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balmacedapascal · 2 years

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girl, i am back!!!! and completely in love with your single dad!Harwin 🧡🥺✨ can we get a "how can i help?" in that verse?? bonus points if it's rhae asking 🥴😭🥺

(this is for a modern single dad!Harwin au that I mentioned yesterday and might eventually flesh out into a full on story but the concept is Harwin is raising Jace and Luke on his own and has recently reconnected with Rhaenyra, whom he grew up with and hasn't seen in years. Jace and Luke are his kids in this, not theirs. at least not biologically. okay i hope you like it <3)

It only took one night for Rhaenyra to discover how quickly plans could change with someone who had children. Her and Harwin had managed to meet up a handful of times since they'd first bumped into each other, grabbing coffee or lunch when they could to try and catch up. And tonight was the first chance they'd had to make plans for dinner. The first time it would be something she might actually consider a date. The whole thing was still a bit casual, the two of them dancing around the conversation of where this was going. But she was looking forward to spending time with him, time that didn't have a timer on it for when they both needed to get back to their responsibilities. And when he'd offered to cook for them rather than going out to, she'd been happy for the chance of a potentially intimate night together.

What she hadn't expected was little Jace to answer the door when she rang the bell at half past seven. "Um, hi Jace. Do you remember me? I'm a friend of your dad's."

"Yep! He said you were coming over for dinner. And he said that we were supposed to be on our best behavior. And he said to let him know when you got here. And - oh! Come on, you can come and see the fish me and Luke got last month. DAD! Miss Nyra's here! I'm showing her my fish!"

And before she could process anything that had come out of the little boy's mouth at a mile a minute, she found herself in a surprisingly tight grip and being pulled into the house, just barely getting the door closed behind her as she stumbled along behind the six year old. She wasn't sure exactly where Harwin was but she found herself being led down a hall lined with an assortment of photos of all three Strongs that she would've enjoyed inspecting if given the chance. Instead, she got a brief glimpse before finding herself in a bedroom filled with books and toys and games and little Luke in some kind of dinosaur onesie playing with a slew of action figures. He didn't do much more than look up and give her a sweet smile before going back to his toys.

There was an aquarium next to the window that Rhaenyra found herself kneeling in front of, listening with as much attention as she could manage as she was given a rundown of every type of fish in the water with as much detail as the little boy could manage. She wasn't sure she'd remember any of it by the time he was finished but it seemed best she make the effort until she was able to break away.

"Jace, I told you to let me know when she got here, not hide her away in the room you two absolutely didn't clean up like I asked you to. You don't get to hog the new guests all for yourself." Jace's explanations were interrupted at the sound of Harwin's voice, getting both her and the boys to turn towards the doorway. He looked good, despite being dressed down for a night in. A kitchen towel was draped over his shoulder and he'd pulled back his hair into bun that seemed to be fighting its constraints. The smile he offered her was sheepish but sweet and she tried not to think too long on how there was suddenly a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

"But you said we could show new people the fish when they first come over," Jace argued, leading to a staring match between father and son for the ten seconds it took her to stand and join Harwin in the doorway.

"They were very impressive fish," she added, getting a smile from the boys and a head shake from their dad which seemed a good enough compromise. "How about you tell me more about them later, Jace? Does that sound okay?"

"Okay." And just like that the boys went back to playing, Jace joining Luke on the floor to pick up where she guessed they'd left off when he'd met her at the door.

For the second time in ten minutes, Rhaenyra found herself being led down the hall, this time by a much gentler and less demanding touch. She followed Harwin back to the living room where she was treated to another sheepish smile as he turned back to her. "Hey, sorry about - well, all of it. They were going to have a sleepover with some friends from school but I got a call right before we were about to leave that the other kids are down chicken pox and I didn't have a chance to give you a heads up. I know I promised a nice relaxing night and you've already been bombarded with every fact he's managed to retain on angelfish and neon tetras. If you want to raincheck I understand, really. Especially since you look like you came straight from work and-"

"Harwin! Stop, breathe, relax." He did as she instructed and she couldn't but reach for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze even though it seemed a hug might have done him better. "It's all fine. I may not have a ton of experience with kids but I am aware that they should take top priority. And I'd have a lot more issues with you still sending them off to a chicken pox infected household so I could have an adults only dinner. Now, please, how can I help?"

There was a pause as he looked down at her, almost as if he was still processing everything between them. And then she blinked and his lips were on hers, a soft kiss that lingered for a heartbeat as his free hand reached up to cup the side of her face. It surprised her, leaving her off balance for a moment before she leaned into the touch and kissed him back. When he pulled back, the smile he wore had relaxed and she felt one mirroring it on her own lips. "Just come keep me company while I finish things up and that will be more than enough." Another quick peck and then the hand holding hers pulled her in the direction she assumed was the kitchen.

And when he lifted her up onto the countertop instead of letting her go over to one of the stools, she could feel the flutter in her stomach once more, relishing in the oddly comforting domesticity of the quiet moments before the patter of little feet came echoing down the hall to join them.

#modern rhaewin #rhaewin fanfic #hotd fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #thank you for sending me prompts and keeping me writing #i hope you like this one #single dad harwin au #mine*#mywriting*#chara: harwin strong #chara: rhaenyra targaryen #chara: jacaerys velaryon #chara: lucerys velaryon #i feel like this might be ooc for everyone but lets just go with its modern so of course things might be different

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red-flagging · 2 months

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💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

#my fic #collarboen #rpf #sorry to possibly?? retcon the fade to black kiss at the end of rabbits are chasing and be like PSYCH it took 9 months after that...but in #my heart this has always* been the truth #*i came up with it ten minutes into brainstorming this prompt but now i'm attached to it and have accepted it into my heart and home #the post-retirement post-gay awakening post-journey of self acceptance slow burn slash anxiety spiral #that happened over the 9 month interlude on lewis's end is left as a thought experiment for the reader :)#thank u for giving me an excuse to write this autumn :)#i am slowly making my way through the rest of these lol ty to everyone who has sent them in they've been so fun!!#you are welcome to send in more but just be warned that the next batch will probably take. much longer lol. but i will keep doing my best 🫡

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commsroom · 1 year

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Jacobi and Eiffel both externalize all their problems, but Jacobi projects his own flaws and failures to be other people's fault, while Eiffel thinks his redemption/solution is only in other people's opinions and out of his control, discuss.

i've said before i think the most interesting thing about jacobi is that the finale is the start of a character arc for him, not the culmination of one. and i think this is a big part of that. in things that break other things, he says, "it wasn't anybody's fault. everyone was doing their jobs right, but it just... two guys died. good guys." and i think that line makes a lot of sense if he actually was at fault, or at least feels that he was and can't admit it to himself. in dirty work, he realizes he blames himself for maxwell's death. and then: "i was wrong and people died. and the only thing i can do is not be wrong again."

it creates a perfect loop from his recruitment to where he's at in the finale: two people are dead, but he survived. he's out of a job. what now? i think that's an interesting set up for how jacobi's storyline post-canon could mirror and intersect with lovelace's - they're both people who have been blinded by hurt and anger and desire for revenge, and have had to step back from that ledge. they've both lost "their" people - the only survivors of their respective missions. i don't believe jacobi will ever willingly stay in contact with the rest of the hephaestus crew, but lovelace...? narratively, it could work. "i've got this friend" about lovelace in the finale is an opening. if jacobi's arc so far is a loop, and he's finally open to change, then he and lovelace could also share a thematic link re: breaking cycles.

as for eiffel, i would go so far as to say he completely removes himself from the equation. he projects his desire for redemption onto other people - people like hilbert, who absolutely don't share that desire - but he doesn't want to be in the story. it wouldn't matter if someone told eiffel he was a good person - he wouldn't believe them - and when people do call him out, like in shut up and listen, he takes that as confirmation he's irredeemable and everyone is better off without him. both jacobi and eiffel are treating themselves as passive actors to avoid accountability, in some way, but what eiffel really needs to accept is that he's the only one who can live his life. he isn't a uniquely bad person doomed to harm and failure; he's just like everyone else.

(maybe worth noting in eiffel's view of himself as a bad person vs. the antagonists of the show, including jacobi, is how eiffel sees it as an inherent character flaw that he doesn't want but can't escape, while "let's go be monsters" etc. is an active choice and rationalization from someone who signed up to be the bad guy, who decided he could compartmentalize and live with that.)

another kinda interesting place i'd say jacobi's worldview clashes with eiffel's is that they are both centered on people first. unlike maxwell and kepler, i don't think jacobi really believes in his own version of The Big Picture - he just believes in people who believe. it's progress for the sake of progress, but the nature of that progress isn't his to define; he's not even pretending it is. "because people like me - and people like him - make it possible for people like maxwell to do their jobs." and where eiffel's perspective necessitates recognizing the humanity in everyone, jacobi rationalizes his actions through a strict us-versus-them mentality. so much of how he operates is explained by that line: "there aren't sides. there are just people you'd do things for and people you'd do things to."

#wolf 359 #w359 #like you're sending me a little essay prompt. i love that thank you #it's enrichment for me #focusing this mostly on jacobi because i talk about eiffel's issues all the time and uhh #i'm unlikely to post about jacobi unprompted. so.#also the line where hera tells jacobi she's never met anyone who worked so hard at being inhuman. yeah.#i swear i have thoughts about all aspects of this show and its characters #i even have thoughts about riemann #but i will keep posting about eiffel and hera anyway. it is my nature.#and it's kinda funny to me because jacobi and eiffel are two of the characters with the least narrative significance to each other #but even so there's a lot you can say about how their contrasting worldviews explore the themes of the show #gold standard character writing.#asks

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allylikethecat · 2 months

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"my poor baby, i'm so sorry." this has potential

Hello dearest anon! Last week I said that I would write any new prompt I got first in exchange for feedback on the new All the King's Horses chapter. I have no idea if you sending me this prompt and then THREE whole super lovely comments appearing on that fic are related BUT in case they are, I have done my very best to fill this super fun prompt from the Reactions to making someone cry prompt list! If anyone else wants to send any fun prompts from that list, it can be found HERE.

ALSO I know I haven't filled any of these in a while but I promise I will / am going to get through all of the ones in my inbox eventually! I am a little out of practice so I'm not sure if this is my best work... BUT I tried and also I finished it so I'm counting that as a win! Thank you for taking the time to send it! I hope you enjoy it and are having a lovely Thursday and a great rest of your week!

❤️Ally

"my poor baby, i'm so sorry."

WARNINGS: mentions of past drug abuse, broken bones

Matty managed to hold it together until he was backstage. Sharp, shooting, stabbing pain moving up his ankle with each labored breath. He didn’t dare put weight on it, trying to breathe slowly, even as his lungs screamed desperately for more oxygen, having just completed a two hour show. He felt dizzy and untethered, his head fuzzy with pain as he stumbled over to one of the black gear trunks, “The 1975” spray painted in white stenciled letters on the side. He dropped down heavily onto the trunk, banging his ankle on the side as he did so, gasping in shock. He squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to cry, he refused to cry. He was alright, he tried to tell himself, cautiously trying to put some of his weight on his foot before recoiling as the burning pain intensified. He wasn’t alright.

He’s not sure how long he sat there, his head bowed in a silent prayer to the various Gods he didn’t believe in, his curls falling limp and greasy with sweat over his face, begging for the strength to just get up. The rest of the crew were moving around him, packing up the gear and the stage. He’s not sure where the guys went, everyone having their own post show protocol, their own method for dealing with the come down from the rush of another sold out show well done. Matty himself used to get so high he didn’t exist anymore, at least not on the corporeal plane. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He didn’t do that anymore. (He wondered if it would numb the pain in his ankle.)

“Are you just staying here then?” George asked, a bite to his tone, traces of the fight, the argument they had been having before they had put it aside to take the stage present in his voice. Matty opened his eyes, blinking wetly and looking up at George who seemed to loom over him, his arms crossed over his chest, his body language closed off. He had showered, his hair damp, a wet patch showing on the gray fabric of his tee shirt, clinging to skin that hadn’t been fully dried. Matty was still in his stage clothes, the damp fabric clinging to his dried sweat coated skin giving him a chill.

He shrugged, he didn’t want to fight with George anymore, even though he was the one that had initiated it that afternoon. Throwing out snide, biting comments, looking for George’s soft underbelly, trying to hit where he knew it would hurt the most, purely so that he could feel something. George had resisted at first, meeting Matty with love and care and sympathy until he eventually, as always, pushed too far and George had snapped. Matty had relished in it before, his blood pumping as he smiled cruelly, getting up in George’s face as George yelled back, giving him everything that he wanted and didn’t know how to ask for.

Matty swallowed hard, his ankle hurt, he was pretty sure it was broken, and he didn’t want to fight anymore.

“Not going to say anything?” George asked, his spark still burning, still pushing, looking for the same kind of weakness Matty had exploited earlier.

Matty just shrugged again, curling in on himself. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell George he was sorry he had started a fight, that he was wrong and hadn’t meant it. He wanted to tell him he loved him, and he was hurting and that he needed him. But if he opened his mouth he was pretty sure that he was going to start crying. He was emotionally and physically worn out. He was scared and he was in pain, he just wanted George to hold him and tell him it was all going to be alright. They were supposed to be packing up and headed to their next tour stop within the hour, traveling overnight to get to the next city. There were twenty seven shows left on this leg of the tour. Matty couldn’t afford to have broken his ankle.

“Matthew,” said George, his voice so cold, and Matty, already feeling so worn thin, couldn't help it. He opened his mouth to answer, to tell him to fuck off, to apologize, to say absolutely anything, and instead he ended up taking a shaky breath and instantly burst into tears.

George recoiled, clearly surprised, clearly having thought that Matty was being difficult for the sake of being difficult, not that there was actually something wrong.

“Matty?” he asked cautiously, carefully, glancing around the backstage area as if he would find the cause of Matty’s tears mingling with the trunks and extension cords. “Matty love what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Matty said with a hiccup, “I’m sorry I was being a dickhead earlier, and I’m sorry I just fucked up the tour, and I’m just I’m sorry.”

“Fucked up the tour? What are you talking about?” George asked, sitting down carefully next to Matty, gauging his reaction before cautiously wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders. “And it’s alright, couples fight,” said George softly, pressing a kiss to the side of Matty’s head, all of the fight drained out of him. “I know we’ll get past it.”

“I think I broke my ankle,” said Matty with a sniffle, “I rolled it during the last song and I could feel something pop.” He took a shaky breath, “it really hurts.”

George stood up, “let me take a look,” he said, moving to kneel down in front of Matty. He made the assumption that it was the left ankle bothering Matty by the cautious way he was holding his leg and reached forward to steady his foot so that he could unlace his converse sneaker. Matty, never one to handle pain well, gasped in surprise and kicked out, hitting George in the chin and causing another pulse of pain to move up his leg.

George swore, stumbling back as he held onto his face.

“Fuck,” said Matty with a hiccup, “fuck I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said George carefully, moving his jaw back and forth, confirming that everything was aligned correctly. He was even more careful this time, his fingers barely ghosting over Matty’s ankle as he unlaced the sneaker, then rolled up his pant leg and carefully removed his sock. He sucked in a breath, not even making a comment about how sweaty Matty had gotten, as he took in how swollen the joint was, and the purple hue that the limb had taken on.

Matty couldn't bring himself to look at it. “How bad is it?” he asked wetly. If it looked even half as bad as it felt, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“My poor baby,” said George softly, “I’m so sorry.” He paused, “I think you’re right, I think it is broken.”

Matty just hiccuped wetly in response.

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astromechs · 2 months

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going ahead and starting a new ao3 work to collect these prompt fills for reasons that are funny to me (timing this so that it's me knocking one of my own fics off the first page on the ship tag)

#i was also like. ok i can have three works on page one but four is excessive #so i knocked myself off and it's fine now see :)#caitlin.txt #also according to the ao3 word counter stats i've published 20k since january 1 so that's nice i guess #anyway gonna write the next fill tomorrow hopefully! if work isn't too annoying <3 #these are really keeping me sane rn when i don't have the brainpower to tackle some of my bigger projects #so thank you to everyone sending in prompts! ❤️

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steddio · 1 year

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#I am blushing beaming hurling myself against a wall re everyone’s nice comments on my eddie music ptsd fic #I’m so new to writing fic & y’all keep me going #thank you from the bottom of my heart #also if people have prompts send them my way! my ask box is open always #A talks to the void

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wintfleur · 2 months

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Hi can u write prompt 18 and 14 🪷 and [comfort] 🌷 with lando? With lando being the one who comforts?? Thank u sm I love u and ur works 💗💗💗💗

౨ৎ sleep darling

﹕─┈ pairings ( Lando norris x female! reader )

°. — summary ( a morning with lando after a restless night )

°. — details ( g; fluff, a pinch of angst? w; none that I know of. wc; 1.5k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time + they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose + a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( Tysm for the request lovely & the kind words ! I love you too !!! I had so much fun writing this, it was an amazing request !!! I hope you like it, I tried fitting in the prompts together the best I could !!! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s, your thoughts are what keep me motivated to write !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist F1 masterlist

Restless sighs and tired groans leave your lips as you roll over onto your side, now facing your large window that gives you a perfect view of the sunrise. Your eyes dropped down to the sleepy body next to you, he was laying on his stomach with both of his arms under the soft white pillow, the duvet being pulled up to his shoulders, protecting him from the breeze coming through the cracked open window. He looked so peaceful as he slept, that made you happy.

You missed him, lately he's been busy with getting ready for the start of the new f1 season and even though some days he came home early, you were too busy studying to really spend any time with him. For the past week, the two of you really only spent time together in bed, and most of the time lando was sleeping while you laid wide awake. You barely slept and when you did you woke up in cold sweats from the nightmares that plagued your mind.

The lack of sleep and the intense studying didn't help your mood, but your sweet boyfriend didn't let your mood get to him, he understands. You felt guilty, he was the absolute sweetest and so understanding, sending you sweet texts throughout the day, getting you flowers and ordering you your favorite food; knowing that you most likely forgot to eat. And yet you couldn't even spare the time to spend more time with him.

You watched as he scrunched his nose in annoyance and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow as the sun shines on his face. You begin to feel restless as you continue to lay down, your mind not shutting off even though you've stayed up for the whole night. By the time you decided to stop studying, it was way past midnight and Lando was already asleep even though he tried to stay up for you.

You felt that guilt creep up and you let out a heavy sigh, you couldn't lay down anymore wasting time. You quietly sit up and move the blankets off your legs and move to get out of bed, but you pause when you hear a tired groan accompanied by your boyfriend's groggy voice “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I'll be right back, go back to sleep baby” you spoke softly so you wouldn't pull him too much out of his sleep as you looked back at him. One of his hands was out from under the pillow as if he was reaching out from you to stop you from leaving, and that's what he intended to do, he was just far to sleep to open his eyes. Lando hummed sleepily “Mmkay hurry back . . . wanna cuddle.”

You leaned down and placed a soft but quick kiss on his forehead, a sleepy smile forming on his lips at the touch of your lips. You quickly leave the bed, knowing that if you stared at him any longer you wouldn't want to leave the bed. You quietly close the bathroom door behind you before turning on the light. You take your time brushing and flossing your teeth and brushing your hair out of your face, you try not to look at yourself for too long in the mirror. You could see that you were exhausted, the past week not only taking a toll on your mental state, but also your physical.

You can imagine Lando becoming impatient with how long you were taking in the bathroom if he hasn't fallen asleep yet, so you quickly finish up in the bathroom and shut off the light as you leave. You looked at your bed and for a second you believed Lando had fallen back asleep from how still he was, but you're proven wrong when he grabs the duvet and pulls it back for you, wanting you to lay next to him. Cute.

You fight the urge of wanting to escape to the living room to study and climb into bed, sliding under the blanket and right next to your sleepy boyfriend. You lay on your side, your hands under your face as you look at a barely awake lando. Lando pulls the blanket up to your shoulders and blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his eyes taking in every inch of your beauty. He could see your exhaustion in your eyes and face, but he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever.

Lando frowns and tucked the blanket under your neck, his thumb softly caressing your chin “You haven't slept.”

You didn't bother trying to lie, one you were too exhausted trying to come up with a good excuse and you also know it was no use too anyway. Lando knew you better than anyone else, sometimes even better than you. You sigh and break your eye contact before whispering “I tried.”

“You should have woken me up, I don't like that you were up alone” Lando continues to frown as he looks at you, feeling guilty because he wasn't up to help you. The thought of you lying awake all night made his heart hurt, he wished you woke him up and he wished he wasn't so tired last night and stayed up. He didn't care if the two of you laid in silence all night in each other's arms, because you would have done it together.

“I wasn't alone, i had you right next to me” you whispered sweetly as you pulled your hand out from under your face and pushed back his messy hair out of his eyes. A grin spreads across Lando's face at your romantic words and a cute giggle leaves his lips as he quickly moves forward, your body moving to lay on your back as he rolls on top of you. He settled comfortably between your legs, cradling your head with a gentle touch, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your nose.

You giggle at the sudden change of position and scrunch your nose at the feeling of his soft lips on your nose, pecking it several times; he knew it made you ticklish. Your hands move up to hold his wrists as you look up into his beautiful eyes, your legs wrapping around his waist under the blanket. He holds your face softly, making sure you keep your eyes on him as he tries his best to make his voice sound stern “I’ll always be with you angel, but you need to rest. you've barely gotten any sleep all week.”

“I ⸺ “

“I'll help you study later; I promise. Just take a little nap with me . . . please” he quickly cut you off, his tone trailing off to a slight beg. He already knew what you were going to say, telling him how you desperately needed to study and that you couldn't waste any time. But he had full confidence in you, he knew you would do just fine in your exams, you were just psyching yourself out to an extreme.

Lando didn't break eye contact with you as he pulled out his secret weapon that always works on you, a small pout with his puppy dog eyes. You sigh as you look down at his lips, knowing what he was pulling on you and there was no way you could say no to those eyes, and you knew he wasn't going to stop until you agree “Hmm fine.”

Lando grins and kisses your nose one more time as he brings one of your hands down to pat your thigh, you unwrap your legs around his waist and sit up on your elbows as lando drops to your side, your body wanting to reach out for his warmth that you were already missing and craving. Lando lays on his back and opens his arms for you.

You scoot closer to lando and he pulls you into his arms and into a tight but comfortable hug, your head rests in the crook of his neck while you drape your leg over his midsection. Lando slips one of his hands under your shirt and starts rubbing your back, your eyes fluttering close at the soothing and comforting touch. Lando fights back a yawn and places a kiss on the top of your head before whispering, “I’ll be right here the whole time, i got you okay.”

You know what he meant, he wanted to let you know that you were safe in his arms, that you had nothing to fear, that he would protect you from your nightmares. Tears well in your eyes, because of the exhaustion or from the strong feeling of love you felt for him . . . you had a feeling it was the latter. You lean your head back, the movement catching lando’s attention and the two of you lock eyes as you spoke softly “I love you.”

Lando used his free hand that wasn't rubbing your back and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up more so he could lean down and take your lips into his for a slow but passionate kiss filled with love and reassurance. The kiss didn't last long but it took both of your breaths away. He slowly pulled away from your intoxicating lips and watched as you laid your head back on his chest, your body melting into his with tiredness. The sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. He whispered breathlessly as his hold on you tightens, his own eyes closing.

“I love you more, now sleep darling.”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( GAWD I HAVE SUCH A WEAKNESS FOR SWEET BF LANDO 😭 AND CONGRATS ON P3 LAN !!! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @ophcelia @toasttt11 )

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crheativity · 3 months

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This is my first time requesting here, so...

Hi! Mind if I send in a request? Hear me out: the track club bois, the basketball club bois and the spelldrive club bois getting a kiss on the cheek from the reader after a successful game/track meet

A KISS FOR THE VICTOR

SUMMARY: After a successful club meet, you give them a kiss on the cheek! How do they react?

WARNINGS: Some of these may be out of character (I’m sorry I still have no clue how to write Jack, Leona and Floyd)

COMMENTS: Hi! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this request, there were a lot of boys hehe! I hope you don’t mind but since there are a lot I did shorter headcanons instead of a full thing for each boy. Also, since I have no experience writing kisses yet, I just did their reactions. I hope that’s okay! This is such a cute prompt though, thank you so much for requesting it!!

Also, if you enjoy this, please consider checking out my 200 followers event!

TRACK CLUB

Jack froze, his eyes going wide. He coughed into his fist and looked away, desperately trying to regain his composure. A herculean feat, considering how adorable you looked gazing up at him like that. He smiles at you hesitantly - a small, wavering smile, before his cheeks go pink and he turns away to talk to his teammates. Although it seems he does not care, a keen eye will notice how his ears won’t stop twitching and his tail keeps wagging.

Poor boy stopped responding immediately. He tripped on the sidewalk and almost fell over, he got so flustered. He can’t concentrate on anything now. He’s really sorry, he’s trying his best to listen to what you have to say, but his mind is replaying that kiss over and over… He can’t look you in the eye for the next few days. The moment he gets to crash in his room, he calls his mum. He briefly talked about his match, but mostly talked about you. How does he talk to you again after that?? He might be a little awkward over the next couple of days, but know that you’re constantly on his mind and in his heart.

BASKETBALL CLUB

Oh? You’re gonna give him a kiss? Well tough luck, he expects one every match from now on! So what if he doesn’t win? He wants one anyway! That’s how you can cheer him up after a match from now on! But in the moment, he’s picking you up and spinning you around. His face is very red - whether from the exercise or from you, it’s hard to tell, but the bright red ears are a dead giveaway. He’s not gonna forget what you did, and loves to remind you - in the hopes that you’ll do it again.

Time stops for him and he stares at you, dumbfounded. His face heats up and boy does he wish he had his hood right now. He can’t talk to you or face you for the next hour as he struggles to figure out what to say. He does however feel really smug. Everyone in the match did super well, but he was the only one who got a kiss! From you! Ha! …wait. He was the only one who got a kiss. From you. He’s confused and flustered all over again. Please confess to him before he goes insane.

Ehhh~? Shrimpy’s giving him a kiss? Only one on the cheek? Screw that, he’s gonna give you an actual kiss! And a squeeze to boot. The moment you give him a kiss he registers that kisses are okay in whatever relationship you and he have and boy is he gonna abuse that. What are the two of you? He doesn’t care as long as you don’t, but if he makes you uncomfortable then he wants to know. Like Ace, he’s going to be expecting one for every match now, but if you don’t give him a kiss for some reason that won’t stop him giving you one~!

SPELLDRIVE CLUB

You thought Ace was bad? Leona’s gonna be so much worse. He doesn’t tease you quite as much, but he’s going to be incredibly smug, both after the track meeting and for the next couple of weeks after. Please be prepared for suddenly more Leona in your life, as the moment you press a kiss to his cheek he’s going to take that as a rite of passage to be almost constantly around you. He will encourage you to ditch class with him as much as possible. He just wants to spend more time with you now, and after that kiss, surely that means you want that too, right?

Ruggie nervously laughs it off, his cheeks going bright pink as he fumbles for something to say. He honestly, genuinely wasn’t expecting it - you managed to catch him so off guard that he doesn’t quite know how to act. Ah, but he’s not upset! He’s exactly the opposite of that, if anything. Elated, maybe? Who cares, his crush just kissed him! He is going to be bragging so hard to Leona and anyone who’ll listen afterwards. Maybe he’ll start giving you a couple more snacks - with a kiss as payment of course! Shishishi.

LET’S FREAKING GOOO. wait. Did you just kiss me-? Epel was in such a good mood after his match that his brain didn’t fully register that you just kissed him. He takes a break from celebrating for a moment to double check. When you confirm that yes, in fact, you did kiss him, his cheeks go apple red and he starts celebrating way harder. Calm down? He can’t calm down, this is the best day of his life! He won a match and got a kiss from a cutie to boot! The only thing that makes him calm down a little is Vil threatening to smack him with his shoe.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

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deadghosy · 3 months

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THANKS TO @gaylorvader FOR THIS IDEA💗💗🦆�� lol this could be a series guys-

HAZBIN HOTEL CREW X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: after waking up, you find yourself in hell again with your friends.

Warning: light yandere feelings🔥

As Lucifer takes your small form in his, he gives you a small kiss on your head writing the letter he promised as it says. “Don’t steal what’s not yours ass face.” And left chuckling to himself closing the portal to heaven as he enters the hotel holding you up as if you were simba(💀)

“Guess who I got back~ that’s right the big boss got em back!” Lucifer says happily as Charlie looks up from her restless state as stars are in her eyes at your cute sleeping sight.

“READEERR!” Charlie exclaims making you wake up to be met with the faces of the crew as Charlie hugs you. You quack happily rubbing your chubby cheek on Charlie’s on face.

“DONT. Ever….leave the hotel during extermination.” You heard Lucifer said as you quack shocked to see Lucifer have glowing red eyes at you. He seemed to be pissed at how Adam snatch you, even if Heaven made a mistake to send you to hell. You belong in hell with them.

You nodded not wanting to see him far the king of hell himself go. Lucifer’s mood switched so quick as if he didn’t almost go full demon mode. “Good.” He says softly sitting you down to the ground as fat nuggets ran up to you happily with an oink as Angel dust was just happy to see you and fat nuggets being gossip animals again.

Even Alastor patted your small fluffy head as he smiled truly seeing you safe and sound here in the hotel again.

“I’m happy to see you my adorable fellow” alastor says as you quack happily at his face. You hugged his legs making him smirk at this. “I am pleased you missed me too..” Alastor says.

Husk immediately snatches you from Alastor as husk walks over to the bar with you. “Listen kid, I got your favorite milkshake ready. I uh..learnt it while you was gone.” Husk says a little flustered admitting he actually learnt something for you as you smiled with a blush. Just happy to drink your fav milkshake.

Angel teases husk for him learning to make your favorite drink as you drink the milkshake as Lucifer and Charlie talk to each other. Vaggie was beside her girlfriend and nodded along with the Morningstars who were staring at you.

“Aww is the big bad cat having a soft spot for the penguinnnn?” Angel says teasing husk as husk turned away from Angel onto for the said person to pull husk’s chin to Angel’s face. “Get out of my face.” Husk says.

You quacked with laughter seeing husk push Angel away from him. Husk huffed cleaning a beer glass as Angel just rolled his eyes with a smile.

As you felt at home, you felt tired having husk’s attention as he chuckles with his usual grin and poke your chubby fuzzy cheek. “Guess this one is tired from their trip” husk says gaining Lucifer’s attention from his daughter as Lucifer picked you up chuckling seeing you fall asleep instantly in his arms.

You woke up as the morning hellish sun hits your face. Lucifer snores loudly having one of his pair wings hug you. They were very soft as you quack notifying Lucifer that you were awake now and ready for a new day.

Lucifer lets you go as he mumbles getting up seeing his precious bird up and ready to be seen…..he just wanted to keep you here as he was glad he got you back. Lucifer had explained that last night Charlie and him declared your presence was back in hell and every one was excited

So excited they declared for a celebration of your return as Lucifer brought in a clone of himself holding up clothes your size. (A/n: Thanks to Velvette anyways💗)

The king of hell helped you get dressed as he put a pin on your shirt saying, “I’m back, and better than ever” it was a little corny, but you appreciated the pin Lucifer gave you.

You go downstairs seeing your friends in your new outfit as Lucifer was behind you having his usual smile. Niffty waves excited to see you again as you watched and went to go towards her with a smile.

You and niffty hugged, happy to see each other like a short duo as Charlie was telling the other staff what’s going to go down for this party.

Angel was already texting Cherri about harmless fireworks as Cherri bomb was on the go with fireworks.

A bunch of knocks hit the door of the entrance of the hotel interrupts the planning. Everyone looks at it nervously until a small voice was called out. “I’m here for the party?! Is this the right address?” The person yelled out making Charlie excited that a party was gonna happen. Charlie rushes to the door as vaggie puts on a party hat for you and for her.

“Let the party begin!!” Charlie yell as as she opens to the front doors of the hotel as your eyes shine excited to have a party.

Hour later, the party was amazing as sinners actually came in the hotel to see you again and giving you baskets of your favorite food and flowers which made you quack happily.

Music blasting, laughter in the air, and everyone was just happy in hell like it was happy day In hell indeed. Charlie and vaggie made a lot of fun party games like “pin the tail on the donkey”

Husk was giving out drink as he gave you a non-alcoholic drink of course, he can’t have you looking dumb on a party about you.

Alastor played jams, of course old jams making sir Pentious wanting to change the dial but scared to even do that.

Lucifer danced happily with you as you quacked getting lifted into the air as Lucifer felt happiness in his heart, warmth like the sun seeing your smile and penguin self.

The clocked strikes 10:30 pm as its almost curfew for the hotel staff to go to bed.

As everyone was getting ready to leave, they all waved goodbye to you as you quacked happily to see the sinners you gave mail to on the weekdays and weekends. You always left love everywhere you go.

At night everything went quite as a light shined in Lucifer’s room who had you on his bed while you play with this duck toy that moves when you clap. Lucifer made it incase the “rescue” mission succeed. Which it did as Lucifer smiles at your happy nature. Lucifer turns off the light, taking away the toy as you tiredly quack. “Yes yes…it’s time for bed my little bird.. sweet dream.” He said lastly giving you a forehead kiss.

You sleep peacefully by Lucifer who had you in a cute duck gown as you coo softly in your sleep feeling warm by the king of hell.

MEANWHILE IN HEAVEN

The angels were sad, some weeping at the loss of their cute new angel delivery boy..who would give them fresh cookies and mail….as the angels weren’t taking the news lightly that you were missing. Someone had it worse.

Lute was pissed…no..not pissed. She was feral and livid at the fact her sunshine, her sweet baby was kidnapped from a god’s creation gone wrong.

Lute started to flip tables screaming about going down there and kill Lucifer herself. Throwing things off table and literally throwing a chair. Barely missing Adam’s head.

Sera sighs rubbing her hand over her head as Emily looks uncomfortable seeing lute freak out this way. They never seen Lute look this angry before.

“Lute please calm down. This isn’t the holy way to act when upset…” sera says looking at lute. Sera and Emily had came to check up on Lute as angels had heard crashing noises in lutes’s place after news got out you were missing. More like “kidnapped” as Adam’s woke up to see the note and rush over to tell sera this news.

“YOU THINK I WANNA CALM DOWN AFTER A PERFECTLY, GOOD, KIND SOUL ANGEL GOT KIDNAPPED AT THE HANDS OF THAT DISGRACE?!” Lute yells angrily as Adam flies down to her. He also didn’t look impressed as he just stood there.

Sera gave a stern glare to lute, “Adam. Control your lieutenant.” Sera says not taking the yelling towards her lightly as Emily looks away with embarrassment at this high tense moment.

Adam could tell that lute wasn’t calming down. Adam also wanted to spill out his mind but oddly he was being more quiet then spilling out his bullshit thoughts.

“Chill the fuck out lute…” Adam says putting his hand on lute’s shoulder. “This isn’t over at all…We still got time to snatch that cute lil shit from those worthless bitches.” Adam says smirking as his mask glitches thinking about you being locked up in heaven with him.

TO BE CONTINUED….OR NOT DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!

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jonnywaistcoat · 3 months

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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

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finniestoncrane · 19 days

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HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome

Can Ghouls Blush?

Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!

“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”

Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.

“Just a sec, then we can head out.”

The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.

“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”

He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”

Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.

“Handsome, huh?”

His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.

“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”

You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.

“What’s wrong, Cooper?”

“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”

As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.

“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”

He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.

“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”

Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.

“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."

His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.

“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”

Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.

“Wait, just a second…”

It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.

"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"

"Yeah... turns out they can blush."

You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.

"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."

But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“You comin’, handsome?”

He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.

“You bet.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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ghoulphile · 14 days

Text

wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…”

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout smut #fallout fanfic

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reidsdaisies · 2 months

Note

congrats on 500!! Can you write forget me not 19 with spencer x fem!reader where she’s in an abusive relationship (only if you’re comfy with it obviously!) and calls him for help? Tysm!

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; spencer reid x fem!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ prompt(s); forget-me-not, 19 – "Could you please come and get me?"

༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; crying (reader), mentions of abuser (readers partner, not spencer) yelling, having been drunk, and being the reason reader is sad, spencer comforting reader, spencer driving her to his place

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.9k

༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; hi! ty for requesting lovey<3 in my guidelines it says I won’t write abusive relationships, but as long as none of the characters are the abusers and it’s on the side, I think I can make an exception.

celebrate with me!

cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox

Spencer hushes you, gently stroking your back. "Don't even think of him, okay?"

You just keep crying, your face buried in the sleeve of your sweatshirt, your sobs muffled. Spencer was acting like a saint, yet you couldn’t help but feel bad, as if you’d done something wrong. In actuality, you did nothing wrong; it was your partner that did, but he’s messed with your head so much to the point where you now struggle with differentiating right from wrong. The actual wrong thing to have done would have been to never contacted Spencer and to remain in the apartment with the man who had just verbally abused you.

“J-just focus on the road,” you say sniffling, dismissing him. Peeking over your arm, your gaze is drawn to the stars, watching as they twinkle in the night sky.

Spencer remains silent after that, not wanting to upset you even further, only wanting to get you back to his apartment—a safe place. You utilize this silent moment to reflect on the day’s events, whether you’d like to or not. Your thoughts wander to earlier that night, temporarily sending you back in time.

You relive recently made memories of your boyfriend, the mess he made of the flat, and the tears you wept as a result of his harmful impact on you. You try to fast forward and ignore what happened an hour ago, focusing instead on the event that brought you to your current location, sitting in the passenger seat of Spencer's car.

As soon as your boyfriend was done throwing his alcohol-fueled fit and you heard him slam the bedroom door shut, you simply left. You couldn’t take it longer, and you needed to leave before you could change your mind and tidy up his mess, or worse, crawl into bed with him and stay.

Your cellphone was still in the bedroom, and you didn’t want to risk enraging him further just to get it, so you decided you’d walk to the nearest pay phone and pray Spencer would answer your call.

You fished around in the pocket of your hoodie for a minute, pulling out some loose change you’d forgotten was in there but were so very thankful for. Inserting your coins, you dialed up the number of the only person in the world you knew you could entrust with the details your private life.

The phone rang a couple times, and after the third ring, you were met with Spencer’s groggy voice on the other line.

“This is Dr. Reid; may I ask who’s calling?” He grumbled, exhaustion evident in his voice. You heard a low grunt and the bed creak beneath him as he tried to sit up.

“It’s me, y/n,” you mumbled, your voice strained and disconsolate. He could hear your voice shake through the phone, which alarmed him, but he didn’t want to say anything until you finished speaking.

Your voice trembled as you weakly called his name, making sure he was still on the phone. “Spence..?”

“I’m here.” He finally came to full consciousness and sat up more in bed, his tone becoming more serious. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“It’s my boyfriend; he.. it doesn’t matter. Could you please just come and get me?”

Any previous mention you’ve made of your current partner to Spencer was quite vague and awfully cryptic, and he could sense something was very wrong from how you tried to deflect from the topic of him.

Spencer had never left his bed sooner—even on rare mornings where he was late for work—and immediately agreed to pick you up whilst he fumbled with his slippers and tying his robe.

That same robe is still wrapped over his body, covering his grandpa-esque pajamas. You seem to be his top priority at all times, because he didn’t think twice before hopping in his car and driving straight to you. Just like you, he also looks a mess, with his hair mussed from sleep and heavy bags under his eyes.

Your eyes meet his, but it’s difficult to see him properly due to your blurred vision caused by all the non-stop crying. He begins to talk again.

“You don’t need to tell me what happened, okay? I want you to understand that. If you ever do want to talk, though, I’m right here. I’ll listen to you.”

“Thank you.. and I’m sorry for making you drive all this way just to pick up some battered woman.”

“You are not a battered woman, y/n.” Spencer cuts you off, his tone harsh, really trying to get you to believe it. “Nothing he does is your fault; you know that, right?” You’re hesitant to nod, but you do.

“Y/n,” he drawls, knowing you’re not entirely convinced it’s the truth.

“I know that, Spencer.” You respond, already wanting to be done with this conversation.

“I know you know that, but you seem to not be accepting it as fact.”

You sulk, but you can’t help but realize he’s correct; you don’t seem to be accepting it.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” He mimics.

“Yes, alright. I understand.”

“Ok, good, because I don’t want you to feel any guilt over his actions. I just want to help you.”

His words warm your heart and bring additional tears to your eyes. They roll down your face, staining your cheeks. His hand returns to the place it was earlier, rubbing circles on your back.

“I care for you so much, and it pains me to see you going through something like this.” You nod, wiping your tears off your face before they can wet your sweatshirt too.

“Thank you so much, Spencer.”

“It’s no problem; just try not to stress; we’ll be home soon..”

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allylikethecat · 2 months

Note

I need gatty with gentle forehead kisses it is so important to me I’m so glad you’re doing more prompts I literally only check tumblr to see if you’ve posted 😭😭😭

Hello there kind anon who sent me this prompt in literally August but I am the WORST and just now filling it. I hope you're still here and I am so very grateful for your patience and also extremely sorry for the extremely long wait. I hope this isn't an epic disappointment. Working on it today made me smile amongst all of the sadness of this era being over. If anyone else wants to send a prompt from the kiss me with your eyes closed list and doesn't mind waiting apparently months, the list can be found HERE. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I apologize again for being the absolute worst and taking so long to finish it! I hope you have a great weekend and that you have a great week!

❤️Ally

Gentle. Forehead. Kisses.

“Hey,” said George softly, slipping easily into Matty’s space with the ease and confidence of someone who had been doing so for years. He wrapped his arms around Matty’s narrow waist, and hooked his chin over Matty’s shoulder, the fabric of his well loved tee shirt wash-soft against the underside of George’s jaw.

“Hey,” said Matty, not even looking away from the easel he had set up in the courtyard, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he stared at the canvas in concentration, an eruption of color marring the surface.

Following the final show of their tour, George had very quickly found himself back in the studio the next week, working through the backlog of production projects he had been procrastinating on. Meanwhile, Matty had moved through their home like a ghost, sleeping all day, and awake half the night, limping aimlessly from room to room, unsure what to do with himself without the rigid structure, the routine and accountability of tour.

His therapist had recommended he find a hobby, one fully separated from work because as much as Matty loved music, lived and breathed it, at the end of the day, it was still his job.

Reading just made him want to write, and every time he sat down to work on his novel he ended up scrawling lyrics on a napkin instead. His knee couldn’t currently handle the physicality of running or even jiu jitsu at the moment which left him restless. George is the one that had suggested he try painting, sheepishly holding out a bag of acrylic paints and brushes.

Matty had taken to it quickly, swirls of color smeared across the canvas that now covered their dining room table as Matty lay them out to dry.

“It looks good,” said George, tilting his head slightly as he took in the orange and yellows that covered the surface. He didn’t always understand Matty’s art, but he liked that it put the light back in his eyes, that he got excited bringing each finished piece inside and resting it on the dining room table. He kept making jokes about starting an Etsy shop, about donating the proceeds to charity. George wasn’t sure if he was actually joking.

“Thanks,” said Matty, adding another stroke of yellow, blending it with the orange.

He wouldn’t say it, he couldn’t find the words, but he hoped that George realized the painting was him. Not him the tangible sense, but how he made Matty feel, his insides all twisted up with love and desire, and yearning and the ever present disbelief, even after all these years, that George still wanted him back. Unlike the dark grays and blacks and whites with violent splashes of red that had made up Matty’s earlier works, this one was different, it was happy. Looking at it made Matty feel happy the same way George did. He would be keeping this one. This painting was for them.

“You’re back early,�� said Matty, twisting in George’s arms. George snorted. Matty had a smudge of orange paint on his nose, a streak of yellow in his hair.

“I’m actually late,” George said, and Matty frowned.

“What time is it?” he asked, dipping his brush in the pint glass of water he had commandeered from the kitchen and leaving it to soak.

“Little after six,” said George, bemused, it wasn’t the first time that Matty had lost track of time while absorbed in a project, and he doubted it would be the last.

“Oh,” said Matty, his cheeks flushing, “I didn’t realize I had been out here so long.”

George couldn’t help it, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against Matty’s forehead, his sun warmed curls tickling his lips as they brushed against his face.

“You’re really fucking cute,” said George, “you know that right?”

Matty pretended to scoff, “I’m not cute,” he said with faux indignation. “I am a very manly, masculine, adult man, I am not cute.”

“Fucking adorable,” said George, pressing another kiss to Matty’s forehead, “like a little woodland creature, all small and fluffy and cute.”

Matty just made a huffing noise, standing up on his tiptoes to capture George’s mouth with his own, slipping his tongue between George’s eager lips. When he pulled away they were both breathing heavily, and George now had some of the orange paint on his face as well.

“Now tell me,” said Matty, his voice thick with arousal, “was that cute.”

George just chuckled, “cute as fuck.”

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rafeysdoll · 28 days

Note

heyyyy, I love ur writing sm, and I was wondering if u could write a race fic where they try anal for the first time?

thank u for ur patience this took me like forever hehe i hope you like it !! please reblog/ give feedback ^_^ and huge thanks to my lovely friends @oceandriveab and @rafecameroninterlude for proofreading and another thank you to @hewwokitti for helping me with dialogue <3

“it’s alright, it’s alright,” rafe coos, slowly pulling out the fluffy butt plug that was tucked in your puckered hole, your knees almost giving up on you as you whimper. it had been about a week like this, your boyfriend slowly training you with cute new butt plugs and lengthy fingers.

but you felt you were finally ready for the real thing now, the anticipation digging at you and him.

“im a little scared,” you try to giggle softly, whining slightly when the fluffy plug is now completely out. “know you are, that’s normal baby.. but you can take it, know you can.” he reassures with a small caress on your ass.

“just gotta stay relaxed for me, alright?” he continues, spreading your plush asscheeks slightly — his fingers gathering some of the evidence of your eagerness and rimming it around your now glittery hole before tapping his tip against it.

he grabs your waist tightly before slowly pushing his length in, the new stretch burning as you whimper loudly, your hands fisting at the soft sheets. “daddyy,” you cry, letting your arms collapse — face falling against the soft mattress. mascara smearing all over rafe’s white sheets. “fuck,” you muffle into the comforter.

“i know, i know... it’s okay, you’re good baby you’re good, can keep going right?” he grumbles through gritted teeth, moaning lightly at the way your walls contract around him, almost halfway through. “d-don’t know if i can do it,” you mewl, eyes glossy as you arch your back more.

“relaxxx kitty. i got you, see? you’re takin it so well already,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “cmon, tell me you can do it.” he prompts, thumb rubbing your waist.

you shut your eyes tightly, crying as you nod slowly. “i can do it, i can do it,” you whisper, breath hitching as he continues slowly, bottoming out. “so full, so full.” your voice trembles, your own toes curling.

“how’s it feeling kitty?” he asks, staying halted with his hips. “i like it, just.. just need some time,” you squeak, trying to fathom the new feeling.

when you finally muster the words for him to continue, he lifts his foot onto the bed — slow but deep strokes have you shaking you on the bed, sobbing as you moan for him. “daddy, oh fuck fuck. feels really good,” you mewl, pushing your butt back towards him.

“why don’t you make yourself more useful and rub your clit, hm?” he instructs, watching the ripple effect of your ass hitting back on him.

slowly but surely, your middle finger travels down to your puffy folds, rubbing at your clit as rafe fucks your from behind, legs trembling as you cry more, vision blurry. “it’s too much,” you plead, coil in your lower stomach incredibly tight.

“can take it though, right? want me to stop?”

when he slows his strokes you quickly groan, slapping your free hand against the bed. “no!” you grumble, the buildup of your finish now ripped away from you. “want it faster,” you blubber, earning a slap on your ass. “awe, you forgetting your manners already? don’t-don’t be telling me what to do.” he taunts despite his thrusts speeding up immediately afterwards — your eyes rolling back.

“sorry,” you half heartedly apologize, already lost in the moment once more. the stimulation of it all sending you into white hot pleasure, snapping instantly as you ooze out your pearly liquids onto your thighs.

“thereee you go, see? was so much better than a butt plug.”

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

Note

hello!!! i saw your that your requests were open so i was wondering if you were able to write a hurt/comfort zoro x reader story about how the reader gets injured from a fight, but they don’t wanna be a burden so they hide it until they collapse on deck :)))

tell me that we’ll be just fine (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 1.74k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort with happy sappy ending, swearing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of drinking and alcohol, zoro just loves you and you worry the shit out of him

note: yassss i love hurt/comfort injury prompts (it's the innate desire to just be carried and be vulnerable and have someone care in my weakest hour and and and and) hope you like this, thank you for your request !!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“Guys, I am about to get so wasted.”

“We still have that good shit from Baratie, yeah?”

“Hiding in the back of the cellar, baby!” A loud smack rings out into the harbor as Usopp and Sanji’s hands clap together, deliriously excited after winning a scrimmage with a rival crew. Their proud vocalizations are added to by their captain and devolve into giddy skipping down the remainder of the dock as you make your way back to the ship. Zoro walks just ahead of you, glancing back every so often like he was worried you would collapse. You were planning to, but not now. Just get to the ship. Get to the ship and we’ll be fine.

“I vote Zoro for vomit duty tomorrow morning,” Nami mutters next to you, nudging your arm with her elbow. It’s a light touch but it feels like the world tilts sharply and you pray she can’t see the panic in your eyes when you try to remain upright. Despite her best efforts to remain mature and indifferent, her eyes were sparkling with self-assurance that you only saw from her when she felt a mission went well. She carries the folder of coveted Marine intelligence under one arm, her other hand holds up a bag of goodies you’d snatched from the base that would make good money down the line. “Plus, it gives us some time to take our share of this stuff. Nice finds, by the way. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I learned from the best,” you reply, relief flooding you when she turns back to watch her idiot crewmates and not further inspect the limp in your step. Zoro’s eyes meet yours over his shoulder and you give him a strained smile, well aware that you probably looked like you’d crawled out of hell. When he turns away again, you exhale with great difficulty, fighting off another wave of nausea that threatens to send you stumbling into the water. It’s just a flesh wound, you figure. No need to halt their celebration just because you got a silly cut. “What’s your first pick out of the bag?”

“There’s a pretty little jeweled chalice I was looking at,” she says casually. The waning afternoon sun makes her hair look like a fire, bright and warm. “We could scrape off the rubies and pawn them at the next island.”

“Or, you could drink water from it and look like a pompous asshole.” Just keep it casual. Be normal. The pulse in your ears becomes slightly faster when you notice the foggy spots in your vision. “Freeze some of the diamonds from that candlestick and use them as ice cubes.”

“Very true,” she laughs and you force out a chuckle to mirror her, wincing at the aching pain in your side. Her eyebrows furrow and her mouth falls into a frown. Your attempts to seem fine were starting to fall through. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been walking a little slower than usual.”

“I’m fine, I promise. I just got punched in the gut a little harder than I anticipated,” you lie straight through your teeth, well aware that it wasn’t just a fist that had you losing enough blood to fill the galley sink. To be fair, the guy’s second blade appeared out of nowhere. You were outnumbered five to one but still held your own; only when there was a single fighter left did he resort to cutthroat tricks. One minute, you’re parrying with ease; the next, a small dagger pops out from the fighter’s left sleeve, cutting a deep wound into your side before you can block it with the saber in your right hand. It was a dirty move and you mentally kicked yourself for not anticipating foul play much sooner. To make matters worse, you were only able to staunch the blood so much before Zoro found you in the courtyard. Though you sufficiently covered your injury, he was still eyeing you like he knew that something was off. Like clockwork, every minute he was checking on you. It was wordless, but you still knew he was inspecting you, waiting for you to reveal that something happened and that you needed help.

That moment came the instant your boots met the wood of the deck.

In seconds, your vision violently careens to the right and you’re conscious just enough to expect the thud of your head against the floor. But, the crash never comes. When you fall, your mind registers another body that you fall into, strong and stable. One arm slips effortlessly under your exhausted legs, lifting you from the ground while the other supports your upper back. Your eyes blur the image of your panicked crew like an oil painting, smearing it every which way until the colors are bleeding together more uncontrollably than the blood dripping from your side. Everything sounds like you’re drowning, rising above the water for a moment only to be pulled back down into murky disorientation.

“Idiot,” a low voice says. It’s wrought with worry, even though you can tell they’re trying not to hide it. It’s clear enough that you know it’s coming from whoever is holding you. “Why the hell did you wait?” You’re barely able to distinguish far-off shouting from Sanji, ordering Luffy and Usopp to grab his knives. But, if all three of them were over there and Nami was throwing open cabinets looking for the med kit, that means the person holding you was… “Fuck. I knew something was wrong.” You have half the mind to articulate a weak response, but it comes out as nothing more than a groan when you’re placed onto what feels like the galley counter. The pounding in your forehead starts to become airy, like when you’re walking down the sidewalk after a night of drinking until you were on the verge of passing out. Zoro doesn’t let you go, though. His calloused fingers gently brush the dirt from your face, quietly pleading for you to stay with me, stay with me, stay with me. “You’re okay. We’re okay. Just stay with me.”

“They’re losing a lot of blood and I can’t find the damn med kit.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Above deck, having a collective panic attack.” Nami’s voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

“Figures.” Zoro’s, on the other hand, is the only thing keeping you rooted and stopping you from drifting off. It’s sharp and strained, nothing like you’d ever heard from him before. Sanji’s lanky steps enter the kitchen and you hear the zip of his knife bag somewhere close to your ear.

“This is bad; I need to stop that bleeding or they might–” Zoro’s grip on your hand is tight, physically holding you down to reality. Whether you laced your fingers in his or the other way around, you didn’t remember.

“Well, let’s fucking do something about it then, waiter,” is the last thing you hear before darkness wipes your vision.

Your eyes blink open after what feels like seconds, but the starry sky outside the window tells you it had been hours. It takes a moment for the details to come back to you, as does the soreness where they must have patched up your wound. The hard stone of the counter has been replaced by your bed and the comforting sway of the ship tells you Luffy ordered the ship to depart. It’s healing, in a way, the rocking back and forth motion of the ship that reminds you how close you were to slipping away. After a minute, you muster up enough energy to look at the rest of your room and you can’t help smiling when you see Zoro sitting at your bedside, tensely sleeping with the Wado Ichimonji laid across his lap. His eyes fly open when you whisper his name, delicately setting his blade on the floor before crouching at your side.

“You’re okay,” he breathes and it sounds more like a reassurance for himself than for you.

“I’m okay,” you confirm just as softly, threading your fingers between his and squeezing lightly. He squeezes back, looking at you like you painted the constellations outside your window. “How long have you been here?”

“Since Sanji and Nami fixed you up, about six hours ago.”

“You’ve been sitting there for six hours?”

“I would have sat longer. I’d wait for you, no matter how long you slept,” he says and it sounds like a vow. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you apologize weakly, giving him as much of a shy smile as you could. He rolls his eyes in exasperation but can’t help the corner of his mouth quirking too. “I didn’t want to bother you all while you were celebrating.”

“You really think I’m going to give alcohol priority over you?”

“Depends on the alcohol,” you point out and he shakes his head at your teasing. Your hand fits in his like a puzzle piece and you’re struck by the overwhelming feeling of safety you have whenever Zoro’s around. “But, really. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

His eyes darted to the side like you’d said something that embarrassed him. The only thing he could think to do in that moment was bring your hand to his lips and press the lightest kiss to it. A promise that he’d always take care of you. He never was the best with words, you realized in your friendship-borderline-relationship with him. The things you said tended to short-circuit his brain and it was fascinating to watch him try and think of a coherent response. In times like these, however, when he’s simply unable to find the words for how much he feels for you, his actions are infinitely louder.

“You should go back to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Do you need anything before you rest? Water or blankets or something?”

“No, just you. If you got in here with me, I wouldn’t mind,” you suggest nonchalantly and you giggle when his face becomes pinker. He obliges, though, slipping into the covers with you and carefully pulling you into him until you’re pressed against his chest like your own personal heater. His breathing is slow and steady, but you swear you can hear his heartbeat racing. “You’re the only one I’ll ever need, I think.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Just don’t do stupid shit like get stabbed again.”

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