat the process. you fuck yourself on your fingers until your wetness is seeping down your knuckles and sit up once again to feed them to chan. chan meets your fingers with his tongue already out of his mouth, waiting patiently. when chan is done sucking your essence from your fingers, he presses a sweet kiss against your palm.
“get on your fucking knees, i wanna cum in that mouth,” chan commands. you’re quick to follow his orders, but not before jisung snags the jacket from your chair and places it on the ground so you can rest your knees on it. chan stands up from his spot on the couch and begins jerking his cock over your face. 
jisung’s still touching himself watching the scene of you and chan before him, but you want him closer. you tug on the fabric of his pants as encouragement for him to stand up too. he gets the hint and stands up beside chan, stripping his cock over you as well.
“fuck, i can’t, can i see your tongue?” jisung asks, voice pitching on a whine. you loll your tongue out of your mouth in answer, mouth open and waiting. “wanna cum on it, can i? can i please?” 
you raise yourself on your knees so that you can lick the head of his cock, then lick chan’s, then jisung’s again. 
“please cum in my mouth?” you mewl to the both of them. “i’ll be good and swallow it all.”
felix 
when he got to the chicken breast and protein powder dorm he assumed everyone was out. he left a pair of headphones in chan’s room the last time he was over and wanted them back. he was quickly proven incorrect when he opened the door of chan’s room to see you kneeling by the bed in just your underwear and chan sitting on the edge of it. the lights are off, but chan has his desk lamp on and the led lights on his wall are shining pink and purple. 
you rush to pull your mouth off of your boyfriend, and chan leans forward to block the view of your chest as best as he can. 
“well d’you want to...stay?” chan offers after a tense moment of silence. felix stands in the doorway of his hyung’s room, mouth slack, as he watches the scene in front of him. he shakes his head, almost as if that will help him clear it. 
“is that- i mean- are you.....sure?” felix starts, sentence breaking off toward the end. you quickly nod your head, leaning back from chan and exposing your chest. minx. he’s been growing hard in his pants since he opened the damn door, but now his cock has really taken an interest. 
“yeah mate, we kind of… talk about it? but only if you want to, yeah?” chan responds. felix nods shakily, taking a step into the room and closing the door. “yeah... okay, yes. fuck, please?” 
chan smiles and scoots back to the head of the bed, guiding your hand with him until you’re between his legs, back pressed to his chest. you’re shyly keeping your legs closed, but chan tuts at you. a soft let him see you leaving his pretty lips. next thing you know, chan’s strong hands are prying your thighs open slowly and giving felix a clear view of your soaked panties. you hide your face in his neck as his hand crawls back up your thigh to cup where you’re leaking. “come ‘ere, lix,” chan murmurs. 
felix takes a step closer to the bed, eyes glued to chan’s fingers running over the fabric of your panties. he hears a sweet sound leave your lips and chan coos. “why don’t you ask him, honey.” 
“mm, felix,” you cry as chan’s fingers find their way under the waistband. “can you- can you take my panties off, please?” 
“oh fuck,” he groans. he climbs onto the bed and situates himself between yours and chan’s spread legs. he looks between you and chan again for confirmation, chan nodding his head and your quiet pleas spur him on. 
felix reaches forward and gently guides your panties down your thighs. he whimpers softly when he finally sees you bare and his head lolls back when the smell of your arousal reaches his nose. 
“you have to tell me- i don’t know what you like. please show me.” felix tells you as he lowers himself to his stomach. chan pulls you further against him, drawing your legs back to your chest. 
at the first press of felix’s tongue against you, you keen. your back arches against your boyfriend’s chest when felix’s tongue flicks softly on your clit. 
he dips his tongue into your hole and looks up just in time to see chan pull you into a dirty kiss. he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in the middle of that kiss, reasoning that he’ll hold onto that thought and figure out what it means later. 
felix laves his tongue against you, quickly seeking out your swollen clit again and wrapping his lips around it, pressing quick sucking kisses against it. 
“lix! just like that, please!” you cry at the same time chan coos out “ohh, my baby likes that.” he sucks at you harder, eyebrows furrowing as he keeps his pace in order to make you cum. he moans as he feels a hand grip his hair and press him closer to you. he’s expecting it to be yours, but he looks up to find both of your hands occupied with your own chest. 
felix pulls away slightly as chan’s other hand travels down to your pussy. he doesn’t think twice before he brings the older man’s fingers to his mouth and wraps his tongue around them. chan hums and pulls his fingers free. he brings them to your clit, rubbing in quick circles. felix takes that as his cue to wiggle his tongue back into your hole, pressing in and out and licking over what chan’s fingers aren’t covering. your hips jolt everytime chan’s fingers and felix’s tongue play with your clit at the same time. 
“oh fuck, oh fuck!” you cry as your thighs begin to tremble. “‘m gonna cum. please let me cum, please?” 
seungmin 
“do i even want to know why you have a leash here?” 
“it’s a little late for that, seungminnie, isn’t it? considering you’re wearing it? and why do you have a collar?” chan harmlessly snarks back, and seungmin laughs. 
you’d laugh too if you weren’t too busy getting pounded by seungmin’s long cock. 
you’re on your back; seungmin’s holding your legs up by the pits of your knees. you’ve got the end of the leash wrapped in your fist and every so often you tug on it to hear seungmin whimper. he does look awfully pretty in that collar.
you tug on the leash again, pulling seungmin down so that you can kiss his lips. his hips pick up speed again when you wrap the leash one more loop around your hand. 
“you’re just a puppy, huh?” you murmur against his cheek. seungmin’s rhythm falters a little bit as his eyebrows furrow at your comment. you see him take a peek at chan out of the corner of his eyes. “it’s alright seungminnie, don’t be embarrassed. he’s just a dog too.”
chan doesn’t say a word, but his leg starts bouncing up and down. 
“see look, just like a dog thumping its leg,” you whisper into seungmin’s ear. it’s quiet enough in seungmin’s room so you know chan can hear what you said. the only sound other than the slapping of your hips together is that of seungmin’s oscillating fan. 
seungmin breathes a whine into your collarbone, and you use that as an excuse to pull his hair hard enough to lift his head so that you can look him in the eyes. 
“you’re a good boy seungminnie, did you know that?” seungmin nods his head yes but quickly stops and shakes it no instead. seungmin’s stopped fucking you now, you reckon he’s overwhelmed, so you run your fingers through his hair. “well it’s true, and i don’t lie. you’re such a good little puppy for me, seungmin, and do you know what good boys get?” 
“w-what do good boys get?” seungmin asks, hips wiggling.
“good boys get to hump, isn’t that right channie? ‘cause that’s what dogs do.” 
seungmin and chan sound so sweet when they moan together, voices almost harmonizing. your new favorite melody. you spur seungmin into moving when you pat his flank, and he does exactly what you told him to. his hips buck almost wildly against yours. you turn your head to look at your boyfriend and smirk at the way he’s minutely grinding his hips up into nothing. seungmin shifts his weight onto one hand and goes to touch your clit with his nimble fingers, but you stop him before he can.
“no, no, it’s okay honey, puppies can’t do that with their paws. you let me worry about that.” and you do, using the hand not holding the leash to reach down and rub your clit while seungmin watches. 
“i like- i like that,” seungmin gasps. it’s cute the way his stomach contracts when he thrusts into you. 
“you like what, seungminnie?” 
“the way you, ah, the way you talk to me. every time i cum from- from now on i’ll think of this,” seungmin confesses as he kisses down your shoulder to your arm. 
it’s a headrush. knowing that you have seungmin in the palm of your hand so easily like this. not only seungmin, but chan too. you can tell by how wide his eyes are; he’s hanging on to every word. 
“seungminnie, that’s sweet. how about next time i let you and channie both be my doggies? you can hump one leg and my channie can hump the other, and i’ll just sit here and watch. how about that? will you touch your cock to that too?”
“yes, yes, i will, promise,” seungmin cries. his hips buck against you so hard that his cock slips out, but he can’t stop moving in order to press back inside of you. seungmin’s just as happy fucking his cock against the mound of your cunt, grunting every time the slit of his cock rubs against your soft skin. 
“what about you, channie? will you touch yourself too?” you ask, turning to look at your boyfriend. he’s red in the face, sweating, curly hair sticking to his forehead. 
“you know i will, you know i will, baby.” 
seungmin cums with a sweet whine from low in his throat.
“good. now come clean up this mess seungminnie made.”
jeongin 
“ooh!” you exclaim. you clutch at jeongin’s biceps from where he’s holding himself up above you. “‘s big, innie.”
jeongin lets out a shuddery breath and blinks a bead of sweat from his eyelashes. it falls on your forehead.
“is that- is that okay?” he asks nervously. you can feel him stiffen above you, so you start to massage your hands up and down his arms. before you can answer him yourself, chan answers for you.
“it’s good, ayen-ah, don’t worry. my baby likes big.”
“oh, hyung that’s- please shut up.” you giggle at jeongin’s response and he smiles down at you, albeit a little shaky. 
“you can do whatever you want to me, innie. it’s your first time, just enjoy it.” he nods at your words, finally beginning to move his hips against you. 
“ahh, shit, you’re so-” jeongin doesn’t finish that sentence. “is it good for you? does it feel like this for you too?” you’re really wet, so he knows he’s doing alright on that front, but he wants to know how to make it even better. he brings a hand down to your pussy to feel. 
“there, rub there,” chan guides from his seat close to the bed. “you like it wet? that’ll make it wetter.” you throw your head back as jeongin complies with chan’s suggestion, two of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit. 
“that’s good, innie, feels so good,” you cry. 
jeongin presses a kiss to your sweaty neck in thanks. he stays there, mouthing repeatedly at your skin. his lips are a little timid but a lot sweet, and you encourage him by running your fingers through his hair. 
“can you, ah, will it be okay if i turn you over?” jeongin asks. 
you nod to him and press a kiss to his lips, patting his side as a signal for him to get off so you can change positions. you both hiss when his cock slides out of you. 
you make a show out of turning over for both jeongin and your boyfriend. jeongin’s hand squeezes the swell of your ass, and you hear him gasp when he takes notice of the slight gape from where he was inside you a few seconds prior. 
“oh that’s- oh wow,” jeongin breathes. “hyung, come see.” 
you preen when chan leaves his spot to stand beside the bed. his gaze joins jeongin’s on your center, and you wiggle your hips in impatience. chan cracks a hand down swiftly on your ass cheek and you whine. he knows what’s on the tip of your tongue, so he hooks two fingers into your opening and fucks you with them slowly. “just wanna be filled, huh?” 
“yeah, yeah. i want jeonginnie’s cock again,” comes your answer. chan laughs and smacks your ass once more before retreating back to his prior spot. jeongin heaves a deep breath and shakes his head, muttering an okay, okay under his breath. he presses you further into the bed so you’re almost lying entirely flat on your front until he quickly grabs a pillow from the head of his bed and stuffs it under your hips. 
“good, ayen-ah, where’d you learn that?” chan teases, nodding his head. jeongin rolls his eyes at that. you can’t see him, but you know him well enough to know that’s what he does. he doesn’t answer as he focuses on sheathing his cock inside you again and making sure his arms don’t give out from under him. 
jeongin cages you against the bed, his torso to your back and thighs on either side of yours. 
“ah it’s- it’s warm, where he hit you.” you can still feel the phantom sting of chan’s palm against your ass, and you notice it more when jeongin places his hand gently on top of where chan’s handprint is no doubt seared into your skin. that must get to jeongin because he thrusts into you harder than he has before. 
“s-sorry! sorry, i’m sorry, i can’t,” jeongin babbles, and you coo at him. your hand searches for his elegant fingers. when you find them you bring his hand back up beside your head, holding it and kissing his knuckles. 
“it’s okay, honey, i like that. d’you wanna cum in me? fuck me until you cum, innie, would you like that?” you ask him, trying your best to fuck back on him with his weight holding you down. he’ll cum in the condom he’s wearing, but the barrier doesn’t matter right now. 
“please, i- won’t last, i can’t. you’re- too pretty, so pretty, i can’t,” jeongin’s fucking you faster now. he’s so desperate to cum that it makes your pussy clench, and he shouts. your own fingers find your clit in the hopes that you can cum with him, a perfect end to his one-of-a-kind first time. 
“look at that, keep going iyennie, gonna make my baby cum too,” chan hums. jeongin’s balls deep in you, and you’re facing your boyfriend, falling apart for him and one of his closest friends. chan has his cock out, and you’re surely drooling now. you’ll have to remind jeongin to wash his sheets afterwards. 
your hand is trapped under you from yours and jeongin’s combined weight, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically rubbing your clit. that’s enough for jeongin; he chokes on a moan and he stops breathing as he cums inside you. inside the condom, but inside you nonetheless.
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saetoru · 8 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru
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“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”
“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.
“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.
“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”
“satoru.”
“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.
satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.
and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.
“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.
“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”
“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”
“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”
“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.
most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.
“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”
“no.”
“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.
that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.
“no, satoru.”
“two months?”
“nope.”
“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”
“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”
you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.
“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”
“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”
he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.
“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”
you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.
he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.
“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.
oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?
almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.
“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”
“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.
you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.
“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”
“toru, listen—”
“i trusted you.”
“baby—”
“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”
“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”
“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.
“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.
so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.
“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”
“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.
satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.
“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”
—————— BONUS ——————
“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.
he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.
“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”
“you’re being so dramatic—”
“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.
“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”
being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.
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guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O
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gojoux · 3 months
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𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒 “𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔” 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓?
Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta. Inumaki.
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◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
You. He’d definitely want to say it first, but the words never came out of his mouth, he just shows it instead in his own obnoxious way. When you say it first, he pauses for a few seconds in surprise before his eyes glimmer in happiness and the biggest grin appears on his face. “I knew it! You love me too!” He’d give you a big, tight hug and kiss your face repeatedly. He’d keep repeating it like an annoying boyfriend, saying it exaggeratedly, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He’s such a simp when it comes to you.
◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
Him. He believes in saying it as much as he feel it. On a random day when you’re both spending time together somewhere peaceful and quiet, he’d admire you as usual and decide to let his feelings out for you. He reaches out his finger to caress your cheek with that soft smile of his before saying, “I love you. I’m so lucky to have you.” He doesn’t expect you to say it back, he just wants to say it out loud for you to know. He likes showing you off in subtle ways that you’re his lover.
◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
You. He’s not interested in the concept of “love” and he thinks the word “love” is cheesy even though he loves you beyond measure. You’d have to say it first, but don’t expect him to reply, even though you’d be saying it multiple times. It’s just too much for his tastes. He’s not like those guys who would shower you with sweet words of love, he’s more likely to be a tease. It’s hard to know if he means it or if he’s mocking you with sarcasm, that’s just how he is. Instead, he’s not afraid of showing just how much he wants you in a more physical kind of way.
◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
You. He may not be very vocal with his words, but when it comes to showing his love for you, he’ll do that a lot with his actions. He’ll try to help you out in every situation he can. He’ll check up on you often, be protective of you whenever he can, and even make sure you’re fed and healthy. His affection will make you feel appreciated and loved without him having to say anything in particular. It’s mostly you who’s going to have to say it first, but don’t worry, he’ll say it back. He’d said it because he meant it, he’s not the type to blurt anything out just to soothe your heart. He knows that you know it, too.
◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎
Him. You are his love, the object of his affection and adoration. He doesn’t even realize when he says it since it just came out of his mouth so easily, his feelings for you are just so genuine and he’s not one to hold his words back. His love would be expressed both with words and actions, and he’d be very honest with you about everything. “I love you” could very well be one of the most important things he says to you as a sign of his affection towards you, he wants you to know that you’re deeply loved by him. And when he knows you love him the same way, he’s bound to never miss an opportunity to tell you “I love you” along with compliments or kiss you.
◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
You. Saying such a cheesy line to his lover? He doesn’t say “I love you” easily. He’s not the type to openly give you words that show his affection towards you. He doesn’t think he could even able to express it in words. When you told him you love him, he’d just reply, “I know,” with a sly grin on his face. But you can still be sure he appreciates you like nothing else in the world, for that’s how much he cares about you. He’ll never admit it verbally though, he lets his actions speak louder than words. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll say it when you’re in deep sleep, his tongue rolling out the words easily from his heart.
◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈
You. He has a hard time saying “I love you” first, you’d be the first to confess your love. But one thing is for sure, no matter how long it takes before he finally utters those words, he’ll never deny his love for you. He’s the type to take things slow and prefers to show his love with sweet action rather than just mere words. It’s hard to figure out when exactly he’d tell you that he loves you for the first time, you’d have to read the signs, “I bought this for you,” or “Let’s go out together,” or “I’m only here for you,” but no worries, if you ever ask him directly about his love to you, his answer would be a simple “Yes, I do.”
◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈
Him. It’s not a question of whether he will say “I love you” first, but “how many times he’ll say it.” He can’t be sure if you know how much he loves you, “My precious and beloved~ I love you more than anything.” He’d also keep saying it, much like a clingy boyfriend even if it’s the smallest thing you do, like “Your clothes look good on you, I love them and I love you,” and “You’re so beautiful, I love you,” and many more. He likes to hug or kiss you when he says it, he’s so sweet. He’s a man who truly adores you from the bottom of his heart and he thinks it’s normal to express it openly.
◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀
Him. He would definitely want to say “I love you” first when he realizes his feelings for you, and he is more than ready to say it. He wants to be very clear with his love for you. He might hesitate to throw the L-word here and there even though he wants to because he’s worried that you might get tired of hearing it. But soon enough, “I love you” becomes a common phrase in Yuta and your conversations as he showers you with sweet words, his words won’t only be sweet but he’ll mean every single word of it, it’s his way to show you how much he appreciates and treasures you. He’s a man who appreciates love and romance, after all.
◈ — 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈
Him. He won’t say it through text, but rather his hand gesture. He wants to look at you when he declares his love for you for the first time, and he’s so eager to do so. He’d point at himself, make multiple heart shapes— with his fingers, hands, arms— he’d use it all to make his points across, before pointing at you. When you mimic his gestures back, he’ll be so happy like a little child, squeezing you into a tight hug and kissing your cheek. He’d also spam your messages with many hearts and kisses emojis. He’s a chill guy, he won’t mind expressing his love for you openly, even when he’s trolling or making fun of you or himself in the process.
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stars-and-clouds · 6 months
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Astarion Romance Headcanons 🥀
SFW:
Side glances when you're besides him
Full on staring when you're not
Immediately looking away when you catch him
"You know the way he looks at you, don't you, soldier?"
His pinky itching towards yours when you're walking, wanting to hold your hand but unsure because, is it too much? Will you reject him?
His hands scrunching up your shirt tightly whenever you hug. He's always the last to let go.
You hold on longer and longer each time because he doesn't want to let go.
His kisses are tender and needy.
He likes the warmth of your hands.
Thinking of what tones will suit your perfume the best. He'll gift it to you after all this is over.
He'll sew the holes or tears in your clothes over the night and pretend he doesn't know what happened next morning.
When you move to kiss his cheek he will grimace in annoyance but lean in as you do it.
"Be careful around Astarion, (Tav). He's not serious about you.", the others will warn you. And Astarion will worry you'll heed their words more than his so he'll do so much to prove his love to you, not knowing that you already trust him (even if that is an objectively stupid thing to do lmao).
He started sleeping next to you from the moment you had sex but ever since you've entered the shadowlands, he ends up cuddling in the middle of the night. He misses the sun.
He likes kissing the palm of your hand or its back.
Likes to pack your bag before you leave camp.
"No one's ever going to love me like that again."
Ever since you told him that there's more to him than just beauty and sex, that he's hilarious, for instance, he finds ways to make you laugh. He loves it. He's started being a lot more sarcastic and makes more jokes just to hear your laughter. He'll never admit it, of course. Other than maybe when it's only you two.
Doesn't believe he will be able to love again if you let go of him.
"Don't be so nice to me." he says with round, needy and pleading eyes.
Thinking of ways he can show others you're together so others know you're not available.
Hiding his jealousy, terribly.
He will rip the throat out of anyone with malicious intent towards you.
"I will wait the whole of my life for you, Astarion." He doesn't believe it at first, but the longer you go on without sex the safer he feels and the more he wants you.
NSFW:
He sometimes cries silently at night, wishing he could make love to you without it feeling so tainted. He wants it so badly, but his past experience prohibits it. The pain of wanting something and being unable to have it only because of himself is too much. He blames himself too sometimes. Wishing he could give you more.
"I don't mind waiting.", you'd say.
"I do. I can't have you, no matter how much I want you.", he'd say.
When you cuddle him sensing he's upset, he will bury his face in your neck to hide his tears. The smell of you is comforting.
Needing you everytime you're tender with him.
Getting aroused when you hug during a kiss.
Wanting to kiss your skin all over, to make you cry from pleasure as you bury your face in his neck.
Wanting you to hold on to him for dear life as you climax.
When he's finally comfortable enough and takes charge of his own sexuality, he'll be so needy.
Realising that the two nights he had sex with you were nothing compared to how good making love to you feels.
When you give up all control to him, letting him do to you as he wants, the pleasure is almost too much bear. The power he feels is palpable and knowing it is you who trusts him so much will drive him near mad.
He will lose control many times so you have a safe word.
You both think of the stupidest word possible as a safe word. Something that makes you both laugh when it's used.
He likes over stimulating you, making you beg and he'll kiss you to calm you.
"It's okay, you can do it, darling.", he'll say stroking you even further and kissing your tears.
"Does that feel good, my love?"
The more you beg the more he loves it.
He likes playing with your hands, holding them in his, touching your fingers, comparing them to his while you rest on his chest, still warm from him being inside of you.
Resting his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat.
Staring at your face and body intently. Taking in every little reaction you make and replaying them over in his head throughout the day.
Staring at you longingly when you're both with the squad, failing terribly at focusing in battle or conversation.
Getting aroused when you're covered in blood.
Seeing you fighting, in general, turns him on. The smell of your sweat, your rapid heart beat, the way your body moves, all of it now only reminds him of making love to you.
Telling you to say his name whenever he's feeling good and you'll chant it as you cum. He loves how it sounds from your lips.
Resting his forehead against yours as he's close to cumming.
"Look at me.", he'll command you.
He likes when your hands rake his hair, pull his hair, tug it whatever. That slight bit of pain arouses him. Better yet, if you bury your nails into his skin.
He likes to look at you falling asleep. It's such a gentle thing. How can someone so strong otherwise be so soft around him? Why him? Why did someone like you choose someone like him? He can't believe he has you.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/50833876/chapters/128419966 I am updating these hcs on my ao3, if anyone is interested!
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cherienymphe · 9 days
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His Father's Son
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Rafe Cameron x Reader
Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.
warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
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The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.
You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.
“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.
Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.
Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.
Now 8:03.
“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”
You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.
“Tell Wheezie-.”
“I already took Wheezie to school.”
The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.
“…oh.”
You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.
“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”
You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.
You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.
“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”
There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.
“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”
Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.
When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?
He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.
You loved him.
…and then he died.
With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.
…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.
Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.
Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.
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“Did you hear me?”
His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.
“What?”
Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.
“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.
You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.
You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.
You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.
You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.
Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.
The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.
“Rafe-.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.
“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”
“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”
You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.
“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”
You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…
Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.
You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.
Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.
“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.
You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.
“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”
You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.
You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.
“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”
She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.
You forced yourself to ignore it.
“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”
“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”
At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.
“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”
You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.
You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.
It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.
“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”
At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?
“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.
“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”
You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.
“You don’t know anything about it.”
The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.
“No…but…”
Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.
“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”
The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.
“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”
You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.
“…but you don’t get it.”
Rafe looked between your eyes.
“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.
“Rafe…”
“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”
Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.
“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”
You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.
“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”
Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.
“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”
You looked away, avoiding his eye.
“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”
You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.
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You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.
It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.
The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…
Much like he was doing now.
“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”
Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.
“Is she okay?”
It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.
You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.
“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”
You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.
“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.
“What…?”
“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.
In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.
You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.
“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”
You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.
“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”
Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.
“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”
You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.
You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.
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You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.
“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.
“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”
You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.
It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.
Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.
“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.
“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”
“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”
You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.
“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.
While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.
“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”
Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.
“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.
“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.
You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.
“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”
The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.
“It’s family dinner night.”
You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.
“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”
“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”
When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.
“Why?” you chuckled.
Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.
“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.
You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.
“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”
You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.
“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”
You tilted your head at him when he looked away.
“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”
When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.
“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”
You blinked.
“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”
You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.
“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”
His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.
“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.
Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.
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“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”
You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,
“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”
“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”
The younger girl didn’t respond right away.
“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”
That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.
“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”
You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.
When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.
“Things are going to be different, now.”
“Rafe.”
Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.
“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”
“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.
“She’s grieving!”
“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”
You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.
“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.
The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.
“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”
You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.
“Fuck, that’s not…”
His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.
You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.
“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.
Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.
You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.
“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”
“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”
You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.
“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.
You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.
“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”
You sighed at that.
“Not necessarily, I just-.”
“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”
You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.
“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”
You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.
“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”
You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.
“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.
You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.
“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.
You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.
“Do not touch me like that again.”
Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.
“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”
Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.
“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”
His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.
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The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.
“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”
As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.
In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.
“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.
“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”
He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.
“They already don’t like you…”
You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.
“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”
You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.
“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”
Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.
In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.
“I never have,” was his response.
“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”
You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.
“Why not?”
“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”
His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.
The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.
When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.
The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.
“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”
“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.
The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.
Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.
You wanted to gag.
His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.
Hard.
You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.
When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.
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You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.
You wanted him out of the house.
…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.
You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.
You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.
Was this your fault?
Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.
Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?
As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.
…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.
You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.
She was right.
…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.
It was noticeable.
“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.
You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.
“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.
“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”
Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.
“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”
You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.
“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”
“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”
The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.
“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”
Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”
You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.
Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.
The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.
Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.
It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.
Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.
The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…
…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.
You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.
Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.
Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.
You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.
As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.
With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.
Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.
“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”
Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.
“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.
You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.
You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.
With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.
He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.
He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.
As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.
Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.
When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”
You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.
He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.
Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.
When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.
“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.
At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.
He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.
So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.
It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.
With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.
“My dad’s gone…”
The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.
“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”
He swallowed, looking between your eyes.
“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”
His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.
“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”
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awearywritersworld · 4 months
Text
my very soul demands you
sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist
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when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.
he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.
"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.
he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"
despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.
you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"
"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.
"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.
he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?
and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?
yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.
it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.
and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.
when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"
you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.
"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.
sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.
your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.
he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."
reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.
upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.
he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.
"mornin', baby."
"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.
"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.
"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."
"that so? how'd it go?"
you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?
"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."
"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."
returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."
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it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.
he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.
his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.
it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.
sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?
you're not his to touch.
"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.
"and why would i do that?"
"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."
"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."
"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"
yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."
he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."
yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."
once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.
"you two have met, right?" you ask.
"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."
"it has! good to see you, yamada."
"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"
"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.
your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.
"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.
"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"
the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.
"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.
"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.
you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.
you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.
opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."
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"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.
it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.
"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"
"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."
he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."
"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"
"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"
you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.
"very mature, you silly little girl."
"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.
"oh, please. that's not what i said."
you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.
"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).
as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.
eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.
"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."
when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."
the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:
"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."
to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.
"something you want to say?" he baits you.
"nope, nothing at all!"
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two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.
you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.
when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."
your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.
he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—
"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.
he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"
"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."
he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.
you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.
at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.
occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."
as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.
"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."
he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.
"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”
when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.
you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—
your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.
perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.
no, no, no.
to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.
but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...
gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—
you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"
"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."
"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.
"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."
you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."
"what a clever analysis."
you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"
and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.
admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.
left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.
leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.
"..sweet dreams."
3K notes · View notes
zyafics · 18 days
Text
stay the night | rafe cameron (18+)
pairing: rafe cameron x female reader
summary: when rafe cameron sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that means.
warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, jealousy, dominance play, oral receiving (f + m), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, praise kink, a little bit of fluff at the end
word count: 5.5k
zya's notes: i originally had this planned for my “brother’s rival” series but it didn’t fit so here u go
dedication: thank u @xorafe for beta-reading and ur feedbacks, u truly are a real one <3
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚
Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.
You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.
However, you've been exclusive.
It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.
You thought it could mean something more.
You thought wrong.
The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.
"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."
"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."
He scoffed. "Not my problem."
"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"
He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."
You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.
"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.
The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.
And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.
The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.
Kooks can't play for shit.
This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.
But you didn't care.
(Maybe just a little).
After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.
He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.
But you didn't.
You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.
All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.
You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.
And Rafe Cameron is fuming.
He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.
But it also made him attracted to you.
Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.
But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.
You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.
Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.
But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.
It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.
You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"
You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."
His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"
You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."
He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."
You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."
Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.
He does.
By slamming his lips against yours.
One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.
"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."
Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"
He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."
His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.
"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."
"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.
You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.
Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"
You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"
You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.
Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.
"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"
You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.
Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."
Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."
"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."
His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"
You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.
You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."
You do.
Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."
You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."
When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."
His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"
"If I have to be naked, so do you."
"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.
Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."
The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient. 
"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.
"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."
You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.
On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.
And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.
A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.
Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face. 
“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.” 
With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.
"What the fuck?"
"Say please."
He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.
Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.
With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."
You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds. 
In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."
His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.
Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.
He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."
A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place. 
When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.” 
Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release. 
Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.
"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.
"I said you're going to regret it."
"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."
Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes. 
“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”
He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds. 
“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face. 
You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry. 
Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode. 
“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row. 
You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. 
His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?” 
Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you. 
Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward. 
He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 
You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits. 
This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars. 
Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"
You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his. 
“Ethan.” 
Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.
His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"
His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"
He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.
Especially not now.
Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.
But he needs to hear you say it.
"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."
"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"
You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.
He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.
With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."
He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.
His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.
"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."
You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile. 
"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."
"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."
"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.
You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."
He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.
You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision. 
"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."
Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."
When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.
He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end. 
Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers. 
“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his. 
"What?"
"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."
You hesitate. "Rafe..."
"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.
"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."
He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."
You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain. 
He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power. 
With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."
He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight. 
When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 
You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.” 
You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.” 
“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.” 
You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was. 
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion. 
"What?"
"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."
He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."
"What?"
"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had. 
When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.” 
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader - reader POV
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You have a problem.
You miss your neighbor.
He's been gone for two and a half weeks, and every day you catch yourself holding your breath, listening for him next door. Watching for the light on his balcony, checking your phone relentlessly.
You've been worrying, anxiety turning into a gnawing ache beneath your ribs, wondering about how he is, what he's doing, if he's okay. If he's safe.
He'll text you. Right? When he's home? He said he would, didn't he? You're not sure. Not sure of anything when it comes to him, confusing thoughts and feelings turning over and over in your head every second, twisted up and tangled in your heart.
You've friend zoned yourself, you know it. Relying on him too much, asking him for help all the time, inviting him for dinners but too afraid to try to take the next step. And didn't you do it to yourself anyway? Didn't you ask him to babysit for you, so you could go out on a date with some asshole that didn't even show? He's your friend. He's your neighbor.
Yeah but he asked you to go for dinner, the night you were sick. And he rushed to you and Emma when that creep was following you in the park. Doesn't that mean something?
He asked you AND Emmaline to dinner, not like on a romantic date. And he did the same thing anyone would do, if they thought their friend was in trouble, didn't he?
He doesn't act like your neighbor. He acts more like... a husband, than anything else.
Not knowing is confusing, and on top of your grief, it makes you feel a little more vulnerable than you care to admit, but you can't deny your own truth. You like him. Even Emmaline likes him, little face smiling up at him every chance she gets, staring at him like he's the whole world. Maybe he is. You can't help but swoon over the way she interacts with him, how she settles so easily with him, how she coos and babbles at him like she's having a whole conversation with him. When he walks into a room, she lights up like the sun, happy baby giggles and everything, the sweet sounds of her glee at her favorite person's face like music to your ears. So unfair. You suffered for sixteen hours trying to give birth to her, alone... and he comes around for a few months and all the sudden you've been replaced.
You can't blame her too much, you guess. You get it. He's... something else. Something you're not sure you understand. Something you don't know you're ready for.
Still, you think he might feel the same way.
You shake your head. Stop. You're getting so far ahead of yourself.
Which is why you've convinced yourself that when he's home, the next time you see him, you're just going to buck up and do it. You're going to tell him how you feel. No matter how hard it is.
You've even practiced what you'll say. Staring at yourself in the mirror nervously, reciting different ways to say 'hey Simon I really like you and was wondering if you want to go out on a date even though I have a baby and am basically a widow.'
Emmaline cries, announcing that she's awake, and you're so quick to soothe her, holding her to your chest, whispering a good morning to her, rubbing her back and tummy as you always do. You think some people might say you're spoiling her, that you're not letting her cry long enough, that you're teaching her bad habits or manners but you can't help it. Her father died before she was even born. You're the only thing she has in this world, the only person that gives her love, that makes her feel safe-
or at least, you used to be.
You hear your neighbor in his flat hours and hours later. Well past sunset, Emmaline already sleeping in her crib, your dishes already done, little chores taken care of, and you're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, watching a movie at a low hum.
Was that- is he?
You sit straight up, straining to listen. It takes a second, but eventually, you recognize the tell tale sound of an interior door closing, and then the balcony glows with the light from the inside.
He's home. You take a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath. Just go over there, and tell him how you feel.
Your fingers curl into a fist, hesitantly knocking at his door, holding your breath. When there's no response, you try again, a little louder, and then feel immense relief when the lock clicks.
Until it opens.
Simon doesn't look like himself. He looks lost. Haunted. There's remnant of black grease around his eyes and instead of being maskless or wearing the usual cloth one, his head is mostly covered by a balaclava bearing a skull, and his eyes are blank. Dark. Something is off.
"Hi." You squeak, and cringe inwardly, stomach flipping like you're on a carnival ride. You raise the two bottles of beer that you brought over with a meek smile, gesturing to them and the monitor. "Thought we could um... try this again?"
"No." His refusal is flat, rough, and you blink in surprise. No?
"Oh- I uh... just thought-"
"It's not a good time." He cuts you off, and then before you can even get another word out, the front door closes in your face, leaving you outside in the hall, bewildered. Hurt.
Guess he doesn't like you after all.
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