#motion sensor light bar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xzaddyzanakinx · 3 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part One: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts, he just really wants to make sure your silly little girl brain doesn’t get in the way of your safety, you have a cat, Anakin is a bartender [diary entries from Ani’s perspective] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: May 2nd

The Cerulean was filled with loud music, flashing lights, and the stench of sweaty guys and spilt beer. Over-kill perfume on the girls who so desperately wanted my attention, writing their numbers on their drink coasters after finishing their stupid little cocktail. The occasional ‘break it up guys, c’mon’ yelled out at a pair of ‘roided up college boys. Peanut shells stuck to my sneakers at the end of the night, going home and washing off the stickiness from working behind the bar.

All things I was used to.

But you… not you. Every time I caught a glimpse of you tonight it was like the first time all over again.

Pink, skirt, sneakers, crop top. Such a cute little outfit; it made you easy to spot, easy to track, easy to watch over.

I have your drink order memorized. I so hoped you’d come back for another so I could hear your voice, to see your pretty little lips move just for me again. But you didn’t. Because you’re a smart girl. You knew that without a man around to look out for you, you’d be pretty hopeless if you got too tipsy. It only made me want to protect you more. You’re too soft, too sweet, too innocent to worry about the big nasty world around you.

That’s my job now.

I’ll always keep you safe, but I also want to keep you happy. You deserve the world and more, and I’ll give it to you.

I’d destroy the earth to build it up again in your design. I’d live for you, serve you, die for you, at any moment you might ask. Just say the word and I will. I promise I will.

Note: Motion sensors

Date:

May 23rd

Anakin walked a safe distance behind you, his hands in his hoodie pocket, his hood up and head down. It was dark out, the only light was from the street lamps.

Sometimes when he walked you home he just wanted to run up and grab you by the shoulders and shake you; ask you to please for once just pay attention to your surroundings.

You walked around with your headphones in, ignoring everything and everyone. Yeah it was a straight shot to your apartment from the bar. Only having to cross the road once during the mile long journey down the sidewalk. But a mile was a good stretch of space and there were plenty of people who passed you. A handful of creepy, unlit alleyways you could be dragged into.

You were practically asking for it.

He just had to remind himself that this was just another reason you were so lucky to have him. He’d watch over you, so you didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about nothin’.

Anakin stood by the corner store dumpster and watched as you trotted up the steps and tapped the door code into the keypad of your apartment building. After the door shut behind you and he saw the keypad flash red, he knew you were safely locked inside.

It took approximately one minute and 14 seconds for you to jog up the steps to your door, depending on how tired you were he could add a few seconds and not worry. But anything over 20 seconds had him sweating in a panic.

Tonight though you were right on time, his phone pinged with an alert that your door had been opened, and successfully shut behind you. Now he could breathe a sigh of relief and make his way back to work.

His boss was kind enough to never question why he skipped out for about 20 minutes a night or two a week. Anakin smoked, it wasn’t unlikely to assume he just got a little distracted scrolling on his phone during his smoke break or maybe just needed a few minutes of peace.

Now all he had to do was suffer through three more hours of monotonous work and try not get a head start on his hearing loss from the shitty music.

Then he could go home to you.

The cloak of stress he wore when you were out of sight vanished quickly when he perched on the fire escape and peered into your living room. Poor thing. You’d fallen asleep on the couch again.

Not that he minded. It made his night that much better when he could sit closer to you. It was a pain to climb the ladder of the building next door and sit on the rooftop so he could see into your bedroom window. Very inconvenient, but worth it everytime.

He sat quietly, observing you and the way your lips twitched while you slept, as though you were having a conversation with someone in your dreams. Probably him, he thought.

“Oh, your blanket… you’re gonna be cold if you keep squirming around like that, your blanket is gonna end up in the floor.”

His fingers itched to pry open the window and tuck you back in, but he didn’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. No breaking and entering.

He decided it was time to head back to his own home after that, he couldn’t stay much longer without: a) falling asleep b) forcing his way into your apartment for the sake of keeping you warm.

So he trekked to the sidewalk, wiping off the rust stains on his palms from the old metal fire escape. Shoving his hands back into his hoodie pocket after blowing you a goodnight kiss.

Diary Entry: June 6th

You owe me big time young lady.

You left your door unlocked and your window cracked open. It is 3:00am, what if someone snuck in? Then what would I do?

Die probably. I’d probably die if something happened to you.

Therefore, I bit the bullet and helped you out. I’m lucky you’re a heavy sleeper and I’m not easy to startle or else we both would’ve had a big scare tonight.

I cracked open your window, slipped in quietly, lowered it behind me, locked it. Double checked it and then triple checked it just in case.

When I turned around- christ that fucking cat. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. Guard dog? Who needs a guard dog when you’ve got that monster running around?

A quick blur of orange and a loud *reeeareow* was the only warning before it- sorry, Boogie, climbed up my leg with her little pitchfork claws. I handled it well, you’d be proud. I picked her up by the scruff and gave her a light bop on the noggin’ just like you do when she’s in trouble; except I didn’t kiss it better afterwards, I think she would’ve eaten me if I tried that.

Any-who, I carried her with me to the kitchen and got her a little treat from the cutesy kitten jar on the countertop. Then she decided we could be friends or well… maybe or maybe not I don’t really know, I guess we’ll see.

I plucked your spare key from the top of the fridge and quietly left your apartment. I locked the door and checked it several times, just in case.

As I walked down the steps I saw that the super was kind enough to leave a reminder that the keypad code had been changed, how nice of him! You are awfully forgetful sometimes. No worries princess I took a picture for safe keeping.

I need to change the batteries on or door sensors soon anyway, those little button batteries don’t last very long you know.

It was only when I got home that I realized I still had your spare key… tsk tsk Anakin. Ah well, that just means it won’t fall into the hands of someone it shouldn’t. I’ll keep it safe.

I love you 🖤

Diary Entry: June 7th

You know, come to think of it. Now that I have a key I should get a few new items for your apartment, that way I can keep an eye on things for you while you’re away.

Note: Hd1080p microcam x4

There will be a bot to go along with this series! This is really short compared to my usual posts: I just wanted to give all my little lovelies a snippet of what’s to come.

Part Two

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

414 notes · View notes

thedelicatearcher · 1 month

Text

finnick odair who loves making improvements to your home to make your life easier. one of finnick's love languages is acts of service, so when you move into his house in the victors village, he can't stop thinking of ways of transforming your home to make your life a little better. these improvements go from small modifications such as installing motion-sensor lights on the porch for when you come home late, building custom color-coded drawers on the kitchen for your baking utensils, and adding support bars in some places to prevent you from slipping. to more major ones like buying and restoring a vintage desk that you loved in the market, and transforming part of the backyard into a gorgeous little garden for you to relax in.

finnick odair who loves you deeply and is devoted to make you happy on your shared home

#i really love this guy i can't stop thinking about him #this was inspired by the lady on tiktok who shows what her husband made for her #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #thg

184 notes · View notes

saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

hii its me again, can you do one where könig is handling a totally wasted and drunk reader? like where the reader just got done celebrating and having a few drinks with some co-workers. (got this idea after my tipsy friend pointed to a big bulky guy and said "i want him to take me home" and the guy just shyly waved at our crowd and it really reminded me of könig.) i'm not much of drinker since i don't have a high tolerance

Yuhhhhhh I loved this request. Takes me back to the times… now I can barely drink a pint without priming myself with Advil.

Pairing: König x reader (more so f!reader?)

Summary: You come home tipsy to König’s house.

A/N: a lil jealousy mention, but nothing too serious. Playful teasing? (Can you guys see the development of him falling in love with you and being more vulnerable maybe just a bit?)

“Home”

Your shoes knocked under you. Your feet ached. You weren’t sure how exactly your group of friends and yourself were able to squeeze into the Uber. The woman inside the Uber was intimidated, begging everyone to please use the plastic bags she had behind the passenger seat if they felt sick.

You and your group of friends had gone out to a bar for the night. It had been months of not seeing each other, one round turned to many, soon all of you clearly intoxicated, releasing the built up stress of your day to day.

You rode in the Uber, your head spinning. Maybe the plastic bag was a good idea. You just wanted to go home, take off the tight clothes on your body, hide your annoying shoes, and wipe off the sweat on your face.

Your friend kept talking to you, asking to describe the house.

You had picked König’s house to come home to, promising to spend the weekend with him for some sort of gaming event he had got tickets to. You were just happy to come home to him.

“It’s got little stones in the driveway” you mumbled, the window of the car starting to spin.

“The color you idiot.. maybe even a car?” your sober friend in the passenger seat directing the driver to slow down so she could watch.

“like dark gray rain clouds” you closed your eyes, clearly nauseated. “He’s got a g-wagon.”

“Dark gray rain clouds?” They giggled uncontrollably.

“We get it you’re fucking a German.” Another one said.

“Austrian.” You mumbled back. A finger in the air.

You searched for the house in your mind, your muscle memory focusing on the left curve the driver took, then a right up a hill. You kept ignoring the laughter behind you. The house soon came into vision, one light on outside, but the rest of the lights off inside. His car was parked in the driveway, and as soon as the Uber parked behind it, the motion sensor light went off.

“Are you sure this is the house?” You friend asked skeptically, feeling unsure. The rest of the neighborhood was asleep, the top of the hill had only a couple of porch lights on in the distance.

“Yeah it’s just a quiet neighborhood” you hiccuped, started tying your shoes up again in the dark.

You looked up again, recognizing the figure coming outside the door. His broad stance, his weight shifting equally on both of his legs, bulky arms hidden underneath a gray crew neck sweater.

God… just his figure made you fidget in your seat. You felt the anticipation to touch, feel him. Your hands itched. His stride to the car made you tingle.

He was covered up… in a face mask? He approached the car while you tumbled out of it excited. The rest of your party teasing you, as you yanked yourself away from them, and pulled towards him.

“Whoa! You’re gonna break your knees..” he lunged forward, caught you swiftly up into his arms, pulling you up, then shifting your weight onto your legs. He held you there, but could see you swaying. He held back a laugh, tucked your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“schatz…” he spoke softly as he held you closer, your chests touching, one arm wrapped around you.

“’m okay!” You held a hand up in the air. More so towards him than your friends hysterically laughing in the car behind you. Most of them were staring at him. Attempting to get any peak of his face.

He nodded gently towards them, made his voice a little deeper, huskier— “Thank you guys, goodnight.”

Another fit of giggles.

Annoying. You freed yourself underneath him and walked towards the door, him trailing behind you, which quickly shifted next to you because of how much you swayed. He chuckled as he put an arm over your shoulder and opened the door.

You walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, then proceeded to gulp down one of the cold water bottles in there. You gulped the last drop and then turned around.

His face mask had been taken off. He was biting his lip, trying not to laugh, his fingers lightly drumming on the countertop.

“What?” Were you that drunk? You spoke in an accusatory tone.

He scoffed, eyeing at you. You weren’t going to come at him with that attitude,

“You don’t even have the shoes that you left with on.” He laughed.

You looked down, the dress shoes you had worn were not on your feet.

He proceeded to mimic your voice, “I’m gonna have 3 adios motherf-“

You cut him off. He wasn’t going to have the opportunity to make fun of you, not in this state.

“Shuuuuuut up, what’s up with the face mask?” You laid back against the steel fridge, the coolness feeling good against your back. Somewhat trying to regain composure. Holding the water bottle close to your cheek, to hide away any evidence of redness. Now it was his turn to blush.

“Your friends.. like a little mystery, I’m happy to offer that to them.” he smirked, clearly aware that your friends had begged and begged to see him, but never had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his face in person. He became so vain once you told him about how they oohed and ahhed about him. You smiled, he needed a little attention. And you liked that he gained it.

Now it was your turn. You made the best impression of him. You made your voice huskier, as deep as it could go —

“Ohhhhh, thank you guys gooodnight!” “Really König— we get it. Six foot fucking seven and your deep voice.”

He burst out laughing, shaking his head, the corner of his eyes forming crinkles, hiding beneath his hand.

“You’re so ridiculou-“ he cut you off.

“Have you ever been told how much of a little brat you are?” He spoke a little deeper now, his voice still full of admiration, he smirked, his voice echoed down the hallway. He came closer to you, holding your chin between his fingers again.

He could kiss you— you looked so disheveled, your makeup running across your eyes, your hair matted on your head. Some of your clothes had been tidier and tighter when you left. He looked at your eyes, wondering how on earth you had continued to come back to him. Your head barely touched the bottom of his chin, you stood on your toes trying to get some affection but he drummed his fingers down the side of your waist, hauling you up the kitchen counter.

You sat, quiet and excited. How much it made you burst that he could pick you up and place you anywhere.

“So how was the bar?” He began, then turned to grab condiments out of the fridge, strawberry jelly, peanut butter, butter, and bread. He grabbed another water for you, opening the cap.

“It was good!” You sat there watching him prepare his favorite, a peanut butter & jelly banana sandwich.

“No one really got there until 2-3 hours after us,” You rambled on, telling him about how your friends peer pressured you into shot after shot. Which you didn’t mind, you needed a distraction. Small glimpses were thrown back to you, with eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and smirks as you animatedly told him about your night.

“I think the best part was when a group of barely turned 21 year olds tried to buy us a round” you didn’t make eye contact. You knew what you were doing.

“Kind of hilarious seeing them pool their money together to buy 5 shots.”

His right eyebrow raised. A small smile formed at his lips. He swiped a banana from the hanger, began slicing it at an angle. The way you like. You were going to be in big trouble for that comment.

He arranged the banana on top of the peanut butter on the warm bread, and began to spread jelly on the other. He cuts it diagonally, then swipes the oozing jelly off the end, sucking on his finger before handing it to you on a plate.

He put the stuff away, then settled his arms on either side of you. You chewed slowly, making eye contact with him. Smiling, wondering if you looked innocent enough. Then took another bite, jelly getting caught on the corner of your mouth, before you could even grab with your tongue, he spoke low,

“Bet a 21 year old wouldn’t make you a sandwich, or keep you hydrated.” He got so close to your face, you practically felt the mint toothpaste from his breath on your tongue. Yup. You definitely struck a nerve.

He then proceeded to do the one thing you absolutely hate. He grabbed your face with one hand, then licked the corner of your mouth, followed by a firm kiss on your lips.

“I swear….to god!” You made it seem like it was disgusting, dramatically wiping your face, hiding the smile, sobering up slowly. You shoved the remaining bites of the sandwich in your mouth. He took the plate and placed it in the sink.

He hauled you up again, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked over to the bathroom, sat you down on the counter. Began removing your shoes, clothes, then he picked up the “melt” cleanser you used (he called melt because it melted in your fingers) and began to rub it in.

You closed your eyes. König could be so soft with you. He was surprisingly gentle with your face, rubbing in circular motions, gently swiping underneath your eye and eyelid, then grabbed a washcloth to take it off. Put the second cleanser in your hands, he walked into the bedroom.

As you finished the routine, he came back with warm pajamas for you. You held them in your hands… “Did you place these in the dryer?”

He shrugged, picking up all of your hair in a scrunchie.

“Come on babe, brush your teeth and get ready.” He said softly. A small pat to your bum.

You were definitely sobering up now, as you brushed your teeth, admiring the way he collected the hair away from your face.

He had laid on his side of the bed, both arms behind his head, leaving your side open. The side of your nightstand had a hydration packet with another cold water bottle. You slipped in.

But of course, he needed the last word.

“A 21 year old wouldn’t have done all this. As a matter of a fact I think they would’ve let you go to sleep drunk.”

“König…”

“A 21 year old,” he scoffed, “you should be ashamed.”

He leaned in towards you, cupped your face in his right hand, and deeply kissed you. Rubbing the side of your face, a small moan came out from him. He looked at you with so much admiration and love, happy you were back home.

A small smile from him, his lips parted as he began,

“A 21 year—“

“Oh my god goodnight” you bury yourself beneath his arm as he laughs uncontrollably.

“Goodnight schatz.”

#könig #könig x reader #ask #prompt request #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #könig mw2

1K notes · View notes

peachdues · 10 months

Text

I Want You, I Need You (NSFW)

Requested for Sanemi x Y/N • Rengoku x Y/N • Giyuu x Y/N by @stuckinthewrongworld

Come get your food, you skanks.

CW: explicit sexual content for all three. Sanemi is princess slut in this. Rengoku is an angy boy (some mild hate-fucking). Giyuu is emotional. Condoms are non-existent, cre @ mpies all around. Exhibitionism in Sanemi’s (more like public sex), and hurt/comfort in Giyuu’s. MDNI. Read below the cut.

Reblogs, tags, and comments always appreciated! Love you all 🍑🌸🤍

Sanemi

Sanemi Shinazugawa hated quickies with a passion. He much preferred to have his girlfriend spread out over his chosen piece of furniture, completely at his mercy, where he was free to take as much time with her as he wanted, thank you very much.

But then his girlfriend had strode into his apartment wearing that fucking dress for his office’s charity gala, the satin one that clung to every dip and curve of her just fucking right, and Sanemi’s mouth had gone dry.

Even an hour after arriving, Sanemi is still struggling to conceal the hardness in his tuxedo pants that grows ever more demanding with every passing second.

It doesn’t help that half the men and women in his office keep eyeing Y/N like she was a goddamn meal and they haven’t eaten in days.

Y/N certainly hadn’t fucking helped his predicament when she’d slid past him to grab a drink from the bar, only for her ass to brush against his stiffening length. She’d frozen for a moment, surprised at just how tightly wound her boyfriend had been, but then the little succubus had ground the supple curve of her ass back against him once, and Sanemi nearly came in his pants.

One look at her devilish smirk had him closing his hand around her wrist and practically tugging her through the throng of his subordinates and co-workers gathered at the museum, to find somewhere — anywhere — private where he could give it right back to her.

Sanemi had found such a secluded corner in the back of coatcheck, and had wasted no time in pushing Y/N up against the farthest wall from the entrance and shoving the long skirt of her dress aside. He’d been pleased that the one she’d selected to wear that evening had a daring little slit that went nearly to her thigh — it’d made pulling that scrap of lace she called a thong to the side all the easier.

“D’you want me, baby?” He’d snarled in her ear as he shoved his fingers between her thighs to run them over her damp slit, pleased that she was just as turned on as he.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with lust, and she let out the sexiest fucking high-pitched mewl ever to grace Sanemi’s ears, nodding enthusiastically.

“Good,” he’d growled, fumbling with the opening of his tuxedo pants as he shoved them down just far enough to release his fully erect length, red and leaking in demand as he brought it against her slick, euphoric heat. “‘Cuz I fuckin’ need you.”

And that was how the couple found themselves in the back of the museum’s coat room, tucked behind the last rack of fancy coats and scarves, Y/N pressed against the wall and her thong pulled to the side while Sanemi thrust savagely up into her.

It was true, he hated quickies — but something about the thought of taking Y/N to a secluded corner and fucking her senseless while the threat of being caught loomed, made Sanemi’s cock even harder than it already was, plunging in and out of her satiny heat.

And given the lewd squelching of Y/N’s cunt as his cock drives in and out of her at record pace, it seemed his girlfriend would be inclined to agree with him; this was fucking hot.

“Your pussy is so fuckin’ perfect,” Sanemi grunts in her ear as he pushes her thigh back firmly against the wall they’re braced against. “And all wet for me.”

Y/N’s hands greedily roam the planes of his torso, concealed beneath his tuxedo shirt. She opens her mouth to respond when the motion-sensor hall light outside of the coat room clicks on, voices of museum patrons not too far away.

The voices draw nearer as Sanemi’s thrusts grow sloppier and Y/N clenches tighter around him. Her pretty lips fall open in a perfect “o” and Sanemi knows she’s about to start making those high-pitched, breathy moans she always makes just before she cums.

As much as it pains him, he frees his hand from its grip under her thigh and closes it over her mouth, stifling the sounds as they begin to bubble up her throat.

But that hand had been keeping her leg pinned to the wall, and Y/N is too fucked out of her mind to keep it up herself. Her foot comes to rest back on the floor, leg wobbling precariously in her strappy heels as she tries to hold herself upright.

Unfortunately for Sanemi, their new position now causes Y/N’s succulent cunt to clench him even tighter, and Sanemi knows he’s only a few pumps away from unloading into her warmth, and those damnable voices are still getting closer.

Of fucking course they chose to duck behind the rack that housed the coat this particular guest needed right fucking then.

Sanemi brings his lips to the back of the hand he has covering Y/N’s mouth, his teeth breaking his skin as he bites down in an effort to keep his groans in check. The sight, is apparently too overwhelming for Y/N, because suddenly the walls of her velvety cunt are spasming around him, and the only part of her eyes Sanemi can see are the whites as they roll back into her head with the force of her orgasm.

Her legs quiver beneath him and the vibration sends Sanemi hurtling over the edge, his eyes squeezing tight as his cock spurts within Y/N’s honeyed core.

“Ah, here we are, ticket 1915! For Mr. Ubayashiki!” The coat check attendant chirps.

Sanemi’s eyes fly open at the name. The coat rack he’d taken Y/N behind was not just any coat rack.

No. It was the rack for his fucking boss. And now, his boss and the poor attendant, who most certainly is not being paid enough for his services, are about to be exposed to Sanemi Shinazugawa’s bare ass while he’s in the middle of unloading inside his girlfriend.

In a last-ditch, desperate attempt to preserve what remains of his tattered dignity, Sanemi blindly grabs a handful of coats and shoved them forward, praying to whatever gods there might be that Mr. Ubyashiki’s is near the front.

Whether by dumb luck or divine intervention, the coat check attendant does not need to dig too far in the rack to find Mr. Ubayashiki’s coat. The footsteps pad away and both Sanemi and Y/N look to one another and exhale against his hand, relaxing in relief.

Sanemi waits until the coat check attendant flips the light of the room off before he dares to pull out.

“Shit, sorry,” Sanemi tries to brush a bead of his cum that accidentally drops onto the side of Y/N’s dress as his seed begins to trickle down her thighs. His softened cock still hanging out of his pants, Sanemi grabs a small handkerchief from his pocket and reaches between his girlfriend’s quivering legs to wipe away the excess, before fixing her thong. “You okay?”

Y/N nods, a delicate blush on her cheeks as Sanemi tucks himself back into his pants. Her hands flutter up to her hair, smoothing it down before she gasps, fingers flying to her lips.

“How’s my lipstick?” Y/N worries, grabbing his hand and forcing Sanemi to look closely at that sinful mouth of hers.

The outline of her lips still has traces of red that is slightly smudged, but the pillowy softness of her lips are her natural color.

In other words, Y/N looks as though she’d just been thoroughly kissed.

“Oh no,” Y/N’s eyes widen as mortification begins to settle over her.

But Sanemi came prepared.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, reaching into the pocket of his pants to withdraw the small black tube containing his girlfriend’s chosen lip color for the evening. He feels a smug sense of pride at the way her shoulders visibly relax, a relieved smile spreading across her lips.

Y/N moves to take her lipstick from his hand, but Sanemi pulls it back, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him in question.

“Part your lips for me, darlin’,” he murmurs, and his pride multiplies at the way Y/N’s cheeks turn pink, her eyes darting from the hand clutching the tube and back to him.

Slowly, Y/N’s sensual lips part, and Sanemi uses his free hand to grip her gently — but possessively — under her chin to hold her still. Still holding the lipstick in his hand, he leans in and slants his mouth over hers, his tongue darting quickly between her relaxed lips to stroke her own. He feels himself begin to harden once more at the soft, surprised gasp that he swallows as his tongue licks the roof of her mouth before he pulls away once more.

Seamlessly, Sanemi pops the lid of her lipstick off with the same hand he holds it with, and brings the rouge to her mouth, gently patting the pigment against her still-parted lips as he’d seen her do countless times before.

Y/N’s eyes never leave his face, and though Sanemi is fixated entirely on her mouth, he knows that were he to look, he would see the same renewed heat for him in her gaze as he feels stirring in his blood.

Fuck, he loves her. He thinks he should marry her.

Finally, Sanemi steps back, satisfied with his job, closes the tube, and slips it back into his pocket.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Sanemi shakes his head, hand reaching to take hers gently in his as he leads her back to the main floor of the museum. “Thank god you’re wearin’ white.”

Y/N squeezes the fingers interlaced with hers and Sanemi looks back to see that glint in her eye — the one that means trouble for him.

“When we get home — payback.” She promises, and Sanemi nearly hauls her ass out of the gala right then, knowing that “payback” meant Y/N would be tying his arms and legs to the posts of his bed and riding him ten ways to Sunday.

Just as the two cross the threshold back into the main gallery, Sanemi slips his hand against her ass and squeezes, roughly. “Bring it on, baby.” He taunts.

This time, it’s Y/N who turns on her heel, grabs his arm, and tugs him behind her, Sanemi smiling with abandon the whole way to the car.

Rengoku

“I don’t know what you want, Rengoku.” Y/N’s voice was hard, even as her eyes stung with the burn of unshed tears. “You’re a riddle I can’t figure out how to decipher, and I’m done trying.”

With that, Y/N turned away and made to leave his apartment for good. She was tired — so very tired of never being his priority; of him choosing anyone and anything but her. Whether it was his father, his brother, his job, his friends, or those boys he mentored, Y/N had grown tired of being relegated to the bottom of Rengoku’s list. He’d exhausted all of her resources, always stringing her along with lofty promises that he cared for her, that she was important to him, and yet she never found herself being used as anything but a last resort.

He wouldn’t even commit to dating her, for God’s sake. And so, she was done.

She’d just managed to wrench the front door open when a large hand shot past her head and slammed it shut once more. Y/N’s mouth opened in indignation, ready to curse the man at her back, but his other hand closed around her upper arm, whipping her back around before his mouth slams down over hers, angry and desperate.

She didn’t kiss him back at first, her thoughts too jumbled and her heart too angry, but Rengoku’s fire had always raged too hot, had always consumed everyone and everything that crossed his path. Y/N was no different; she’d burned for him from the start.

And so, Y/N finds herself giving in to his fervid lips and roaming hands, the anger they both felt charging the air around them, adding a further level of heat to their combustible romance.

“I want you,” Rengoku growls against her neck, as he makes quick work removing her sweater, and then her dress, the heat of his hands branding her bare skin, marking her as his. “I want you.”

Y/N only moans in response, any coherent thought left in her head dissolving as Rengoku’s teeth nip across her breasts, as he pushes her up against the door she’d tried to leave out of — tried to leave him.

Y/N’s hands are greedy as she unbuckles Rengoku’s belt and fumbles with the button of his trousers. She heaves a wanton sigh when her fingers slip past the fabric and connect with the thatch of coarse hair and heated steel within, his cock heavy and throbbing in her hand. Rengoku’s deep groan has her wetness dampening her underwear, and the two tear the last shreds of fabric from the other, frantic to feel.

“I want you.” He repeats, again and again.

Rengoku hauls her up against the door, and her legs wrap easily around his hips because this is a waltz they’ve danced so many times before. He does not bother to use his fingers to prepare her, far too enraptured in his own desire to wait to sheathe himself within her any longer.

“I want you,” his teeth nip at her bottom lip, demanding she open up to him, as his tip presses against her throbbing entrance. “And I fucking need you, Y/N.”

As his tongue slides into her waiting mouth, Rengoku buries his cock within her, and Y/N doesn’t care if she will always be his last resort, not if he’ll keep fucking her like this.

His hips ruthlessly snap in and out of her and fuck, she loves it, loves the way he knows how to fuck her just right so that she’s a whimpering, moaning mess. She loves him. He is pounding melody into her that only he knows, her spine digging into the hard surface of his front door which rattles in its setting. Vaguely, Y/N is aware that everyone on the street can probably hear the way she screams his name, can hear his animalistic snarls and grunts and moans as he whispers how fucking perfect she is and how good she feels clenching around him.

“Stay,” he beseeches her, in between the sharp, thrusts of his cock into her heat, so deep that she fears he will be able to imprint himself on her very soul. “Stay. With me.”

Y/N’s legs tighten around his hips as Rengoku’s hand shoves between their bodies to connect with her aching clit. It only takes him one, two circles and a gentle press of his thumb to have Y/N coming apart around him, giving herself fully into his relentless fire that she knows, deep in her heart, she will never escape.

“You’re mine,” Rengoku growls in her ear, her release coating his groin and making the sounds of his skin slapping against hers wetter, more obscene. “Say it.”

Y/N only cries out, her cunt a sloppy mess as the thrust of Rengoku’s hips into her grow more forceful as his release nears.

“Say it,” beneath his possessive snarl is the edge of desperation, as though he knows she already has one foot out the door that he now fucks her against.

“Y-yours,” she says feebly. “I’m yours, ah, Rengoku.”

Her oath is all Rengoku needs to unleash his seed within her, his hips giving one last mighty slam up before stilling, a loud, deep groan of her name reverberating in her ears as he presses his body flush against hers.

She wishes she could regret it, but she’s long-since resigned herself to the whim of her heart.

And so, Y/N stays.

Giyuu

Y/N finds that sleep evades her most nights.

At least, such is the case here, at the end of her life.

When she was eighteen, twenty-five had seemed so very far away; almost intangible. Not real, not attainable.

At the time, she’d not given it much thought. The Star Hashira had no ties, no bonds, that’d survived until the sun rose and they emerged victorious. So when that silvery, six-pointed star appeared right between her brow, she’d not mourned her fate. After all, it hadn’t even been certain they would win at all.

She’d lost consciousness before Tanjiro had temporarily become a Demon himself, and she woke up a month later with most of her friends dead. Of the Hashira who’s fought, only three survived — herself, and the Wind and Water Pillars.

She’d respected both of them, though she’d not been particularly close to either. But shared trauma can form bonds just as sure as any other experience, and so, she’d grown close with both men upon their respective reawakenings.

Sanemi’d grown to be a close older brother-figure, a steadfast and warm presence in her life, even if he still bore traces of that occasional hot-headedness. But his mark had claimed him three years prior, and with him, he’d taken half of her remaining heart.

The other half, however, belonged to the raven-haired man sleeping soundly beside her in their futon, beautiful and serene.

Though, it wouldn’t be fair to say that he’d come to possess the entire half of her heart — he now shared it with the sleeping toddler in the next room, the spitting image of her father, though she’d inherited Y/N’s eyes.

By some miracle, Giyuu’s mark hadn’t activated even during that final battle, meaning that he’d passed his 25th birthday with ease, welcoming their first — and now, only — child shortly after.

They hadn’t been close at the time Y/N’s mark appeared, nor had he’d noticed during that final battle, given how light and delicate that cursed star had been.

It was perhaps selfish of her to not tell him her fate, but then again, she hadn’t meant to fall in love with him.

Y/N rolled over in their blankets to face her sleeping husband. He lay on his back, head tilted towards her, with the most peaceful expression upon his lovey face. He was as bare as she, though she’d recently taken to wearing his haori after they’d finished their more physical activities, Y/N claiming that she’d desired nothing more than to be enveloped by his scent.

That’d been true — but moreso because she wanted to etch the smell of home into every cell within her. It was why she’d spent so many mornings with her nose buried in her daughter’s hair, as she held her close.

Perhaps the gods would be kind enough to allow her to take these treasured mementos with her to the afterlife, when death came to call in its debt.

How could they have imagined the price of their victory?

Y/N could feel the panic within her begin to bubble and churn, as the deadline on her life drew ever closer — now, a mere two months away. If she could not get the howl of her despair to quiet, she’d risk waking Giyuu and causing him to worry. He is already beginning to stir, his Hashira-trained instincts responding to her palpable restlessness.

But Y/N knows how to conceal her anguish. She lifts her hand to gently caress the side of her dearly beloved’s face, who grunted in response to her touch. Slowly, she let her hand trail downward, fingers tracing teasingly along elegant slope of his nose, to the sensual pout of his lips.

As she grazes his lower lips, Giyuu, barely conscious, presses gentle kisses against her fingertips, and Y/N nearly dissolves into tears.

Still, she lets her hand continue to trace along the well-traveled plains of his body. Her fingers brush against the edge of the blanket draped over his lower hips letting them linger teasingly.

“Y/N,” Giyuu’s voice is rough with sleep, but the corded muscles of his abdomen flex beneath her touch.

“I want you,” Y/N breathes as her hand slipped beneath the covers of their futon to grip his growing hardness. She leans over and brushes her lips against the hollow of his throat, and let her tongue trail teasingly down his sternum.

Giyuu’s response is a low growl, as he grabs her by the jaw, pulling her up to kiss her roughly, greedily, before flipping her onto her back and covering her with his body, alive and eager for her after a few gentle caresses.

Her legs part easily to accommodate Giyuu’s hips as they come to a rest against hers, his length brushing against her heated cunt so deliciously that neither can help moaning in unison.

As Giyuu aligns his tip with her entrance, Y/N brings her lips to his throat, teeth nipping at that sensitive spot just above his adam’s apple.

“I need you,” she whispers, and Giyuu slides home in a single, fluid motion, the tendons in his neck tightening in his restraint.

But Y/N does not want him to be restrained. She wants him to feel her love, so that maybe, just maybe, he won’t hate her when the time comes, in a matter of weeks, when she does not awaken beside him.

She hooks her leg around Giyuu’s backside and flips them, her hips dropping effortlessly down his length as she begins to ride him, her husband’s head falling back against his pillow in bliss. His hand comes to rest against her waist, steadying her, though he allows it to wander to her breasts or to squeeze at her ass every so often.

As she increases the pace of her hips, dropping and rolling and grinding against him, so too, does the frequency of the noises which fall from her beloved’s mouth. Y/N savors the breathy moans and whines and grunts that Giyuu makes as he begins to buck up into her, shamelessly chasing his own release.

She loves it when he’s as needy for her as she is for him.

Giyuu’s fingers find that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and they swirl and press against her in a way that has her head falling back, his name a prayer on her lips. She wants him to come with her, so she braces her feet flat against their futon, bouncing herself up and down the length of his cock, shiny with her slick, because she knows he likes to watch himself disappear in, and out of her.

The walls of her core tighten around him, and Giyuu finds nirvana first, his head thrown back and a loud moan for her tearing from his throat. The sight leads to her own undoing, with Y/N free-falling off the precipice of her pleasure after him, her cunt seizing around him as though he was her lifeline.

Giyuu has a sleepy smile on his face as his hips roll lazily up into her, his hand coming to stroke the soft part of her belly as he muses that perhaps this time his seed will take again, and they can give their daughter a new sibling.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him she’s been taking a tea that will prevent that from happening, ever since she’d passed her 24th birthday. It would seem too cruel to risk dying in childbirth, potentially taking their unborn child with her.

In truth, she was secretly glad to have had their precious daughter before Y/N was forced to leave him. Not only was the little girl the beautiful, physical manifestation of her parent’s love, but she would serve as her father’s anchor to life, here.

If that made Y/N selfish and wicked, then so be it. She’d never claimed to be good.

But damn, if she hadn’t hoped for more time.

As she collapses against her husband’s chest, spent and satisfied, as his hand comes up to delicately trace over her spine, she feels the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyelids. She buries her face deeper into her husband’s neck, hoping his scent will steady her as it so often does.

Giyuu murmurs against her forehead how much he loves her, how much he cherishes her and their family, and the tears begin to fall. She hopes she can pass off the droplets gathering on her cheeks as the product of pleasure or happiness, rather than that of the cold despair and bitter sorrow she feels as her end draws near.

But then again, they’d been running on borrowed time anyways.

I hope you enjoyed your weekly addition of slutty-angsty-pain with yours, truly.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer smut #hashira #demon slayer hashira #rengoku kyojuro #shinazugawa sanemi #tomioka giyuu #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kny sanemi #kny giyuu #kny rengoku

1K notes · View notes

rinixo · 2 months

Text

auxilium

Tech/Reader | 2.1k | Rated E | smut, desperation, choking, dom!Tech, sex pollen

Tech needs your assistance in dealing with a problem you are all too familiar with. a/n: thank you all for the comments and reblogs 🥺

read on ao3

The persistent knock at your door jolted you from slumber's embrace. With a groggy eye, you checked the time, puzzled by the unexpected disturbance at this hour. You were not expecting anyone, and it was not uncommon for someone stumbling home from the bars to mistake your door for their own.

Another insistent rap echoed, urging you to rise. Rubbing away sleep, you approached the door, activating the sensor to reveal its caller.

A shock of blond hair greeted you. "Omega?" Surprise flickered as you took in her presence, rarely seen without her protective entourage of brothers.

"Tech sent me to fetch you. Says he needs your help," she explained, a bounce in her step.

Raising a brow, you inquired, "Help with what?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "We just got back from a mission. He said it’s urgent."

A tinge of concern pricked your senses, but you nodded, excusing yourself to prepare. Unsure of what Tech could require, you hastily gathered an assortment of tools, stuffing them into your pack just in case.

Omega chattered incessantly as you made your way to the hangar, but your thoughts were elsewhere, mulling over the possibilities. Tech, with his incredible intellect, rarely sought assistance. Yet here you were, summoned for some unknown crisis.

Upon reaching the hangar, you found the Marauder parked in its usual spot, but Tech was conspicuously absent. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo loitered nearby, each absorbed in their own tasks.

"What's the situation?" you inquired as you approached. Hunter glanced up from sharpening his knife, acknowledging your presence.

"Dunno. Tech asked for you. He's inside," he gestured towards the closed ramp.

"Is everything all right?"

"He's being a jerk," Wrecker grumbled, busy with a crate of explosives. "Been like that since we got back."

"Kicked us out of the Marauder," Echo added. "Said not to return until he says so.”

What an odd situation, you thought to yourself. Most of the time it was others taking time away from Tech, not the other way around. And while he could be blunt, he was rarely outright rude or mean.

With a groan, Hunter rose and motioned to the rest of the squad. ”We’re grabbing a bite to eat, freshening up supplies," Hunter explained, patting your shoulder as he passed. You thought you detected a smirk before he turned away. ”Good luck.”

—

The Marauder's door whispered shut, leaving you in the subdued light of the corridor. A peculiar tension hung in the air.

"Tech? It's me," you called tentatively into the quiet.

"Up here," his voice directed you toward the front of the ship. Tech's familiar silhouette was outlined against the closed shutters.

Approaching the cockpit, you spoke again, uncertainty coloring your words. "Omega said you needed me? I brought some tools -"

"They won't be necessary," Tech cut in. As you neared, you could see him seated in the pilot's chair, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His brow was furrowed as if in concentration, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?" you asked, setting your pack down.

“No," came his flat response. "Not exactly." His tone was flat, controlled and measured, but you got the feeling he was trying very hard to keep it that way.

You observed a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.

More tense silence. Patiently, you awaited his explanation.

"We were acquiring a shipment of a certain plant, known for inducing a hypnotic effect when distilled. While in the greenhouses, I was unexpectedly exposed to it."

"I made a… miscalculation," Tech continued, his voice strained. "I didn't anticipate such a visceral reaction to its raw form."

"What do you mean?" you prompted gently.

"I suspect that, in normal individuals, the reaction would resemble the amatory agent you encountered in that abandoned outpost. But for me, an enhanced clone -" He paused, exhaling sharply through his nose.

"I'm not certain, but I believe its effects were amplified within my nervous system," he explained. “I was designed with enhanced intellect. My brain works faster and more efficiently than others. And it seems that instead of impacting me less, metabolizing faster, it impacted me more.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, anxiety beginning to grip your chest. "That sounds… unpleasant," you offered sympathetically.

He exhaled through his nose in an exasperated attempt at a laugh. ”Normal decontamination procedures didn't work," Tech explained, his voice carrying a weight of urgency. "I tried several antitoxins. I only have one option left, which is why I asked for you."

His head lifted, revealing a desperation in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. Behind the tint of his goggles, his dilated pupils betrayed his distress.

"Please understand that you can refuse," he said, his jaw tense with effort. "I debated whether I should even ask this of you, considering what it could do to you - to us."

You understood his unspoken request, though a part of you hesitated. Another bead of sweat traced down his jaw. You thought about how lucky you had been to have Tech to help you with your situation. Sometimes, late at night, you thought about what would have happened if he wasn’t there to help, and with resolve, you decided.

"Of course," you said, swallowing hard and setting down your bag. "I'll help you, Tech."

Relief softened his features slightly as he rose from his seat, replaced by a dark intensity. You stepped back slightly, shorter form quickly dwarfed in comparison to his height.

"You're the only person I trust for this," he murmured, voice cracking. Moving towards you, Tech took your hands. Guiding you towards the rear of the ship where the bunks were located, he used a slight stumble as an excuse to hold you more firmly.

"It's going to worsen before it gets better," you warned as Tech helped remove your top.

"I do not like losing control of my faculties," he admitted, his voice strained. "This is…difficult for me."

"I understand," you reassured him, more clothes slipping off as you moved towards your destination.

There was a flash of desperation in his eyes before he turned you around and guided you onto a low cot.

"Forgive my haste," Tech said, his voice stilted as he pulled down your undergarments. The sound of his own clothes hitting the floor followed.

You were not exactly ready for it when he entered you, and there was a slight burn and pinch as he settled into place behind you. Your breath hitched, and you bit down on the pillow you were clutching and winced through it.

Tech hissed out some unintelligible curses, his form coming down to press against you. His cock felt like iron, pressed in as far as it could go. You tried to spread your thighs wider, allowing him more space to chase relief.

He settled his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the rumble of the groan that left him.

“You’re so good,” he breathed out. “So good…” You flushed at his words, remembering how it felt the first time he had touched you. If Tech’s reaction was compounded, as he theorized, then you could only imagine how being inside of you was making him feel now. The initial feeling of relief was barely more than an afterthought once the need for further stimulation took over.

He was rambling, nonsensical professions of how tight, wet, perfect you were. His breath was hot against your ear, perfect composure betrayed by the substance coursing through his body.

It was animalistic, how he was mounted over you. Tech was someone you did not initially associate with ferocity. He was calculating, and intense. You would even venture so far as to call him egotistical and devious at times. His strengths were far more internal than external, but as he moved his entire weight over your body, the only word you could think of was fury.

Fury at his inability to solve this problem on his own. Fury at his incredible capacity for intelligence and logic being overrun by forces outside of his control. You knew how it felt because you had felt it yourself, in your own way, all those months ago in a dusty storeroom.

“I saw visions,” Tech croaked from where he had his face buried in the side of your neck. You tried to focus your eyesight. “From the plant. D-did you…?”

“N-no,” you managed to gasp out, breath hitching with every thrust. The desperation, the intense burning in your blood, the mindless pursuit of satisfaction, yes, but visions had not been a part of your experience.

A shallow laugh, and he brought his face up from your skin. “Under different circumstances, perhaps I would have a better explanation for what they were exactly.”

Suddenly he moved from inside of you, and before you could collect yourself you were flipped over onto your back. Tech hovered above you, spreading your legs to let himself back between.

“Whatever they were,” Tech breathed as he sheathed himself back into you, “I did not fully comprehend the meaning of desire before now.”

He lifted your leg up, still thrusting slowly into you. He pressed his lips gently to the side of your knee, staring at you with dark, hooded eyes.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his. This was a side of Tech you had never seen.

One of his hands came to settle across your exposed neck. You swallowed roughly, feeling his hand move with the motion. It was not hard enough to hurt or do any damage, but the pressure was unfamiliar. The sensation of your airway being ever so slightly restricted reminded you that the man currently fucking you was dangerous, powerful. He was someone designed to analyze every detail, to come up with solutions to problems before they even happened, for winning battles other soldiers would have lost.

His hand moved up, a thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, and you closed your eyes with the motion of it.

He had your life in his hands. He was using you, and you were letting him because you trusted this man utterly. Even with his current state, you could feel the genuine affection he had towards you. He was rough, straddling the line, but you knew, deeply knew, that he would never willingly hurt you.

Here, now, he was no longer a soldier, a carefully constructed intellectual weapon designed for war. He was simply a man, reduced to his most basic, instinctual needs. And you were the only being in the galaxy who he sought to sate the fire inside of him.

The hand that was holding your leg up moved to where he was pistoning in and out of you, and rubbed his thumb over your clit.

“Is it like this for everyone?” Tech’s voice is hoarse. You frown up at him, unsure of what he means. His eyes flutter, then close. He’s lost in between your thighs, that ironclad resolve long gone with every squeeze of your cunt around him.

You know he’s close. You’ve learned his tells - his brow furrows, exaggerating the lines ever-present in his forehead. His hips falter but his grip on you holds tighter, desperate to maintain as much control as he can.

You asked him once what his orgasm felt like. He had described to you in detail how his testicles would tighten and his cock head would grow stiff in the microseconds before ejaculation. He had you stick your finger into your mouth and suck, explaining that it was the closest you could get to experiencing the same kind of sensation. You remember the intensity that he had watched you with, eyes scanning as if to memorize the way your tongue suckled around your fingers.

The relief that comes with his orgasm is palpable. He hitches your thighs under his arms and presses his entire form into you, making you squirm and gasp. The breath is knocked out of you as he fucks his spend as deep as it will go, the burning in his blood leaving him with every rock of his body.

You spend hours there with him, moved into every position you can think of and several you couldn’t. The initial pinch of his cock into you, unprepared, is replaced by what feels like a never-ending trickle of his spend out of you.

With every orgasm, he presses his mouth to your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, your mouth. And you accept them with the eagerness of someone who knows they are needed, desired, yearning to be filled. You lose yourself to exhaustion long before he is sated, content in the knowledge that Tech is finding what he needs in you.

part 2+ conclusion from Tech's pov next...? _(:Ⅰ」∠)

#tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #tech smut #forgive my absence........OTL

127 notes · View notes

rafecameronsmistress · 2 months

Text

i want you to show me..

tw/cw: smut, name calling, oral, step brother, cnc?

it’s 2am on a weeknight and everyone in your house is asleep. you toss and turn in your bed horny and craving attention. you pull your tank top down a little exposing the pink lace of your bra and hike your tits up making your cleavage look enticing. you go on your phone and open up snapchat taking a selfie with pouty lips and sleepy eyes. “can’t sleep 😩“ you type then send it to a couple boys from your town, whom happen to be your stepbrothers best friends, Topper and Kelce. you knew if they were awake one of them was bound to answer, you were hot and they would give you what you wanted at any time of day. not even 2 minutes pass and Topper sends a picture back. he’s laying in bed, shirtless, with an arm behind his head flashing his cute smile. “sorry you can’t sleep babe, anything i can do?” score. you stand up in front of your floor length mirror, turning halfway to expose some ass that hangs out of your tiny shorts. “yeah, come over and help me 😉”. the thought of Toppers hands snaked through your hair has you getting hot and bothered. he replies now sitting up in bed with a shocked look on his face “really?”. you giggle and send another picture this time of just your bed “yes, really” you prayed he was actually going to come over or your vibrator was going to have to work over time. Toppers reply this time took way longer and you became annoyed thinking he wimped out. you flop backward onto your bed and let out a sigh, just as you start to slip your hand into your underwear you get a reply. it’s a picture of the road that says “on my way”. thank you god.

Topper is at your house within 10 minutes. he parks his Jeep in the area of the driveway where there’s no motion sensor lights, he knows the drill. you quietly open the large front door and wave him inside “hurry up” you whisper. he ducks inside and follows you down to the basement where your family has a bar, a movie projector, and large couches. you keep the lights off incase anyone wakes up, not wanting to be caught. you turn around to face him and grab his hand, walking backwards until your legs hit the couch. you lay back pulling him on top of you immediately running your hands across his stomach and up his chest. he buries his face in your neck sucking and licking your sweet spot. “mm i needed this, needed you” you tell him. he pulls his lips from your skin “yeah?” he grinds his clothed cock onto your heat. “fuck yeah” you moan at the friction, lifting your hips for more pressure. the room is encased in heavy breathing and the sound of a sloppy make out session. you push Topper on his back and bring his sweatpants and boxers just below his cock. you wrap your hand around his shaft and swallow half his length. Topper breathes in sharply “ssshit baby, that feels so good” he moans as he wraps his fingers in your hair.

“yeah, i bet it does Top” a third voice adds as the lights are switched on

you pop your mouth off his cock, your heartbeat in your throat now, “what the fuck?” you screech, scrambling to fix yourself

“shit” Topper sighs loudly “Rafe i-“

“save it, get your dick away from my little sister before i knock your fucking teeth out yeah?” Rafe threatens walking closer to the couch, Topper stands up adjusting himself and goes to say something but Rafe interjects “you have five seconds to get out of my fucking face” he grunts. Topper looks back at you with ‘sorry’ written across his frown then he turns and disappears

you stand there frozen in fear, will he tell your parents? how long was he watching? “always knew you were a little whore” he scoffs “how many of my friends have you fucked?” he cocks his head to the side. “i dont know what you want me to say i-“ you stutter, tears welling in your eyes. “i want you to answer my question” he smiles. “just Topper” you say hanging your head in embarrassment. Rafe steps into your space lifting your chin “you like sucking his dick?” you stay silent not wanting to talk about this with your step brother. he squeezes your face forcing you to look at him “you like being a slut? huh?” he laughs and gives you a light smack on the cheek, “show me what you were doing to Topper.” you stare at him wide eyed trying to comprehend what he just said “what?” you croak. “i want you to finish what you started” Rafe says. “but you’re my-“ he cuts you off finishing your sentence “i’m your stepbrother i know, and you’re just a dumb whore so it shouldn’t matter who’s dick is in your mouth” his smile is sinister now “get on your knees and continue doing your job” he demanded.

your face flushes and you feel your ears heating up. embarrassment and a little fear flooding through your body. “Rafe please” you beg as he pulls his pants down, “open your mouth” he says grabbing his lengthy cock. you comply taking all of him down your throat, vigorously bobbing your head. “yeah just like that pretty girl” he moans while collecting your hair to hold it out of your face. you bring both hands to his shaft and stroke him while you suck, catching a good rhythm. his heavy breathing and deep moans have you tingling between your legs, you squeeze them together in attempt to get some relief. so many thoughts are racing through your head the main one being ‘why am i getting off while i suck my step brothers dick?’

to be continued.. (???)

#fanfic #fem reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx smut #smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

luna-andra · 11 days

Text

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 8: Compromise

Summary: Andra wants answers, and Ghost has to choose

Word Count: 6.5k

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist!

Content: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+, fluff, mentions of mental health, mild violence

The clouds on the way home were overcast across the afternoon sky. Johnny left Andra with several things to think over, bringing her back to a familiar train of thought from five years ago.

He gave her the same look that stirred shame in her belly. She didn’t like being on a different level of rationality – or lack thereof – with the people once close to her.

It was declared by the officer that showed up there was no indication of foul play. The possibility of an incompetent and inconvenienced officer being sent to her call was in the forefront of her mind, and also the possibility of any traces of someone’s presence could have been washed away from the thunderstorm by the time they came out to investigate. The whole process of filing the report gave her no peace of mind, but she took the advice of setting up surveillance seriously.

A precautionary that she should have done ages ago.

The quiet, quaint life out on the farm had soothed her troubled worries all of these years, making her forget for a moment what it was like to live looking over her shoulder every moment. She wasn’t naïve, no, she knew how to take care of herself when the seldom case of harassment arose. Andra should have never gotten so comfortable the way she did.

Her foot pressed down heavily on the brake pedal as she waited at a stop light to rub the exhaustion from her eyes. She was just a few more turns from home, she reminded herself. The caffeine she had ingested all throughout the morning was threatening a big crash.

Andra drove slowly down Middleton Lane as she spotted the first right turn to the private dirt road of Ghost’s property. Then her truck came to a full stop. You know what-

Her hand turned the wheel right as her tires skid around the corner.

Andra didn’t know what she was doing, or what she would exactly say to him, but she needed to know what was going through his head.

Andra parked behind his truck and turned the key out of the ignition. She paused for a few seconds to take a breath and gather at least the first sentence that would come out of her mouth.

Her phone vibrated.

I’m in the garage.

Of course Ghost knew Andra had arrived, another sign that she definitely needed to do the same thing to her property. Cameras and motion sensors.

She shut the door behind her as she made her way to the garage off to the right of his house. One of the metal double doors was left cracked open, and she could hear the metal clink of a tool being put down.

The garage was Ghost’s own personal auto shop, with an incomplete classic-looking car taking up majority of the left. The wall was lined with tool boxes, yard tools, and almost a pallet’s worth of army green ammo cans. To the right, a rudimentary gym setup took up another portion of space, with a bench press, a high pull-up bar, seemingly crafted and welded together amateurly, and a rack of assorting dumbbells and plates to complete it all.

Ghost was hunched over the open hood of the car, one hand on the lip of the hood as he kept his attention on whatever he had been working on before Andra’s unannounced arrival.

“Is this your way of letting me know that you’re pushing me away again?” Andra sharply said to the backside of Ghost.

Ghost tossed a tool onto the toolbox on his left side and retrieved a rag, wiping grease from his stained hands. His muscles tensed in his back as he turned to Andra’s direction. “Today has been a really tense day. I wanted to give you some space to come down from last night.”

Andra clenched her jaw. “I don’t need space, I need answers. I feel like I’ve been kept in the dark about something I have no control over.”

“That’s because you don’t.”

She could feel her blood simmering already. Not how she wanted this to go. “I don’t because you never gave me the choice to take control.” Andra couldn’t recognize the person she was talking to. His stare was cold and dark. If his goal was to anger her into cutting her losses with him, it wasn’t going to work. “You didn’t tell me anything because we lost touch the first time, fine, I get it. But you went ahead and told Johnny? That’s what I can’t get passed.”

Ghost trudged out of the garage with Andra following behind him. “He and I had an eye on things. We had it under our thumbs.”

Andra tossed her hands up. “Had what exactly?” Her voice echoed all around them. “What the hell is going on with you?”

He turned back to her, stopping her in her tracks before bumping right into him. Ghost peered down to her, his eyes burning the same heat. “What do you want from me? You want me to take back what I did?”

Her fists clenched hard enough for her nails to dig into her palm. “No, I just want you to stop being such a hard ass and talk to me.” Her carotid artery strained against the muscles in her neck. “Tell me what you think is going on and we’ll deal with it together.”

He flinched as if her hand flew across his face.

“You keep acting like you’re looking for an excuse to push me away, for an excuse to leave.” Andra’s chest rose and fell with a heavy rhythm. “You act as if one morning I’ll wake up and you won’t be here, and you’ll just be a memory for me.”

His eyes squeezed shut as his own breath left him.

“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Leaving without another word, taking your shadows with you.” There was a shiver in her voice.

“I have.” Ghost finally answered. “I could leave in a moment’s notice. I’ve done it before.”

Andra didn’t doubt him. She had done it herself, she knew how easy it was to pack a couple of bags and leave. “What’s stopping you this time?”

Ghost opened his eyes to meet hers.

She scoffed and turned away from his silent response. The wind picked up and wisps of her hair flew around her face. She had to squint her eyes at the unbearable overcast sunlight. “I was able to forgive you for cutting me off the first time. I shook it off because there was no expectation for you to keep in contact after fixing my truck. Then you came back, and I thought you wanted me in your life, and maybe we even had something. Cool. Great, even.

“But when you brought up the transpiring events, the person driving up our street and telling me there have been people on my property?” She shook her head. “You think you’re handling this on your own but you’re not. I won’t let you. Either you let me know what’s going on, or you’ve lost my trust.”

His eyes were unreadable when she saw him once more.

Andra reached into her pocket and flipped her keys into her palm, the key ring sitting on her index finger as she clenched them tight. “I’ll see you around, Ghost. If you figure out what you want to do, you know where to find me.”

The screen door smacked the side of the house harder than it should. Andra wasn’t paying attention. Her face still felt hot with anger. Sammy darted outside for her chance to do what she does, leaving her alone in the house.

The air felt thick, charged with energy that wasn’t there when she woke up the morning before. Or maybe it was her mind messing with her. Either way, her house felt compromised.

The tears collected in her eyes out of nowhere, and she quickly wiped them away. This is stupid. She felt ridiculous for letting it get to her. For letting a shattered window re-surface the fear that drove her away to another country.

This was all going to blow over. The tracks in the woods were a random coincidence, the car meant nothing. And the rock flying into her window was just a freakish feat of nature. She’s witnessed some heavy storms in the countryside in her years of living here. It wouldn’t be the first time something has sustained damage on her property, and it was bound to happen again.

“Be kind to yourself.” Andra whispered to herself as she kicked her shoes off, remembering what she was taught in therapy and from self-help reading. However, being kind to herself was proving difficult with the lingering anger from talking to Ghost.

The nerve of him.

But also, the nerve of her. She felt the weight of her corrosive past. An affliction, threatening to dismantle the life she had built. It had to be irrational, she was no one. She wasn’t worth being tracked down, right? That’s the rhetoric she kept force feeding herself. They had succeeded in getting rid of her, she made sure of it. At this point, if anyone wanted to pursue in finishing the job, she would end up burning a hole in their dirty wallets.

And if Ghost was going to play the need-to-know card, two can play that game.

She stopped in her tracks as she walked into the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the black trash bag covering her window. It crinkled and swayed inward and outward with the passing wind. The ever-growing chasm in her chest was making itself comfortable, and she couldn’t stand it.

-----

Ghost knew Johnny would stop calling after the second time he reached his voicemail. The third call in a row told him that he better answer the phone. His heavy hand reached out to the nightstand for his phone, swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed it against his ear, eyes closed. “Yes, sir.”

“You broken, Simon?”

Price’s gravelly voice came through the speaker on his phone, and it was like a splash of cold water on him. It was a question he was familiar with Price asking, except he’s no longer checking for missing limbs or hemorrhaging blood loss. Ghost sat up on the edge of his mattress and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. “M’solid.”

“When’s the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?” Price asked.

Ghost took a quick glance at the time on his phone before returning the receiver to his ear. “I was getting’ rest before you woke me up.” He was only asleep for two hours, and his pounding head reminded him that it had been a restless 72 hours.

Price doesn’t reach out very often. The captain – along with the other lads – will dedicate an amount of time out of the year to catch up with the former task force in person. It was an annual event of spending the holidays doing anything but celebrating Christmas and New Years. When he hears from Price before November, it’s because he’s been tipped off on Ghost’s concerning behavior.

“Soap tells me you’re acting barmy, you think you’re being followed, son?”

There it was.

Ghost didn’t respond for a few beats, his feet felt like lead against the cold wooden floor. “A couple of events transpired, would put you on edge, too.”

He could hear a deep sigh come from the other end of the line, and it had Ghost clench his jaw. “Get yourself to an appointment or a meeting, or I’ll bring the meeting to you.”

Price’s demand sent a wave of guilt and shame through Ghost. The memories of being pulled up off the living room floor and thrown into his tub flashed behind his heavy eyelids. Price, Johnny and Gaz showed up. Ghost reeked of alcohol and piss. They had him hauling bags of sand back and forth from his backyard to the range on his property for several hours, making him sweat and puke the remains of alcohol in his system.

“I’m still sober.” Ghost gritted his teeth. He made Ghost sound like an addict.

Price clipped his words, “See your doctor, and get out of bed for a sweat.”

Ghost opened his eyes to the void of his darkened room and sighed. “I’ll set up an appointment today.”

“Good lad.” Beep-beep-beep went the line as Price disconnected the call.

Sleep had eluded Ghost once more. He sat there at the edge of his bed and rolled his neck, failing to relax the knotted muscles at the base of his neck. His eyes burned, and his headache pressed down on every surface of his skull. He felt an irritation for Price waking him up, but rationality told him it wasn’t his fault.

Since sleep was out of the question, Ghost stood up and peered out the bedroom window. The sun wasn’t due to come up for another couple of hours, but he insisted to listen to Price’s advice. Get a workout in, then when the office opened, call doc to get that appointment.

His feet were heavy as he shuffled to the bathroom. Ghost always looked down to the basin of the sink before turning on the lights, avoiding the reflection staring back at him. He watched as his hands gripped the edge of the counter. Scars littered his knuckles, the skin over bone splitting open too many times for him to count.

It was when he was sick of looking at the reminders of his violence when he slipped and the person he hated stared back with cold, dead eyes.

You’ve tried killing me so many times, but fail every single time. You need me. You need the mask. You need it to hide so there’s never a chance to hurt again. You don’t deserve her. You try and pretend to be someone worthy of a teaspoon of affection, but you’re not what she needs. You’re filthy. You’re-

The glass shattered against his fist as he struck as quick as an asp. He hissed between clenched teeth, cursing as the reached for a towel and covered his bleeding knuckles.

If one thing was for certain, his reflection was right.

He didn’t deserve her.

-----

Andra flipped closed the back end of the book and placed it on her blanket covered lap to rub her tired eyes. Every night she would read The Operators when it was evident she wouldn’t be getting peaceful rest, or when something had her jolting awake. She had no clue how many hours she had slept in the past couple of days; definitely not enough to keep her from loading up on caffeine and making her debate breaking her years of being nicotine-free.

She could hear the roosting of her birds out in the coop. Andra leaned her head back against the headboard and sighed. There wouldn’t be time to try and fall asleep. Her day had to start.

After the morning chores, Andra headed inside for another cup of coffee. She stared out of her newly replaced window, out into the distance. It was hard not to; it was as if something – or someone – was going to come storming out from the brush and trees. All remained quiescent in those groves, as logic would have it.

The rattling sound of her plastic phone case vibrating against the countertop broke her focus. She swiped her finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button. “What’s up, Johnny?”

“I need to ask a favor.”

His voice was hushed and the words were muddled like he had the phone pressed against his mouth, and she could hear the workings of the auto shop in the background.

“I need you to go check on Ghost for me, he called out of work this morning.”

Andra felt her chest and throat tighten all at the same time. Johnny wasn’t aware of the fallout between her and Ghost from the sound of it. Or if he did, he must be extremely concerned for Ghost’s silence. I figured he would be used to it by now… she thought bitterly. “You need me to go immediately?”

“Take yer time, a mate of ours reached him this mornin’. Just pop over there when you get a chance. Gotta go, text me.”

The line went dead before Andra could say bye. She released a heavy sigh after taking her first sip, her fingers tapped against the countertop as apprehension churned in her gut.

Maybe Ghost took their last conversation as motivation for him to actually leave.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, and she rubbed them away with her thumb and index finger, pushing her fingers together to pinch the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want their relationship – friendship – whatever they had, to end on that note. Fuck, I messed up.

She took a deep breath to regain composure. You don’t know if he’s gone. Andra decided she would go by after her run to the post office to pick up her package. With a quick rinse of her empty coffee mug, she headed to the front door to collect her keys and purse.

The sound of gravel crunching and a vehicle engine made her pause in her tracks. Her heart raced, she could feel her adrenaline dump. Her shaky hand moved aside the curtain to look out the window beside the door, and the sight of Ghost’s truck had her releasing a heavy breath.

It took everything in her not to throw the door open and run to him. She took another grounding breath and unlocked the door, opening it to Ghost preparing to knock.

Andra swore her heart was going to burst. The look in his eyes mirrored the same surprise she displayed. The discernible presence of a bandage wrapped around Ghost’s hand caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

He noticed where her eyes fell to, and shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. “You got a minute to speak?”

His voice sounded like sandpaper. He looked just as sleep deprived as she felt. Andra couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded. She closed the door behind her and opted to sit on the wooden bench, leaving a space for Ghost to sit beside her. He never did, instead he decided to lean against the railing, his ankle crossed over the other.

Seconds passed before anything was said. “I’m not good with words, you’ll have to bear with me.”

Andra folded her legs beneath her and clasped her hands together. Her eyes remained on him as she waited to hear him out.

His head tilted down. “I gave a lot of thought to what you said, about losing your trust.” He rolled his neck, rolling the nerves and giving him a chance to think. “And I realized, taking a bullet is far less painful than that.”

Andra could see his adam’s apple bob in his throat underneath the fabric of his mask as he tilted his head back with closed eyes. She felt her throat tightening, and had to swallow to relieve the ache.

“So, I’ve come to terms with if I want to mend what I had with you, I’m going to have to find a way to tell you what you need to know.” Ghost’s eyes found hers, searching for a response.

She gave him a subtle nod, letting the words sink in. “How are you going to do that?”

Ghost uncrossed his ankles and took the two steps to sit beside her. It was a struggling few seconds for him to begin speaking. “Did you ever pick that book back up?”

Andra was confused by the approach he was taking, but went with it. “Yeah, I finished it actually.”

"Did the author talk about some of his assignments?" Ghost asked patiently.

She recalled what the author was able to talk about and reveal. "Not specifics, but he went in detail with Selection, and then the training thereafter and some events that happened in the 80s in Northern Ireland."

He nodded as he listened. "What did the training entail?"

"Physical training, a lot of sleep deprivation, weapons and vehicle tactics, photography, interrogation..." Andra's words drifted as she continued her recollection. She wouldn't say this out loud, but it was a dry read.

Ghost cut in at the mention of the last topic. "Interrogation, okay." His shoulders rose and fell as he let out a deep breath, and his hands flexed over and over. "I've been on both ends of being interrogated. Not just in training, but out on the field." His red-rimmed eyes aged several decades, and her chest grew heavy. "And there were times the bars and stars – officers that outranked me and my team – had ordered us to let go of the person we had just roughed up.

"They were dangerous people, Andra, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Andra was piecing together why Ghost had given her that book to read. It was more than just what was on the surface. The selection process, the training, the assignments, the images in the book illustrating the teams with black lines redacting their eyes. It occurred to her then when she was reading it all, Ghost was another one of the SAS operatives that had an alias, he had paperwork with his name on it that contained redacted information on what he and his team had accomplished, but now discussing it all solidified it for her.

Not only him, but Johnny as well, and Johnny had brought up a few other names. People that were also special forces.

It was sobering. She never took the time to sit with all of this information and come to terms that these men had enemies that went deeper than just being from differing nations. Enemies that may or may not still be alive out there, preying on the downfall of the men she had come to know.

“Has anyone ever found you or Johnny?” Andra asked with a tremble in her throat.

“No.” He answered definitively. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

Andra nodded, as she fully agreed with him.

Ghost leaned back against the bench. “I truly never intended to alarm you and bring you to endless conclusions. I wish I could take it back, my foolishness, everything.”

“You can’t help that, though.” Andra defended. “It was a really messed up chain of events.”

There was a pregnant pause. “I have moments like these when there are too many coincidences happening at once. I’ve been working on how I handle it.”

Andra turned to him. “Do you… talk to someone about it?” She felt hesitant to ask.

Ghost’s eyes slid back to her. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head swiftly. “No, oh Gods, no I didn’t mean it that way.” Her hands covered her face for a moment. “That was wrong of me to ask.”

Ghost reached for one of her hands. “You have every right to know, doll.” The calloused pad of his thumb brushed the top of her hand. She could feel a tremor in his touch.

It would have warmed her heart had it not been for the churning contrite souring her stomach. He had every right to know, too, but how would she even begin to tell him?

His injured hand was holding hers. She took this opportunity to distract herself from the guilt eating at her. “What happened to your hand?”

“Ridiculous accident with some glass.” He answered too quickly. Andra could feel him wanting to recoil, but he continued to let her hold his hand. Her peripheral vision gave her a peak of Ghost studying her face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted.”

Andra let go of his hand and rubbed her eyes. “I really haven’t been sleeping. Every little noise wakes me up, and I lay there for hours.”

Ghost’s eyes turned serious. “What can I do to remedy that?” Andra started to shake her head. “No, I’m responsible for this. Name it, I’ll do what I can.”

“I was actually on my way to go pick up a security system I ordered from the post office.” Andra raised her hand with her set of keys jingling.

Ghost stood from the bench, Andra followed in suit. “That I can do.”

Her smile returned. If it was one thing Andra was certain about Ghost, acts of service was how he communicated his apologies. It was easier to demonstrate with his hands than words.

After picking up the hefty box of camera and motion sensor equipment, Andra worked around the farm after her and Ghost discussed where the best places to set up the cameras would be. He got it done in less than a few hours, giving them time to pick up food together.

As they traveled, she remembered Johnny was waiting for an update from her.

Ghost is fine, we’re picking up food.

“So, you read the book in the past three days?” Ghost asked to start up chatter. Look who’s talking more now.

She hummed. “I read when I can’t sleep, and found it sitting there on the table before I locked up for bed.” Andra glanced at him. “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” Her phone vibrated with a response.

Thank you.

Ghost shrugged. “I lay there hoping I fall asleep.”

“I would get so bored.” Andra confessed, tapping her hands on her thighs. “You don’t even scroll through Netflix or something to try and turn your brain off?”

“I don’t have Netflix.” He responded.

Andra shook her head and blinked. “Remind me to give you my login.”

“I don’t watch TV or movies.”

Now she was looking at him like he was crazy. “You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do watch movies, but they’re all old war movies or westerns on DVD.”

Andra narrowed her eyes. “What are you, fifty?”

Ghost chortled. “I have a while before I hit fifty, thank you for that.”

“How long is a while?” Andra smirked. “Five years or six months?” His mouth opened, but she kept going. “Wait, I bet you have M.A.S.H. all on DVD, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with M.A.S.H.” Ghost defended.

“Yeah, when you’re as old as my dad and watching it on your days off as you doze on the living room couch at eleven in the morning.”

“You’re pushing your luck, doll.” Ghost warned with a grin in his voice. “Let me put it this way, I joined the Royal Air Force after the events of 9/11.”

Andra’s face went slack and her eyes were as wide as saucers. She turned to the passenger window with a hand pretending to scratch the side of her head and wondered if he would be weirded out if she told him she was in grade school during 9/11.

Her silence was loud in the cabin. “We’re not that far apart in age if you know M.A.S.H.” Ghost resumed.

Andra raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I look old?”

“No.” His accent thickened as his voice dropped. “I didn’t say that.”

She was having too much fun busting his chops. “We have a tad bit of an age gap,” she demonstrated with her thumb and index finger with a small gap, “I’m a ninety’s baby.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Three years is a tad of an age gap, not a whole decade.”

Andra rolled her eyes. “Is this what I have to look forward to in my thirties?” She laughed at the flash of astonishment as he panned a look at her. “I’m kidding! Well, kind of, but I’ll be thirty next summer.”

Ghost smoothed his hand over his covered mouth. “You’re killing me, woman.”

“Best stay on top of those heart meds then – ooh!” Andra shot forward and was caught by her seatbelt from Ghost slamming the breaks harder than normal. “You’re gonna cause an accident, sir.”

After a few beats of silence, Ghost changed the subject. “I hope the camera system will give you some peace of mind.”

“I’m sure it will.” She nodded with a hopeful smile.

Ghost ran inside the chip shop they ordered from while Andra sat in the truck to keep it running. Her head tilted back onto the head rest as she stared up at the roof of the truck. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, and now that there was less of a problem with surveillance around the farm, she felt the muscles in her shoulders relaxing.

The sudden sound of the driver door opening had her jerking back awake. She attempted to cover up the fact that she had dozed off in his truck with a little stretch of her legs.

Ghost handed her the bag of food without noticing her brief second of sleep and drove back to her house.

-----

“I get why you go to this place.” Andra spoke in between eating in the living room with him. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s also because Johnny has been getting us discounts from his little girlfriend.” Ghost wiped his mouth with a crumpled napkin.

Andra looked over the app on her phone that connected her to all of the cameras on her property. The feed looked really good, giving her confidence that she could point out important details if she ever had to. She switched to the camera that aimed at the dirt driveway with both trucks sitting outside. Her thumb and index finger spread across the screen to utilize the zoom feature; she was able to read off the license plate numbers from each truck.

“Thank you again for setting up the cameras.” Andra locked her phone and placed it down on the coffee table.

Ghost covered the lower half of his face back up with the balaclava as he finished his own meal. “Thank you for letting me.”

Her heart fluttered at the sudden drop in his voice. His eyes were set on her when she turned to look at him. Despite not being able to see his expression, she could feel a softness in his brown eyes.

“Let me get these out of the way.” Ghost insisted as he began to collect the takeout containers. Andra sucked down the last of her drink in her Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the bag Ghost was using.

Andra slipped a hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “You staying for a little while?”

“I can.”

She felt some relief for having to spend less time by herself for the evening.

While Ghost did his thing, Andra browsed her bookshelf in search of a new read.

“Anything interesting?” Ghost asked as he returned.

Andra chose Dune from the shelf. “Maybe.” She returned to her designated reading lounge chair and curled her legs up. “How far did you get with The Outsiders?”

Ghost scratched the back of his head. “Maybe the first fifty pages.” Then, he tilted his head. “How did you know I had it?”

Andra smirked. “It was gone the following morning after you left.”

Did she have him flustered? The indecisive glance to the couch and back to the front door then back to the kitchen was amusing enough to have her grinning.

“I have it in the truck, actually. Be right back.” Ghost made his way outside, letting in a kissing, chilly breeze.

It must have been the book she chose, or the way she receded back into the cushions, but she felt the wave of sleepiness return back. Or maybe it was Ghost’s presence, knowing he was only a few feet away on the couch with Sammy next to him. He emitted an aura that Andra could only classify as comfort. Safety.

She knew he was safe to fall asleep around, she knew he would keep her safe.

Andra flinched out of the sleep she was slipping into and let out a disappointed sigh. Her book was still in her hand, but the pages were damp from the warmth of her fingers holding them in place. She closed the book, not worried about where she left off because she wasn’t paying attention anyway and softened her movements as she looked to her right.

Ghost’s head lulled to one side from the upright position he fell asleep in, his arms crossed over his chest and his own book sitting on the table with Sammy resting in her own bed by the window. The heavy breath he suck in and released told her he was deeper in that sleep than she was.

How is he sleeping with the mask on? Andra wondered.

With light movement, Andra rose from her chair and padded quietly to the hallway closet to retrieve a blanket. He looked as tired as she felt halfway through the day, and she wasn’t about to wake him up and send him home. She unraveled the blanket and moved to lay it over Ghost just above his arms and below his collarbone.

But his awareness was more keen than Andra had anticipated. Ghost reached out, throwing the blanket off and swiped her wrists single-handed. The room went spinning, and she let out a small yelp as her back met the bottom cushions of the couch, his grasp securing her wrists above her head.

Ghost’s eyes were wild with alert, then widened as he realized who he just wrestled down. It startled her at first, but out of nervousness a chortle escaped. Then a chuckle, and confusion wrinkled Ghost’s eyebrows.

She probably looked insane to him. She was supposed to be frightened, but all she was was dizzy. And too aware of how his body hovered over her. The grip on her wrists eased up but remained there. Her giggles dissipated, along with whatever she was about to say. She was too absorbed by Ghost’s eyes darting all over her face, and she wasn’t too sure, but she was almost certain he kept looking to her mouth.

Before Andra could register what she was doing, she pressed her lips against the teeth of the skull pattern on his mask, hitting her mark as she felt his lips beneath. Ghost pulled away like she had put his hand in an open flame, his eyes widened. Oh shit, what have I done –

His empty hand shoved up the fabric of his balaclava and he smashed his mouth against hers. Heat blazed through her face, molten liquid flooding her core as she took in every sensation overwhelming her. The fierce hunger of his kiss. The friction of their bodies pressed against each other. The solid grip Ghost had on her wrists.

She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her leg attempted to hook around his waist, but only succeeded in wrapping around a thigh that nestled its way between her legs.

He couldn’t pull himself away, and instead fed the part telling him to nudge his knee where she wanted it. Ghost freed her hands to grip the thigh pulling him in, giving her free reign to cradle his stubbled jaw. His fingertips worked divots into the fabric of her jeans, earning a small sound from her tightening throat.

Andra hoped there would be marks later left where he was squeezing.

Her tongue slipped out between her lips and playfully swiped across his mouth. Oh fuck, the sound that just came from him… Andra had never heard arousal so delicious before.

All of Ghost was crashing through her like a freight train. His taste, his heat, his sounds. Her head felt like it’s been shoved underwater, and she has no intentions surfacing for air. Not when drowning in all of him felt this good.

Ghost reciprocated her invitation and found his tongue pushing through the slit of her lips. She felt her own arousal winding tightly in her warmth. Anything more was likely going to set her off. There’s no way I’m coming just from this, she cursed herself.

Ghost pulled away, hit hot breath fanning over her face. He moved his free hand to his mask, but it remained there. One second, two seconds. His mouth slackened into a frown, lips parted with labored breathing. The trance had been broken between the two. He retreated from where he had Andra pressed into the couch, his hands ran down his face and stayed there as he battled with himself.

Andra adjusted her shirt as she sat up and gave him a nudge of space. “Hey,” she softly said as she brought his hands down, cradling them in her own. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” He rasped, breathless from their kiss. “I don’t know why, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” She took his hand away from his face and stroked his knuckles with her thumb.

Ghost blinked a few times like he was waking up from a dream. “I shoved my tongue in your mouth.” He stated, a little too forward. His words had heat rushing to her face. “The least I can do I show you who is beneath this.” He gestured to the mask covering half of his face, a bitterness in his words directed to his disguise.

Andra slowly raised her hands to the bottom half of his revealed face. He flinched away from the contact, but settled as she let her thumbs brush against the stubble on his jaw. She made no subtle movements; just exploring the craters and slits across his skin.

Ghost watched her silently, attentively, his eyes flickering back and forth. She can feel the intensity, a man questioning the intentions of the woman touching him, holding the privacy and secrecy he clings to. He sucked in a breath as she took hold of the balaclava and didn’t exhale until Andra had pulled it back down over his face.

“If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.” She affirmed.

His bandaged hand brushed Andra’s disheveled hair behind her ear. Ghost leaned in and pressed his covered mouth against her forehead. Andra gave him a meek grin as he pulled away.

Andra felt this moment building up to a goodbye, but she took his hand again. “You can stay here for the night. I don’t want you driving back even if it’s just down the street.”

He reached down on the floor and picked up the blanket. “If that’s alright with you, I’ll take up the couch-”

“Sleep on a bed, for gods’ sake.” Andra nodded her head to the stairs. “I have an extra room upstairs.”

Thankfully, Ghost didn’t argue. Heavy feet dragged themselves up the stairs, Sammy following them both. They took pause as both turned to each other from across the hall. There was so much she wanted to say, but the brief, drowsy goodnight that was exchanged had them retreating into their respective rooms. Andra leaned against the closed door, clouds in her head and lips swollen with the phantom sensation of their catalyst.

I've started up a taglist! comment if you want to get tagged for this story 🖤 likes & reblogs are wholeheartedly appreciated, your engagement helps new readers find me ✨

27 notes · View notes

murasaki-cha · 1 year

Text

Cale: *commits calebab*

Clopeh + God of Despair temple: Caught you in 8K UHD surround sound 16 Gigs ram, HDR GEFORCE RTX, TI-80 texas insturments, Triple A duracell battery ultrapower100 Cargador Compatible iPhone 1A 5 W 1400 + Cable 100% 1 Metro Blanco Compatible iPhone 5 5 C 5S 6 SE 6S 7 8 X XR XS XS MAX GoPro hero 1 2 terrabyte xbox series x Dell UltraSharp 49 Curved Monitor - U4919DW Sony HDC-3300R 2/3" CCD HD Super Motion Color Camera, 1080p Resolution Toshiba EM131A5C-SS Microwave Oven with Smart Sensor, Easy Clean Interior, ECO Mode and Sound On/Off, 1.2 Cu. ft, Stainless Steel HP LaserJet Pro M404n Monochrome Laser Printer with Built-in Ethernet (W1A52A) GE Voluson E10 Ultrasound Machine LG 23 Cu. Ft. Smart Wi-Fi Enabled InstaView Door-in-Door Counter-Depth Refrigerator with Craft Ice Maker GFW850SPNRS GE 28" Front Load Steam Washer 5.0 Cu. Ft. with SmartDispense, WiFi, OdorBlock and Sanitize and Allergen - Royal Sapphire Kohler K-3589 Cimarron Comfort Height Two-Piece Elongated 1.6 GPF Toilet with AquaPiston Flush Technology., Quick Charge 30W Cargador 3.0 Cargador de Viaje Enchufe Cargador USB Carga Rápida con 3 Puertos carga rápida Adaptador de Corriente para iPhone x 8 7 Xiaomi Pocophone F1 Mix 3 A1 Samsung S10 S9 S8AUKEY Quick Charge 3.0 Cargador de Pared 39W Dual Puerto Cargador Móvil para Samsung Galaxy S8 / S8+/ Note 8, iPhone XS / XS Max / XR, iPad Pro / Air, HTC 10, LG G5 / G6 AUKEY Quick Charge 3.0 Cargador USB 60W 6 Puerto Cargador Móvil para Samsung Galaxy S8 / S8+ / Note 8, LG G5 / G6, Nexus 5X / 6P, HTC 10, iPhone XS / XS Max / XR, iPad Pro/ Air, Moto G4 SAMSUNG 85-inch Class Crystal UHD TU-8000 Series - 4K UHD HDR Smart TV with Alexa Built-in (UN85TU8000FXZA, 2020 Model) GE 38846 Premium Slim LED Light Bar, 18 Inch Under Cabinet Fixture, Plug-In, Convertible to Direct Wire, Linkable 628 Lumens, 3000K Soft Warm White, High/Off/Low, Easy to Install, 18 Ft Bissell Cleanview Swivel Pet Upright Bagless Vacuum Cleaner Trane20,000-Watt 1-Phase LPG/NG Liquid Cooled Whole House Standby Generator

#if you read all that congratulations because even I didn't #tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse #clopeh sekka #god of despair #tcf incorrect quotes #incorrect tcf quotes

225 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 3 months

Text

Sparks fly - Part 2

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

After Huffman left you hugged Mace again, much tighter this time. You'd been hiding how scared and angry you were from Huffman but Mace was a familiar, trustworthy face. He hugged you back and you cried out your frustrations from the past week. Mace didn't say anything the entire time and you appreciated that.

When you felt a little better you gently pull yourself away and ask, "so how is this place different from the last three? Other than a familiar face. Why is this place deemed safer?"

"Because it's not an on-the-books safehouse," he starts. "That means any moles on the force won't know about it. And, because we know who to talk to and whose palms to grease, we can install security measures way more potent than the legitimate safehouses get away with."

"This... This isn't legal?" Your eyes widen as your voice lowers to a whisper, "Mace, what kind of people are you involved with?"

“Good people,” he assures. “People who look out for their communities first and foremost. People who take protection seriously.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I know it’s been a while, but I’ll trust you about the people.” You hesitate before asking, “can I see some of the security measures? For my own peace of mind?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. “Let’s start with the basics.” He takes you on a tour of the apartment, detailing all of the security measures. Bulletproof windows, motion sensors that turn on the lights when the front door is opened, even a solid steel headboard on the bed to protect from possible shots through the walls. It definitely felt safer than the last few places you were in.

Mace was talking you through the setup when your stomach made an audible growl. Heat rushed to your face in mortification but Mace definitely heard it and asked when you had last eaten.

“I…I think it was this morning? Maybe a granola bar?”

“Well that won’t do,” he says as he heads into the kitchen. “I wasn’t able to fully stock the place given the time, but I definitely got enough to cook us up some dinner.”

“Since when can you cook,” you giggle. “Last time I saw you in a kitchen you were burning the instant ramen in the microwave!”

“I’ve changed a lot since high school,” he bantered. “I’ve picked up lots of skills since you last saw me.”

“Also a sense of style,” you tease. “I forgot to mention that I like the haircut. Buzzcut definitely suits you better than that mop you had back then.”

He laughs at that as he starts cooking. You’re so glad he agreed to stay. You haven’t felt this calm in days. Well, you haven’t felt this safe in days; you haven’t felt this relaxed in years. The two of you chat as he cooks up some grilled cheeses, making sure to cut yours diagonally.

“You remembered,” you exclaim.

“Kinda hard to forget your comfort foods when they’re also my comfort foods.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like yours cut diagonally, heathen.”

He smiles, “it’s because you always made such a big deal about me not cutting my sandwiches that I remember.”

You eat the grilled cheese faster than you intend, finally realizing how hungry you are. You want to ask for another but he still hasn’t finished his so you wait. He sees you eyeing his sandwich, smiles, and heads back into the kitchen, cooking up another for you while eating his own. “Thanks AC,” you whisper.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about being hungry, DC,” he gently chides.

“I know,” you concede. “I’ve gotten better about putting my needs first but…”

“It’s easy to fall back on old habits? Especially when you’ve been put through the wringer in terms of stress? Especially when you’ve been in survival mode for at least a week?”

You smile, “thank you for understanding.” He smiles as nods as he monitors his cooking. “Some days I really do miss having you to help me against bullies. Or other people who wanted me to do their homework for them. Having you around probably would’ve kept me from getting involved in all of this.”

“How so?”

“Helping everyone with their work let me see connections they couldn’t. I was able to pick up on a bunch of irregularities because I was doing second checking for other departments. Daryl from Chemical Engineering R&D needed me to take on some of his work so he could flirt with Jo from Accounting. Elaine from Bio-engineering asked me to help her with some equations so she could leave work early. Just, all these people from all of these different branches and that’s how I noticed things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“All because you wanted to be helpful, because you’re a good, nice person,” Mace comments as he hands you another sandwich, sliced diagonally. You nod your head as you start eating. “Might sound strange, but I’m glad.” You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m glad you’re still a good person. That you still want to be a good person. It can be incredibly tough to do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mace’s phone buzzing. He reads the text message and you can’t read the expression on his face.

“Backup has been found,” he tells you. “The guy’s methods are…a little off but he’s one of the best.”

“Will I be meeting him?”

“No, thankfully. GBH likes to keep as low a profile as he can while he’s working.”

“GBH?”

Mace sighs, “he…he calls himself God the Bounty Hunter.” Your eyes widen with shock. “I know, I know. Like I said, he’s weird but dammit if he isn’t great at protection. If they got someone that I didn’t think could keep you safe I’d argue for someone else.” His blue green eyes look deep into yours, “please trust me, DC?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Now, we should probably get you some sleep. The bed is yours. Feel free to keep on whatever lights you want or need to help you sleep. If you need a fan or a white noise machine, I can get that set up for you.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I’ll be pushing that living room chair in front of the door. Make sure no one can open it and no one can try to open it without alerting me.”

“Mace! There’s no way you’re sleeping like that!”

“I’ve slept in worse scenarios, DC. Besides, I personally test all the chairs and couches in the safehouses so I know damn well how comfortable it is.”

“But…”

“No arguments. You’re tired. You’ve had a very long and very dangerous week. We’ve got backup watching over this apartment and I know I’ll sleep easier knowing I’m between you and the door.” He gently pushes you towards the bedroom, “so please let yourself get some sleep. If you need me, I’ll be right here. Don’t be afraid to wake me up for anything, okay?”

“Thank you,” you hummed. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tagging:

@rebekahdawkins

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#mafia!james mace #mob!james mace #james mace x reader #mace x reader #mafia au #mafia!mace #mob!mace

38 notes · View notes

coldresolve · 7 months

Text

Moneymakers, pt.xxxviii // All Saints Are Sinners

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

A note is played as a sensor detects that the front door has been pushed open. Low tiks, faint against the loudspeaker muzak, as the soles of his shoes dislodge from sticky stains on the white tiled floor. The ambient hum of fluorescent lights, of the air conditioning, of the coolers scattered all around. Gas stations all have that hum.

He makes for the drink aisle with a laziness to his step, loose straps from his backpack tapping at his chest and arms, eyes unenthusiastically scanning through foggy glass doors. Most of the options strike him as entirely unappealing, while some – chocolate milk, protein shakes, yoghurt – make him nauseous to even consider.

Renee hasn’t been high for a full day. He noticed it on waking up, and it’s only getting worse. That lethargy, the grey filter that slides down across his vision. Drowsiness that expresses itself clearly in the way he moves, as if his body will only operate in slow-motion. Boredom exacerbated, but juxtaposed with revolt at the mere thought of actually doing something about it. The hollowness of all the things which normally feel so vivid. His mood, seeping down through the concrete and the dirt.

When Lazarus dropped him off by his car this morning, Renee talked him into a quick deal before they parted, just fifty grams. The look of concern on Lazarus’ face, the begrudging acceptance, sparked a shame in Renee that’s hard to just brush off. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t cracked open that bag yet - because punishing himself with cocaine withdrawals seems more appropriate. Is that irrational? Probably. But what isn’t?

Goosebumps break out across his arms when he opens the cooler and is rushed with a front of cold air. He picks out a couple different energy drinks. As he makes his way back through the store, he grabs a small container of nuts, as well as a handful of protein bars, haphazardly discarding his pile of items on the counter. He’s pretty sure he’s forgetting something, but his mind is hazy, and he can’t really bring himself to care.

The cashier, a girl who doesn’t look much older than twenty, gives him a nod in place of a proper greeting, and starts scanning his items. Renee watches her progress, rubbing his eyes, and then his gaze thoughtlessly drifts to the magazine rack next to the counter. Among celebrity gossip and headlines that fill half the front pages, he catches an image of Conrad – that vacation photo the media always uses, taken on some pedestrian road with palm trees in the background. A black person’s arm – Howard’s, presumably - is draped over his shoulders, but their face is cropped out of frame. Conrad looks at ease in that photo, at least more at ease than Renee has ever seen him in person. There’s still an awkwardness to his posture, he clearly doesn’t like having his picture taken; but his smile looks genuine. Next to the picture of Conrad is a stock photo of a man’s silhouette illuminated from above, face obscured in the shadows cast by a hoodie.

Renee swallows, looking away before he can read the actual headline. Behind him, the door chime goes again, and he hears someone walk up behind him. A deep breath, then he clears his throat at the cashier. “Uh. Give me four packs of Marlboro reds as well.”

The girl looks up. “Do you have an ID I could see for that?”

Renee blinks. Gives the cashier a look.

“We check everybody, sir.”

Renee lets out a dejected sort of breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and fishes around in his pocket for his wallet. “Driver’s license alright?”

The girl gives him a patient smile. “Just something with your face on it.”

He holds the card out between two fingers, and can’t help but curse himself at the way his hand is shaking slightly. The girl doesn’t comment on it, though, eyes quickly scanning the card before she nods and turns to the shelves behind her.

As he pays credit and shovels his items into his backpack, Renee feels watched, in a way that’s more than a little intrusive, by the cashier, by the customer behind him, by the camera above the counter, by Conrad, grinning from a tabloid shelf. He shrugs the backpack on, pushing past the customer behind him and heads for the door before the cashier is even halfway through wishing him a good day.

Grey clouds swirl like a layer of cotton above the landscape, too light to threaten rain, but none the less suffocating. The wind blows across the concrete field surrounding the gas station, biting at his skin through the seams of his clothes. Would’ve ruffled his hair a week ago – now the lack makes him shudder more easily. He climbs into the Clio, discarding his backpack on the passenger seat, pulls a cigarette and lights it. He takes the first few drags in silence, listening to how the wind swirls around the car, feeling its miniscule tugs on the carrosserie.

It’s such a cliché, framing the bad guy as a menacing figure cloaked in shadows. Something about that image alone feels like a caricature that serves only the purpose of dehumanizing, othering. People always strip away the understandable parts of evil to avoid having to face it in themselves. They shut their eyes to swallow that pill.

A turn of the keys, and the Clio rustles itself awake. The sound of the old motor is starting to become more reminiscent of a tractor than a car. Cigarette burning between his fingers, Renee pulls out to the gas station’s exit ramp, back onto the highway. He loses himself in driving. Everything else becomes secondary to following his own flow, the mindless weaving in and out of lanes.

But he hasn’t been on the highway for more than five minutes before a loud beep from the dashboard makes him look down. The little light next to the gas indicator has turned on. The needle is deep in the red.

Renee lets out a groan, gritting his teeth tight, clutching the wheel a little harder. “Shit.” He fiddles with the different settings on the turn signal lever, barely keeping the car in the center of his lane as he tries to find the setting that lets him see how many miles he has left. How do you go to a gas station and then forget to get gas?

A couple minutes of fiddling with the lever pass, until he finally gives up. There are no gas stations until he reaches the summer home neighborhood, and the highway is separated by a fenced off median strip, so no U-turns, either. He’s just gonna have to cross his fingers and hope.

His teeth are gritted until he finally reaches his exit, somewhat relieved that if he does get stranded, at least it won’t be on the side of the highway. There’s a red light at the end of the exit ramp, and he cringes at having to rev up the car in first gear to avoid stalling on the incline.

The country road he turns onto is deserted, fields on either side all rows of plowed mud, interspersed with patches of skeletonized trees. Isolated homesteads placed a respectable distance from the road, and the occasional faded colors of a billboard advertising private insurance or heavy farming equipment.

He's a mile in when the dashboard beeps again, and soon after, the car starts to slow down. Renee curses, changing to a lower gear, which seems to work for all of ten seconds, but then it slows again, even as the pedal is pushed to its limit. The tractor-esque likeness of the sound seems to amplify as the engine struggles to keep up. Eventually, it coughs, lets out a spluttery death rattle, and then stalls completely.

Still rolling with the momentum, Renee stomps down the clutch and switches the ignition off and tries to restart it. Uncertain whirring, in a rhythm that makes the whole cabin vibrate, but it never takes. The car creeps to a halt on the side of the road. Renee tries again. And again. On his fourth try, the engine doesn’t even try to stir – nothing happens at all.

Renee pulls the handbrake and sits back, rubbing his face with both hands, pressing his fingers hard over the thin skin of his closed eyelids. Feels like letting out a scream, but all that comes out is a low groan. He sits like that for a full minute, breathing through his nose. Then he lets his hands dump into his lap, staring bleakly out the windshield.

In the distance, a row of trees parting two fields are being pushed sideways by a rough wind, the last stubborn leaves breaking off, dancing across the horizon.

Renee looks at his backpack, jaw working. Grabs it, finds leverage with both thumbs in a small hole by the zipper and forces it apart by pulling on the fabric. From one of the smaller rooms, he pulls out the bag of cocaine, from another, his wallet. Discards the backpack on the passenger side floor with a little more force than necessary. He fishes his phone out of his wallet and balances it flat on his thigh. Nudges a few clumps of powder onto the screen. It’s all automatic at this point, he doesn’t even have to think about what he’s doing. The clumps are broken with a credit card, and two lines are arranged side by side along the length of the phone screen. His hands are shaking as he rolls a five dollar bill into a straw.

He pauses. Feels like throwing up. Feels like strangling himself with the seatbelt. Feels like bashing someone’s skull in. Feels like...

Closing one nostril with his index finger, holding the bill carefully between thumb and middle finger, Renee lifts the phone up, leans down. It’s a familiar feeling, however gross it felt the first time he tried. Like sucking powdered sugar straight into your brain. It appears at the back of the throat, and then you have to swallow it, despite the bitter taste, like you swallow the clots of a heavy nosebleed. Renee leans back, sniffing hard as he rubs his nose, letting out each breath through his mouth. Leans down for the second line, which goes up just as easily, sniffs some more. His throat is already starting to tingle. He licks the remaining powder off the phone, drying the saliva in his jeans.

Slightly breathless, he slumps back against the seat, hand clutched around his phone. Hits the back of his head against the headrest a couple times, scowling at nothing. Stalling won’t do him any good. He grits his teeth as he unlocks the screen, filtering through contacts until he finds Davin’s number. Rests his elbow on the ledge under the side window, leaning his temple against the root of his hand, lifts the phone to his ear.

The low dial tone, dragging across the ground once, twice, before there’s a click, a muted shuffling. Renee bounces his heel against the floormat.

There’s a faint thud, like a door closing, before Davin speaks. “Yeah?”

“My car broke down,” Renee says. Winces, but keeps his voice even. “I ran out of gas, I mean. I just need a hand.”

There’s a brief silence, and then Davin lets out a sharp sort of sigh. “How do you expect me to…?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Renee bites, “Figure something out. I mean it, man, I’m stuck in the middle of… piss-all nowhere.”

Davin lets out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have a car, Renee.”

“Then find one. I’m not walking four fuckin’ hours.”

Another silence, longer this time. A deep breath. “Alright. Send me your coordinates, then.”

Renee sniffs. “Shall do.”

A split second after he has ended the call, Renee tosses the phone onto the dashboard, leaning forward, running his hands over his head. Why’s it taking so long to kick in, anyway? Two lines usually get his heart beating in no time. He’s not that tolerant, is he?

Seeping through the dirt, like the roots of a tree clawing to get a proper hold of the earth, or the fluid that leaks out of a decomposing coffin. It strikes Renee as a natural law of sorts. Gravity, but not in the physical sense.

They see him like an alien, a stereotype. They attribute his actions to something inhuman and foreign, something unrecognizable. A nightmare, a monster. A hooded figure in the dark. Evil as something extraordinary.

It’s actually pissing him off, how delusional people choose to be. The mental gymnastics they have to employ to stay blind. While Conrad sees the good in all people, Renee sees the spiteful, the malicious, the selfishness everybody tries so damn hard to deny. He sees the egocentric note that carries every act of altruism, the spite and jealousy that accompanies every form of love. Ambition is a euphemism for greed, justice always stems from a sense of superiority. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is holy. Once you start digging past the surface, the only direction you can go is down.

Despite the lightness of the clouds, a few small specs of rain have scattered on the windshield. Renee lights another smoke, watching it slowly collect and bleed down the glass. Something inside him is returning, he can feel it. It’s been hell for a while, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Conrad got his claws into him after all. That naïveté played tricks, in its own subtle, insidious ways. Renee forgot himself in a moment of weakness, and he ended up sharing the delusion. But evil is universal to the point of banality. Despite Conrad’s insistence, there’s nothing extraordinary about what Renee has done, or about his drives. Renee only stands out for honesty.

Davin’s greed is blatant. As is Lazarus’ willful negligence, entirely unjustified despite his efforts to deal conscientiously. Even Conrad himself, so keen to keep up a façade of innocence, gets that hateful look in his eyes, and his attempts to humanize himself occasionally get marred by a vengeful, sadistic desire.

A gun or a knife, hm? Or something else…?

Gun.

Where? …Where would you shoot me?

Head.

That’s the thing: You have to own it, don’t you?

Renee chuckles lightly to himself. Leans back against the headrest, eyes closed. Maybe it’s the coke creeping in, but it feels like a veil has been lifted.

The man he was six months ago, before all of this, before he even met Davin, is still in there. Renee can feel him. That carefree, fuck-all attitude, the easy way he carried himself, the deep sense of independence, remorseless freedom. His head got clouded by the fog of uncertainty, but he can lift himself out of it easily enough. It’s all so straightforward.

You just have to own it.

💵

Thirty minutes pass. The peak of the high, Renee spends pacing for a hundred yards up and down the country road, wind chill biting at his face, but muted under the familiar sense of euphoria. Once it starts to dip, around the forty-five minute mark, he climbs back into his car and chases with another line, smaller this time, nothing crazy. Sits with his knee bumping against the steering wheel, hands kept warm in his pockets, just enjoying the sensations of being, for a while. The way his heart beats, the way the air feels in his lungs, the numbness of his throat, the back of his tongue. He feels as easy and light as he does resilient, self-assured. Exquisitely fucked up and powerful. He feels like himself.

He sees the car coming from a mile away. A small, dark dot on the horizon that slowly rides the waves of the landscape. A sedan. Renee recognizes the typical design of a Mercedes long before he can make out the logo on the front grill – something about pareidolia, the expressions that cars make. Mercedes always look vaguely pissed off. As it pulls up on the opposite side of the road, Renee can’t help but marvel a bit. No scratches or dents in the warm gray lacquer, shiny wheel rims, tinted windows in the back. The kind of car you can tell has leather seats before you even take a look inside.

Bracing his door against the impact of the wind, Renee steps out on the road in the same moment Davin does. The few strands of hair that aren’t caught in the bun on the back of Davin’s head are instead whipped about his face. The collar of his coat is turned up.

Renee lights a smoke, then points to the Mercedes with the cigarette. “I didn’t think you could hotwire cars that new.”

As Davin shuts the door, he looks at the car briefly. “You can’t,” he concedes. And he holds up his hand, wiggling a key between his fingers.

Renee frowns. “It’s yours?”

“It’s a rental. For now, at least. You reminded me why it might be a good idea to have a second car available.”

He walks toward the back of the car and pops the trunk open, pulls out a red gas canister and a funnel. Hands both to Renee, who, much to his own quiet dismay, has to throw the fresh cigarette away before he takes them.

As he fumbles with the gas cap on the Clio and sets up the funnel, Davin stands a few paces away, watching. Renee can’t help his stomach from churning at that feeling, as if every movement he makes is being noted, jotted down. The stench of gasoline fumes soon serve as a distraction, as he pours the clear, yellowish liquid down the funnel. “Listen, I, ah…” He clears his throat. “I had a bit of a mental breakdown yesterday. After I left, I mean.”

He glances up at Davin, who has only raised a brow in response.

“I don’t really know what happened, it’s just… been a crazy couple weeks, you know? I think it’s been building. But it’s all good, I’m fine now.”

Davin snorts, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Looks into the distance for a moment, lips pursed. When he looks back at Renee, his expression is solemn. “I couldn’t have done this alone. So as much as I hate having to rely on other people, I have to rely on you. I have to be able to trust you.”

Renee grimaces. “You can,” he says. “You can, dude. I just freaked out a bit, but I’m back in business, I’m feeling it. I’ll do whatever.”

Davin nods slowly. Markedly doesn’t say anything.

For once, the ominous silence doesn’t really bother Renee, at least not to any greater extent. Although brief, he said his piece, so now it’s no longer on him.

The last few drops of gasoline are shaken off the canister, then the funnel. Renee screws the cap back in place, handing canister and funnel to Davin before he ducks into the passenger seat of the Clio, without shutting the door.

On the first turn of the key, the engine rustles awake.

Renee shoots a wide grin up at Davin. “We’re so back, baby.”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

#writing #moneymakers #renee #davin #clio

35 notes · View notes

staticspaces · 1 year

Photo

The Eccentric Recluse

Here is the link to this week's brand new video!!

https://youtu.be/PTG8pAIt65Q

Let's start this one out by taking a look at some exterior photos taken during the overgrown summer months!!

Born in 1951 and of Polish descent, Jeff really enjoyed working with his hands, he enjoyed automotive repair, woodworking and metal work. This is evidenced most clearly in this home that we are exploring today. You can see some of the work he has done both inside and outside of the home. There are little details everywhere, from the woodwork, to the decorative angels, the metal work on the fireplace to the railings outside the home that have little metal flowers inside. Built in the Tudor style with a very strong medieval vibe to it, I suspect that he may have built the entire home himself or at least added onto the home significantly over the years while he was living there. The details in this home did not stop at the visible and decorative, he also created some things for function as well. Throughout the home, almost every light fixture was on a motion sensor. There were also those cheap dollar store battery operated lights stuck to the walls in random places, some of which were still working during the explore! He had built large speakers into the walls and the ceiling throughout the living room, I didn't even notice these during the initial video explore, but they were everywhere. Many of the windows also had bars over them, much like the type you would see on city homes in a bad area.

The son of a mechanical engineer who worked for Air Canada, he was a draftsman by trade and it is no surprise to see the world that he created and surrounded himself with. Jeff was never married and he apparently, according to neighbours, passed away in this very home in 2015. He was only 64 years old.

The house was an absolute pleasure to explore but at the same time with the bars over the windows and the dim and dyeing dollar store lights turning on and off, it left me feeling a bit uneasy, almost like Jeff may return at any moment. Or maybe that he was still somehow watching over the house.

In 2021 the house and property were sold at auction to cover the property taxes owed. Since then, in late 2022, the new owners have cleared away a lot of the overgrowth, the cars are gone and it looks as though they have gutted the inside. Only time will tell if this house is completely demolished or if the new owners decide to save it!

#abandoned #abandoned places #abandoned buildings #abandoned homes #abandoned houses #abandoned time capsules #time capsules #forgotten #forgotten buildings #forgotten places #urbex #urban exploration #urban exploring #bandos #bando

78 notes · View notes

musclesaber · 6 months

Text

Happy Birthday!

Part 1: 06/20

[Story Gallery] [Next Part] [Latest Part]

Commission I did for an anonymous user on Twitter. Dean is running late getting home to see his husband for their birthday, but forgets he still has to get a dessert. He stops at the first shop he see's and finds something that might not only save his butt from his husband, but also his marriage.

I ran across the sidewalk with my briefcase in hand. “Dammit, I’m so late.” I looked down at my phone, almost midnight. “I’m the worst husband ever.” I stumbled across many puddles and fell down in front of a lit up store front. I wiped some water off of my face as I sat up and looked at the bright neon sign. “The Sizemologist’s Caldron? I’ve never seen this here before,” musing to myself as I stood up. I looked at my phone and saw a text message light up across the screen.

“Are you at least bringing 🎂?” shined a text from a user named ‘Big Daddy’.

“Cake? Cake! Shit, shit, shit! I forgot the cake!” I yelled as I wrapped my hands around my head. “Fuck, what am I gonna do?” I looked around and then back at my sizable butt in my work pants. “No, I did that last year. He deserves better for such a day.” I brought my phone down and looked into the windows of the dimly lit storefront. A light emitted from the very back of the store and I had to press my face up against the glass to see anything inside. My eyes scanned around the room until they focused in on a sign. ‘Eat Me & Drink Me’ read the sign and a smile grew across my face.

“Hello! Hello!” I knocked on the window and saw some shadows move in the background. “I’m sorry! I know it’s late! I was just wondering if I could bother you to buy some sort of dessert? A cake perhaps?” I saw the outline of a very large man coming towards me. His silhouette seemed to only grow bigger as he strode closer to me. Not only did he tower over me, he sported one of the biggest guts I’d ever seen. As a light flickered on, the man’s features were revealed. In an extremely tight blue t-shirt that had ‘The Sizemologist’s Emporium’ stretched across it. As he leaned his head down to reveal a small beard and a head full of bushy blonde hair, he opened the door.

“Sir, we’re open till Midnight, feel free to come in,” said the large man as he pulled the door open and stepped to the side.

“Oh, uh…thanks.” I walked in and continued brushing water off myself. “Sorry I didn’t think you were open. It’s just the lights were off and I didn’t see anyone inside.” I said as I entered the shop. The room looked so much more spacious than I expected on the outside. I had to sidestep the big belly bulging out in front of the big man as it threatened to push me over when the big man swung it around to head towards the back.

“Yeah, that’s my bad. The lights in here are on motion sensors at night. And normally I get up to turn them on, but I might’ve dozed off after I polished off a few pieces of sourdough bread. Woof, I really did some damage,” said the shopkeep as he patted his big belly. The ripples cascading over the blue fabric of the t-shirt.

“I see, well I saw the sign from outside “Eat Me & Drink Me” and I was hoping you’d have some sort of dessert. A cake preferably.” I said and started walking over to the section.

“That’s my newest section. Opened it up just a couple weeks ago. I’m Sam by the way. The Sizemologist. I run this shop,” said the shopkeep.

I turned my head to see the big man smiling down at me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean,” I said and reached out to shake his hand.

“And about the cake, I actually just sold my last cake earlier today. It was to a lovely couple celebrating their anniversary. Awe, they’re gonna have a fun night,” mused the shopkeep as he waddled past me toward a bar built into the wall. “But I have plenty of other desserts and treats for you to select from.” He lifted up an opening in the bar and squeezed his love handles through the sides as best he could. He started putting out plenty of desserts and pastries as I took a seat in the stool in front of him. Cookies all labeled with ‘Eat Me’ on them, brownies that had colorful sprinkles on top, and many selections of bread were set in front of me. I could even smell some more treats cooking in the back. “Take your pick.”

“Wow, you’ve really got quite the selection here. It’s for my husband’s birthday. He loves cheesecake and I was really hoping to surprise him after I’ve been such a bad husband today.”

“Oh I bet you couldn’t be that bad of a husband. You are buying your husband a cake for his birthday. That’s something,” said Sam as his head disappeared under the bar where he started rummaging around below.

“Yeah, but this’ll be the one good thing I’ve done for him today. I was supposed to have today off, but I got called into the office for some emergency meeting that turned into a lot of work and I kept getting hit with project after project and I couldn’t get away from any of it until now. Almost midnight and I’ve barely spent any time with him today.” I wracked my head and shook some water from my fluffy brown hair.

“You’re certainly feeling guilty and stressed about it if you’re willing to reveal that to a random customer service worker you just met,” said Sam as he came from the bar with a glass and a clear liquid in a beer sized bottle.

“I’m sorry si-”

“Sam, just call me Sam.”

“I’m sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to put that all out on you. It’s just, my husband and I, we’ve been arguing a bit lately. And today just must feel like a punch in the gut to him.” I looked at Sam and he started putting ice in a shaker.

“It’s okay. I understand, and I’ve been there. Marital troubles can be tricky. What’s got you two arguing?” I saw Sam polishing off the glass and setting it down in front of me.

“You know, I really should get going. I’m already late enough as it is. I can’t have a drink right now. Maybe another time,” I said and started getting up from my seat.

“Just stay and talk a moment. I promise it’ll be quick.” Sam grabbed a bottle cap opener and popped the top off. The smell from the beer hit me immediately and I froze in place.

“Wow, that smells really good. Maybe I can stay for just one drink,” I sat back down in my chair and I heaved my briefcase onto the bar stool next to me. Sam had a satisfied smirk on his face as he poured the liquid into the shaker.

“I thought this would change your tune. So, tell me, what’s the matter?” asked Sam as he started to shake up the drink.

“It’s complicated. My husband has been a bit self conscious about his body as of late. He’s been trying to work out and grow his muscles out, but has been getting minimal results at best. He started off at maybe 120 pounds and 5 foot 7 and has only gained 10 pounds in almost a year,” I said as Sam poured the drink into the glass.

“Well you seem pretty fit, big guy.” said Sam nodding to my pecs that protruded from my white button down shirt. “Maybe you could give him some pointers in the gym?” He slid the drink over to me and popped open a bottle for himself and started drinking it straight from the bottle.

“That’s part of the problem. We started working out together. Before we got married, I was on the heavier side. And not in the muscly way I am now. I was fat. And just fat. No muscles. So we joined the gym together. He wanted to put on more size and I just wanted to reform my fat into muscle. I’ve succeeded so far, but he’s been not so successful.” I reached down to take a sip of my drink and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head. “Mmm this stuff is incredible! What is it?”

“Made with a special rubber plant from South America, I call it “Stretchy Cider”,” said Sam as he took a swig of his own drink. “As for your husband, you shouldn’t feel guilty just because you have been seeing improvements and he hasn’t. That isn’t fair to your goals’ importance.”

“I mean, sure. It’s just that I know we’ve both wanted this for a long time. We bonded a lot over fitness and wanting to grow bigger before we even committed to the gym. And we’re both sorta size queens so that plays a factor into this too. I know he wants to be a massive man with muscles all over his body and he knows I want that for him too. He just puts so much pressure on himself and I hate to see him do it. And I hate being one of the causes of it too,” I said as I took another sip of my drink. Sam gave me a morose look and put his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry Dean. That does not sound like a fun environment to be living in.” I hung my head and let out a long sigh.

“It is a bit of a toxic web we’ve sown as a foundation for our relationship. And that’s only half of it. He’s been really wanting to have kids lately. And I get it. He’s turning 40. He’s not getting any younger. But we can’t get our finances together to get a kid since it costs so much to have a single child as a gay couple. Let alone the cost to raise one. I bet with our salaries, we could have tons of kids. We’re just gay men so we can’t afford to have kids in the first place.”

“I see. Well Dean, it’s your lucky day. I think I have a great birthday gift from you to your husband. Be right back.” Sam did a quick about face, leaving his fat body wiggling for a second or two after, and walked through a door to what I assumed was the back. I looked down at my phone and it read 11:55p.m.

“Shit Connor is gonna kill me,” I said through gritted teeth as I brought the drink up to my lips and started chugging the whole thing.

“I’ve got just the thing for you. Here’s this muffin I have. It’s for a special promotion I’m doing this week. This is a muffin that helps people be the biggest person in any room,” said Sam as he placed a red velvet muffin down right in front of me with star shaped sprinkles on top.

“I don’t know, a muffin on his birthday? That doesn’t sound like the best thing to bring home to a probably very upset husband,” I said as I looked down at the muffin. Sam brought a sparkling, extravagant yellow birthday candle out and pushed it into the top.

“This’ll help set the mood. Trust me, he’ll love it.,” said Sam as he started getting a bag out for it.

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it. It’s not like I have many other options,” I said and reached for my wallet. “How much for the muffin and the drink?”

“Just $5 for the muffin and the drink is on the house. Just come and thank me after you have your kids.” Sam winked at me and slid the bag forward.

“Thank you Sam. You are too kind. I hope this works.” I pulled a $5 bill out of my wallet and grabbed the bag and my briefcase. “Sorry to keep this short, but I’ve gotta run. Thanks again!” I darted towards the door and Sam waved me off.

“Not a problem Dean! You two have fun tomorrow!” yelled Sam as I walked out the door. I tilted my head at the tomorrow part, but kept running towards home. I looked down at my phone, 11:55 still.

“Damn, he said it would be quick, but I wasn’t thinking that.” I kept running until I got to our apartment building. I bursted through the doors and hit the up button to the elevator repeatedly. With a ding, the doors looked like they were moving at a snail’s pace to open up. I tapped my foot and hurried in the elevator just to stand and press the close door button repeatedly in hopes it would go faster. I went up floor by floor over what took an eternity. “Come on. Come on.” With another ding, the elevator started to open up into our apartment on the top floor. I emerged from the elevator to see a short man with his hands crossed across his chest.

“Finally home from work. And it’s not midnight yet. Congrats babe. You didn’t miss all of my birthday,” said the man as he walked away from me into the kitchen.

“Connor, look I’m sorry. I didn’t think that this one meeting would take away our entire day!” I followed him into the kitchen until I stopped in my tracks as he swiveled on his feet to get up in my face despite his much shorter stature.

“Today was supposed to be our day. I wanted to spend a lovely birthday with my husband, but it was one thing after another, again. And I get pushed to the side for your career, again. Why would I think today would be any different than any other day,” said Connor as he stormed off through the house away from me.

“Please babe. I’m sorry. I just had to stay. I kept trying to get away, but they wouldn’t stop pulling me into meetings “I had to be in”.” I used my fingers to make air quotes around those words and followed him into our bedroom. “Connor, stop running from me. Can we just celebrate a little late? I did bring home a dessert for you.” I fumbled to set my briefcase down then tear open the bag Sam had given me. “I didn’t get anything for me, but I was thinking that could be part of my punishment.” Connor turned around and saw the birthday muffin I was holding.

“Is that a muffin? I think I’d prefer you just give me your ass instead.” I shrugged and then wrung my head.

“Connor, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been the worst husband lately. And especially today of all days.” I walked past Connor and sat on the king sized bed in our bedroom. “I had forgotten to get you a cake and could only find this one little shop open and all they had left that you would have liked was this.” I sighed and set the muffin down on the bedside table. I could see in Connor’s face that his anger was slowly simmering down.

“You’re not the worst husband in the world,” he said as he sat down on the bed with me. “I just feel like our lives have been drifting in two different directions these past few months.” We both sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Yes, we are. But I don’t want us to be,” I reached for his hand and I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

“I don’t either. I just feel like sometimes I can’t even talk to you about it. Some days, despite living in the same apartment as you, I never see you. You’re always at the office, or at the gym, or when you’re home, you just go into your study and don’t come out all day playing your games.” Connor had a couple of tears running down his face as we continued to sit in silence.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in work. Ever since that promotion last year, I just can’t get away from the office sometimes.” I put my hand on Connor’s thigh and squeezed it.

“Why did you even take that promotion? You hated your job before you took it. And now it’s just gotten worse. And it’s not like we need the money. We live in a penthouse apartment in the city. While it is expensive, I make more than enough to cover it alone. That and just about all of our other living expenses. I just don’t understand why you do this job that I know you aren’t happy in.” Connor stopped his long winded question to me and I paused again.

“Because I thought you wanted kids, babe. I have been busting my ass so we could afford to have some kids,” I said and Connor gave me a weird look.

“Honey, we could have kids tomorrow if we want. At least start the process. Our savings account is filled with the child fund. You know this. You helped set it up with me. We even used the fund already and it’s grown the money back. This is something else.” I looked into Connor’s big brown eyes and my heart just melted.

“It’s because I’m afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what honey.”

“Afraid that we had grown too far apart to come back together again. I didn’t want to come home and face the silence and coldness that I would’ve sat in with you.” I blurted out as I started to cry as well. It was Connor’s turn to think on my words. “I knew we had been growing apart and I didn’t want to face it. But now I see running from my problem only makes it even harder to deal with.”

“You took the job so you wouldn’t have to deal with me?” asked Connor.

“No. No! Not at all babe. It wasn’t to deal with you. I did it cause I thought that’s what I needed. To be thrown into my work. After trying and failing to have a child and going through the painstaking process of venting and paperwork of in vitro just to have no results was heartbreaking. I couldn’t handle it.” The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as I sobbed quietly into my hand.

“I understand that babe. After the surrogate failed to have any eggs that attached, I also was feeling broken. But I needed you. My husband. And you ran away to your terrible job.” Connor began to join me in crying.

“I’m so sorry Connor. I was being selfish with my reaction to the news. I was doing what I needed to do to protect my own feelings. And as your husband, I needed to be there for you too.”

“It’s okay. We each have our own coping mechanisms. I know that about us. This is just the first time it’s hit us so hard. I don’t think we could’ve prepared ourselves for this one,” said Connor as he put his hand on mine. “But I think we know what’s happening now. For the first time in over a year.” I cracked a smile amidst my tears and went in to hug Connor.

“We are. I don’t think we really talked about what we wanted to do going forward after failing to have a kid the first time. Do you think we could do it?”

“Dean, I have never had any doubt in my mind that when we become parents, we will raise beautiful children. However I do think that we need to have a lot more love in the home before we bring a child into it.” We looked into each other's eyes and hugged each other. We held each other and just breathed for a moment. We hadn’t had this much physical contact in months.

“Same to you Connor. You’re gonna make a wonderful dad.” I pushed his body away to kiss him and it was like fireworks went off. This was the first time I had felt something around him in months. “I do hope we’ve begun to rekindle that love today.”

“I think so. We’re definitely headed in the right direction.” Connor leaned back in and we shared a passionate kiss. I felt his hand pressing into my chest and he gripped my pecs. “And I don’t think we’ve done anything with your new body since we’ve started working out.”

“Yeah and we haven’t done anything with yours either big daddy,” I smiled and kissed Connor back only to feel him lose steam part of the way through.

“Uh huh, like I have any progress to show,” said Connor as he kept massaging my pecs over my shirt.

“But you have babe. You’ve slimmed up since working out and now you’re starting to put on more muscle,” I went to grab at his chest but he flinched when I did. “Babe, I just spilled my guts about my tough feelings. Maybe tonight we just get all of our feelings out in the open.”

“What feelings? I’m fine, babe. We were just about to have sex for the first time in forever. I’m great!” Connor started to kiss me violently and pounced onto me. Forcing me to lean back on our bed with him on top.

“Hun, you’re talking to the king of not talking about things that bother me.” He broke the kiss and rolled off me. “Spill it babe.” Connor looked at me as we both lay on the bed together.

“I can’t get big. I can’t be the big man of my dreams and I definitely can’t be the big man of your dreams.”

“Okay, what do you mean by that?”

“The gym isn’t working to get me bigger.”

“And I don’t have a problem with that. Everyone’s bodies are different and gain size in different ways.”

“Oh Dean, stop beating around the bush. The entirety of our relationship was based off of our shared love for growth. You remember all of the role playing we did back in the day. Do you remember that one where you were the sweet scientist and me, your science experiment that got huge. I wanted that for you.” Connor sat up and put his elbows on his knees and head on his hands. I followed suit soon after.

“Connor, those were fantasies. And while they were hot at the time of doing them, I don’t really care about them now. And I definitely never expected you to get THAT big. Babe at one point we said you were over 100 feet tall and many tons of muscle. No one has even come close to that big before.”

“I know, but maybe if I thought that maybe if I did get bigger, it would help us rekindle that spark.” I brought my arm around him and pulled him in close to me.

“Well after tonight I hope you can put that idea out of your head since we might not be past our differences, but we are on the road to recovery.” I leaned in and kissed the short man. We sat on the bed in silence for a long time. Just me holding Connor in my arms. “I did however mention to the guy that sold me the muffin that you were having some issues in the gym and he assured me that the muffin makes men feel like they’re the biggest one in the room.”

“What does that even mean? And you were talking to a random baker about that?”

“I don’t know. I assumed it had a bunch of calories in it or something. But yeah. I did kinda vent to him for a sec cause I felt so guilty about how bad of a husband I was being.” I stand up and open up a drawer in the night stand to reveal a lighter.

“At this point I’ll try anything to make me grow,” said Connor as he got up and stood beside me. “But that cupcake is so small, what are you going to eat?”

“Think of it as a punishment to myself for being so late and forgetting to pick up a cake today.” I started to light the candle that was on top of the muffin and presented it to Connor. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Connor, Happy Birthday to You.” Connor gave me a cheesy smile and blew out the candle.

“Thanks babe. Despite all of the drama I couldn’t have wished for a better 40th birthday,” said Connor as he started eating the muffin.

“Feliz cumpleaños mi amor. Did you make a wish?”

“Of course. I always make a wish. You can’t not make a wish. But I’m not gonna tell you.” Connor continued to eat his muffin and was delighted by how good it tasted.

“You don’t need to tell me until it comes true.”

“Well then I can tell you what I wished for last year?”

“What?”

“You.” I smiled at Connor and leaned down to give him a big kiss.

“I’m glad I granted your wish then. I just hope I can grant this one for you too.” We kissed a couple more times before we sat down on the bed. We began to make out, small moans escaping our lips as we did.

“You definitely can babe. But actually,” Connor paused our kiss and let out a long yawn, “I’m feeling really tired all of a sudden. Think maybe we can pick this up in the morning?” Connor began to lie back in bed onto his pillow and tapped the one beside it.

“Sure babe. Screw work if they call me in. I’m gonna spend tomorrow with my husband.” I climbed over to my side of the bed and got under the covers with Connor.

“Thank you Dean. I would love that as a birthday present. As well as snuggling with you tonight,” said Connor as he wrapped his arms around my body as I faced the opposite way. “Goodnight Dean.”

“Goodnight Connor.”

#plot #gay #growth #size difference

13 notes · View notes