#BUT ITS BEEN FUN FLIRTING AND LIKING SOMEONE

[kuronarnze]

a/n: no comments. Just love charles sm + enjoy the oneshot.

Charles Chevalier x Reader !

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Unusualness.

Charles Chevalier was used to attention.

Everywhere he went, people naturally gravitated toward him—drawn in by his golden hair, sharp features, and confident, teasing personality. He was charming, after all. A natural flirt, always throwing in a wink or a well-placed compliment that made people flustered.

But then there was you.

The quiet girl who always sat by the window, minding her own business, unfazed by his antics. While others melted under his gaze, you barely reacted. And that? That drove Charles insane.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to get a reaction out of you.

“Mademoiselle y/n,” Charles drawled as he slid into the seat beside you, his light yellow eyes practically glowing with mischief. “You look absolutely stunning today.”

You barely glanced up from your book. “You say that every day, Charles.”

“Because it’s true every day,” he shot back smoothly.

You sighed, turning a page. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Charles smirked. “Why would I, when my favorite person is right here?”

You gave him a look—one that wasn’t annoyed, but more like… unamused acceptance. Charles was persistent. Too persistent. He had been like this since day one, constantly throwing compliments your way, waiting for the day you’d finally crack and give him the reaction he wanted.

But you never did.

At least, not in the way he expected.

Because one day, as he was going on about how lucky the school was to have “such a breathtaking beauty within its walls,” you finally spoke up.

“If I’m so breathtaking, why are you the one who’s always speechless?”

Charles froze.

You blinked at him, waiting for his usual smooth comeback, but it never came. Instead, he just… stared at you, lips slightly parted, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

Oh.

Oh, this was fun.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you teased, tilting your head. “Did I finally win?”

Charles cleared his throat, leaning back as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “Mon dieu… You wound me, y/n.”

You smirked. “I thought I was breathtaking?”

His eyes flickered with amusement, and then—he laughed. A genuine, lighthearted laugh that made your chest feel strangely warm.

“You are,” he admitted, golden eyes meeting yours. “And that’s exactly why I’m speechless.”

Your smirk faltered for half a second. But Charles caught it.

And this time, you were the one who looked away first.

Much to his delight.

End.

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Thank you for reading ! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[reikafanfic]

Random Nsfw Head Canons For Riize Hyung line (with Fem!Reader)

( Includes: Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin )

Just my personal thoughts, don't take it too seriously this is just for fun <3

I also don't proofread so get ready for a lot of typos and an absolute bastardization of the English language

Hyung line, Maknae line

♡ ♡ Shotaro ♡ ♡

I know because he's naturally cute and he has a round wholesome face you might be fooled into thinking he's innocent and vanilla WRONG this man is a tried and true SLUT.

I mean, its been said before but it's bears repeating, have you SEEN his old dance videos?

You can't tell me he wasn't the community dick for a while, this mf is ran through.

All in all he has quite a bit of experience and I could see him both loving to be with someone who's just as experienced or teaching someone not as experienced his favourite kinks.

I don't see him as particularly picky in that aspect, he's still a sweetheart, just happy to be there.

Definitely loves head, like it's one of his favourite bedroom activities, both receiving and giving.

If there's something like the opposite of a breeding kink he has it, giving pleasure with no other goal.

There is no baby making, he's on his knees for you because he wants YOU to feel good, and vice versa.

Just straight up sinning for the sake of it, he maybe has some hints of a corruption kink.

Always encouraging you to be demanding and bold with him, take what you want from him he's yours after all.

Shame is not a thing with this guy, always open to try something new.

He's always softly encouraging you, giving you a teasing smile as he asks you to tell him what you wanna try.

"c'mon sweetheart, use your words"

Definitely loves hitting it from the back, hands on your hips as he slams them down on his dick.

He's more of a moaner than a groaner, mainly because he knows how much his pretty voice turns you on.

He definitely leans more dominant but will gladly sub, like I said before he's just happy to be there.

The only times he's every truly being submissive and not putting on a show for your enjoyment is when you tie him up and edge him till he's a mess.

Looking up at you with his big brown eyes, pleading with you.

"I've been so good....fuck please just let me cum I'll do anything"

He's also got aftercare down to a science, taylors what he does based on what you need in the moment.

Whether it's cuddling with you until you both fall asleep or helping you take a shower he's down for whatever.

Super chatty after sex too, pillow talk is his favourite part.

♡ ♡ Eunseok ♡ ♡

I know everyone sees him as a daddy Dom or a "call me sir" type but I honestly think he's more sexually conservative than people think.

Which is to say he likes to "court" you before he fucks you, wants to get to know you before he's bending you over.

He definitely likes to be dominant but that side of him doesn't come out until later, in the beginning he's just trying to figure himself out.

He isn't a virgin but doesn't have nearly as much experience as shotaro which is why he takes it slow.

What's that saying? Slow and steady wins the race?

That's definitely true for him because once he figures out what makes you tick it's OVER for you.

He figures out what your sweet spots are, how you like him to touch you, how you like to be talked to and when he knows all of that he'll be using it against you every chance he gets.

You flirt with the waiter to make him jealous? He's grazing your thigh and whispering into your ear just how you like until you're squirming.

Teases you throughout dinner until you're dripping only to act like nothing happened when you get back to the car .

"Did I forget something? What is it? Use your big girl words, Sir can't read your mind"

Also knows exactly how to edge you to make It feel the most frustrating, smirking as you whine and beg for him to let you cum.

Also loves spanking you, his favourite thing is having you bent over his lap, fingers in your cunt, pulling them out just as you're about to finish and slapping your ass.

Mildly sadistic, but only mildly, the extreme stuff doesn't appeal to him. It's fun to spank you but I think he'd get uncomfortable using a crop, the chances of seriously hurting you are just too high.

Don't let him fool you though, he's still a softy at heart, he can only tease you so much before he's giving in.

Sex always starts out rough but by the end of it he's cooing at you, telling you he loves you as he lets you cum over and over.

"Don't look at me like that...you know it makes me weak"

Gets all mushy towards the end of sex, goes from talking about how much of a slut you are to how much he loves you, is super embarrassed about it after.

Again he isn't as experienced as Shotaro so his aftercare could use some work, he gets a good handle on things after a while though.

Makes sure to clean you up and massage you if you're sore.

Unlike Shotaro he's quiet after sex, just wanted to hold you and run his fingers through your hair, preferably having your head on his chest.

King of forehead kisses.

♡ ♡ Sungchan ♡ ♡

He's similar to Eunseok in the sense that he definitely prefers to be more dominant and likes it rough but he doesn't take himself nearly as seriously.

Even when he's playing a more dominant role he still flashes you his big smile from time to time, he's still your sweet boyfriend after all.

He didn't wait to have sex with you like Eunseok did, he's down to do it whenever you want, he would've fucked you on the first date if you'd asked.

SIZE KINK, he loves how much taller he is than you, constantly wants to compare hand sizes or rest his head on yours.

Loves making you ride him, your smaller frame struggling to take his cock, big eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"Fuck just like that baby, you look so good like this"

Don't forget, just because you're on top doesn't mean he's giving up control, he's still in charge.

He, like Eunseok, is also mostly a Dom but he isn't necessarily as rigged, if you wanna Dom him he'll let you have your fun for a little bit.

He'll eventually get frustrated though, flipping you over to fuck you into next week.

Speaking of size kink, he loves man handling you, you don't need to lift a finger when you're with him because he can just move you himself.

You literally get tossed around like a ragdoll during sex.

Also LOVES being sent Nudes, pretty lingerie is the biggest turn on for him, sending him suggestive pics in a new set you bought while he's working is the fastest way to get your brains fucked out.

Has probably the highest sex drive in riize, he's down to clown anything time anywhere.

Probably the most into semi-public sex, isn't above sneaking off to fuck you in a closet in-between schedules, hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds.

"shh, be a good girl and stay quiet, no-one gets to hear your sweet moans but me."

Probably the most lazy during aftercare, just wants to cuddle up and go to sleep.

Will clean you up if you complain but only does the bare minimum in that regard, he just can't wait to cuddle up with you.

Another chatterbox after sex, will talk your ear off about literally anything and everything.

♡ ♡ Wonbin ♡ ♡

The switchest switch of them all, he doesn't really lean strongly towards subbing or domming he's down either way.

When he's subbing he's definitely a bit of a pillow princess, I mean have you SEEN him?? That's my wife frl.

He loves being tied up and played with. Just use him to your hearts content, he's just your toy, edge him, making him cum over and over, ride him, tease him, he just wants to be good for you.

Your wish is his command, he doesn't get bratty often because he craves you praising him more than anything, all of you have to say is "Be a good boy and _____" and he's doing it.

HOWEVER he definitely has a jealous streak, he only gets disobedient when you're paying attention to someone else more than him, if you hug your guy friend a little too close Infront of him it'll set him off.

"No no just pretend like I don't exist, it's fine, I know how much you love attention"

He does all this just so he can feel you fuck the attitude out of him, probably the most likely to be into pegging.

Wants YOU to manhandle HIM.

His face buried in the pillow and you fuck into him, looking back at you with teary eyes as he whines and moans, a little bit of drool coming out.

"Fuck- I'm sorry- please- please please"

He isn't even sure what he's begging for, he just needs you so bad.

And when he's domming you? He's honestly more of a soft dom, this man is putty in your hands.

He tries to be mean, he really does, and he succeeds for like five minutes, having you tied down and teasing you, almost pushing his cock in but always pulling back before even his tip is inside, making you beg for his cock.

Beg is singular though because he melts at the first "please" you let out, he really can't deny you anything.

Seriously, you look at him pleadingly ONCE and he sighs, giving you whatever you want, you've got him wrapped around your finger.

His aftercare is different depending on of he was domming or not, if he was subbing he's whiny as hell.

Wants to be cleaned up and showered in praise, wrapped up in your arms as you run your fingers through his hair

Will literally bury his face in your boobs and fall asleep, he's not much of a talker.

If he's domming he's honestly a little lazy, will cuddle up with you but won't really do any cleaning unless you insist.

Holds you close to his chest and runs his fingers though your hair until you fall asleep, sneaking in a few pecks.

He does more of his aftercare the morning after, bringing you breakfast in bed or if he isn't feeling particularly up to it he'll order you food.

Ngl I'm very nervous to post this because criticism scares me but I've been wanting to make a blog for a while so here goes, please be nice😞🙏🏼

[usoinked]

♥️Your Girl♥️ (Manipulative! Zilla Fatu X Slightly!Obsessive Black Reader)

CW: Jealousy, Rough Sex (it’s a LOT going on), Choking, Dirty Talk, Toxic (man this is really hitting close to home😗), Cheating (Is It Really Though?), Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Gaslighting, Unprotected P in V

Word Count: 5.7k+

Carry me off the stage

I can't do this anymore

Been gone for three years

Is that enough for you, boy?

Carry me to my bed

Paint my toe nails blue

Tell me all about the things

That you and I will never do

That’s what it felt like. You and Zilla did so many things together, he carried you around in the bedroom, stayed near you in public, bought you flowers and gifts….but he didn’t put anything on that. There wasn’t a label between the two of you at all. You wished there was so bad, he’d been near you, close to you, and even inside of you so it wasn’t fair. Anywhere he went, you were right there but with the way he acted in public, it was like you were his assistant more than anything. In private, he catered to you like you were his world but in public, he stayed near you, but never held your hand. You didn’t notice it too much at first because you were so caught up in the love and affection he showed you in the bedroom everytime you two were caught between the sheets but overtime…the more you two kept seeing each other, you started to become obsessed with wanting more of that attention…more of it than just in the bedroom. You didn’t want to just have his attention in the bedroom, you didn’t want him giving his attention to other bitches or entertaining them, you wanted him to claim you. You wanted to to be his girl.

I wish I was your girl

I wish I was your girl

I wish I was your girl, oh

I wish I was your girl

I wish I was your girl

I wish I was your girl, oh

It had been three years since that night at the roller rink, but every time you closed your eyes, the memory still felt fresh. The flashing lights, the smooth roll of the skates beneath your feet, and the electric buzz of the music that made everything feel alive. Zilla’s presence had been magnetic, pulling you in with that cocky smile and the way his eyes seemed to trace every curve of your body, even when he wasn’t looking directly at you. But back then, it was a spark, something casual. A vibe that felt like it could grow into something—only it never did.

You’d been feeling yourself that night. It was Skate & Sip night at Cascadia, and you had every intention of gliding through the rink like you owned it. You were in a tight white tank top that stopped just above your belly button, showing off a hint of skin. The ripped jean jacket you wore added a laid-back, cool vibe to your outfit, while your ripped jeans hugged your curves and heightened the outline of your ass just right. A soft peek of your lacy pink panties flirted with the edges of your jeans, adding a little edge to your look. Your box braids, all sleek and golden, flowed down to your hips, their edges adorned with small golden beads that clinked gently as you skated.

You hadn’t even noticed your lip gloss had a slight strawberry flavor that lingered on your lips, a secret taste you knew no one else could experience. But it was your brown skates with the orange wheels that sealed the deal. The pop of color matched the subtle hint of pink peeking out from your jeans, bringing the whole look together. A cherry-flavored lollipop was tucked in your mouth, its sweet tanginess adding flavor to the air around you as you glided around the rink.

Your feet moved in sync with the music, twisting and turning with ease, skating backwards, forwards, even throwing in a twirl for fun. You were lost in your own world, the rhythm of the night pulling you deeper into the moment until—bam. You crashed into someone hard, the impact sending you straight to the floor with a yelp, your ass hitting the hard surface. The lollipop almost flew out of your mouth, but before you could even register the sting, a voice pulled you from your haze.

“Oh damn, you ight?” He said immediately extending his tatted covered hand as an offer to help you up.

You looked up, and for a split second, you forgot you were on the floor. Staring down at you was a man whose presence was overwhelming even in this busy rink. His dark black mullet with red tips at the ends in the back, the short strands that sat over his forehead, the sides of his hair faded neatly, and his tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his shirt completed the art piece standing in front of you. And then you saw it: the “Z” on his neck. You’d never seen anyone wear their name like that before or even an initial. Bold. Unapologetic.

He reached down a hand to help you up, and you couldn’t help but take it, gripping his arm with a steady pull as you stood to your feet. “Damn, that was a hard ass fall,” you laughed, brushing yourself off.

“No problem, ma. Be careful next time though,” he said, voice low, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t worried about the fall…too much, his attention was more so directed to you.

You couldn’t stop staring at the “Z” tattoo on his neck. You hadn’t been into tattoos much before, but on him, it felt like part of his essence. Letting go of his hand, you took the lollipop out of your mouth for a split second, the red tinge left behind on your tongue. “Your tattoo… what’s that Z for?” you asked, curiosity slipping past the edge of your lips.

His eyebrow arched slightly, amusement in his gaze. “Zilla. That’s my name.”

“Y/N,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips as popped the lollipop back into your mouth, the cherry flavor a sweet distraction from how intimidating he looked.

And then, as if the universe decided it was time to turn the night up a notch, “Pony” by Ginuwine began blarring through the speakers. The entire rink seemed to move with the beat. The lights dimmed and spun, and the air grew slightly thick around you both.

“You tryna dance wimme?” you asked, stepping closer, the flirtation in your voice smooth as honey. “Maybe I can be more careful this time.”

Zilla chuckled softly, that low rumble making you feel like you were right there, close enough to hear his heartbeat. “You something else, ma,” he said, a smirk forming. “I ain’t mad at it.”

Without another word, he took your hand, his rough fingers grazing over your skin as your fingers intertwined. The touch sent a shiver through your spine, and before you could even think, the two of you were rolling onto the rink floor, your skates gliding smoothly as the music wrapped around you. His arms, inked and strong, found their place around your waist, pulling you in close. You spun on the wheels, laughing, lost in the rhythm, your heart racing as his body pressed closer.

For that moment, everything felt right. Perfect. But it was only a moment.

Back in the present, you sat in your room, your hands subconsciously wrapped around your waist, imagining the warmth of Zilla’s arms again. The memory of his touch lingered, but it wasn’t the same. You weren’t just thinking of the moments when it was just the two of you in that bedroom, where his attention was all yours. You wanted more than that. You wanted him in the world outside those four walls.

But the reality was clear. You weren’t his girl. You weren’t anything. He’d been close to you in ways no one else had been, but when it came to the world beyond those sheets, you were invisible. To him, you were nothing more than an accessory, a companion on his arm, one of the many women he had in his section at his kickbacks or hostings, never anything to claim.

You wanted him to claim you.

You wanted that title.

You needed him to show the world that you were his, not just in those quiet, intimate moments but out there, where everyone could see. You didn’t want to be someone’s secret anymore.

You longed for more than just being his assistant. You wanted to be his girl.

And no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t enough, the truth was that you were getting tired of waiting for him to take that next step. But something deep down, your conscious told you that would never happen because there was something else. There was someone else. You weren’t the type to just accuse someone out of the blue but that made the most sense. All of the signs pointed to him having…another girl. Someone who wasn’t you. The ache in your chest, the way your blood boiled at the thought, and the expression on your face said everything, it didn’t matter that you weren’t together. It’s what he did, how he made you feel, and the touch of his tongue across your body that made you cringe at the idea of him doing that to someone who wasn’t you.

As if the Universe heard your pleas, your phone rung and those feelings almost immediately came to a stop for just a second because of the name you saw across the screen. It was rather pathetic, this man who you weren’t even with had you in a chokehold because of how attractive he was outside and inside the sheets. “Zilla🥀” was all you could read before your hands glided across the sheets toward the device. With the click of a button, your soft but stern voice echoed through the other end. “Hello?”

“What’s good witchu ma? Whatchu doin’ tonight?”

“You. If you come over here, you know what time I’m on already.”

The phone was still pressed to your ear, and you could feel your pulse racing with every second that passed. Zilla’s voice, usually so smooth and easygoing, now felt grating, like nails on a chalkboard. The mix of frustration and something else—disappointment, maybe—twisted in your stomach. You’d had enough of his games, it had been three years of manipulation, crying, doubts, and private activities.

“What’s good with you, ma? Whatchu doin’ tonight?” Zilla’s voice came through, casual, like it hadn’t been weeks of him acting like you didn’t matter in public. He was more busy bowling, basking in attention, flashing those grills that beamed everytime he opened his mouth, and paying you no type of mind unless he needed something.

You paused, taking a breath. Trying to calm the rising tension inside you, but it was impossible. His words were too light. Too carefree. Like he didn’t know what was wrong with you, like he really didn’t care. It hurt but you knew you missed him. You wanted him to come over, mess up those once perfect satin sheets, tell you everything you wanted to hear and make you forget everything you feel now for the next 24 to 48 hours at least. Have you in a wide range of emotions from crying to crashing out, only to still be under him when he came back.

“You, if you come over” you said, trying to sound indifferent, but there was a tightness in your voice you couldn’t hide. “You know what type of time I’m on.”

He laughed lightly. “Oh yeah? What type of time is that?” His teased.

“Don’t play wimme,” your voice was a bit more stern, the sound you heard on the other end caused you to bite your lip. “I miss you fucking me into these sheets, the ones you like so much. But you playin’ too much. You out here having me looking dumb as fuck f’real.”

The line went silent for a second, and you could practically hear him shifting to sit up and that was never a good sign, it meant y’all were probably bout to have another argument but you it wasn’t nothing new so who cared.

“What you talkin’ bout now? Everytime we talk about sex, you start this whining shit. You already know I gotchu, so whatchu trippin for?” The toxicity that came from his tone was evident but you still wasn’t backing down because you were pissed. Sexually frustrated too but overall pissed that he could have his way but you couldn’t have yours. Niggas these days, irritating as fuck. “Nah nigga, ain’t no you got me. You got me in the sheets and after that in public, you don’t got shit. Why the fuck am I around you and it’s looking like you got another situation goin’ on?”

“Even if I did have a situation, why it matter? Bruh I met you in a skatin’ rink with your ass out, licking a lollipop. What else you thought we was finna be?”

“And? This ass that you like getting thrown back on you when we in the bedroom though! I love you, I want you to have my babies, I want to keep you close to me” you mocked. That’s all you kept saying the whole time we fucked nigga and you think you can just write me off cuz of a whatever situation you got going on. Fuck your situation, I want you and you deadass playin’ wimme.”

As Zilla went to respond, the girl he had beside him stirred. Her 40 inch buss down moved to the side along head as her brown and gold acrylics gripped the pillow. Her voice was low and groggy, but you heard it on the other end. “Bae, who you on the phone wit?” She said cutting him off and if only you seen the look on his face. You didn’t give him the opportunity to say shit before you hung up, grabbed your purse and made your way to the kitchen to grip your keys. Your acrylic nail tips clawed their way into your skin, that’s how tight your grip was. You put your phone in your purse and slid into your Black Range Rover before pulling out of the driveway. Oh you tryna play nigga. Bet. You knew where he lived because he’d trusted you with his address before but you also knew that no more talking on the phone was needed because this nigga really had the wrong one.

Going 10 over the speed limit, you booked it down the highway going having around 10 exits to get through just before you made it to his house. Technically he didn’t live that far which is even more reason why that nigga should’ve known better than to let you hear another bitch on the phone.

After zooming through 10 exits but still making sure to mind stop lights despite your anger, you pulled into his driveway and quickly got out of the car slamming your door in the process, keys in one hand and phone in the other as you approached the door. You knocked, hard four times not caring if you might’ve been interrupting whatever him and that other girl got going on. Not getting an answer the first time, you knocked again. Only this time the door swung open after almost a few moments later, Zilla standing on the other side in a black graphic t shirt, some shorts and red and black high top dunks. “What the hell is you doin’ here?” He yelled, his voice being above a whisper but obviously where he wasn’t tryna let the other girl know you were here.

You barged past him into the house looking around as you heard the door close behind you. “Don’t play wimme, asking me dumbass questions and shit” you mumbled as you looked around before going upstairs looking into the guest rooms before looking into his room seeing no one there. “Man where the fuck is she at bruh? Bae?! You out here with a whole fucking girlfriend and you having me out here looking crazy! That’s why yo friends out here looking at me sideways and shit! Where she at?”

“They looking at you sideways because of this shit right here! You be trippin! She ain’t here! I told her to leave cause I knew you was finna pull up on this weird shit!”

“Nigga ain’t no weird shit! I’m not stupid! You out here playin’ with me! You got a whole girlfriend!”

“That’s not even my fucking girlfriend! She a girl I’m dealin’ with but what that gotta do witchu? Me and you not together Y/N!”

Your tongue hit the inside of your cheek as you smiled and scoffed before opening his closet door looking around and going into his bathroom looking around before attempting to leave the room before he grabbed you. “Bruh you need to chill, ain’t nobody here!”

“Man move! Move out my way bruh! I said move!”

“And I said no! The fuck is wrong witchu girl! You crazy as fuck coming in here thinking you own shit! This ain’t yo house, take yo ass home!”

“No! So you can bring that bitch back in here! What? You tellin’ her all the things you tell me? Hm? I’m not no game you can play nigga, you thought I wasn’t finna pull up while you got another fucking girl in your bed! On my phone, playing in my face Z!”

“Bruh why it matter though?! We ain’t together! So why you keep bringing that shit up?! This that whining shit I’m talkin’ bout!”

“Because you ain’t shit!” Tears streamed down your face as your voice became sore and slightly hoarse from yelling. “You ain’t shit nigga. You know I want that fucking title…I wanna be your girl and you playing wimme bruh. It’s been 3 years! I can’t stand when you do that shit cuz you know what the fuck you doin’”, as pathetic as some people might’ve seen it, you liked…no loved Zilla. Despite the attention only being in the bedroom, he made you feel special while he did it. Like you were the only girl in the world that mattered to him. He never specifically said he wasn’t looking for nothing serious, his actions might’ve showed he was fooling around but your heart wanted something much more with him. Your brain told you plenty of times to get the hell away from him because you’d never be what you wanted but your heart made you stay right there.

He stayed quiet for a moment, but you could tell he was far from done as he stepped toward you, his jaw clenching once before his eyes locked with yours. His voice was softer but still stern, “I ain’t shit, but you still finna be under me begging me to let you have this though. You crashin’ out and doing all this shit over a title but how I make you feel though?” He said before taking his tatted hand and putting it under your chin. “You doin’ all this crashing out over somebody that ain’t even my girlfriend. You looking crazy ma.” He paused examining your tears. “But I like that on you.”

He was ruining you. Your eyes were red and puffy with tears, your lips were swollen from how emotional you were, your throat was sore from yelling and you couldn’t stand the words that were coming out of his mouth. But he was right, y’all could fight, argue, and literally stop seeing each other over something big or small and you’d still be right back under him. Because he had that type of hold on you. He was like a drug you were addicted to, could take a break but couldn’t stop completely.

“I hate you bruh” you said as you looked at him with more tears still streaming down your face but you knew you didn’t mean it and he knew it too. “Nah you don’t, if you did you wouldn’t be here right now. If you really mean it, leave right now.”

But you couldn’t. Your body wouldn’t let you and you knew you didn’t want to walk out that door. The smug look on his face irritated you and it showed, your brows furrowed and the corners of your lips curled into a slight frown. That was the look you had always gave him, right before y’all were back where you started. Again. When his lips touched yours, you reciprocated and yours melted right back onto his. Your body was addicted to his tongue, his touch, and it was like the words he spat didn’t matter. The arguing, the cursing, the fighting, you both could take it out on each other. His back could be covered in scratches and you could be left breathless and shaking in his sheets or yours repeating the cycle over and over again.

That’s what this came with. A gasp escaped your lips the moment you felt his tatted hand grip your breasts, allowing his tongue to slip over yours prompting you both to enter a heated tongue battle. As you felt your anger start to let go, your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, your nails sliding over his mullet in the back before massaging his scalp lightly. A satisfied grin made its way onto his lips before he led your body to his bed and you felt your back collide with the already disheveled covers. The familiar scent of him, his house, and the fact that you were over covers that belonged to him with him on top of you, only solidified your feelings for the man above you.

Your brown and golden nails gripped onto his shirt, the tension and dire need between you both being crystal clear as you found yourself squirming under him already. It was pathetic how easy he could get you like this but you didn’t have the energy or the sense to care in this moment. You both were like animals, aggressively taking off each other’s clothes while still trying to simultaneously keep your hands glued to each other. Each time you both let each other go, it felt like cruel and unusual punishment. His back was almost half way covered in tattoos, but that “SAMOA” part had you hooked the most. It kept you staring every time he turned around, but the naked part under it that had nothing on it is where your nails put new marks at every single time.

As he pulled away from the kiss, the words that left his lips had you made your heart skip a beat because you knew he was serious, always kept his word behind these four walls. “You ain’t done whinin’ yet, cuz now I’m really finna give you somethin’ to whine about”and with that his head got lower and lower as both his hands cupped your breasts, your hard nipples being in between his fingers. The rise and fall of your chest was slow yet it got quicker with anticipation just before his tongue slid over your folds, your nails raking through his scalp as you gave him a silent plea to continue. Your body was getting hotter and hotter by the second, the friction of his tongue against your outer and inner folds, around your clit, and the opening of your vaginal walls was enough to send your head back in bliss as moans escaped your lips. The harder you pressed down on his scalp, the harder he went, his hands left your breasts and slowly slid down to your legs gripping them firmly, your knees were raised up temporarily with your feet on the bed, that was until he decided he didn’t want that anymore and pushed your legs beside your head and gave you the best cunninlingus of your life. Your legs trembled as the unholy sounds of slurping and licking had your brain completely numb. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you felt your release approaching quickly with the way his tongue moved around. His moans mixed with yours, sending vibrations to your pussy and that only made your moans grow louder from how much pleasure it was causing. “Z…I-I’m gonna c-cum!” Your hips slightly raised, your flexibility playing a key role in attempting to add more friction to the pleasurable situation. Your ragged breaths, trembling legs, the opening of your pussy becoming a home for his tongue and the eye contact he gave you the moment you said that sent you over the edge as you released all over his tongue unable to hold back at all. Your bottom lip found its way behind your top set of teeth as you begged for him to continue loving that overstimulation and he happily obliged.

“Oh m-my fucking g-god, yes!” You moaned out as he kept going, feeling two of his fingers slowly enter you and began pumping in and out slowly…at first. But this time, his tongue was giving attention to your clit while his tatted hands were making your entire world turn upside down from how sensitive you had been from just creaming all over his face. The faster his fingers went, the more stimulation you felt on your clit which caused your legs to shake around him. It got so bad you began to whimper and beg as your walls clenched around his fingers and your pussy was a dripping mess.

He groaned against your wetness as his fingers curled causing your toes to curl and your head to collapse further into the cotton pillows around your head. Your nails dug further into his scalp as you felt the knot in your core tighten, the tension being just on the brink of release, just until his fingers curled again and that was all it took. Your mind went completely blank, as your hands let go of his scalp and quickly gripped his black sheets beneath you, causing a variety of crescents to form in every direction. You were on the brink of tears as your chest rose and fell rapidly as you felt your legs slowly fall to the sides of the man above you.

You couldn’t even respond for a moment when he called for you, it was only when he pulled you up toward him did you come to before looking into his eyes a moment. Dammit. His lips were so wet and he looked so smug still, but that was just an added bonus to his attractiveness. The way it was your aftermath, he had around his lips and chin made you hooked even more before you wrapped your arms around him and slowly licked some of your aftermath away before giving him the most sloppiest yet passionate make out session. Your nails were around the back of his neck, the red part of his mullet hitting against them every once in a while due to the shift of your bodies during this intense session. His tongue collided with yours as if earlier had never even happened because he was getting exactly what he wanted right now but so were you.

The make out session got more and more heated before you found yourself under him again for a moment until he pulled away and crawled over you getting behind you as you turned to your side quickly getting the memo. But a quick position change wasn’t going to stop anything, because you two were right back at it again. One of his hands wrapped around your face, two being under your chin and two being just right under your bottom lip, the other one giving slow and gentle strokes around your ass for a few moments before retracting it and wrapping it around his dick. He began to stroke it back and forth as both your tongue and his were colliding with one another.

As you felt him position himself at your entrance and his tip rub against your folds, your lips curled in satisfaction. But it was when he pushed into you that the real fun started, he was thicker and you could tell with all of the shit you pulled earlier that he was about to be rougher. And he was, your wetness was more than enough lube, making it easier for him to slip in and out of you whenever he wanted. His hips connected against yours before he slowly pulled back and slammed into you again. The grunt that left his lips as his bottom lip curled under his top grill was such a sexy sound that would live in your mind forever. Your soft moans soon turned into more loud and breathless ones the moment you felt your ass practically being grabbed and forced back onto his dick creating that slight recoil each time. “See what happens when you just say whatchu want ma” he grunted out before commenting again. “Squeezing my shit f’real girl” he moaned out before thrusting forward once more. His dick was massaging your insides and your walls were caving in on it because of how good it was.

You looked at him with a smug look as your walls clenched around him even more. “Oh you tryna be cute huh?” He said before his hand made its way to your neck and tightened, his dick rushing into you once more going even deeper causing you to let out a loud moan and a few curse words to accompany them. You enjoyed it when he made you regret doing something, you could be mad at him for a while but when it came to this….his dick and his words were the only thing on your mind. The feeling of your insides being stretched by the girth between his legs had your brain on autopilot and your eyes welling up with tears after a while.

A loud moan escaped your lips as the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass, echoed throughout the room. “What I tell you? Huh? Told yo ass I was finna give you something to whine about didn’t I?” He said while pounding you from the back. He knew how much you like for him to talk you through it, how much you loved to be degraded, and he loved how much he made you cry from it. Tears streamed down your face from pleasure, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix with every thrust as he made a mess of you underneath him. By this point your pussy was even wetter than it was during the foreplay from earlier and your g spot was aching to be touched but he was purposely missing it. He knew exactly where it was, he just wasn’t hitting it until he felt like it. “Ion hear you talkin, ma” he growled out before getting a whimper from you in response. “Y-Yes!” was all you managed to get out before you felt his hand tighten around your throat again slightly as if he was taking ownership of your entire body using his own, causing your eyes to roll back in pure pleasure.

“Look at chu, dicked out huh?” He said before suddenly hitting your g spot causing your body to jolt and your legs to tremble from the suddenl location change as your pussy started dripping again. Even during sex he still teased you, called you out, and made sure you would remember everything. “S-Shit!” You cursed as your eyes came to and you looked up at him before sticking two of your fingers in your mouth before slowly pulling them back out, your fingers being covered in saliva before touching your clit again and rubbing it in sync with the thrusts he was giving you. The stimulation you longed for was happening right this second and you didn’t want it to stop for anything. “I’m gonna f-fucking cum again, I want you to cum inside m-me. Uh huh” you pleaded while looking up at him with doe eyes, knowing in the bedroom he’d do anything you asked him to do. He slowly let go of your neck before shoving two of his fingers into your mouth which you sucked on happily as tears streamed down your face from him hitting your g spot over and over again despite the fact that you were already a dripping mess. A white cock ring formed at your entrance, making a perfect circle each time his dick moved in and out of you. You could stay in this exact position for hours if it called for it, one of your legs over the other, with him behind you slamming in and out of you with one hand on your ass and the other in your mouth rocking your world completely.

His fingers vibrated as you let out moans on his fingers before your eyes rolled back once more feeling the knot inside of your core come undone as you bucked your hips against your own fingers. The sight of your hips slightly raising, how in complete bliss you were, and the fact that his fingers were in your mouth sent him over the edge too. His thrusts became more sloppy as he let out a drawn out moan, releasing his load inside of you causing you to let out a soft moan of satisfaction as you made eye contact with him. The moment he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, his lips crashed onto yours as you both had a sloppy post sex make out session before slowly pulling away from each other.

“You crazy man.”

“Stop playin’ in my face and I won’t have to be. But if it gets me this, I’ll be the craziest person in the world.”

“You gotta stop doin’ that shit f’real though. I like it on you, but you be takin’ shit too far.”

“Boy bye, and you still gon’ fuck me like you own it. You had a girl callin’ you bae yet telling me you want me to have your babies. I meant what I said, I wanna be your girl.”

“You think you can handle that ma?”

You bit your lip getting slightly more cocky before pulling away from him and gently straddling him, crawling on top of him slowly. “The real question is, can you handle me?” You whispered into his ear before licking the side of his face and kissing him deeply again.

He kissed back before both his hands gripped both sides of your ass. Before the make out session got a little too heated, he pulled back with a smirk on his face. “I’m bout to handle you again ight.”

Whew…lord ꨄ

A/N: This took me so long to finish…damn plus this song has been on repeat so I had to finish this👏🏽

Taglist: @luvrgirl4roman @luvrsluxe @empressdede @mselenalovebug @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy

Divider Credits: @fairytopea

[chishiyasdearjacket]

Dangerous

Summary: Chishiya, a master strategist and a player in the deadly games of Borderland, is used to facing fear and cunning in his opponents. He thrives on the challenge, the thrill of the unknown. But he's never encountered someone like her. She's not afraid of death, not in the least. She doesn't fear it, she plays with it, dances with it, as if it were a familiar friend. This reckless abandon, this defiance of the ultimate fear, captivates him. He's intrigued by her, drawn to her, but also wary. She's a force of nature, unpredictable and dangerous, and he's not sure how to handle her. Their encounter sparks a tension, a challenge, a game of wits and survival. He's used to controlling the game, but she's a wildcard, a player who doesn't follow the rules. This is a story about the clash of personalities, the allure of the unknown, and the unexpected attraction that blooms in the face of death.

Request?: ✅

The wind whipped at her hair, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and the weight of unspoken fears. She stood at the edge of the vast, empty beach, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun dipped below the waves, painting the sky with streaks of fiery orange and crimson. It was beautiful, yet it felt oddly hollow, like a painted smile on a mask.

A strange feeling gnawed at her. Not fear, not exactly. But a sense of unease, of unease that she wasn't quite sure how to name. She had been thrown into this game, into this bizarre world where the rules were cruel and the stakes were life or death. She had defied death so many times, played with its edges, that she had begun to think of it as a mere spectator in her life, a silent observer of her wild dances with danger.

But here, on this beach, the air thick with the scent of salt and dread, something felt different. The weight of the game, the knowledge that every decision, every move, could be her last, pressed down on her.

Then, she saw him. Chishiya. Standing on the rooftop, a lone figure silhouetted against the vibrant sunset. She always noticed him. How could she not? He was... well, clever, after all. He thought highly of himself, and it didn't annoy her, it... it amazed her. She suddenly came to think about their differences. He played with death using manipulation, while her, she was like the Jester. She mocks her way to death. She was never afraid of death, instead she flirted her way with it. And that's what made it fun.

She smiled, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. He was a challenge, a fascinating puzzle. She was curious about him, about his mind, his strategies, his motivations. She wondered how he would react to her, to her unorthodox way of playing the game.

She knew, deep down, that their paths would cross, that their games would intertwine, that they would be forced to confront each other in this brutal, unpredictable world. And she was ready. She was ready for the challenge, for the game, for the dance with death.

She was ready for Chishiya.

The elevator hummed with a strange symphony of anticipation, each rise in altitude bringing her closer to the unknown. She pressed her back against the cool metal, her gaze fixed on the numbers flickering above, counting down the floors. She wasn't afraid, not really. Not the way most players were. This game, this deadly dance with fate, felt less like a threat and more like a challenge, a test of her mettle, a chance to prove herself.

She was a different breed of player, one who saw death not as an enemy to be feared, but as a constant companion, a familiar shadow that danced alongside her, a reminder of the preciousness of each fleeting moment. She relished the thrill of the game, the adrenaline rush of knowing that every choice could be her last, every step could lead her to the precipice of oblivion.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, the doors opening onto the seventh floor. She stepped out, taking in the panorama before her, the cityscape sprawling out like a canvas of concrete and steel, the sky a vast expanse of twilight blues and purples.

She made her way to the corner of the observation deck, the wind whipping at her hair, the city lights twinkling like a million stars below. She felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the exhilaration of standing on the edge of the unknown.

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?” A voice, low and sardonic, broke through her musings. She turned to see Chishiya, the blonde, standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

“Ahh, of course he's here too," she said, her voice a whisper, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

She found it oddly comforting, almost reassuring, that he was here, on this precipice, sharing the stage with her. They were two sides of the same coin, two predators in a game of life and death, drawn to each other by a strange, magnetic force.

She raised her eyebrows, a hint of playful challenge in her gaze. "What is?" she asked, her voice a melodic whisper that seemed to carry on the wind.

Chishiya tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at his lips. His gaze was fixed on the sprawling cityscape below, the lights twinkling like scattered diamonds against the velvet expanse of the night. He seemed to be lost in contemplation, his thoughts a labyrinth of strategy and calculation.

"Death," he said, his voice a low murmur, his words carried on the wind. "It hangs over us all, a constant companion, a shadow that follows us to the very end. Yet, we cling to life, we fight for it, even when it's clear that we are just pawns in a game, mere toys in the hands of fate."

He paused, letting his words hang in the air, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city below. His gaze shifted to her, his eyes a study in icy calculation. He knew her, he saw through her, he understood the dance she was playing with death.

"You seem to have a different perspective," he continued, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. "Perhaps, you've made peace with it, accepted it, even embraced it."

His words were a challenge, an invitation to a game of intellect and perception. She, with her reckless disregard for death, and he, with his calculated mastery of the game, were two sides of the same coin, both defying the odds, both embracing the precipice.

She laughed, a low, melodic sound that seemed to echo through the empty space. “It’s a game, isn’t it? But aren’t all our lives just games? We play our roles, we follow the script, we pretend to be in control, but in the end, we’re all just actors in a play written by someone else.”

“But some of us,” Chishiya countered, his gaze turning to her, his eyes piercing, “have the luxury of choosing our roles, of crafting our own scripts.”

“And you?” She asked, her voice laced with curiosity. “What’s your role, Chishiya? The manipulator? The puppet master? The one who plays the game with cold, calculating precision?”

He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “I play to win,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “And I always win. Even when the game is against all odds, even when the stakes are life and death. I have learned to embrace the rules, to bend them to my will. Death is just another player, another piece on the board.”

“And what about the pieces that aren’t so easily manipulated?” She challenged, her voice a whisper of defiance. “What about the ones that fight back?”

“The ones that fight back,” Chishiya said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, “are the most interesting. They are the ones who make the game truly worth playing.”

She felt a strange thrill course through her, a mixture of excitement and apprehension. This was a game they were playing, and it was a dangerous dance, but she was ready. She was ready to play with fire. She was ready to face him, to challenge him, to see what this game could truly become.

And in that moment, she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she wasn't just playing for her own survival. She was playing for something more, something she couldn't quite name, but something that burned in her heart like a wild, unyielding flame.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a fleeting beauty that mirrored the fragility of their existence. She watched the sunset, her heart a drumbeat of anticipation. Chishiya was right. This game, this desperate fight for survival, was more than just a game. It was a test, a crucible where they would be forged, broken, or reborn.

"I don't play by anyone's rules," she said, her voice cutting through the silence, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "I make my own."

Chishiya's lips curled into a smirk. "And what rules do you play by?" He asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo in the vast emptiness of the beach.

"My own," she repeated, her voice firm, unwavering. "I'm not afraid of death. I'm not afraid to lose. I play to win, but even if I lose, it doesn't matter. I exist beyond the rules, beyond the fear, beyond the limitations others impose."

Chishiya tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, as if trying to penetrate the layers of her being. "You're an interesting one," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Intriguing, even. But dangerous. Do you know how dangerous you are?"

She laughed, a sound that carried the wind, the salt, the scent of the ocean, the echo of the unspoken rules that bound them. "Do you?" she asked, her voice a whisper against the dying light.

He didn't answer. His gaze held hers, a silent battle of wills unfolding between them, the unspoken question hanging in the air: who would win?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to win. Not really. She just wanted to play, to challenge him, to see if his game, his cold, calculated strategy, could truly withstand the unpredictable chaos she brought with her.

As he continued to stare at her, his eyes a study in enigmatic silence, she glanced down at her phone. The clock was ticking, counting down the minutes to the game's end. Eight minutes.

A wry smile played at her lips. He was a fascinating puzzle, a formidable opponent, but time was running out. She wasn't one for waiting around for an answer, especially when the game was about to begin.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she turned and walked away, her steps light and confident, her gaze fixed on the safe zone. She didn't need to say anything. Her actions spoke volumes.

"See you around, Chishiya," she said, her voice barely a whisper, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She paused, throwing him a playful wave, her smile a challenge, an invitation to join her in the game, to face her in the heart of the chaos.

And then, without waiting for his response, she disappeared into the safe zone, a fleeting shadow in the twilight, leaving him alone on the precipice, the city lights twinkling below, a reminder of the game they were both playing, the dance they were both destined to perform.

She had a game to play, a dance to perform, and she was ready. Ready to break the rules, to defy the odds, and to see if she could truly outmaneuver the one who claimed to be a master of the game.

She walked away, the city lights twinkling below, a thousand tiny stars in the vast expanse of the night. Her steps were light, confident, yet she could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, a lingering intensity that seemed to burn a path through the air.

It was like a predator's stare, a silent challenge, a promise of a game that wasn't over. She could almost feel his eyes tracing her movements, a phantom touch that sent shivers down her spine.

For a moment, she considered turning around, facing him, meeting his gaze, acknowledging the unspoken tension that hung between them. But something held her back. It wasn't fear, not really. It was a strange mixture of intrigue and defiance, a sense of anticipation, of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She came to a halt, not turning around, her back still to him. The wind whipped at her hair, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of danger. She closed her eyes, letting the cold night air wash over her, her senses heightened, her body alert.

She knew he was still there, watching, waiting, his mind a labyrinth of strategy, his gaze a silent threat. She could almost feel his presence, a phantom touch that lingered in the air, a reminder that the game had just begun.

He stood there, his gaze fixed on her, a quiet amusement playing at the corners of his lips. She was fascinating, this woman, this wild card who had entered his game, a player with a disregard for the rules and a seemingly unshakeable confidence in her own power. He had seen her at the beach, a solitary figure against the endless expanse of sand, a woman who seemed to defy the very notion of fear.

She was more than intriguing, more than dangerous, she was... a challenge. He had encountered many players in his time, some more cunning than others, some more ruthless, some more determined. But this woman, she was different. She was a storm, a tempest, a force of nature that could not be easily controlled. She was a wild card, an unpredictable factor in a game where he was accustomed to being in control.

He could ignore her, yes. He could choose to focus on the other players, the ones who followed the rules, the ones who fit neatly into his calculated strategies. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. She was a puzzle, a riddle, a challenge he had to unravel.

He had never been one to shy away from a good challenge, and this woman, this unpredictable force of nature, was a challenge he was willing to accept. He would watch her, study her, anticipate her next move. He would play her game, her dangerous, unpredictable, exhilarating game.

They stood there, two figures silhouetted against the dying light, the wind whipping around them, their breaths mingling in the chill air. Their paths had crossed, their destinies intertwined, and the game had just begun.

And for the first time, she felt a sense of excitement, not fear, but a sense of anticipation, of possibility. She was ready. Ready to play, to lose, to win, to defy, to embrace the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of this strange and beautiful world. She was ready to dance with death, to walk hand in hand with chaos, and she was ready to do it all with Chishiya, the manipulator, the player, the only one who seemed to understand the language of the game, the one who, she suspected, would be her only true opponent.

The first game, a test of their wits and survival instincts, unfolded like a chess match played on a battlefield. Each move, each strategy, held the weight of life and death. She watched him, Chishiya, as he moved through the game, his mind a maze of intricate calculations, his gaze as sharp as a predator's. He was a master strategist, his every move calculated, his every decision precise.

She, on the other hand, played a different game. Her strategy was a whirlwind of chaos, a symphony of intuition and calculated risk. She moved with a reckless abandon, defying expectations, bending the rules, pushing the limits of what was possible. She was the storm, a force of nature that couldn't be contained, a wild card in a game where the odds were stacked against her.

His game was a game of control. Hers was a game of freedom.

And yet, in the midst of the chaos, their paths kept intersecting. He would see her, a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding of the game, the rules, the stakes.

There were moments when their eyes would meet across the chaotic landscape, a silent conversation passing between them, a battle of wills fought with unspoken words. They were playing a game, a dangerous dance, and each move was a gamble, a step closer to the unknown.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach, she found him sitting alone on a weathered rock. He looked like a lone wolf, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of the ocean, his expression unreadable.

She sat down beside him, her presence a silent question mark in the stillness. He didn't acknowledge her presence, didn't turn to look at her. He just kept staring out at the ocean, his mind lost in a world she couldn't penetrate.

“What are you thinking?” She asked, her voice soft, her words breaking the silence.

He didn't answer right away. He just continued to stare out at the horizon, his brow furrowed, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and somber.

"I'm thinking about the rules," he said. "The rules of this game, the rules of the world, the rules that bind us. We play by them, we try to follow them, but in the end, they are always there, lurking in the shadows, dictating our choices, controlling our destinies. They are the invisible hand that shapes our every move, our every action, our every breath."

She understood. She knew the feeling, the sense of being trapped, of being a puppet in a game where the strings were held by unseen forces. It was a feeling she had known for a long time, a feeling that had driven her to push boundaries, to challenge the status quo, to live life on her own terms.

“But sometimes,” she said, her voice a whisper, her gaze fixed on the horizon, “the rules are meant to be broken."

Chishiya turned to her then, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of curiosity, of intrigue, passing between them. "You think so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She smiled, a knowing smile that hinted at the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. "Oh, I know so," she said, her voice a whisper of defiance, her gaze locked on his. "Because when we break the rules, we find freedom. We find ourselves."

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at his lips. His eyes, usually a cool, calculating blue, seemed to flicker with a new kind of light. A challenge, a spark of intrigue, a flicker of recognition.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice low and measured, "but freedom is a dangerous illusion. It's a mirage that leads us astray, tempting us with the promise of liberation while ultimately trapping us in its own web of chaos."

He paused, his gaze unwavering, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. "And who are we," he continued, his voice a murmur against the wind, "to decide what freedom truly means?"

His gaze drifted to the sprawling city below, its lights a glittering tapestry of hope and despair. "The rules," he said, his voice a whisper, "they are there to protect us, to guide us, to keep us from the abyss. To break them is to court chaos, to invite destruction, to dance with the devil."

His gaze returned to her, a silent question hanging in the air.

She laughed, a sound that carried the wind, the salt, the scent of the ocean, the echo of the unspoken rules that bound them. "But isn't that the point?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Isn't that what makes it fun?"

The air crackled between them, a potent mix of anticipation and danger. He knew she was right. She was a wild card, a force of chaos, a player who defied expectations and embraced the unknown.

He tilted his head again, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Perhaps," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Perhaps it is."

He turned, his gaze fixed on the city lights, a thousand tiny stars scattered across the vast expanse of the night. His mind was a labyrinth of calculations, his heart a storm of emotions. He was a master of manipulation, a puppet master who controlled the strings of fate. But she, she was different. She was a force of nature, a wild, untamed spirit that defied control.

He knew, deep down, that he couldn't ignore her, couldn't deny the magnetic force that drew them together. He would watch her, study her, anticipate her next move. He would play her game, her dangerous, unpredictable, exhilarating game.

He knew it would be a battle of wills, a clash of ideologies, a dance with death. But he was ready. He was ready to play.

And so, with a final, enigmatic glance back at her, a flicker of recognition in his eyes, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone on the edge of the precipice, the city lights a thousand tiny stars twinkling below, a silent reminder of the game that had just begun.

__________________________________________

I hope I've met your expectations, I'm sorry if it's not as good as you thought it would be. Thank you for trusting me with your idea, i really appreciate it. @httpsf0cuss

[jeanbie]

hello😭😭 your jake series, fantasizs, got me ACTIN UP FR FR NO CAP 100% ON MY MAMA😭😭😫😫😖😖😖😵‍💫😣😵‍💫😵‍💫😖😣😭😭😭😭 it has me going so feral for avatar!jake and human!jake and just jake in general bc the way you write him is so 🤌🤌🫶🫶🫦🫦 like— pls i luv ur brain sm (fantasize is definitely my #1 fav avatar fic/series rn. shit's got me waiting every other MINUTE for the last chapter!!! pls pls pls i need to know how it's gonna end (not pressuring u, i just rlly love the way u write in general, literally i could write u an essay abt everthing that i love abt fantasize if tumblr didn't have a letter limit on asks😭😭😭) iahwndjshsnishsbsjsjhsjshsjshhshs

HHAHHA thank you sooooo much !!!

i definitely 100% plan to finish fantasize - lately, i've just been busy with work and also...catching feelings...against my better judgement....for a man who i don't think i'm destined to be with. and it's soooooo painful

i also feel the pressure building for the contents of finale; i had ideas planned but i just want everyone to be happy since it has grown so much <33 i promise it is coming in the future, just not immediately. i've been lazy, i admit...

[guinevereslancelot]

i really be out here having cute flirty moments with guys that i absolutely should not date and then not even noticing when they ask me out

[zasmn]

No spoilers of after you get all your companions please

I've wanted to be able to date Lace Harding since DA:I so I was super stoked to see that was a real option in DA:V!!! Then I met Taash and 😍 (sorry Lace)

[digitaldiseas3]

i fucking love fags

[mrsbarnesblog]

the "it" couple

masterlist

requests are open

summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick

a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩

Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like they are so hot and perfectly compliment each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together. 

You and Rafe were that couple. 

Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty, but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.

Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.

You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy. 

Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another and it was the easiest way to get it. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace. 

But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend. 

If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong. 

He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him. 

The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable. 

Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.  

It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss. 

You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy whipped for you and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple and neither of you were against that nickname.

To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you, so he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.

Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to burry his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care. 

On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life. 

Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.

You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.

Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot and full of unconditional love.

Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you. 

He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.

You were his afrodisiac and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you. 

He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.

You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again. 

You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s clothes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.

And the red box with the big ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.  

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

[incohorace]

bro why does my crush have so much drama what is going on

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. ��No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[stargirlrchive]

simon getting jealous over another coworker flirting with his work wife ? 👀

i had tew much fun writing this lmao

one — two — three — four

you don’t know how it happened, one second there was a recruit standing before you, and in the next you were shoved against the stretcher, tactical pants and panties pooled between your legs as simon bent you over to fuck his thick cock into you.

well—you do know how it happened, but it was so quick it left you dizzy.

anderson had been brought in by two other recruits, limping and grunting as they plopped him onto the medical bed. a deep gash on his upper thigh from one of the other recruits knicking his skin during practice.

it was deep, and angry—your fingers itching to patch him up as you ripped open a bigger hole on his tactical pants to get the wound cleaned. “you shouldn’t have let it get this far, anderson.”

“it’s sanders.”

you blinked up at him, a small frown on your lips, “pardon?”

“it’s sanders—not anderson.”

heat bloomed on your cheeks, the newest batch of recruits had been here for four months already and you were positive you’d only ever addressed him incorrectly. you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “i’m sorry—”

“it’s no big deal, i’m sure you can make up for it.”

your nerves flared as he cut you off, at what the grimy smirk on his face was insinuating. you couldn’t hold back the grimace on your face as you worked on patching him up and getting him out of your work space.

through the annoyance and blood pumping in your ears, you missed the big bulk of your lieutenant sliding into your space.

sander’s voice dropped lower, in what you assumed was his way of being seductive, “don’t be like that, honey.”

you forced yourself to not be overly rough with the way you were cleaning the gash on his thigh, fingers working methodically on his wound.

“i can show you a real good time.” and then his fingers were threading through your hair, the shock causing you to jostle as he tangled his fingers in the root of your hair to tug your neck upwards.

your heart pumped in anger, ready to yell at him to fuck off—to not fucking touch you. but simon beat you to it.

“get y’r fucking hands off my wife.”

the growl in simon’s voice had you tensing yet melting at the same time. shivers running down your back and heat coiling in your belly.

sanders scrambled upwards, back tense and eyes wide. you stumbled backwards, simon steadying you by placing a thick hand on your waist and pulling you to him.

“lieutenant riley—i had no idea, she didn’t-i didn’t know she was your wife.”

simon’s chest was practically vibrating with his anger, snarling down at the man in front of you like a rabid dog. heat bloomed between your thighs, clit aching at his proximity, at the way he protected you.

“i d’nt give two fucks what you know—get the fuck out of here.”

you had never seen someone leave your quarters faster, sanders left running like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

your body sagged into simon’s, relief filling you from the inside out as his fingers trailed over you. searching.

“you alright, sweetheart?”

you nod, heart thrumming and trying to wrap your head around what happened, “i need words, baby. talk to me. did he—did he do anything, touch you more than he did—”

you turned in his arms, face burying into his chest to breathe in his scent. “m’fine, he didn’t-i just can’t believe he had the nerve.”

simon’s eyes raked over you behind his skull mask. assessing, trying to make sure you really were alright. “i’m fine, simon. i swear. and feeling so much better because you’re here.”

he took a few more seconds to look you over, calloused finger gripping your throat gently and rubbing his gloved thumb over your jaw.

“almost fuckin’ killed him f’r touching you.”

a small laughed bubbled in your throat, leaning into him, “i’m almost positive he pissed himself. never seen you look so scary.”

his fingers loosened on your throat gently, “did i scare you?” his voice was awfully raw, almost vulnerable.

“no. thought it was hot, honestly.”

one of his fingers twitched gently, pressing into you more firmly and you felt his cock. hard and full against your belly as he walked the two of you backwards. “yeah?”

“mhm, would’ve let you bent me over right in front of him if he hadn’t run off.”

simon’s rough voice caused heat to coil in your belly as he turned you over. pressing your back down to bend you over as his cock pressed against your ass, “m’not someone who likes to share, sweetheart.”

your back arched into him, pressing your ass harder against his cock before he pinned your back down with a heavy palm and used his other one to unbutton your pants. “think you need to make that clear for everyone else then.”

[steddieasitgoes]

Teacher!Steve isn't big on music himself, but he has a Spotify for his students so they can listen to the songs/artists they like when they're doing independent work/quizzes/etc. He makes them submit songs periodically throughout the year so it stays updated and all their music preferences are heard.

Naturally, all his students are excited to see what a mess his Spotify Wrapped is and Steve makes sure to schedule in time for each class period so they can go through it together when its released.

Of course, it's a hot mess but they all love it, especially the videos their top artists send in.

Steve generally has no idea who sings any of the songs on the various playlists and has a lot of fun putting a face to a voice as they scroll through each video. It's pretty standard selfie shots of the artists talking until they get to one where a man with curly hair and big brown eyes is hopping around like an excitable child, practically shouting his name into the camera and rambling about how much he "appreciates each and every one of the heathens who listens to Corroded Coffin."

Steve has to do a double take because, "wait what?! this is the guy that's always shouting and singing about demons?! but he's so cute!"

His first-period class bursts into laughter at his outburst and of course someone is videoing his reaction. It gets posted to TikTok before the dismissal bell rings and by the time lunch gets there, the video of Steve going heart eyes for Eddie Munson goes viral.

Steve's embarassed but he doesn't ask his student to take it down because he knows how much they've been hoping to go viral this year. Besides, its not like anyone important is every going to see it, right?

Wrong.

Of course, chronically online Eddie Munson stumbles upon the TikTok and promptly runs through the green room, declaring his love for the beautiful Mr. Harrington, who teaches history to high schoolers for a living. He forces their assistant to drop everything he's working on and track down this Mr. Harrington guy because Eddie will not rest until he can talk to him.

Fast forward two days and Steve is hiding in his classroom during lunch, avoiding his coworkers to shamelessly flirt with Eddie Munson via Zoom.

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others

yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

view all comments

sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

sarahcameron do you want to be my wife ↳ johnroutledge Uhm ↳ yourusername leave little boy she doesnt want you 🧏‍♀️

sarahcameron cant believe we met its been SO long ↳ yourusername still in shock could you kiss me to make sure this is real?  ↳ sarahcameron come to mama 💋 

ryanontop God your ugly ↳ yourusername you’re*… spell right you illiterate fuck ↳ ryanontop Fuck off it was a typo ↳ yourusername you know damn well!!!!

cleoanderson WAIT WHAT

kiecarrera ??? HUH

kiecarrera IM SO CONFUSED ↳ cleoanderson ME TOO ☹️ ↳ sarahcameron hey 👋  ↳ cleoanderson girl you both got some explaining to do ↳ yourusername trust me i was as shocked as you are 😓

popeheyward Insane ↳ yourusername PIPE down fella (get it ahahaha) ↳ popeheyward That wasn't funny ↳ cleoanderson be nice to my girl >:( ↳ popeheyward Baby you're supposed to defend me ↳ yourusername YEAHHH CLOCK THAT HO

jjmaybanks whats for supper  ↳ yourusername saltwater

user1 PRETTY!!!! 

user2 so lovely 🥹

user3 DRESS ATE DOWN ↳ yourusername YEAHH tryna impress the hoes ↳ ryanontop Crickets ↳ sarahcameron not cool Ryan. ↳ ryanontop Sorry Sarah Cameron.

rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[ssahotchnerr]

a bit late but i have a request for protective aaron 😓😓 reader and hotch having a date night and they run into someone who claims to be from the fbi like that one guy who prentiss garcia and jj came across?? maybe they play along for while? i love ur writing btw 💕💕 and congrats on 5k!!

brad's back

let's pretend this hasn't been in my drafts for ages, and what if it is the same guy they came across 🤭 cw; jealous!aaron, bau fem!reader, bar setting, light drinking mentions, suggestiveness, brad LOL wc; 1.2k

Saturday night. Date night.

Aaron and yourself had already finished dinner, and had stopped at a nearby bar for a drink or two before heading home. Jack was at Jessica's for the night, having fun of his own at a sleepover with his cousins.

That meant a wonderfully empty apartment was waiting for you, and all of its advantages.

You were giddy with impatience, eager to head out. As you waited for Aaron to return - he had run to the men's room - out of your peripheral you sensed someone lingering, just a few feet away from where you were sat.

You turned your head, subtly brushing your fingers through your hair so your glance didn't seem purposeful. It was a man in a suit, hair swept cleanly, looking greatly out of place in the casualness of the bar.

But your discreet attempt at observing did go noticed; the man took it as a plausible excuse to approach you.

"You should be careful."

Your eyebrows quirked quizzically, evaluating whether or not his statement was a threat or hopeful flirting. "How so?"

"Saturday night. It's getting late. We're in a high crime area."

You widened your eyes in feigned surprise, "Are we?"

No, you were not.

You quickly deemed him harmless, for now. And while you waited, why not play into it; he obviously had some story going, without a doubt a highly entertaining one at that. Not only, with Aaron due back in a few short minutes, you wouldn't mind seeing his protective side in the slightest.

"But lucky for you, I'm around. I just so happen to be a part of the FBI."

"Really." Your chin pointed downwards, not wasting a second to rack through your brain. He didn't look familiar, and you were quite good at remembering faces. You definitely hadn't come across this man before in practice.

When nothing unveiled, "I didn't catch your name."

"Brad."

Holy shit. You've heard the infamous Brad story from the girls, numerous times, and this had to be him. It had to; he was just as they described: vain, a bit gawky. You quickly stifled the laugh that wanted to burst through your chest. It's been months since, and evidently he was still using the same pickup.

"Brad the FBI agent." You nodded slowly, toying with your drink, fingers on the rim. "That's quite the title. What department are you in?"

"That's classified," he answered, leaning against the counter on an elbow. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

"I see..."

Your eyes shot to the side as Aaron approached, landing on him just in time to see him stop in his tracks. As expected, a scowl deepened on his face as he saw Brad talking to you, also taking notice of his close, flirtatious proximity. His feet began moving once again, more urgency in his step.

"You must know Aaron then." You gushed, grabbing onto Aaron's arm and drawing him close as soon as he was in reach, and before he could ruthlessly interrogate Brad. Aaron lightly stumbled in surprise at the sudden pull.

Brad blanched, "I, urm-"

"Aaron," you grinned, "this is Brad."

Aaron shot you a look, one that read: 'And why the hell would I care?' but as he gave you said look, he immediately eyed the mischievous, fiery glint in your eyes. You were up to something.

The tension lessened in Aaron (barely), offering a rather stiff, "Hello."

"Brad," you turned, your hand clutching onto Aaron's bicep, your thumb grazing it calmly. "Aaron's in the FBI too."

Aaron's shoulders relaxed, probably coming to the same realization; he's heard the story also, as Penelope all but sprinted into the bullpen to share the hilarious encounter.

"No, I don't believe we have met." He activated his Hotch Stare, "What department are you-"

"Oh, he can't say. Classified." You interrupted, lips developing into a pout. "Strange, isn't it?"

While Aaron's notorious expression was enough to make Brad squirm, he also put an arm around you, keeping you close. Very close, your shoulder was practically digging into his chest.

Brad forced a laugh, his voice painfully strained. "Actually, it's uh... the big one. In DC."

"The big one." Aaron deadpanned, his brows furrowing more into a hardened line above his eyes. "You mean the J. Edgar Hoover Building?"

"Yes sir, that one." He rushed out, his gaze darting to the side. Probably looking for a quick escape.

"And your speciality?"

A dreadfully, humorously weak answer, "Crime."

"Crime." Aaron repeated, with an undertone of idiot.

"Modern day hero, clearly." You inputted. Aaron's lips twitched, holding back a smile.

"Your Superior is?"

"Superior... you see, I really can't stay. My boss wouldn't be too happy with me giving out the details."

"And you are aware that impersonation can be charged as a criminal offense," Aaron laid it on thick, his tone nothing less than strictly authoritative. "Aren't you?"

Brad opened his mouth to respond. Much to his avail, only silence came out.

"If I were you, I would try to find a better use of your time than using a forged title to pick up women. Perhaps being yourself may work? Although, I believe that needs extensive work as well."

Humiliation glassed over Brad's eyes, a blush rising to his cheeks. He turned on his heel, retreating.

"One more thing."

Your heart skipped a beat. From Aaron's tone of voice, the protectiveness you had anticipated - deep emphasis was about to come to the surface.

"I'm not the only one in the FBI." He spoke with pride in his chest, cocking his head towards you. Aaron's lips also quipped into a smile, whereas a smug look was on your face. "She's more than capable to take care of herself. And if for some reason she couldn't, that's where I come in."

Brad merely stood there, helplessly. From the irritation present on his face, he was completely over it.

"Have a good night."

"That was something, wasn't it?" You stated humorously once Brad was out of earshot.

Aaron snorted a laugh into his drink. "I'll say."

"I wonder how often it's worked." You thought aloud, feeling for those who had unknowingly fallen for it.

"Not enough if he's still using it as a ruse."

"It's kinda sad." While it was well deserved, long overdue and hopefully ceased any future endeavors of his, you still couldn't help but feel bad. Partially bad.

"It is, but he doesn't deserve your pity sweetheart." Aaron's hand fell atop yours, giving your knuckles a gentle pat. "Ready to head out?"

You nodded yes, "I've been ready."

After tossing some bills on the counter, Aaron properly grabbed your hand this time. The two of you headed for the exit, Aaron's hold on your hand tightening - to not lose you amidst the crowd, or for anyone else to make a pass at you.

"Is this the part where I say I can show you what a real FBI agent can do?" Aaron teased, a delightful little smirk on his face as he opened the door.

You laughed. "Whatever makes you happy. And benefits me."