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specterllaw · 1 year

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F@cking the boss - Harvey x Reader Part 2/2

Summary: after weeks of being sexual with Harvey he catches you trying to get with a guy after he flirts with thousands of females, Harvey immediately reminds y/n who she belongs to.

Warning: S M U T.

It had been three amazing weeks of being with Harvey Specter, the bizarre surprises, the midnight sex, the office sex, everything about it was amazing, but something was bothering you. Harvey never called you his girlfriend, never said it was exclusive, so you went out to the club with Lisa, someone you met on the firm, you ended up getting a little too drunk and had what you thought was an amazing idea at the time. You called Harvey's driver to bring you home, you attempted to bring a guy home with you but the driver refused, so you drunkingly apologized and flopped in the seat.

You woke up on your couch, your head was pounding, you had no idea how you got inside from the driver's car and you still felt tipsy and why was all of the lights off except for one? and why were there legs hanging off the chair in the corner? Sitting up straight you tried to blink the drowsiness and alcohol away as you stared at the person in the corner "Harvey?" You questioned as you noticed his bag and suit jacket laying on the counter. "My driver called." He huffed "How did I get inside?" You asked groaning as he flipped on the living room light "I was the one who picked you up." He stated "You were too drunk to realize and so was Lisa. I'm disappointed in you both. and you trying to take home a gas station clerk? really?" He asked, you felt like every defendant you heard him question on the stand in his trials. "I..You!..In my defense Harvey you've never stated what we were! You always flirt with girls so I thought it was a casual boss and receptionist deal" You huffed crossing your arms "Cut the bullshit Y/n" He said sharply standing up, you looked up at him raising your eyebrows "You have commitment problems, Harvey" You challenged, it was dangerous when you two argued, it either ended up in Jessica being mediator to make you two get along or it ended in rough make-up sex where Harvey refuses to say he's wrong, you both were hard headed and stubborn and both fought to get whatever you wanted.

"Stand up" He ordered, you stood your ground, not giving in "You kneel, Harvey" You ordered back, he glared, narrowing his eyes towards you, you were both glaring before finally Harvey took a large stride forward grabbing your top pulling you to your feet "You wanna be with me? Let's do it. You wanna ride my dick? Go right ahead princess. You wanna make this a real thing? let's do it" He said pulling you closer before resting his hands on your hips. You looked at him nodding before jumping up, wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands immediately coming up to rest on your ass. You leaned forward kissing his neck while he walked forward until he hit the closest wall like thing near you both, the large windows of your apartment that were only giving you privacy by the shitty curtains that didn't even reach the bottom of the curtains. As your back hit the wall you let your head fall back, you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he slowly moved one hand to your hair to tug lightly "Do you want this, Princess?" He whispered, you nodded whimpering and mentally crumbling because of the nickname. "Good. Because I've had a feeling I need to show you who's mine" He grunted as he pulled your hair more causing you to look fully up, You gasped as all of a sudden you felt him press himself against you while kissing your neck and squeezing and twisting your nipple. As fast as it started though, it was just as fast stopping, Harvey watched as you basically held onto his shoulders to keep yourself from sinking to your knees in desperation. "See? See how fast I can take this all away?" He grunted before holding your hips pulling you towards your room pushing you onto the bed, slowly pulling off your dress and coat, you smirk at him thinking he's going to continue whining and groaning as you saw him start to put on your sleep shorts and tanktop, only now do you take in his bed head, his nightpants and t-shirt that was lazily thrown on, and the time, three-twenty-six AM. Harvey woke up and came and got you? Then stayed? All when he has a deposition tomorrow morning at nine AM, Maybe he did love you.

You woke up again at Six that morning to Harvey climbing out of bed. "Harv?.." You whispered watching as he tiredly turned around to look at you, resting a hand on your cheek "hmm?" he hummed softly in curiosity "I love you" you whispered "I love you too" He whispered tiredly kissing your forehead before going to take a shower. You took the to plan.

The office was closed, everybody but a couple people left a bit ago and you took your opportunity to hide under Harvey’s desk, waiting for him. It only took a couple of minutes before you saw him take a seat and scoot forward, you slowly started undoing his belt. “Y/n. What’re you doing? You’re not suppose to be here I gave you the day off” he questioned holding a hand over one of yours, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand “came to thank you for taking care of me..for waking up and doing all of that for me..and for loving me” You whispered looking up at him as he scooted back to see you.

“Oh really?” He asked “who says I love you?” He questioned teasingly “shut up, jerk, you said so this morning” you grumbled smacking his hand playfully “I’m kidding, I love you” he smiled leaning down to peck your lips “go ahead my princess, but don’t get caught”

You smirked as he scooted his chair forward again helping you undo his slacks and belt, you smiled leaning in to give a playful bite to his thigh, he grabbed your hair tugging a bit “gentle” he demanded taking his suit jacket and vest off, leaving him in his shirt, tie, and slacks, his dick being pulled out between his boxers and slacks. You took your time, taking in the sight before licking your hand a couple of times, wrapping it around his dick and starting to motion your hand up and down. You changed your pace, from fast to slower, you were listening to Harvey’s breathing, how it’d pick up and relax. “Get to work, slut.” He grunted growing frustrated with your half-ass teasing, you smiled peeking up at him through the small crack between the desk and his torso, he had a rough glare directed towards you. He raised his eyebrows as you gave him a swift nod, allowing him to grab your hair and lower your head to where you were taking his dick in your mouth. You immediately took over swallowing around him as you moved your head up and down, he kept a hold on your hair trying to focus on keeping a straight face as the late night workers passed by.

You could feel yourself getting wet in your thong but you didn’t really care at the moment, you slowly brought your tongue up the shaft and around his tip before Harvey pushed your head down farther making you take his dick down your throat. You whimpered a bit as you swallowed around him hearing the door open and close “hey Harvey, I’ve got those Briefing done for you a day early I’ve also gotta talk to you about a case” Mike said standing in the middle of the office “thank you mike. Leave it on my desk and we can talk tomorrow” Harvey demanded dismissing him “but I really think these need to be handled tonight” he protested “Ross! Go home! Get rest!” Harvey snapped watching the kid rush out towards his office then the elevators.

Harvey tugged your hair pulling you off before scooting back pulling you up to sit on his lap, you could feel his erection between your legs, and just by the look he was giving you, you knew you were about to have to be carried home. “Take em off.” He whispered in your eye watching you push your thong off out from under your skirt, he helped you position yourself over his dick and lap before you slowly lowered yourself feeling his dick enter you and stretch you out to his size and liking. “I had to wake up at one in the fucking morning” he grunted as he thrusted up against your hips, you immediately jerked forward feeling his tip hit your cervix as you dug your nails into his back “come pick up your drunk ass. Had to run off a guy you were trying to let fuck you.” He growled thrusting his hips more often forcing you to bite his shoulder to stay quiet. “Then deal with having to see you in the hottest fucking lingerie I’ve ever seen on your amazing body, and yet the only thing I could think of- god Damnit it” he huffed before lifting you up with ease carrying you to his couch before laying you down pushing his dick back inside of your pussy. You whimpered wrapping your legs around his waist “-was you wearing it for some other guy. Whenever you belong to me. You’re my fucking slut. Only mine” he grunted starting to fuck you a lot harder, wrapping his hand around your throat squeezing lightly. You whined tightening your legs around him as he took his tie off shoving it into your mouth to keep quiet “now be quiet while daddy fucks your brains out and reminds you that you’re mine.” He whispered to you before using his other hand to start rubbing your clit, your back arched immediately as you turned your head to the side, between his finger work and fucking you it was too much. He was too much. He was too good. “Fuck princess. Good girl, you’re such a good slut for me” he huffed in your ear as he sped up his thrusts. You whimpered attempting to close your legs whenever you heard the elevator ding, meaning someone was just a couple feet from Harvey’s office, he smirked, and you could swear you saw a devious glint in his eye. He pressed his hips further into you making your back arch and you gasp. He slowed his pace making you try and push your hips back to feel him fill you up again but he stayed before grabbing your hips pulling you up making you sit on his lap to ride him. “Ride my cock, slut.” He demanded “you want me to know you’re sorry for trying to fuck someone else? Ride me until I say we’re done.” He demanded watching you bite your lip and nod “such a desperate slut” Harvey growled using his thumb to slowly go over your clit as you slowly rolled your hips making both you and Harvey moan. You immediately started to bounce your hips after that, loving the feeling of him holding your hips and directing your moves as you rode his cock. “F-fuck Harvey” you tried to groan through his tie, he ripped it out of your mouth as you pulled his torso closer, never failing the motion of your hips as he started kissing your neck and exposed cleavage. “My desperate Slut. Nobody can fuck you like this and I’m gonna make sure you know.” He grunted in your ear, you whined tightening around him making him halt his movements as he started to cum inside of you making you whine and moan moving your hips, Harvey quick to keep your hips still as he finished “Pleaaaase daddy” you whined as he slowly pulled out crawling down between your legs.

Harvey gave your Clit a solid lick making your hips jolt and your hands get entangled in his hair. You moaned and thrived around as he started to show no mercy against you or your pussy. By the fifth time you came your legs were shaking like crazy and you had tears going down your cheeks from pleasure. You watched as he slowly leaned up wiping his mouth with his thumb before popping it in his mouth sucking any flavor left off of his thumb. You whimpered watching him before he slowly pulled your thong back on your body, he fixed himself back into his slacks before lifting you up ready to help you out to the car “that’s just go one, princess..we’re going again when we get home” he whispered in your ear making you squeeze your legs together in anticipation and whine holding his hair tightly in your hands.

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #Harvey suits #suits #suits usa #suits netflix #mike ross #Harvey specter smut

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keresnotceres · 1 year

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Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fanfic #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut

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lalaballa · 11 months

Text

Alex Turner *chatty on stage* @ TBHC tour

You remember that sound?...You remember that TRAIN? (looking at Miles) ...In the night...in a dream...from the back... (505 intro with Miles Kane, TRNSMT, Jul 1st, 2018) 🤧

Let's go back to Cornerstone where IT'S ALWAYS NOON AND WE CAST NO SHADOWS (Oct 7th, 2018) 👀

You can call me anything you want...but SHE DIDN'T FUCKING MEAN IT (Oct 7th, 2018) 😔

Come on in the water Austin, cause it's lovely and warm (Oct 7th, 2018) 😎

Because we’d always have a connection you see...You just know these things...UNSPOKEN...Know what I mean? (After Cornerstone, Oct 28th, 2018) 💌

Well done mr. Miles Kane!...HE MOVES THE MOON THAT KID (Before The Ultracheese, Mar 24th, 2019) 🍑

I just wanted to be one of the HIVES (Star Treatment, Mar 24th, 2019) 👯

U can call me anything u want...Come on PENDEJO (Cornerstone, Mar 30th, 2019) 😆

What do you mean I'M NOT YOUR MATE? (Before Library Pictures, Mar 31st, 2019) 👀

With your hands between your thighs....HE'S GOT A KNIFE (505, Mar 31st, 2019) 🤐

You can call me anything you want...because she was always a bitch to me...is what the sister said...just to be clear...they both gave me nothing but KINDNESS...I wish them no ill will...no ill will (After Cornerstone, Mar 31st, 2019) 💅

All me lights are fucking wonky today...wonky fucking lights...but I'm having a nice (?) I'm having a nice (?) because...I'm BATMAN (Pretty Visitors, Mar 31st, 2019) 😺

Just please take it easy I'm A LITTLE GUY (Four out of Five, Mar 31st, 2019) 🥹

BITE MY LIGHTNING and tell me how it tastes... // Don't sit down cause I've moved your chair...very important!...I 'm just looking out for you! (Don't sit down, Apr 7th, 2019) 🥵

Come and stay with us YOU FUCKER (Four out of Five, Apr 7th, 2019) 👀

Why 'd u only call me when you 're high? Because I LACK THE CONFIDENCE (Apr 7th, 2019) 💔

Come on in to the water, the water 's lovely, come on in...with me...// She's a silver lining lone ranger riding...in the water (RU Mine, Apr 7th, 2019) 💦

(Compilation from yt videos and tumblr blogs in 2018)

#TBHC era #arctic monkeys #alex turner

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

Note

save a horse ride a cowboy was amazing oh my god i've reread it like 3 times the smut was perfection 😫 please tell me that the reader stayed with cowboy!steve they're so cute together

hehehe i gotchu girly

"A Lucky Shot" ~ S. Harrington

gif not mine

Summary: The aftermath of falling in love with a certain bull rider in a certain bar in a certain city in Indiana.

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,990

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) protected piv sex, cowgirl activities, oral m!receiving, boot humping 🤭 oral f!receiving for like a split second, tiny mentions of food and alcohol, nicknames (sweetheart, princess, cowgirl; cowboy, daddy if you squint), blasphemy if you squint, explicit language, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: the Eddie, Tommy, and Byers' cameos have me crying 😭🤚🏻

Based On: the first part of this, which you can find here!

Originally Written: 03/16/2023 through 03/18/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (thank u for putting up with me LMFAO)

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

hornyhornyhimbos ask box can be found here!

Your legs carried you as fast as they could to the locker room. A mix of adrenaline and sweat was pumping through your veins. You didn't know much about bull riding, but you did know that a 90 was good. Really good.

The locker room was surprisingly empty when you ducked in. You figured the room would be filled with big, sweaty bull riders, but instead, you only found one—Steve. Just to make sure there was no one else around, you let your eyes dart through the room before sprinting toward him and jumping up into his broad arms.

"Jeez!" he shouted, though his hands were quick to meet your butt. Your lips met his, showering him with a thousand loving kisses.

"Mmm," he chuckled into your lips. He pulled away and met your pride-filled eyes. "What are you doing?"

Your lips traveled down to his neck, suckling on the spot you knew was most sensitive. "I'm initiating celebratory sex," you said straightforwardly.

His chest rumbled out a low laugh as he helped you back onto the floor. "Not in here, you're not."

"But-"

"No buts," he argued, his palms settling on your hips. "This is a public locker room."

"Exactly! Which means it's open to the public. I am a part of the public. Therefore, I can do whatever I want in here."

He shook his head in disbelief before leaving a kiss on your hair. "It also means it's open to other people of the public. Anyone could walk in at any time. I want my eyes and my eyes only to see what you have to offer."

You pouted, and he kissed it away just like he always did. One of his hands traveled up your hip, toward your ass, slipping inside your back pocket. "Plus, some of the other riders will probably be done with interviews soon. Not to mention, I need a shower real bad."

A cheeky gleam appeared in your eye. "Can I at least help you with that part?"

A light huff escaped his nose. "Go," he insisted, giving your butt a light tap. "I need you be there if they call my number while I'm gone. Go wait for me in the stadium."

You gave him a scowl, but pulled away toward the door. "You're cruel, Steve Harrington. Just cruel."

"Love you too."

You rolled your eyes before heading back in for a tight hug. "You did really good today. I want you to know I'm proud of you."

His hands rested on your face as he pulled you in for a soft kiss. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you."

You pulled the cowboy hat off his head, setting it on your own. "Love you too, cowboy."

You sprinted toward the door as he hollered after you, "Hey, you better take care of my hat!"

The next forty-five minutes were absolute torture. Sure, you had Steve at your side after the first twenty, but it was killing you that the judges hadn't announced the winners yet. Steve urged you not to fret, telling you that whatever happens will happen, but you couldn't stop wondering if Steve had won first place.

Steve's hand rested on the small of your back, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "It's OK, really," he urged.

"It is not!" you argued, your leg bouncing nervously against the concrete floor. "What if you didn't score high enough?"

He chuckled, pulling you in close. "Since when did you care so much about bull riding?"

"Since I met you," you rebutted. "And since the grand prize is $25,000. Think about what you could do with-"

Feedback sounded over the stadium's loudspeaker, breaking you from your previous conversation. Your eyes went wide with wonder as a man's voice broke through the feedback.

"In third place, with 89.75, we have Eddie 'The Freak' Munson riding Radagast," he announced. The stadium was overcome with thousands of screaming fans, and your heart vibrated in your body from the noise. Eddie Munson was a crowd favorite for many reasons. He was never too busy to talk to his fans, he was probably the nicest rider aside from Steve, and his whole image was dedicated to being yourself. From the bright yellow Stetson he wore, to the flame red cowboy boots on his feet, even his costume was about being different.

Your hands flew to your mouth in surprise. "Babe, you beat Munson!" you exclaimed. Your feet kicked and bounced like a teenage girl who'd just been asked to prom. "That's huge!"

He let out an amused huff, kissing your head. "We don't know that. They suspected I would get a 90. Hasn't been confirmed yet."

You shrugged before turning your attention back to the announcer. "Don't ruin my hopes and dreams. You've still got a shot at winning this thing."

"In second place, with 91.5, we've got Tumbling Tommy Hagan riding Monster," he said, and once again, the arena rattled with screams. Hagan had a lot of fans too, but nowhere near as many as Munson. If there was one thing to know about Hagan in the arena, it was that he was the most competitive rider in the league by far, and his fans were nearly as competitive as he was.

Your heart thrummed inside you and your ears rang like they never had before. He just has to win. He's gotta.

The presenter's voice filled the speakers one last time, and you felt your fingertips go numb as you waited to hear the winner. "And, at an even 92, with the highest score we've seen all season, for a grand prize of $25,000 and a draft into the PBR if he accepts…" his voice drifted in suspense.

"Oh, fuck this guy!" you shouted in frustration.

"Baby," Steve whispered into your ear, leaving a loving kiss there. "It's OK." However, you knew by the way his eyes were darting around that he was just as nervous as you were. He never would've admitted it though.

You swore you heard the fans screaming before the man ever announced the winner. It felt a bit like slow motion as you jumped up from your chair and screamed along with them. The announcer's voice echoed, "Riding Sundae, Steve 'The Hawk' Harrington!"

Your lips met Steve's for a long, passionate kiss. He smelled like fresh linen and men's deodorant, tasted like the lemonade he'd been sipping on, and still felt just like the Steve you'd fallen in love with the year prior. His preparation for this tournament had been hard, but it was that moment when you'd realized it had all paid off.

The afternoon was filled with interview after interview, question after question, but you didn't care. Your cowboy was beaming, and your heart was full. His hands had stayed protectively on your waist, like he was afraid the interviewers would snatch him up and take him away from you. You just smiled, knowing it was his way of saying, "You'll always have me, no matter what league I'm in."

He all but floated to the car and the wide smile didn't even think about leaving his face. He'd leaned you against the car, peppering your face in excited kisses, and all you could do was smile. His nerves had washed away, and he knew it would be just you and him until the last ride. And unsurprisingly, that was all he needed.

Steve's hand stayed in yours the entire ride home, and you couldn't help but be reminded of the year prior. That first night, his hand stayed attached to your skin, like he was afraid if he let go, you'd disappear. And even now, after the honeymoon phase had passed, even after petty arguments about toothpaste brands and television shows, even a year later, he still couldn't keep his hands off you.

The air was filled with excitement, the windows cracked and blowing wind through your hair, only aiding your senses. Steve blared his playlist of post-competition songs, screaming along to every word. You couldn't help but sing with him, feeling a pleasant sensation in your belly every time he'd sneak a glance at you. With the windows rolled down, you could smell the freshly mown grass as you drove past the Byers' house, some family friends of Steve's, and wondered if they'd been at the tournament to see him win.

You made your way into the house, and an exhausted Steve plopped onto the couch to pull off his boots. You kneeled in front of him to help him out of his shoe, but both of you knew exactly what you were doing.

He ran a tired hand through your hair, giving you a sideways smile. "Whatcha doin' down there, sweetheart?" he asked, even though he didn't need an explanation.

"I was hoping," you said, running a hand along his denim-clad thigh, "I could help you celebrate?" You smirked as you watched him squirming to readjust his hardening cock.

His hands met the button of his jeans, undoing the fastening for you. "You don't even have to ask."

You pulled him out of his boxers, and your mouth drooled at the thought of tasting him. It wasn't like you'd never tasted him before, but with the big championship, he'd been hyper focused on his diet, so you knew he was going to taste good.

You placed his head on your tongue, licking small circles around it and already he was a mess. Like putty in your hands.

You licked a long stripe up his length, and his dick became even harder. "Oh, princess," he sighed, nearly squirming when your mouth moved down to his balls, sucking them slightly.

You left a trail of kitten licks from his balls back up to his tip, finally taking him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed around him, and he let out a soft groan. "Needed this," he sighed, slotting his hands into your hair.

You whined around him, your way of letting him know you needed it just as much. His head fell back as you inched closer to the hilt.

"God, you're so good at this," he grunted. He tugged at your hair, longing for you to take all of him.

You released for a moment, long enough to say, "Yeah? Am I your god tonight?" You took his cock back in your mouth, one of your hands moving to his balls.

Steve moaned as he nodded. "Always. You will always rule me."

Your hips rutted against the boot he hadn't taken off, searching for any friction you could find. You gagged around him as you finally took the entirety of his dick, your nose resting softly in the thatch of hair under his belly. His heavy balls hit your chin, and you moaned around him at the feeling.

"Fuck, I'm close," he grunted. He gripped your face, pulling you up and down his length. You whimpered as drool oozed down your cheeks, your hands moving to wipe it away. Your hand purposely slid from your chin to his balls, twisting them in your palm.

His cock jerked inside your mouth, his saccharine seed spilling down your throat. Your eyes watered as he rode out his high, fucking in and out of you. "Shitshitshit," he muttered, his grip tight around your hair. Your hips chased friction on his boot, winding against the leather.

Despite desperately needing to finish, even after you considered getting yourself off right there on his boot, you forced yourself to release his cock. You slowly pulled off of him, licking your lips where his cum had dripped out. He bent forward for a kiss, moaning at the taste. His tongue slipped into your mouth, running along your teeth and savoring the taste of what only you could do to him. You rocked against his boot, eliciting a chuckle from Steve that rumbled from his mouth into yours.

You forced yourself to move away first. You stood, practically throwing yourself into his lap. He leaned back on the couch, your legs on either side of his waist and your arms around his shoulders. "Congratulations," you giggled, still giddy from the high you'd provided him with.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he sighed. He pulled you back in for another kiss and trailed his hands down your body. Once they'd reached your waist, he pulled you up, lifting both of you from the couch. He managed to kick his boot off the rest of the way before walking out of the living room.

"Hey!" you pouted, but tightened your legs around his waist.

"Cowboy hat rule," he simply said as he carried you through the house.

You rolled your eyes, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. "What if I said, 'Fuck your cowboy hat rule.' What then?"

He shook his head and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. "I don't make the rules, sweetheart. I just follow 'em."

Steve swiftly carried you into the bedroom, laying you down on the mattress with ease. His lips met yours for a dominating kiss as he reached toward the bedside table, presumably pulling out lube or a condom. His other hand worked at the fastening of your pants.

You keened at every swift motion of his limbs, your body arching as his mouth dragged down the front of your neck. His lips ended at your collarbone as he stopped to suck a spot he knew you loved.

After a moment, both his palms were on you, his fingers making quick work of your jeans. He pushed them down your legs to reveal you'd nearly soaked through your panties.

"Might not need that lube after all, huh?" he teased, his hand cupping your clothed core. Steve’s digits pressed your clit through the wet fabric, eliciting a low mewl from you as you opened your legs further for him. You wanted to give him complete access, let him have free reign of your entire body. He chuckled as his fingers played with you through the cotton. "So wet already, filthy girl."

You keened at his touch, your hands palming at his hair. "Please," you begged. "Need you, Steve."

"I suppose you do deserve a reward after being so good to me, yeah? So sweet of you to put me first." he teased, slipping a finger underneath the soaked material. Your eyes fell shut in pleasure, letting out a whimper as the digit teased your entrance. "Well then, your wish is my command, princess."

He pulled your jeans off your ankles, tossing them toward the general direction of the hamper. He then tugged his own jeans and his boxers off, his dick springing up as he tossed the clothing in the same place. Finally, after much too long, he slid your panties down your legs, and his mouth met your cunt for a split second, just long enough to lick up a stripe of your wetness, his tongue lingering on your clit. You moaned, hips bucking toward his face. "Uh-uh," he tutted. "As good as you taste, I think I need to be in you first."

You could never say no to that. You threw your shirt off as he reached for the condom he'd pulled out, making quick work of the foil before rolling it on. Your heart pumped fast with every passing moment, pure excitement running through your veins.

He removed his own shirt too and hurled it toward the slowly growing pile, while you reached for the lube. You squeezed some into your hand before pressing it to Steve’s cock, spreading the lube down his length.

He grunted and hung his head as your palm worked up and down his cock. Your hands never ceased to amaze him. He was the clay, and your hands were nothing short of a potter's, the way you had him.

Your digits met your cunt, mixing what was left of the lube with your slick. Steve moaned at the sight, wishing he'd taken you up on that offer of letting him go down on you.

Steve slowly pushed inside you and you went glassy-eyed at the feeling. You couldn't count how many times you and Steve had had sex in the past year, but no matter how many times it was, his size never ceased to amaze you. He slowly inched inside you, uncontrollable gasps and moans tumbling off your lips. You were sure all of your senses had gone awry in that moment, positive that you couldn't speak, couldn't think a single coherent thought.

He hovered over you, every inch of his abs marked with sweat. His lips met yours for a heated kiss, your mouths molding into one. His hands traveled down to your hips and gripped them tightly. He counted down a quiet, "One, two, three," before flipping the two of you over, giving you a moment to settle. A cheeky grin appeared on his lips as his eyes met yours, and you found yourself getting lost in his fanned-out lashes. He pushed a hair behind your ear, smirking, "Well, giddy up then."

No matter how many times he made that joke, your stomach still did flips every time. It truly amazed you how someone so dorky, so sweet, could manage to be the sexiest man you'd ever known.

You slowly started to rock against him, letting out a quiet whimper as you were still adjusting to his size. Steve could stretch you and fill you like no one else ever could, and it was pure heaven every time.

He chuckled and planted his giant palms on your love handles. "Damn. And they say I look good riding things."

Your hips rutted against him and the friction was absolute bliss. "Hey, that reminds me," you sighed, eliciting a chuckle from Steve.

"If I had to pick a favorite thing about you," he said, "it's that you're a talker during sex." His words were filled with sarcasm, but you still managed to take it as a compliment. You kept grinding your hips into him slowly, pulling noise after noise out of Steve, his head hanging low.

"Thank you," you replied in a whine. "Anyway, I was- fuck- I was wondering what you wanted to do with the money."

Steve sighed a soft, "Shit," as your hips bucked at his, hands tight on your waist. "Two things."

"Yeah?" you said, rocking against him, your fingers running soft circles along his happy trail. "That's not a lot of things considering you just won twenty-five grand."

"Well," he started, bouncing his legs and shoving himself further inside you, "first thing I want to do is buy this cute, little- fuck- local business. You might've heard of it. It's called The Lucky Shot."

You stopped mid-roll. Your eyes widened as your face filled with shock. "Full stop, are you serious?"

"Don't tease me like that." He all but whimpered, fucking up into you harshly.

Your hips rocked along with his, like two metronomes ticking in time with each other. The past year had been like that. The two of you were puzzle pieces, made to be slotted together. "Seriously though, are you really buying The Lucky Shot?"

"Owner's an older man who had a heart attack earlier in the year. He's having trouble- shit- keeping the place up and running. Figured I'd- oh- take it off his hands. Told him I knew a young couple who'd love to take over for him."

Your lips found his for a long, loving kiss. He bounced you on his cock, and you moaned into the kiss, but somehow the noise just made it even more sickeningly romantic. "I love you, Steve Harrington."

"I didn't doubt it for a second, Y/N Y/L/N," he mumbled against your mouth, inhaling and taking you all in. "Hey, you're wearing that perfume I got you."

"Mhm," you smiled against his lips. "Thought it might- oh, god- bring you some good l-luck today." You leaned back up, your hips rutting with extra force as you chased down your high. You let out a low mewl. "What's the second thing?"

"That-" his voice hitched as he led you along his cock, "depends."

"On what?"

"I need your- ah- permission first."

The rolls of your hips slowed and your eyebrows furrowed in some mixture of pleasure and confusion. "OK, shoot."

His hands stilled your waist, his eyes soft as he looked up at you. "Marry me."

You knew it wasn't humanly possible, but you were fairly positive your heart flew out of your chest as you processed his words. "What?"

He tipped his chin toward the nightstand. "Look in the drawer."

Your eyebrows creased even harder. You were just still, somehow managing to completely ignore the current task at hand.

He let out a light huff, running his hand up to the small of your back. "Just trust me, princess."

You pulled at the handle of the drawer, looking around for anything that could be a clue as to what he was talking about. Your vision began to blur with happy tears, though you still weren't sure what you were searching for.

He watched as your concentration face became apparent, a chuckle tumbling off his lips. "Trojan box."

Your hand flew to the little black box, lifting the top. With a flick of your finger, you flipped open the box, inspecting the ring that was hidden inside. Tears started to slide down your cheeks as you registered what was happening.

Steve stole the box from your hand, holding it as though he was proposing normally, as though he wasn't balls deep inside you. "Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me?"

"You hid my engagement ring in a condom box?" you asked, still flabbergasted.

"Well, I figured what better way to propose to you than by doing something that reminds you of the first time we met?"

You placed your hands on his cheeks, tugging his face toward yours and meeting him for a kiss. He tasted like your slick and his sweat, and somehow, it was the most amazing aroma you'd ever experienced. You took all of him in, letting him fill your senses like a breath of fresh air. His chest heaved underneath you, and his lips moved in sync with yours like he couldn't get enough.

You parted from him, lying down his chest and raising your hand. He chuckled at your speechless form as slipped the ring onto your finger. The band fit perfectly, just like he knew it would. Puzzle pieces.

"It's so pretty," you smiled. By the tone in your voice, Steve was convinced you were either cock-drunk or delirious. Probably both.

"Anything's pretty when you're the one wearin' it," he said, kissing the shell of your ear.

"Awww," you beamed, your hand combing through his deep brown hair. "Hey, you do realize that one day, when our kids ask, 'Mommy, how did Daddy propose?' we're gonna have to explain that your dick was inside me and you hid my engagement ring in a Trojan box?"

"Let's not get the cart ahead of the horse now," he chuckled. "You're the only one I want callin' me Daddy for a while."

You giggled, meeting his lips for a blissed-out peck. "Just think. You and me, together forever. Just like this for a lifetime."

"Just like this?" he teased, earning him an eye roll.

You pushed yourself up, your hands on either side of his head as you hovered above him. Your lips connected to his like magnets, this time for a steamy kiss, one filled with pure want. "Hey, you wanna know something, cowboy?"

"What's that?" he huffed in amusement, his thumbs caressing small circles on the fat of your hips.

"I say yes. To a lifetime of your love, your kisses, your stupid cowboy hat rule, all of it. I say yes a thousand times over."

"Can't argue with that, cowgirl."

A FORMAL APOLOGY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME TO POST 😭🤚🏻

I wish I had a good reason. I think I really just kept putting it off and didn't wanna read through it because I was overwhelmed (not with the fic, just with life) but I forced myself through it and I'm so happy with how it turned out!

Special thanks to @dungeons-are-too-cold for staying up with me until 5 am again to make sure this fic was at its best! Love you forever!!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe

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creepyyanderegirl · 1 year

Text

Yandere Michael Myers Alphabet

A=Affection (How do they show their love for you)

Gripping,holding,hair playing, caressing,holding hands,knife to your throat

B=Bound (How much do they share with you)

He doesn't tell you much

C=Cruel (How do they punish you)

Violence, spanking,silent treatment, isolation, torturing,cutting

D=Desire (How long until they take you)

1 month

E=Even (To what level are they dominant)

Dominant

F=Future (What are their future plans for the two of you)

Get married

G=Gifts (What do they give you)

Daggers

H=Hell (Worst experience with them)

Jealous moments,angry moments,his killings,his punishments

I=Insane (How insane did they get because of you)

He's already insane. 10/10

J=Jealous (How easily do they get jealous)

Easily. Kills anyone who even looks at you.

K=Killing (How do they handle killing)

Very brutal, painful and ruthless

L=Language (What is their love language)

Gifts and quality time

M=Manipulation (What could you do to get your way)

Nothing

N=No (To what strength would they go for you)

He'd do anything for you

O=Obsessed (How obsessed are they with you)

9/10

P=Pet names (What do they call you)

Doll,pet,plaything,good girl,kitten,mine,baby girl,star,bunny,dove,my love

Q=Quit (How would they act if you died)

He'd find another girl and pretend their you

R=Runaway (What are your chances to get away)

No chance

S=Stalking (How good are they at stalking you)

10/10

T=Type (What type of yandere are they)

Delusional, manipulative,isolating, possessive,stalker, overprotective, obsessive

U=Unique (Different from other yanderes)

He doesn't talk much

V=Vine (How would they feel if you fought back)

Fights you back

W=Will (Would they do anything against their loves will)

Ties you up,force feeds you, holds you,spends time with you

X=Xray (How much do they keep hidden from you)

Quite a lot

Y=Yearning (How much do they want you)

1/10

Z=Zzz (How do you two fall asleep together)

Holding you in his arms

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere michael myers #yandere boy #michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #michael myers x y/n #halloween

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dameronology · 2 years

Text

timing's a bitch (s.h) - 1/5

s u m m e r ' 8 6

you'll be the saddest part of me, a part of me that will never be mine - the loneliest, maneskin (x)

"if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing...timing. but timing is a bitch" - how i met your mother

a.k.a a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

You made Steve Harrington cry the first time you met him.

He still remembered it clear as day, even though it had been in first grade. You'd thrown a Lego brick at his head and stuffed sand in his mouth, promising that if he ever touched your pet worm again (his name was Sherm, if you were wondering) that he would pay. After some negotiation and charm from his part - and the promise that he wouldn't make his parents call yours - you had become best friends. You brought balance to one another's lives, even from a young age. Steve was always a little more calculated and thoughtful in his actions, sticking to the sidelines at playtime and always worrying about his hair. You, meanwhile, had always run headfirst into danger, with scrapes on your knees and glue in your hair. Ying and yang.

You never left Steve's side and he never left yours. Things came close when the popularity really got to his ego in sophomore year, but it was nothing a whack across the head couldn't fix. The threat of telling every person at Hawkins High about his Farah Fawcett hairspray secret also very quickly humbled him. He owed you a lot of apologies after that phase.

Things were better than ever by the time graduation rolled around. It hadn't really hit either of you that this was it; that Hawkins High would no longer be your world. It was scarier for you than it was for Steve because he knew deep down that he had probably peaked in high school. He had no college lined up; while you'd gone and gotten yourself a full scholarship to NYU, all he'd done was argue with his parents about his grades and why they wouldn't foot the bill for him to follow you to the city. The world was about to become bigger and scarier. The prospect of you being thousands of miles away only made it worst.

"Just one year," Steve begged, "just take one year out. The new mall is gonna be hiring loads of people and you can save up a butt ton before you go to college-"

"- I am not taking a year out, Steve!" you exclaimed. Reaching across the center console, you gave his chest a whack. "I worked my ass off the last four years so that I have enough money to go now."

"Okay, don't think about money then. Think about..."

He paused, trailing off.

"Think about what?"

"Spending time with me before I go?" he meekly asked. "We can have loads of fun! Just me and you, y'know, having one final year together before you leave me forever."

You groaned. "Steve, we've had all summer together. Also, I'm not leaving you! I'll be home literally every few weeks."

He forced a smile, eyes focusing on the road ahead. This was his last two days with you before you moved and he didn't want to spend it being sad. It was just that his heart ached in a way he never thought it would. A thousand times more than when his parents didn't show for graduation; even more than when Nancy Wheeler left him.

Steve's glance flickered over to the photo tucked away into his rearview mirror. It was a Polaroid taken over the summer; you and Steve were stood between your parents, armed wrapped around each other as you were grinning in your caps. Maybe his parents hadn't shown for him on graduation, but yours sure had, with flowers and hugs and affection for you both. Hell, they probably wouldn't have minded if he moved into your room once you were at college. It was definitely something he thought about.

"Summer doesn't feel like enough," he muttered. "Doesn't it scare you that things are changing?"

"Of course it does," you replied. "Change isn't always bad though. Things can't always stay the same, Stevie. Me staying home an extra year isn't gonna delay the inevitable."

Steve glanced in his wing mirror, indicating off the highway and pulling into your driveway. You'd had to beg him to come and help you pack; even though he'd acted like he didn't want to, he was secretly delighted at the idea. In fact, he was secretly delighted at spending any time with you.

After yelling a quick hi! to your parents, you both bounded up the stairs and into your bedroom. It was pretty much stripped now, years worth of blue tack and marks and scuffs on the wall. Your entire childhood packed neatly away into boxes; some for college, some for the attic, some for the dump. Steve in particular was drawn to the pile of photos on your nightstand. It was you and him through the years - some were a little dog-eared and frayed, but the two little kids smiling back at him never faltered.

He put them down and glanced over at you. You were sat on the bed now, having discarded your clothes for a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies. He'd leant that to you last year after a day at the lake - naturally, you'd gone running in totally unplanned in your clothes. He'd stood at the side the entire time, too scared of getting his hair wet.

That had always been one of his regrets; holding back. Not just the day at the lake, but the time you'd gone tree climbing and waved to him whilst he waited at the bottom. The time you rode all the big coasters at Coney Island and smiled at him as you went by. You were always going a thousand miles an hour and Steve just fucking stood there, waving as time passed him by. And now you were about to loop-de-loop right away from him.

He watched as you frowned in concentration, hands scrawling away at a messy to-do list. Pack, buy new toothbrush, apply for job, find class schedule. It was the most organised he'd ever seen you.

"You're being awfully quiet," you commented without even looking up. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing's on my mind."

"Steve, please," you scoffed. "You've been my best friend for fourteen years. Don't try and act like you're not deep in thought about something. What is it? A car? A girl-"

"- kind of," he said. "I was thinking about...us."

You peered up at him, eyebrows creasing. "Us?"

"Yeah. Don't you think we're pretty great?"

"Yeah," you smiled. "You're my best friend, Steve. Nothing will ever change that."

Steve sighed to himself. Wasn't that the whole problem? You were friends. Best, best fucking friends. And even though it was no secret that you yourself had little thoughts and feelings about him, they never seemed to overlap. You'd liked him when he dated Nancy. Then by the time they'd broken up, you were hooking up with the Dungeons and Dragons kid who had been held back two years. Then by the time that ended, Steve was onto his next fling.

And now you were going away. Maybe that's why he was yearning.

"Nothing at all?"

You frowned. "Nothing."

"Not even this?"

To be honest, Steve wasn't really thinking straight. Plagued by nothing but regret and hankering, he threw aside your to-do list and dove across the bed. His hands found your waist, pulling you towards him with might. It didn't take a genius to work out what was going on; even though his actions took you by surprise, you still tangled a hand in his hair when his lips came down on yours, the other finding it's way to the loop of of his best.

He pulled you closer, tongue slipping inside your mouth. You didn't mean to let out a gentle moan as he did, but fuck. Steve Harrington was a good kisser and it was annoying that all those rumours you'd tried to ignore in high school were true.

Steve sat up, pulling you into his lap. He moved his lips from yours, moving down to just below your ear. You didn't protest, instead dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

It wasn't until there was a knock at your door that you both jumped.

The sound was like a cold bucket of water over your head, snapping you back to reality. Fuck. You'd just made out with Steve. He had never been the King of Hawkins high to you; he was the kid that tried to kill Sherm over a decade ago. The same kid who got yellow braces because he thought they looked cool. The same kid that secretly cried every time Vienna by Billy Joel came on the radio.

"Honey, how's packing going?" your mum called. "I'm going to the landfill early tomorrow so make sure that you-"

"- yeah, I will!" you cut her off, trying to catch your breath. "Thanks, mum!"

There was the fall of footsteps as she walked away, leaving you and your best friend to sit there and deal with the consequences of your actions. You were still sat in Steve's lap, cheeks warm with something that wasn't quite embarrassment. His chest was heaving in time with yours, eyes refusing to break your gaze.

"What the fuck did we just do?" you asked.

"I...uh...I kissed you. And you kissed me back, and then I put my hand here and you put yours there and-"

"- it was a rhetorical question!" you exclaimed. "Oh my god, I'm still sat in your lap."

Rolling off of him, you landed on the bed next to Steve. You immediately pulled your hood up, tugging on the strings so that it tightened around your cheeks and hid your face. The worst part of all this was that you'd enjoyed it. Had the universe - in the form of your mother - not interfered, you had no doubt in your mind that you probably would have fucked your best friend. That certainly was a jarring revelation.

"Did you..." you began, but then paused. "Had you thought about doing that for a long time?"

"Yeah, I guess," Steve admitted. "Not like constantly but there's been moments over the last few years. And then I saw you sitting there in my clothes and we're about to say goodbye and-"

"- no we're not, Steve," you grumbled. "Because I'm going to see you at Christmas, and then like every weekend after that, and...Jesus Christ. Was that meant as an impulsive thing or an actual thing?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't kiss my best friend of fifteen years just for one night. I could go out to a shitty bar downtown and find anyone for that."

"Why now?"

"Can you blame a guy for shooting his shot?" Steve tried to joke, but you didn't laugh "I mean...yeah. Maybe I was thinking about you and I being more than you and I. It seems dumb now."

"Your timing is fucking awful, Steve Harrington," you gave him a small smile, gently running a hand over his face. "You could have asked me at any point before now and I would have said yes."

"But?"

"But I'm moving half way across the fucking country in two days!" you exclaimed. "You're my best friend and I love you but our lives are about to change. The stakes are too high and you are far too important for me to risk losing, okay?"

Steve smiled, giving you a nod. It could have been worse - it could have been a straight up no. A why fuck would I ever love you? or a broken nose. It was still rejection, but it was just...timing. Bad timing. Maybe he just had to wait.

He was okay with that.

taglist: @marauderssworld @boybandbaby @karasong (lmk if u want to be added!)

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fumifooms · 6 months

Note

Do you know about the Marchil h-doujin, just called "Marchil Meshi"? (Dunno wether you're comfortable about adult content regarding the ship. If not, sorry and feel free to ignore).

Imagine my surprise… When a few months ago, I was looking up places to buy doujins for dunmeshi online bc of that new-ish laimar (sfw) doujin and I find, many many nsfw ones bUT AMONGST THE HORDE… MARCHIL MESHI. I ate it up. It’s a lil iconic to me ngl, I quote it in my head sometimes. Marcille angrily gesturing always gets me cackling. It honestly has no business being this good, it was made pretty early on in the story so many years ago, and STILL! So in character, and honestly so funny, AND no weird business either. Like listen, I scour the internet, looking for any marchil content, any marchil content at all… And find a dry af desert, no life here, literally jackshit nothing. Only Pixiv has some afaik but the nsfw is def… Hm. 😔 (2 fics tagged chirumaru on there btw!! That aren’t mine lol) Thank you marchil meshi author if I had to pick 1 piece of marchil nsfw to exist I’d choose this one (honestly that’s already so close to reality lol) Thank u Asaki Takayuki I owe u my life. I like zines but I’ve never bought doujins before so it didn’t cross my mind, but dunmeshi is taking a lot of my first times in fandom engagement and I bought said laimar doujin just the other day hehe

I do want to keep my blog generally sfw but yes I’m 100% cheering on nsfw marchil content from the shadows, glad that ao3’s finally getting some too. I hope that fic writer makes more… Tallman Chil is so so good but I hope they also do some more general premises, which the end notes on that one do make me hopeful 👀 I want more marchil writers in general. More marchil fanartists. Sfw nsfw idk I need to be fed 😭 (<- This post was drafted before that new marchil smut fic WOOHOO. So much new marchil content this week!!)

Oh while I’m here, I find this so funny/odd, but in japanese fandom ship names are simply the beginning of each name smushed together, like marchil or chilmar. The order of the names is that the first one is the "top"… Idk how jp fandoms live without switches but aight, but in m/f ships this means that typically the man is the first half of the ship name right. WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT marchil is so much more used than chilmar lmaoo. Even more stats: On Pixiv, the tag marchil had all the artworks, but the chilmar tag had all the fics. Ain’t that wack to think about. Anyways marchil or chilmar idc you go guys

Sighh thinking about them. They are so "I beg your pardon??!" "Then beg", "Fuck you!" "Fuck me yourself you coward"… Forget stamens and pistils, Chil is the cursed "You see, there are keys and there are locks…"

More under cut since I don’t get to talk about this often, screenshots and hcs for horny time

^ said panel that lives rent free in my head and makes me giggle. I wish I’d just put the whole page here it’s my fave but nahh go find it yourself

Why are they like this. Like what is thatttt

I need to stop collecting these I’m making myself feel insane (thank you fic writer for that last one I’d never noticed but omg)

Alright hc time what was I gonna talk about… Ah yes ah yes. I def think Chil is a pest, he’s horny and he wants sex and is flagrant about it, but also we know that he stayed faithful for 4 years without getting any, I feel like realistically the relationship sex wise would 100% be on Marcille’s pace. And this is the fun part, bc would Marcille be very eager? Would she want to do the romance book correct™️ route and that means no tapping until marriage, or he needs to court her all princely first? I hc that elves have a much lower libido than humans because of the whole long af lifespan thing, it’d be kinda funny if Marcille was like "Let’s take things slow… 🥺" aka first base achieved after two years of being together lol

But seee that’s the thing too bc Marcille is so afraid of loss she might rush through things as well, she very well could like, jump on him right after confessing. Is Chilchuck kind of a shithead or is he very gentlemanly and romantic, wanting to do it right and treat her well? They are such a blank canvas of sexual chemistry listen LISTENNN there are just so so many ways you can go with them they are so special. God the banter… They cannot stop bantering for a second I swear So many kinks they could fit… I like uhh praise kink for him and for her… Idk she just really loves him and the emotional adoration is what’s at the core of her enjoying it all so like, loving Chilchuck kink, which turns out those two really match together 🫶 He makes her sing and ummm um you see where this goes. They are so grossly in love and into each other

They are so domestic. I hate them

#Followers you now know about the existence of this you’re welcome #Marchil #Sorry for taking a week to answer this ask. I have so many to get back to aaa sorry everyone #There’s never a perfect time to drop bomb posts like these gdvdgd #Fumi rambles #the opening line of this post is a quote of Amanda’s iconic rant about PLA sneasler in my heart #No one can reblog this post it shall be framed in shame on my blog only /j

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

Text

Liability Part 4; Finale

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: Rafe wakes up the next morning feeling extremely sorry and awkward, so much that he pulls himself out of his hangover to be on time to his therapy session with the reader. She's pretty shocked to see him but after a cathartic conversation, they talk more over dinner and things take an interesting but well awaited turn.

Warnings: S*M*U*T (fucking finally), swearing, trauma, angst, mentions of drugs and alcohol, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 7.4k

A/n: I love this chapter. It took me so long to write because IT'S SO LONG and I think it's very much worth the wait. This one is directly dedicated to @tee-swizzle cuz she needs this more than anyone😌

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3

Rafe,

I know my couch is uncomfortable. Please don’t make fun of me if you wake up with a ton of pinched nerves and sore muscles. I work at a public college, I don’t get paid enough for a good couch. I also wanna say, please drink water as soon as you get up, I’ll leave a bottle next to you just because I really don’t want to have to clean up a ton of throw up when I get home.

I’m also gonna go ahead and cancel your appointment this morning with me since I think you’ll probably have a pounding headache and an overwhelming hangover. I don’t want you to feel rushed or like you’re obligated to come, especially with what happened last night. I’ll write it on the report that you’re sick and spiking a fever, no one will ask questions.

Speaking of last night, we should probably never talk about it again if you think that’s for the best. You might not even remember (I hope you do though because that would be really awkward for me to have to explain why I’m so jumpy). I don’t want you to feel embarrassed because I know you were drunk and I don’t want you to feel bad or like you took advantage of me. I don’t regret bringing you home and hearing you out or giving you a place to crash. Please don’t be mad at yourself for being honest with me, I really appreciate that you came clean about some things and I’m hoping that you’ll start to do that more.

You can text me when you’re up, I’ll be back at 2:00. If you wanna stay on the couch all day, that’s okay too.

I never would’ve thought Rafe would be a snorer.

When I left this morning, he had an arm draped across his eyes, shielding the sun that was shining through the curtains from his face and his chest was rising and falling in simple breaths. He had shed his shirt in the middle of the night- which was a pleasant shock to wake up to- so the snoring wasn’t the only shock. I was shocked to see his sweaty, glistening chest in the sunlight, strong pectoral muscles twitching with every move of his body and it didn’t take me long to make the connection that he is an athlete and that I shouldn’t have needed the confirmation of seeing him without a shirt to realize that he’s, well, hot.

It took everything in me to look away from him and pry myself out of my apartment, wanting nothing but to call off and baby him the whole day, ask him questions about his childhood, his mysterious daddy’s girl of a sister, his dad. I also fought the urge to go through his phone and pull out Josh’s number so I could chew his ass out for leaving Rafe in my care.

Or maybe I should be thanking Josh.

I have no clue if Rafe will actually want to talk about what transpired between us, the way he looked at me- held me- and the way that his lips fit so comfortably against mine. I genuinely thought I was a bad kisser until he pressed his lips against mine and I felt myself giving up complete control, allowing him to guide me and, with the mindset that his control put me in, I would’ve allowed him to guide me all the way to my bed. Or the nearest flat surface. I want to know what he thought about it, what made him actually want to kiss me and if there’s more to our relationship than our professional one, even though that’s sort of a given at this point.

It was hard to focus on my clients all morning, checking my phone every once in a while to see if Rafe had finally woken up (and didn’t asphyxiate in his sleep) and read my lengthy note but even now, as noon approaches, there’s no messages from him, zero.

In a small moment of weakness, I decided that I wasn’t going to cancel his appointment, wondering and silently hoping that he would crawl his way to the campus and stumble onto the couch in front of me in time for his meeting but I’m starting to lose hope with every ticking minute of the loud, obnoxious clock behind me. Is this how Rafe always felt waiting for meetings to end?

My phone loudly buzzing beneath me has me jumping, waving one last time to the student leaving my office before immediately checking who the notification is from. A wave of relief washes over me at the realization that Rafe didn’t die of alcohol poisoning in the last few hours and my heart aches as I watch a plethora of messages come through from his end.

Rafe: I’m so fucking sorry.

Rafe: Please don’t hate me, I need you to not hate me right now.

Rafe: I’m such a fucking idiot.

Rafe: I remember everything after we left the bar, but it’s all still foggy.

Rafe: What did I do? Are you okay?

Rafe: I see you reading my messages, please fucking reply.

My fingers shake as they hover above the screen and I try my best to type out a half-assed reply, knowing it won’t help but it’s all that my brain can piece together right now. I all of a sudden can’t stop thinking about him sitting in my living room, looking at the spot in the floor where he had me pressed against the wall and hands exploring my body. I too can picture him there, laying on my couch, biting at his lip while staring, wide-eyed at the screen in front of him.

I’m not mad. I don’t hate you.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to ease the searing pain that sits right where my heart pounds, watching the bubbles appear and disappear on the screen. I can feel my heartbeat in my stomach as I lean back into my chair, attempting to get comfortable and try to calm myself down, telling myself that I’d be okay if all of a sudden he left my life but I’m not so sure I know if that’s true or not.

Rafe: I kissed you.

“Fuck.” I mutter to myself, looking up from my phone and at the lava lamp in the corner of the room, trying to steady my breathing as I think of something to say, something that’ll be vague enough to dismiss that is happened but that will also give him the clear to talk about it if he wants to.

I think it was mutual Rafe.

I feel like a middle schooler with the way that I’m giggling to myself, folding my legs underneath me in my chair as I shove my notebook off of my lap, reaching up to rub at my forehead. We could’ve gone on and acted like it never happened, that we didn’t slip into each other last night, almost too far. We would’ve continued our sessions and he would eventually be cleared to move on and never see me again. It could’ve been simple and we could’ve kept it professional.

So what is it about each other that makes it impossible to stay away?

My heart has to be going fast enough to kill me or at least send me into cardiac arrest, chambers pumping way faster than the rest of my body can keep up with and I feel my head wobble on my shoulders, finally resting my head against the wall for a moment with my eyes closed, waiting for the next buzz of my phone which comes shortly after.

Rafe: You kissed me back.

I snort, letting myself type the first thing that comes to mind but before I can, another message comes through that makes me laugh even louder, earning some looks from the students passing by my open door.

Rafe: Enthusiastically.

Mhm.

I was more than enthusiastic to kiss him, especially once I realized how badly I needed to kiss him once his lips were on mine. It’s amazing that we didn’t fall into each other sooner but maybe there was something deep down in me that realized that there would be no going back and it’s true. Now that I’ve kissed him- that I’ve tasted him- I never want to know a day where I don’t fall into his arms and give into him.

It feels like an addiction.

Rafe: And you’re not mad?

No.

Rafe: Are you just dismissing it because I was drunk and not in my right mind?

I pause, a chill running down my spine as my mind spins, wondering if he’s going to tell me how much he regrets how he got so drunk that he kissed me and how he never would’ve kissed me if he wasn’t so upset and vulnerable. Is this it? Is this the moment where my chest caves in and I have to end our professional agreement because I let a kiss make me feel so attached to him?

Were you not in your right mind?

Rafe: I wasn’t but, even when I’m in my right mind, I think about kissing you.

There it is.

The confirmation that it’s not in my head and that he wanted me as much as he’s always wanted me, alcohol aside. The same thing that brought him to the bar last night, the feeling that made him open up to me in the car ride home and the feeling that finally gave him the guts to kiss me. I could go with it, assuming that he doesn’t regret it and that he’d do it over again the same way if given the opportunity but there’s this annoying, nagging feeling that suffocates me to the brink of typing out my insecure question.

So you don’t regret it?

Rafe: Nope. Do you?

“Fuck, thank god.” I let out a breath of a relief that seems to pull the plug on all of my anxiety, my shoulders rolling as my chest deflates. All of the tension I’ve held onto all morning oozes out of me and I no longer feel the tension sucking the life out of my lungs.

No. Do you regret telling me things about yourself that you would’ve normally kept to yourself?

I already know that his answer will be something along the lines ‘of course I’m mad at myself but whatever’, knowing that it’s for the best if I have as much information as I can, especially if we’re still on track to getting him help and figuring out what’s made him such a loose canon. If I had any guess, I’d say his dad is the flame and Rafe’s always been the loyal moth who gets burned when he gets too close. But, like anyone who wants validation from their abuser after years of abuse, he’d do anything to impress his father.

Rafe: I’m a bit mad at myself but the cats out of the bag and I know you’re not gonna let it go.

You know me so well.

His side goes quiet for a moment, bubbles popping up and disappearing again until everything stops and I huff, a frown tugging on my lips. I expected more banter, more playfulness or teasing about how willing I was last night but based on the desperation hinted in his first few messages to me this morning, his attention must be elsewhere.

–

A knock on my now closed doors has my eyes flying open, drool on my chin being quickly wiped off and I take a second to look around, realizing I must’ve drifted off for a bit. I stumble up to my feet with a groan, running a hand down my face before opening the door.

I can barely process Rafe standing in front of me before his arms wrap around my waist, tugging me up and into his arms in a bone crushing hug. My hands hover for a moment over his back, processing the fact that in just a half an hour, he’s here, in front of me, clinging to me like he needs me.

He needs me.

In seconds of response time, wrap my arms around him tightly, fingers dragging up and down his back as his back rumbles in quiet cries. I try my best to bite back all of the questions- ‘how did you get here’, ‘why are you crying’, ‘what took you so long’- and instead, I press a simple kiss to the side of his head with a pained sigh.

“I needed to see you.” He mutters, head tilting so he can tuck his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in as I do the same, finally feeling the tips of my toes touch the ground once more. He reaches back to shove the door closed with a loud thud, his hand cupping the back of my neck as I arch my body into his. I can feel his racing heartbeat and how his breathing mellows after a few moments of being in my arms but he doesn’t make any move to let go of me.

“I’m here.” I tremble, feeling his shoulders droop at my confession. He sniffles loudly and his arms finally slack from around my waist, settling me completely on the flat ground and he leans back to look down at me. His cheeks are flushed cutely and his beautiful eyes are lined with tears and an angry shade of red tints the whites of his eyes.

“I’m on time for our appointment. Did you cancel it?” He asks, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

“No, I was hoping you’d still come. Didn’t expect to be swept off my feet though.” I giggle, feeling him let go of me completely before taking a hefty step back, linking his hands in front of him as he awkwardly sways, suddenly recovering from showing such blatant emotion.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.” I smile as softly as I can, hoping that he won’t take my surprise as disappointment and run out of here as soon as he gets the wrong idea. “Why do you look like you’ve been crying?” I ask softly, sitting down in my chair as he plops down onto the couch with a huff, running his hands along the top of his head with a sad laugh, sniffling loudly as I pass him a box of tissues. I had him in my arms and now he’s feet away from me. Too far from me.

“I was a mess in the taxi on the way here, poor dude didn’t know what the fuck to say to me.” He looks over at the lava lamp briefly and for a second I think he’s going to start crying again just at the realization that it’s lit and shining brightly beside him. Before he can break down again, I call out his name calmly.

“Rafe-”

“I need to talk to you.” He pleads, cutting me off, and his voice hints with a bit of desperation and I can hear that he’s so close to breaking. He looks up at me with a pitiful look that has my heart aching painfully in my chest. “I just need you to listen, no notebook, no snarky comments.”

“Okay.” I nod immediately, leaning back in my chair to get comfortable but he holds a hand up to me, swallowing deeply before a bashful look passes through his expression with a shy smile.

“Another thing-” He sighs, scoffing internally at himself as he scoots over on the couch. “Can you not sit all the way over there?” I can’t fight the excited beat of my heart as I think about being so close to him again, my body heating up and my thoughts running painfully fast but in all the best ways.

“Off the record talk?” I ask with a teasing grin.

“God, please just get over here.” He begs, and my body lifts immediately to step around the table that was separating us, lowering myself down beside him. I gulp at the way that his arm extends on the back of the couch beside me and I instantly turn my body and curl my knees up to my chest so I can face him. “I don’t really know where the fuck to start.” He rubs a hand over his face and, to help, I reach out to place my small hand on his bicep, capturing his attention and seemingly calming him down.

He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“When I was 10 my doctor thought I had bipolar or BPD or some shit. When they talked to my dad, he shut them down because he didn’t want them to know that the most well known guy in our town was actually beating the shit out of his eldest kid.” I can already feel the bile rising in my throat and I can tell that this talk isn’t going to be easy on Rafe but it’s also going to be nearly impossible for me to hear about him being hurt for so many years on end without any help or advocacy. “I knew that there was something wrong with me, Rose made snarky comments about it all the time, I asked my dad for help a lot- I told him that something wasn’t right. I was just so fucking angry all the time at everything.” His hands shake unsteadily in his lap and without thinking, I reach out to take his hands in mine, gripping them tightly as a reminder that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. “I’d key cars, I’d smash windows, I’d break shit, I’d beat the living crap out of people and there were always reasons but not that justified that big of a reaction.”

“You were lashing out because of how you were being treated. You would’ve rather gotten negative attention than no attention at all. It makes sense, it’s valid.” He nods at my words but doesn’t seem to let them process, his chest rising and falling in a strained breath and I can tell he’s trying to muster an appreciative smile.

“I started cocaine at like seventeen. My dad knew, he bailed me out a few times when I’d fucked up and forgot to pay dealers. He didn’t get me help, he didn’t offer me help. He just wanted me to shut the fuck up and stay out of his way. I could do anything I wanted if I just stayed out of his way.” Fuck he’s way worse than I would’ve anticipated. This boy needs years worth of trauma therapy. “Sarah hated me because I did such bad shit to her friends, things that I should never have wanted to do and she swore that I was just taking advantage of my dad. What she didn’t realize is that, every time he took his shit out on me, he wasn’t taking it out on her or Wheezie. They never saw it, they never saw how badly he had me fucked up. Rose did and she just didn’t care.”

“Rafe you were dealt a shit hand from a young age and, though you claim to have done horrible things, you still protected your sisters no matter how they felt about you. That takes courage.”

“I did everything in my capability to help without it being a nuisance. I did the bare minimum, I was lazy. And my dad was just getting so sick of dealing with me and getting me out of trouble so he told me, I had to apply to colleges and that he would pay for it but I had to get out of his hair and his house. I didn’t have an option.” He gulps, eyes meeting mine in a disheartened, broken look and I find my heart cracking in my chest. He looks so small, so helpless as he scoots impossibly closer to me, his arm now closing in around my back to rub between my shoulderblades. “It’s why I do the bare minimum to stay here to avoid making him mad but I never wanted to be here. When he found out about our sessions, he got afraid that I would open up to you about him and that a case would be opened up against him because Wheezie is still a minor and you’re a mandated reporter.” Dots connect in my head, dots that I should’ve put together before but I didn’t. “He wanted to beat it into me that, to keep the family together, I had to man up and suck it up.” His voice wobbles and cracks as a few stray tears escape his eyes, my hands immediately reaching up to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his tears away. He sinks into my touch, shoulders relaxing a bit as he leans into me. “Stop looking at me like that.” He mutters with a gentle, boyish pout.

“Like what-”

“Like you’re sorry for me.” His hand reaches up to rub at the back of my neck, thumb brushing beneath my ear, the touch soothing him.

“I’m not as sorry for you as I am sorry for your dad when I stick my fist down his throat.” He cracks a smile finally, eyes fluttering shut in a brief moment of relief and I allow myself to finally relax against him, the tension in the air soothing a bit.

“I think that’s adorable.” He whispers, fingers fisting the back of my shirt as he leans completely into me, tucking his face into the crook of my neck once more. I rub his arm soothingly, hesitantly pressing a comforting kiss to his temple, lingering a bit against his skin.

“You didn’t deserve any of it. Maybe you deserve to be in counseling, maybe you deserve some rough love- I don’t know. You don't deserve to lose a parent and then get the shit beat out of you for years on end.” He nods but I’m still not completely sure that it’s something that he believes. It takes years of trauma therapy to undo all of the abuse that he’s gone through and I highly doubt my words of encouragement will do much in the grand scheme of things. But if I need to be the first one to tell him that he’s loved and cared for and deserving of all the good things in life, then so be it. “I don’t know about any of the bad things you did, I don’t want to know. What matters is that you make a conscious effort to not be that person anymore. If you need help, you get it. If you need to talk, you talk.” He nods once more and I can feel damp drops falling onto my collarbone but I choose to not say anything. “Are you still doing, uh…”

“No, not in a while, maybe a year.” He replies, reaching up to rub the tears from his eyes, sitting up with a loud sniffle. “I know I need help, I’m just not ready yet. Not until I know that I don’t have to go back to my dad, that I don’t need to rely on him anymore because if I try to get help now while I’m still so attached to him, it won’t help.”

“Okay. We’ll get you there when you’re ready.” His brows furrow briefly, confused at my words and my lips part, wondering if I said something wrong but before I can apologize, he speaks.

“We?” He asks, a little breathless and taken back, a slight red dusting to his cheeks.

“You think I’m gonna run away now that I know you’ve got some skeletons in your closet?” I tease, reaching out to pat his cheek sweetly, thumb brushing against his collarbone.

“You don’t even know half of it.” He scoffs, eyes lowering to his lap in a bashful look.

“Are you still that person?” I ask and he shakes his head almost immediately.

“No.” I shrug and he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not freaked out?”

“Am I still here?” I ask him and he smiles softly, realizing the point I was getting at. “I’m still here, even after you cried and almost threw up in my mouth. My mouth, Rafe.” The memory hits him like a ton of bricks and he buries his face in his hands with a groan and a small laugh.

“I would not have thrown up.” He mumbles into his palms and I can see the red blush crawling down his neck and beneath his shirt. “You’re such a tool sometimes, god.” He reaches out to playfully shove me but I catch his hand, pulling him back towards me with a wicked smirk.

“You love it.” I whisper, holding his eye contact in my gaze and I can almost see his eyes clouding over, eyes flickering down to look at my lips. The memory of kissing him last night floors me and I fight the strong urge to lean towards him and kiss him senselessly.

“Yeah I guess I do.” He whispers breathlessly, swallowing roughly before blinking out of his haze. “Are you almost done here? I could, uh, buy us take out?” He offers with a bashful grin, his fingers slipping in between mine.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

–

“You’ve never had wonton soup?” Rafe asks me, shoving a wonton into his mouth with his chopsticks, giving me an incredulous look from across the couch. I shake my head with a simple smile, taking a bite of my sesame chicken, humming at the delicious taste. “You wanna try?” Rafe asks, holding a wonton out to me by the ends of his chopsticks and when I reach out to take them from him, he backs away with a small tut.

Shit.

I bite back a wicked smile, leaning forward and parting my lips so he can feed the wonton to me with the most inappropriate look in his eyes, his gaze getting completely caught on the way that my lips enclose around the chopsticks.

“Shit.” He mutters, watching me intently as I chew and hum, nodding my head with every bite.

“It’s really good.” I nod, reaching out with my fork to stab a wonton out of his soup, plopping it into my mouth with a giggle. “Like really good.”

“Glad you like it.” He grins, bashfully looking down at his soup as the TV noise fills the empty silence around us. I can’t stop watching him, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips like and he does the same when he’s regained confidence to look back up at me with wide, eager eyes. We’re both completely and utterly enthralled by one another and, like a spell has taken over us, we set aside our food, acting like we’re done but we both know it’s because we’re ready to move on. There’s an awkward moment that passes both of us wanting to make a move but unsure how to and I know that it’s going to take him making the first move for me to feel his lips on mine.

When our lips meet after a few moments, I can already tell that I won’t stop kissing him until I’m out of breath. I just want to be close to him, feel him on me, his lips, anything. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me firmly on top of him as I gasp quietly. The kiss is messy, needy, like we had been needing this for weeks and we have, the kiss last night was barely anything to hold us over. The minute his lips left mine last night, I’ve been waiting and dreaming of the moment where he’ll finally kiss me again and, given the hungry urgency behind his lips, I can tell he feels the same way.

Like I need air, water, I need him against me.

I moan quietly as his hands slip down, winding around my thighs to hoist me further on top of his lap before flipping us over on the small couch. I squeal with a giggle, my head falling back as he drops down on top of me, strong arms caging me in.

He’s on me in a minute, his body sliding on top of me as his lips find mine. I grip the back of his shirt, feeling his lips parting gently to deepen the kiss and I whimper as his lips leave mine just seconds later, trailing down to my neck as his hands wander under my shirt, cold fingertips making my arch up into him. He curses against my skin as his eyes flutter down to my parted legs that he fits so perfectly between, his fingers skimming against the material of my leggings. I watch him with parted lips, the room suddenly feeling ten times more heated.

“I can’t stand you wearing these.” His hands slip under my shirt to splay across my lower stomach, pushing up my shirt right under my breasts. His fingers dance against the skin of my abdomen, a shiver running down my spine as I arch into him, begging for him to do more of anything other than this simple teasing. His fingers gently slip lower and my head throws back in frustration as he dips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, slipping beneath them completely as I let out a pathetic gasp. He moans quietly, my eyes dancing down to watch him palm himself gently and he looks back up at me, his eyes needy and his cheeks flushed. Without a second thought, he pulls his shirt over his head, a huge grin breaking out across my face as I tug him down to me. “I forgot you're a needy one.” He chuckles against my lips as I pinch his side, earning a quiet hiss from him.

“Shut up and fuck me, Rafe.” I whisper simply, his head pulling back to look at me with wide, teasing eyes, blue hues nearly completely taken over by his blown pupils, lined with lust and adoration. I shrug playfully and slowly at him, his head dipping in a quick head shake. Keep him on his toes, right?

“Are you sure you can handle it?” He taunts, his lips lowering to press against the hollow of my neck and I let out a breathless laugh, my fingers reaching up to grip onto his shoulders as he sinks his teeth into my skin. “You’re kind of loud.”

“I was pretty quiet thinking about you the other week.” I whisper, lying through my teeth but I know it’ll drive him crazy and it does, his kisses stalling as he sits up, his eyes dark and mischievous. In one fluid motion, my leggings and shirt are off and on the ground. My hands help him slip out of his pants as he laughs, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead, loving my greediness.

When he makes his way back between my thighs, nestling in so the outline of cock is pressing against my core, I moan, the feeling of him against me has my mind spinning and his hand gently reaches up to rest on my cheek, bringing me back to him, and his lips press against my other cheek, the skin heated beneath his lips.

“You’re mine...” He whispers, his hand slipping down my thigh to hoist it over his hip. I nod with a grin, my arms wrapping around his neck tightly. I’m not in the mood to play or tease him, I just want to feel him and to know that his words are true. “You’ve been mine. You’re all I think about.” He whispers, his lips skimming against my neck as I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders as an anticipatory anxiety fills my belly. His hand gently ventures under my bra, his fingers kneading my breast as my hips twitch up against him and I pray he’ll get the hint to stop teasing and to get on with it. Getting the hint, he moves away from me momentarily as I take the time to catch my breath, listening to him fumble with his boxers that are discarded onto the floor in a moment.

He’s slipping in me almost instantly, his hips stilling as he bottoms out and all I can do is whine.

“Fuck, Rafe- so good.” I whimper, my eyes fluttering shut as I cling onto him, hugging him tightly as his fingers reach around my back to unclip my bra, yanking it off of me as he breathes heavily. His lips move to focus on my breasts, lips skimming and tongue swirling around my peaked nipples, alternating back and forth between breasts as I whine and writhe against him. I tuck my lip between my teeth as his hips start moving, a small sigh leaving his lips as he thrusts. My hands find his cheeks so I can look up at him, wanting to capture every image- every smile, every blink, every whimpered gasp that escapes him- I want to engrain it in the parts of my mind that I can tuck away and keep with me forever, needing him close and needing to comfort that he offers me for the rest of my life. His eyes flutter closed from pleasure, head falling to rest on my collarbone and my lips press against his cheeks in quick, reaffirming kisses.

His thrusts are steady and controlled but he’s ever so deep, my walls hugging them like he was made to be inside of me, fitting my body like his lock to my key, and I can feel him slowly opening up with every thrust. His body relaxes a bit against mine, shoulders slacking as he drops a bit of weight onto me and I take it willingly, loving and memorizing the feeling of his weight on me. I love the sound of his moans and breathy whimpers so much that I feel myself biting my tongue to listen to him.

“Don’t be quiet.” He whispers, his lips capturing mine in a brief kiss and I nod, realizing that I wanted to hear him but didn’t even think for a moment that he might want to memorize my moans, the way my body moves- I’ve been depriving him. Poor man. I contemplate saying something snarky in return but instead I feel his fingers slip down in between us so that he can rub sensual circles against my clit as I squeal, his hand flying over my mouth with a chuckle. “C’mon, loudmouth- I know you can do better than that.” He taunts breathlessly, his hips snapping against me with such power it has me seeing stars, possibly from the lack of oxygen or just from the intensity of his thrusts and the electricity that’s sparking between the two of us. Between that and his skillful fingers, it wouldn’t be long before I was completely done for, him following closely behind I’m sure. “Fuck, so wet.” He groans, finding my lips in a messy kiss as I feel every vein of him thrum against me, arousal-filled blood pumping through us at an unholy pace. “It was so hard not to just tear your clothes off and fuck you dumb on that stupid couch at your office.” I mutter a quiet ‘oh my god’ at the thought of him sitting there across from me, wondering what it would be like to touch me because I was doing the same. I was sure I was going to hell for it but… “You wanted me just as bad didn’t you?” More, I wanted you more than you could ever imagine. I want you more than you could ever possibly imagine.

“Yes, Rafe.” I moan, fingers skimming up his back and all the way up to his hair, dragging my fingers along his scalp which draws a long, drawn out moan from him, his hips snapping harder into mine as his hands grip my hips, slamming into me full force. He leans up onto his knees so he can look down at me, spine straightening as his eyes widen, watching my breasts bounce with every filthy drag of his cock.

“Yeah? Tell me how much.” He orders and I blank, dirty talk coming up completely and utterly short just when I need it. For all the times I imagined this, I wondered if I would take control and have him completely at my mercy- I was so off because I can barely form words as I watch his abs tense and his jaw grind as he gawks at me.

“I wanted to ride you- fuck.” I get cut off by a firm slap to my thigh, core twitching around him at the sensation and he chuckles, hand soothing up my stomach and past my sternum, fingers gently wrapping around my throat in a simple move that has me clenching hard around him and it almost has me spiraling towards my orgasm too soon.

“Go on.”

“Wanted you to choke me, call me yours.” It’s as if he reads my mind because he lets out an incredulous laugh at the position we’re already in, fingers tightening their hold just the slightest bit as I gasp, eyes rolling to the back of my head and I struggle to find the right words. “I just wanted you- want you. Fuck I can’t think.”

“You just wanted me to take care of you, huh?” He asks, suddenly slowly his thrusts drastically and I feel myself trying to chase the speed he once maintained, hips wiggling to find any sort of friction. “Take care of you like you’ve taken care of me?” He slides back down on top of me, hands caressing my cheeks as his lips press gentle, bashful kisses to my cheeks, my nose and finally my lips. “I’ll take care of you, baby- I’ve got you.”

The pace that he takes next is brutal, snapping against my hips in a calculated way as shameless squeals leave me, his deep grunts only spurring me on. “Rafe, shit, I’m close.” I whimper, tears pricking my eyes as I throw my head back, my hands gripping onto his shoulders as much as I can to help myself stay grounded firmly to the couch, fearing I’ll twitch and tremble right out of his grasp. His fingers don’t stop against my clit, rolling it gently, as his thrusts slow drastically once more, his movements subtle and deep as my thighs tremble. “Please.” I plead, my jaw dropping in a silent moan as his nose nudges mine.

“Was that a please?” He asks with a small laugh and my head bobs in an obedient nod. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me up and towards him as I squeal at the new angle, the new feeling taking me over completely. He swallows my loud moans with his lips, messy, open mouthed kisses that leave me hurtling towards the burning heat pooling in my abdomen and his own groans increase as my walls flutter around him. “Come on, I wanna feel you cum.” He whispers breathlessly, my chest heaving out a breath as I topple over the edge, my lips detaching from him as I mumble incoherently.

I tuck my face into his neck as I tremble, feeling him fill me up effortlessly and quietly as he falls over the edge soon after, the feeling of him seeping out of me- dripping down my thighs- it makes my whole body, my mind too, feel so warm and fuzzy. Complete. I feel as if my whole body is vibrating and I cling to him, his weight resting onto me as he catches his breath. He stays inside of me, warm and safe as his arms wrap around me, hugging me nearly as tight as he did earlier when he surprised me at my office. I smile softly, my hair sticking to my cheeks as I press a simple kiss to his freckled shoulder, never wanting to leave his side again.

I love the feeling of his bare skin against mine.

I can feel it lowering my heart rate, calming my mind and my once rapid breaths. I could get used to this hazy feeling of being pressed against him, his cock softening inside of me as we made a mess of my couch, not caring for one second that we’d have to address our feelings later on.

He pulls away from me gently, a bashful smile on his lips as I giggle, reaching up to cover my face out of embarrassment. He lets out a similar shocked laugh, his forehead resting on my collarbone as we laugh together. I shake my head, the fact that we just did that shocking me to my core. “Fuck.” He whispers, his eyes flickering around the living room as he looks down between us, licking his lips as he thinks for a moment. “Stay still, don’t make a mess baby…” He trails off, both of us suddenly aware of the feeling of a familiar substance dripping out of me and onto the couch beneath us. “Bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah, over there.” I motion to the door on the far side of my wall, a quiet sigh of relief leaving his lips as he picks me up in his arms, cradling me to his chest without slipping out of me.

As we get cleaned up, I watch him intently with a soft smile, leaning back onto the cool counter beneath me as he cleans himself up, occasionally looking over at me to toss me a playful wink. There’s something so domestic, so wholesome about this moment right now, both of us in our most vulnerable forms with bright, flushed smiles on our faces. He catches my watchful eyes every once in a while, a shy smile on his lips but, even under my heated gaze, he's managed to pull his boxers back on and hand me his shirt to put on, his back muscles flexing as he rests his arms against the counter beside me. I urge him to step between my legs and he does, back in the same dangerous position we were in on the couch nearly twenty minutes ago. I wrap my arms around his neck, linking my ankles behind him as I smile softly, giving him a playful tilt of my head, almost saying ‘what next’?

“You good?” He asks, lips pressing against my forehead and he lingers, breathing my closeness in.

“More than good.” I whisper, my eyes fluttering away from him as I chuckle bashfully. “Fuck that was like really hot, wasn’t it?” I ask with heated cheeks and his eyes rolling playfully at me as he scoots me towards the edge of the counter, his hips fitting even closer between my thighs as he grins.

“Yeah, really fucking good, doc.” He whispers, the nickname forcing my eyes to roll but my sass is quickly disregarded at his lips pressing against mine in a short kiss. “You’re mine.” He adds once more, more sternly than the last time he said it but it only makes my smile grow wider and I nod my head quickly, knowing every word is true. “Say it.” He orders against my lips, my hands cupping his cheeks as he waits patiently.

“I’m yours, Rafe.” He snakes his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug and, smiling like an idiot, I hold onto the happy man- my happy man- in front of me, both of us just happy.

Both of our paths led us here, right now, to this moment. All of the fights with his dad, my troubling college days, getting harrassed at the bar, Rafe being shipped off to a college he thought he’d hate, keying a professor's car- it led us to one another so how could we possibly complain?

Rubbing his back gently as he holds me, I can’t help but to throw all consequences, giggling to myself as I whisper, “so how about that pay raise?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @bungunz

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #the outer banks #the outer banks fic

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 7 months

Text

Chapter 12

UH OH

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trying to move away from writing toko like chunsoft and adding more to her character (she's traumatized she wants to be loved but she's going about it in the worst way) but in the end none of her actions are condoned. she's fucked up still sorry but written in a more sympathetic light i hope?

syo WILL be in this fic but i do my best to make her hand-wavy explanation ambiguous (fuck whatever canon says about 'textbook split personality' btw)

@moonlighttogami and @tokiwigiwi :)

Content warning tags: implication of stalking/blackmail, Toko-expected creepiness, use of violence, character death

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how much time passes when the door opens again.

“Finally,” He huffs, not bothering to turn. “Took you long enough. Honestly, how long does it take-”

He halts, as the intruder steps into the room, and quickly clicks his handbook shut. These weren’t Makoto’s footsteps. And - he surreptitiously covers his nose - that wasn’t Makoto’s smell. But he knows whose it was.

“...Toko. What do you want.” He turns and glares at the girl who has intruded on his space. She fidgets where she stands, a thin shadow of dark purple. The smell of her has grown stronger over the past few weeks, and hangs around her like a miasma.

“M-master Byakuya…”

He feels a full-bodied shiver of disgust run over his skin. “Don’t call me that.”

She ignores him, and carries on. “A-about last night…”

Right. To be completely honest, he was hoping that he had scared her enough the night before to make her leave him alone entirely. But he’s not surprised either; if she had the nerve to blatantly try and look at his secret, it wasn’t surprising that she had the boldness to try and confront him like this.

“What about last night.” He says stiffly, and she jumps as if shocked.

“I-I know about your eyes!” She blurts at last. “A-and, I know Ch-Chihiro knows it too…I, I heard you t-talking about it i-in the b-bathhouse last night…”

He feels his lip curling, revolted. Of course she had eavesdropped; she was quickly proving to be one of the more annoying stalkers he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. The number of people who were aware of his condition was also rapidly increasing against his will. At this point he might as well do the same as Fujisaki and announce it out loud.

Fukawa continues in her irritating stutter. “A-and…y-your envelope…” He freezes immediately, suddenly latching on to her every word.

“What did it say?” He demands, and she flinches - shivers? - arms crossing over her torso.

“I-if I t-tell you, y-you won’t w-want anything to d-do with m-me anymore…” She mutters, seemingly to herself, and he feels another wave of revulsion roll over him.

“Out with it. I already want nothing to do with you, but if you don’t speak up now-”

What will he do? He tries to come up with a threat that can hold actual weight, but they all sound pathetic, even to himself. If only Makoto were here, he could at least get him to chase her away…how long does it take to talk to three people, anyways?

Ironically, it’s Fukawa who saves him from having to think of something. “I-I know you’re r-really mad at m-me for r-reading your secret last night,” She continues, and she’s swaying slightly, as if drunk. “U-um, I-I promise n-not to t-tell anyone! About your eyes, o-or your envelope…a-and, I’ll t-tell you mine, t-too.”

“I’m not interested.” He says flatly. “Tell me what was written in my envelope. Now.”

She shakes her head instead. “I-I know th-there’s no way for you t-to have r-read yours yet, right? S-so only I know!” The light catches on her spectacles, and it gives the illusion of two, illuminated orbs on her face. “W-which makes me m-more special than M-Makoto, or Chihiro, right?”

She sounds deranged. Her voice is pitched with desperation, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes a step closer. “I-I know all your s-secrets, and once y-you know mine…s-so you can r-rely on me, m-more than Makoto, o-or Chihiro?” Another step, and the floorboard creaks. “I-I’ll do better than th-them! And, and I can accept you f-for all your secrets, s-so, you don’t n-need them, I promise!”

“Stay back.” He snaps, shifting backwards. The revulsion was curdling, mixing with fear, and crawling down his back like something physical, like the vile, unwanted sensation of fingernails, tickling over his skin. He hates this irrational panic - she was just a girl, and a pathetic one at that - but here he was, shying away anyways, unable to discern her next move, her intentions. “I’m warning you-”

She lurches forward, and he takes an inadvertent step back. His back meets the bookshelf; he was trapped. “S-so don’t get scared,” She says, though these words really only have the opposite effect on him. “D-do you remember the news, a few y-years back? A-about Genocider S-Syo?”

Genocider Syo? The name sounds familiar, but it takes him a moment to place where he’s heard it before. It was a few years before he enrolled at Hope’s Peak, while in transit to some social gathering or another; Pennyworth had left the car radio tuned to the local news.

“The serial killer?” He asks aloud, as he subtly searches the shelves behind him, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The tip of his index finger catches on the spine of a large, plastic-bound copy of some textbook or another, and he leverages it slowly out of the shelf, feeling sweat beginning to slicken its cover.

She nods eagerly, her braids bouncing. “I-I knew you’d kn-know about it,” She sounds relieved, somehow, voice breathless. “Y-you know, th-the first place Syo turned up was the town w-where I was b-born…i-it was my f-first crush that was the f-first victim, y’know?”

It clicks together quickly for him. The radio announcer had described bloody and ugly scenes of murder, the displayed corpses of young men and boys, all attributed to a mysterious killer with a penchant for stabbing their victims. And now standing before him was a clearly-deranged, unwell girl, well-known for her romance novels, and apparently obsessed with him.

“I-it’s okay!” She says hurriedly, as he presses himself closer to the shelf. “Sh-she only c-comes out when I-I’m really t-tired, o-or if I see b-blood…b-but, I c-can control her! I am controlling her, I promise!” She steps forward again, and this close, he can see the sickly flush on her face, the shine of sweat - tears? - down her cheeks. “I’ve b-been working s-so hard, s-so she won’t h-hurt anyone again…so it’s o-okay! I c-can be good! See?” She hiccups slightly, she must be crying. He can’t imagine why. “S-so now we can be equal, r-right?!”

She staggers towards him again, and he reacts before he can even think twice about it, yanking the book from its shelf and swinging blindly. The edge catches her across the face, whipping it sharply to the side with a sickly crack and a squeal - there’s a crest of blood, splattering up the length of the book, he can feel a few warm drops splash his hand, the skin crawling where it landed - and she crashes against the shelves with a shriek, stumbling.

“Why?!” She wails, hands shooting to her face. She sounds genuinely distraught, and she shakes as she scrubs at her nose with her palms. “I-I told you m-my biggest secret, a-and I kn-know yours…w-why won’t you tr-trust me?!”

“Trust you?!” He laughs, mirthless and a little frenzied, pitched wildly with his thudding heart. “You repulse me.” He steps forward now, book still clutched in his shaking hand. “Why would I ever trust a murderer in a killing game?”

She flinches as if his words were more physical blows, stumbling away from him and knocking against the shelf. A few books rain down, thudding open on the floor. “I-It’s not me,” She babbles, clutching at her head. “S-Syo - she’s j-just s-someone else, she’s in m-me, b-but I can c-control her, I p-promise - sh-she’s not me, she’s not me, she’s not!”

It sounds vaguely like some dramatized description of a split personality, though Byakuya had never heard of any such disorder that matched Fukawa’s apparently extreme case. Whatever the girl had going on would probably warrant its own DSM volume, but he wasn’t particularly interested in that. “I don’t care if she’s a ghost that’s possessing you or a secret twin taking your place. I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“B-but-”

“Get out.” He snarls, chest heaving. “If I hear anything - anything - on my condition, I will make you wish you were dead.” She doesn’t move, and he feels his teeth clench enough to creak. “I said, OUT.”

She darts, stumbling and stepping through one of the piles of boxes on the floor, completely breaking through the lid. Whatever was inside it stays looped around her ankle as she kicks the lid off, and clicks against the floor as she sprints away, her sobs fading as she goes.

___

For safety, he blocks off the door to the library with the chair, jamming it beneath the handles.

Then, he waits for Makoto, pacing, agitated. Really, how long could it take to accompany one person to talk to three people? His clock in his handbook stated that hardly an hour had passed since Makoto first left, and ten minutes since he sent Fukawa away. Surely, he had to be coming back eventually?

Not that there was anything keeping Byakuya in the library, other than his own uncertainty regarding his safety. Considering that he knew Fukawa’s alternate identity, and her apparent infatuation with him, it would be foolish to make the trek back to his room alone.

He stops pacing, frustration and restlessness boiling over. And returns to the files, shuffling through them, handbook held aloft to read the names printed on the edge of each folder, ignoring the ones that clatter to the ground after he shoves them haphazardly back. Finally, he comes across the one he's looking for, and slides it out of the shelf.

The front of it is stamped with the title in silver: ‘The Murder Cases of Genocider Syo: Top Secret’. He flips it open.

The text is interspersed with images of the victims before and after their unfortunate encounters with Fukawa. He can’t make much out about them, other than the fact that all the murder scenes seemed similar enough; photos of pale bodies, stretched out as if crucified, splattered with blood. Their faces, which must have been twisted with agony, are merely dark smudges.

“...As with the other cases, at the scene of the crime the word ‘BLOODLUST’ was written with the victim’s blood,” Alter Ego reads aloud. “The scissors used in the murder were apparently custom-made, with every pair left at each murder scene seeming to be of the same material and construction…”

How vile. He flips through the pages (one of which is annoyingly wrinkled, and furthermore, smudged with dirt), reading through the victim's descriptions. There was a sort of morbid curiosity that drew him to read further, even as his stomach turned with the knowledge that he could end up like one of these men; pinned like a butterfly for the killer to admire and laud over.

He snaps the file shut at last, feeling nauseous, and sinks down with his back against the shelf, suddenly exhausted - the adrenaline from Fukawa’s confrontation is gone, leaving behind a bone-deep fatigue. Sluggishly, he categorizes what he knows:

One: Fukawa was also Genocider Syo, a notorious serial killer who targeted young men.

Two: Fukawa both knew he was blind, and the contents of his envelope. He reaches into his pocket and feels for it, the paper now crinkled and warped. He still can’t bring himself to try and use Alter Ego to read its contents, but so long as Fukawa knew…there was little he could do about it.

That brought him to three: Fukawa was apparently obsessed with him. That was clear from the start, but he underestimated how dangerous her infatuation was. What she wanted from him was, apparently, some kind of romanticized relationship, if her mutterings about mutually sharing secrets and calling him ‘master’ was anything to go by, but nothing that could possibly be built on equal footing. Not if she was trying to leverage the envelope’s contents and his blindness against him.

He pauses at that. Did Fukawa know he was capable of using Alter Ego through his handbook to read? If she did, then there was no point in her trying to hold it over him. But then that meant she might try to manipulate him in other ways, the most simplest being blackmail. For that, he’d need to silence her…

And to do that, I would need to kill.

He drums his fingers against the hardwood floor. It’d be hard, but he could do it. She was already fixated on him, it should be easy enough to lure her somewhere and take care of her, either with a blunt-force weapon or strangulation - stabbing was too messy with the blood splatter - but the real difficulty then was how to conceal his tracks.

He thinks for a moment of Maizono, and how she had swapped rooms with Makoto solely for this intention. He thought her foolish then, but in hindsight, it really was an impressive display of quick thinking…though, it wasn’t one that he could copy.

What if he did it in a shared space? In one of the empty classrooms? People hardly went into these rooms, and it’d be harder to pin down the culprit. But he’d have to be fast about it, and careful; anyone who sees him or Fukawa entering that space, or leaving it, could easily identify him as the suspect. It’d have to happen at night.

But, she’s also smarter than she looks… He rubs at his temples now, frowning. She might see the similarities between this and Maizono’s attempt, and realize it’s a trap. I can’t risk that. It’d be easier if I could easily pin it on someone, but the amount of people who might be stupid or willing enough to let themselves be used…

The list was very short. Makoto, who was already a non-option. Yamada, who was too closely allied with Celeste to be trusted. Hagakure, who was too paranoid to be easily led into anything anyways...

And Chihiro.

He’s suddenly struck with the realization that if he succeeds, the others die. It would not be just one person’s blood on his hands, it would be multiple, including those he chooses not to directly involve. He hesitates, for an instant - and then lowers his hands slowly, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He’s already failed before he even started. This game could only have one winner, and if he could not fully commit himself to that role and accept the consequences of it, then he was never a real competitor to begin with. Circles within circles. He was back to the start.

Frustration isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so overwhelmed with it, as he tilts his head back, knocking it against the shelf as he stares blankly at the brown fog of the ceiling. And then slams a fist against the floor, hissing venomous, ugly curses under his breath. If only he had his eyes, again - he wouldn’t need to be so concerned with such things, wouldn’t need to waver - and yet.

Where the hell is Makoto? He thinks numbly, exhausted with it all. He was sick of being left with nothing but his nerves, and how long did it take to talk to just three people anyways?

Thump, thump, thump.

A rhythmic banging snaps him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks it’s coming from the door, and clumsily pushes himself up, while fumbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon - his hands find the hard, stiff cover of a case file, still on the floor - and stares down the door, waiting for someone to break through it-

But nothing. The chair that’s stuck under the doorknob hasn’t even budged, from what he can tell. The banging continues, and he realizes it sounds more like hammering than knocking. It wasn’t even against the library door.

Construction? Hagakure did mention hearing construction sounds earlier. Was Monokuma building something again?

The sound ends, replaced by footsteps approaching his door. He tenses, taking a step back, but a moment later, the footsteps patter down the hall and away, fading out of earshot.

He stays where he is for a long moment, caught between terror and curiosity. Curiosity wins out, and he steps slowly to the door, hesitating once more with one hand on the chair.

But before he can even do anything, the air is pierced by a blood-curdling scream, and he throws the chair away, yanking the door open-

Only to be met with the sight of Chihiro Fujisaki’s corpse.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff chapters #thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #hi....sorry for the delay...#in my defense i was waffling a while about posting this bc once i do it means im locked into my trial 2 case and scene etc #and im still writing the trial 2 scene WHOOPS....#also was feeling very bleh this past week. whatever im fine now #byakuya full on plotting a murder before realizing. wait a minute. i care about people now.#and then having a mild crisis about it. prince zuko style except instead of getting a fever he starts swearing in french #hitting a girl? not cool byakuya #im so sorry chihiro i love you tho #the scene were toko gets makoto to go with her to talk to byakuya doesnt happen here #and also toko has been watching byakuya hang out exclusively with makoto #and hearing the rumors that they were having a scandalous drauma-fraught romance #so she ended figuring that the best thing she could do was corner him herself. hence the gathering of blackmail material etc etc #not necessarily the most romantic thing but she sees it as creating a level playing field where he's forced to acknowledge her at all

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rsedits9420 · 2 years

Note

mark estapa taking care of injured reader or other way around or both

Caretaker

Mark Estapa blurb

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

I was leaving my last lecture for the day to go get ready for Mark’s game tonight. Mark is my boyfriend of 3 years. We met junior year of highschool and instantly fell for each other. I followed him to U-Mich as he continued to presume his hockey career. He says I’m his number one cheerleader. And I kinda am. I love to make outrageous signs and go all out for the games. I even purchased season tickets where my seat was right next to the penalty box. Mark didn’t find me as funny as his friends did for doing that, but what can I say? When your boyfriend has over 80 penalty minutes, you expect him to be in the box a lot. Tonight they play Pen State at home. It’s nearing the end of the regular season, so emotions are running high. Our boys need to keep winning. And that’s what they plan to do.

I am stopped at a red light when all of sudden I hear a screech. I quickly turn my head to be met with the sight of a 18 wheeler flipping on the road. I’m frozen. I can’t move. The truck looks like it’s flying in slow motion and it’s coming straight for me. I instinctively protect my head. The truck hits the roof of my car and I sink down into the seat. Something knocks my head, and then my vision goes black.

Mark

As the team is just ending our pregame warm ups, Coach calls me into his office. Damn. Please don’t bench me. I already promised to not get anymore penalties. “Mark. Can you sit down for a sec?” I nod and go sit in the leather chair across from his desk. “Mark something has happened. I don’t know the full extent, but I know when I tell you, you’re not going to want to play tonight.” I look at him with a worrisome look, ” What happened?” I say. “ Y/n was in an accident. An 18 wheeler flipped on top of her car. From all I know she’s at the hospital and she’s stable. They couldn’t give me any more information. I’m sorry that’s all I have, but I already talked to Philippe and he’s going to take you, because I don’t want you to drive in your condition.”

I’m in shock. She got in a crash?

Y/n got hurt.

That’s the only thought going through my head.

We were talking on the phone less than 2 hours ago. I quickly get out of my head and go to get my stuff. I quickly grab my phone and wallet and go to find Lapointe.

Phil dropped me off at the hospital, he offered to stay but I told him just to go back to the game and I’d keep him updated. As I walk in, I go straight up to the front desk. “Ma‘am I’m looking for a Y/n Y/l/n. I’m her boyfriend. I was told she was in an accident.” I say in a worried manner. The receptionist clicks something on the computer then says,” She’s just down that hall there, room number 1432. I thank her and quickly make my way down the hallway she pointed too. When I open the door, a man in a lab coat says,”You must be y/n’s emergency contact. She was sitting at a red light when a car collided with an 18 wheeler, which caused the 18 wheeler to flip. Luckily it wasn’t going full force towards her, so she has minimalistic injuries. She has a concussion, broken collarbone, and a couple fractured ribs. Other than that she has some cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious. She’s a lucky girl, that’s for sure. She was in fact knocked unconscious at the scene, and is still struggling to gain consciousness. We suspect she has a grade 3 concussion.” I nod and try to process the information. “I am allowed to see her?” I ask still in shock. He opens the door and I see her fast asleep. She has a big bruise on her forehead and a busted lip. I hurry and get by her side. I put her hand in mine and hold it close.

About an hour later, she starts to stir. “Baby, are you awake? I’m here y/n. It’s me Mark. I’m here.” I whisper. Her eyelashes flutter and her beautiful y/c eyes appear. “M-mark. Is that you?”she groans. I grab both her hands into mine and say,” Yes baby. I’m here. Are you feeling better?” She looks at me with a confused expression and says,”What happened? How did I get here?” I tell her all of what happend and at first she’s upset about her car her dad had given her for her 18th birthday, but I told her we would get her another one. All I was worried about was her health. I loved this girl with every bone in my body. And I would spend the rest of my life staying by her side.

The next day, she struggles to move, so I’m helping her do anything she needs. Her body is still bruised and cut. They gave her a cast and she let me sign it first. She says I’m lucky because she’ll be wearing my signature for the next month. We have spent the majority of our time laying with each other and me holding her. There isn’t much she can do so I like to get my phone so she can listen to some of her favorite tv shows.

Y/n

Two weeks later

After I got discharged 9 days ago, I’ve been staying with Mark and his roommates. He insisted that I stay with him, so he could be there if I needed anything. He’s totally been babying me, but honestly I’m not complaining. He’s a real sweetheart when he wants to be. He’s always trying to make sure I’m super comfortable. It the sweetest thing. I am hopelessly in love with this man it isn’t even funny.

“Babe! Can you bring me a Gatorade so I can take my pain killer?” I shout. After a few minutes, I hear loud footsteps coming towards Marks room,” Here. I got you red and yellow. You can pick which one you want. Me and the boys have to head to the rink in 15 minutes, but call me if you need anything. I’ll check my phone at every water break just in case.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and say,” Love you Marky!” He cups my check and gives me a gentle kiss on the lips, while saying,” I love you more that you’ll ever know.”

Then the next day, all of the guys were going to get lunch and Mark refuse to leave me alone. “I wouldn’t be a good caregiver if I left you alone, now would I?” He asked. We ended up just cuddling for the rest of the afternoon. He also made sure to play my favorite songs so I can have somthing to listen to. The hardest part of the whole thing is no screens. Lucky for me I have an AMAZING a boyfriend, who just went to get me some more books from the library.

My car was totaled, so today we are shopping for a new one. Mark wants one he can actually fit in, but when you're a 6 '2 hockey player it’s hard to find cars that fit him that aren’t trucks. “Babe look at this one!” I point at the tahoe in front of us. “Let’s check it out.” Me and Mark both go over to it and we both fall in love with it. We both get in and he says,” you could take all of us to the rink in this! You could be our personal taxi!” I laugh at Mark's comment, then I say,” Or…. You could finally fit in so you could drive me! That way I’m the passenger princess not you!” I say jokingly. “I am not!” He says defensively. I laugh and plant a kiss on his check before going back to checking out the car.

We ended up getting the Tahoe. Mark drove it back so I could return the rental car. He picked me up from the rental place and took us home. On our way home I felt one thing, peace. The past couple weeks have been hectic. With the crash, hockey, and school, I haven’t felt calm in a while. I think I can get used to this.

Me and Mark get back to the apartment, and he helps me to the door. Almost 3 weeks later and I’m still sore. “Come on. I got you.” Mark whispers in my ear. He has been nothing but supportive and caring for the past 3 weeks. I feel bad because I can’t do anything for him in return. “So we have a game today, and yeah I know you can fully get to go, but I got a coach to let me snag you a suit to watch the game. You’ll be in your own quiet room and it’s pretty dark up there so it should be fine for you to come.” I give him a kiss and say,” Now what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t come watch your game? Of course I’ll go! I want to see my baby get some more penalties!” He gives me a serious look while saying,” You better not. If I get anymore penalties I’ll be benched for the rest of the year.” I giggle,” Mark I was just playing around with you. I know you’ll be smart about it.” He pulls me in close to kiss me one last time before leading me to the kitchen so he can make my favorite soup. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better caretaker. He’s the best there ever was.

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