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hurtmyfavsthanks · 5 months ago

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I love reading kidnapping whump. However, the thing I really enjoy is reading the process of being kidnapped. Like, I enjoy the chase just before whumpee gets dragged away.

I really dislike when the story doesn’t describe how the whumpee gets captured or even “whumpee felt a prick and felt their eyes close”. I feel like a good kidnapping story needs to make my heart sink.. I guess I just like the juicy details 🥰🥰

Just something I wanted to share. Haha

Yes! YES! Honestly all whump is in the details; you just gotta find people that appreciate the same details as you. I 100000% agree that the process of kidnapping is overlooked all too often.

We need more whumpers that are sadistic during the kidnapping, not just afterwards. Whumpers that like the chase and the power trip that comes with catching whumpee, not just owning them.

They could make it quick. Stick them with something fast acting, manhandle them into place while the drug kicks in. They'd be done in minutes, no fuss or issue.

But what would be the fun in that?

So they don’t. When they finally get ahold on Whumpee, easily pinning their flailing limbs to the side, Whumper only injects them with a half dose. Not enough for them to escape, mind you, but enough for them to think they have a chance.

And then Whumper let’s go. And then they watch.

What does Whumpee do? From the moment the needle enters their body, they’re on a timer. Every beat of their terrified heart is bringing them closer to oblivion, makes the distance between danger and safety seem so much wider. There's nobody to help them, nobody in sight but their attacker. What can they do?

Does Whumpee try to fight back?

They send an elbow back into Whumper as soon as the arms around them give way, whirling around with angry, terrified eyes. Fear sends their heart pounding as their gaze locks onto Whumper. They see those cunning eyes and lean muscles, see the shine of something metallic in their attacker’s hand.

Wumpee sees the emptiness around them, both vast yet horrible claustrophobic. There’s nowhere to run.

They’re terrified, they’re helpless. And in that moment, anger worms its way into Whumpee’s heart. It’s fueled by panic, a sort of prey rage bred from true helplessness, but it’s enough to spring Whumpee into action. In that moment, they realize the only way out is through Whumper.

So they rush forward, lashing out like a cornered animal. There’s nothing graceful about their attacks. Each push does more damage to themselves than their target, most kicks don’t even land at all. Every swing is a flailing, pathetic thing, fueled by nothing but blind panic.

And Whumper isn’t even fighting back. They block each blow with expert precision, not even bothering to restrain Whumpee’s movements. Whumpee’s putting everything, everything into their struggle, and Whumper isn’t even breaking a sweat. There’s no sign of effort or strain in Whumper’s movements, none of the desperate urgency Whumpee feels. There’s only that grin on Whumper’s face, cruel and mocking, like they’re enjoying it

A scream tears its way from Whumpee's throat. It’s full of frustration and terror, a high pitched whine that comes out like a half sob. They keep fighting, trying to knock down the unmovable wall in front of them.

But Whumpee can’t keep it up forever. They’re slowing by the second; with each beat of their heart, the sedative is spreading throughout their bloodstream. Each swing is weaker than the last, sloppier. They’re swaying on their feet within minutes, barely standing against the growing static in their mind. They can’t stop the world from tilting around them.

It only sends another wave of terror through Whumpee. They keep pushing.

But terror can only take them so far. Whumpee’s heart freezes in their chest as Whumper effortlessly grabs one of their weakly swinging fits. They don’t let go. Whumpee pulls, and they don’t let go. They kick and whine, too exhausted to even properly scream, and Whumper’s hold stays firm. Each effort to escape only sends another wave of unnatural exhaustion through their body.

The sensation of the drug working into their system is suffocating. It forces their pounding heart to slow, smothering their terror under a thick haze, sapping the energy from their limbs. The fear is still there, still overwhelming, but they just can’t react to it anymore.

Swaying on their feet, all they can do is stare into the triumphant, predatory eyes of their captor.

Finally, they drop. Whumpee’s body tilts forward without their control, slumping into Whumper’s chest. They're caught effortlessly as their legs finally give out, pulled into a half-hug as Whumper supports their weight. Everything in Whumpee tells them to pull away, to bite or scream or anything. But they can't force their body to respond. But they can't form a plan, can't think beyond the haze clouding their mind.

The last thing Whumpee feels as their vision fades is their body being lifted into someone's arms. They don't have the strength left to fight it.

Or maybe Whumpee runs?

They push away from Whumper the moment they’re free, taking a stumbling step away from their attacker. Before terror can kick in, there’s only surprise, maybe even anger. They turn to face Whumper on instinct, some angry rebuke already on their lips.

Whatever they’d been about to say died in their throat the moment they look back. Whumper is simply standing there, as if they were waiting for something. There is no explanation in their expression. Not the anger of some scorned lover, not the frustration of a failed mugging. Whumper just stands there. Eyes sharp, eyes focused squarely on Whumpee, ready to strike at any moment.

There’s something inhuman about it, about the absence if all expression but an animalistic intensity. It calls to something animalistic in Whumpee as well. Something that screams that Whumpee is staring down a predator ready to eat them whole.

Terror comes to Whumpee slowly, like a pressure laying itself against their chest. As their expression morphs into terror, a grin splits Whumper’s face.

Whumpee’s running before they even realize it. Shoes slamming against the sidewalk, heart pounding in their chest in their mad dash to just get away. They don’t know where they’ll go, don’t know where they’d be safe. But anywhere, anywhere is better than with that monster.

Their escape is graceless. They run half blind in the darkness, stumbling over obstacles in their mad dash. Tears are streaming from their wide eyes, mouth wide as they pull in desperate lungfuls of air.

They can’t hear anything beyond their own ragged breathing. They don’t dare slow down, don’t dare turn around. They don’t know if they’d managed to escape or not, and so they keep running.

The first wave of dizziness hits them like a truck, nearly sending them tumbling to the ground. It feels like the ground is shifting underneath them, tilting side to side like a boat in the ocean.

They stop, not because they want to, but because they have to if they want to stay upright. Whumpee leans against the nearest wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths in hopes of chasing away the disorientation.

It doesn’t help. With each inhale, it feels like their vision is growing dimmer, their body growing heavier. It’s not long until Whumpee is resting their full weight against the wall, barely remaining upright. Their attempts to collect their thoughts crumble as their mind wanders. Each wave of dizziness breaks their concentration, and it’s becoming harder by the moment to recollect themselves.

They’re exhausted. It creeps into them like a chill, and now that they’ve stopped moving the feeling is near overwhelming.

Panic still flows through their mind, demanding that they move. But their body won’t listen. Whumpee’s limbs won’t move despite their fear. Their heartbeat has slowed despite their terror, a relaxed, sedated beating in their chest instead of the panicked drumming from moments before. Whumpee can feel their eyes closing without their consent, and it terrifies them.

Whumpee can’t stop themselves as their legs give out on them. They fall like dead weight, head smacking against the sidewalk. All they can do is groan, a low pathetic keening that barely manages to creep past their lips.

The pain is just enough to bring a spark of alertness back to their eyes. Just enough to bring back the memory of their attacker. The look in their eye, the expression that gave away no motivation but malice. The gleeful smile full of a hunger Whumpee couldn’t explain.

The glint of something sharp and metallic on Whumper’s hands. The sharp pain in Whumpee’s neck seconds before they managed to pull away.

The revelation makes Whumpee’s throat go dry. And suddenly that pain is the only thing they can feel, a pulsing ache from where they’d been stabbed. No, injected. They’d been drugged, and it’d taken them this long to realize it.

In that moment, as Whumpee’s eyes finally slip shut, the faintest of smiles crosses their lips. It’s mirthless, almost angry. The broken smile of someone who's just realized all their effort was utterly pointless.

Whumpee’s not awake to hear the sound of even, confident footsteps approaching them.

It doesn’t really matter what they do. Stay and fight, run and hide, it’s futile.

And that’s the point. The point is the struggle, the desperation that can only exist when there’s a sliver of hope left. Even when that hope is an illusion, even when that hope only exists to be mercilessly crushed.

#Sorry i um #vibed with the ask a bit too hard #this is almost embarrassingly long rip #an ask tag #whumpee #whumper #kidnapping whump #my stuff #tw: drugging #drugged whumpee

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strawburry01 · 2 months ago

Text

We'll Meet Again

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: Just a lot of mushy gushy stuff

Word Count 1.5 k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

Part 3

It was the middle of your game. You had just bet 600 trunkels on red when suddenly you started feeling light headed. If you were about to faint right now you’d never forgive yourself.

“Feeling okay, bold one?” the dealer hissed in its native language.

“Keep rolling,” you snapped back, trying to bury the dizzy feeling deep within you. You’d been doing good in this dimension and somehow had become a bit of a pseudo-millionaire, but nothing filled the gnawing void in your heart, so many times you’d end up betting more and more outrageous wagers just to try and feel something from losing it all. But you never lost it all. Something about this damn dimension meant your luck was infallible.

It only irritated you more.

Your knees buckled and you nearly collapsed onto the ground before you grabbed the edge of the counter and swore under your breath. Something was happening to you, why was your body just giving out like this? You could see the dealer saying something to you but it felt like all you could hear was the grating buzz of static. You saw it reach out a tentacle for you but all you could do was go limp.

You watched the world around you rise, but you never hit the floor. You melted right through it all. You kept seeing it shrink into oblivion until it was just a small pinprick of light in the darkness.

In the past whenever you had switched dimensions you were in control. And it wasn’t this unpleasant a process. Had you accidentally touched a button on your portal ray? Had you somehow triggered this jump? You couldn’t theorize for too long until you felt your body go through another nauseating flux. Ragdolling through space you were flung back until you unexpectedly slammed your back against a hard surface, concussing your head in the process of it all.

For a second everything was a bright white light and through gritted teeth you forced your eyes open, trying to shield them with your hands so you could assess where the hell you were. Head splitting from pain, the room was a wreck. But you’d recognize it anywhere.

“Oh my god who is that?!” a young voice shouted nearby.

“Holy sh-” was all you could hear in response before your eyes rolled back in pain and your subconscious took over.

You dreamed the same scene you often did. Over the 30 years, if you’d been keeping track correctly, you still had it at least once a month or so. It was you sitting on the dock of the lake. The lake in Gravity Falls. The pine filled wonderland in the pacific northwest. It was in a perpetual sunset, the sky a faint mix of orange and pink smears. You could always hear someone walking up the dock behind you, but you never were able to see who it was. Except this time. You looked over your shoulder and saw Ford. The version you’d met in college. The young, awkward, nerdy, unsure version of him. Hell he looked as confused as you felt.

“What am I doing here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you responded, looking back at the water. He continued, and took a seat beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so?” You answered back, not knowing, “this is farther than I usually get in these dreams,”.

“Hm,” he hummed, accepting it.

“Do you recognize me?” you asked. You felt his eyes on you.

“I’ll always recognize you dear,”.

Your eyes lurched open. Fuck that was weird. You were in your room. Your room back in the cabin. A wave of nausea swept over you again at recognizing the room. 30 fucking years hurtling through endless dimensions. It felt naive to trust your eyes. With a grunt, you pushed onto your elbows to look around. It seemed to be mid-day outside. Someone had thrown a blanket on you and left a glass of water on the floor. Still wary, you took a sip. It didn’t kill you.

There was a squeal from the doorway and your head snapped in that direction. There was a girl in a pink sweater giddily jumping and covering her mouth, but continuing to squeal.

“You’re awake!” she shouted, “Gruncle Stan! She’s awake!”. You rubbed your temples as you tried to formulate words.

“Wh-Who are you?” you mumbled out. Suddenly she was right beside the bed staring up at you with the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m Mabel Pines! I’m your niece!” she said happily before scrunching her face to think, “I think…”

Niece? Before you could question it any further, there was someone in the doorway. He was in a disheveled suit with a red fez precariously perched on his head. When the two of you locked eyes the air seemed to freeze.

“Stanley?” you croaked out. It was Ford, but it wasn’t all at the same time. Was this his estranged twin brother?

“Oh come on, did everyone know that except for Dipper and I?” Mabel whined as Stan laughed and turned her out of the room.

“There’s a lot of things you and Dipper don’t know, kid. Now give us some space,” he said, as she sighed and walked out of the room. Stan awkwardly shifted in place besides you and finally coughed to break the silence.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, “the portal shot you out across the room like a damn cannon,”. You rubbed the back of your head. Just a headache, but nothing worse it seemed.

“Just sore I think. I’m still not sure what all happened honestly,” you said.

“Yeah that’s for sure. You were out for almost a whole day. Really got Ford riled up like you wouldn’t believe,” Stan said with a small smile to himself.

“Ford’s here?” you whispered, not being able to believe what he’d just told you.

“Unfortunately. Didn’t even thank me or nothing for bringing him back. And hell- bringing his wife back too for fucks sake,” he swore. You tried to move out of the bed but your ribs and back protested. You weren’t as young as you used to be and that was becoming painfully obvious.

“Where’s Ford? I need to see Ford,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself out of the bed. Stan tried to help you, but also didn’t want to offend you by offering help.

“Slow down y’animal. He’s in the kitchen,” he said, “I can get him-”

“No, I need to see him now,” you grunted as you inhaled sharply and stood up a little straighter.

Keeping a hand on the wall you walked through the house you and he had built. It was the same, but also time had done its work on the walls and carpets. You could hear someone gently clanging around pans in the kitchen. Anxiety crept into your head. It’d been 30 years since you’d gotten zapped into the hellish dimension-scape. You knew Ford had been there too. Being humans, you both stuck out like sore thumbs, but most frustratingly you never ran into each other. Statistically, it made sense. Across millions of unique dimensions and planets, it was unlikely. You hated statistics.

You heard a gentle swear around the corner and the clatter of a spatula. It was Ford. 30 years across endless dimensions and planes of existence and you couldn’t turn the damn corner to see him. Your husband. It was stupid to tear up over it but you could feel the pricks at the corner of your eyes. You took a sharp inhale and turned.

“Ford I-” you began, but didn’t get the chance to finish before he pulled you into an embrace.

Both of you were crying now at least. He continued to apologize under his breath as he ran his hand along the back of your head. You just pressed further into his red sweater trying to save every second in case you woke up and it was all a dream.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here now,” you hiccuped through the tears as you looked up at him. His once brown hair had turned silver over the years and his face had evidence of all the years and adventures he’d gone through.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, cupping your face and looking into your eyes.

“You’d like that,” you tried to joke but you only broke down crying again as you wrapped your arms around him again. You could feel his chest as he gently laughed.

“I like the tattoo,” he chuckled into your hair.

You felt your face go red. In an alcohol-addled stupor you’d been convinced to get a small face tattoo under your eye. It was a small black broken heart, that you really had always meant to get lasered off. “Hey I have some too now,” he added with a small kiss on your forehead.

“My scientist? Tattoos? Never!” you smiled as you quickly kissed him on the lips.

This was it. This was all you hoped for over the past 30 years.

The two of you stood side by side as Ford remembered his cooking. He kept his arm firmly wrapped around your waist, as you laid a hand on his chest and listened to him starting to ramble about everything you’d been out for. The portal, Bill, the house, Stanley, the kids, no- your niece and nephew.

“Our Graunt is so badass,” Mabel whispered to her brother as she quickly peeked around the corner.

AN: Thanks all! Let me know if you want a little Weirdmagedon action bit because this feels like it's too sweet to end on personally- BUT I got one last tasty treat in the drafts right now :)

Taglist wooooo:

@valinbean

@sunniskyies

@fries11

@fluffymarshmalllows

#x reader #gravity falls #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford x reader #gravity falls fanfic #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #bill fucking sucks #gravity falls stanford #stanford gravity falls

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death---dealer · 5 months ago

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Imagine joking with like Malcom and the other humans and reader says "I like older men" and Malcolm's like "clearly" while point at caesar. Old man caesar we all say in unison.

YOU DID THIS TO ME I ---

It was nice to have a conversation with another Human, you thought dimly and handed Malcolm a wrench. Rusted around the edges, but it was still sturdy enough to use as he muttered a small ‘thank you’ to you. There was nothing of consequence to be said, other Humans liked to shoot the breeze. Apes… Not as much, you smiled at that. They took things in stride, surely, but the idea of small talk was not well established and most conversations were of substance and had deeper meaning.

The topic on the docket today as you helped Humanity out in a good deed set by the King of Apes himself, setting you to assist in getting the power back at the Dam so they could leave and never return, was the concept of actors. Primarily the ones you liked, having cringed a few times at Malcolm’s favorite choice, understanding and leaning more into Ellie when she began pestering about how much of a looker that Jeff Goldblum had been. Malcolm’s face contorted in confusion, “Really? Outta any guy out there,” He scoffed at his wife and it left her smiling towards you with a mild flushing and a roll of the eyes, “You pick that goofy lookin’ dude?” “We like funny guys.” You commented hap-hazardly, grateful on the inside that nothing you were saying was being analyzed into oblivion by the Apes carrying rocks behind you, out from the bellows of the Earth and teetering upwards to sit on the Sun. You thought about that briefly, how even now in the more primitive nature of the Apes, they were still able to metaphorically move mountains and level plains.

“The funnier the better.” Ellie noted, looking back at Alexander as he pulled her attention away. Malcolm nodded and processed that, letting his gaze fall back on the great King himself for a split second as he bargained a bit before drawing his eyes back to yours, “Funny?” “Funny.” Grinning down at your hands, the heat hit your cheeks and suddenly the chill that was brought against your spine was gone and replaced with static sitting uncomfortably, but not unwelcomed by any means, against your tailbone. You shuffled your feet stagnantly in your crouched position, resting your fingertips on the ground momentarily so as to not lose your balance and fall down the small flight of stairs behind you.

His gaze said it all, you knew, he knew as he nodded again in acceptance, this time with a wry chuckle and a small sarcastic ‘Never would have thought.’

“Let me guess,” Malcolm said clearly this time and squinted his eyes to focus on a particular yellow wire, used you assumed, to plug into the dashboard to get the power flowing freely, “You like them hairy?”

“Nah,” Joking, you could feel the density of Caesar’s fur on your fingertips at the mere idea hitting your mind. So hard on the surface, but once you dug deeper in, it became soft to touch and you yearned to grasp it and yank hard enough to command his attention. “I like them older though.”

Wiggling your eyebrows at your fellow Human, you raised your eyes to meet the ever piercing gaze of Caesar as you finished your statement staring straight into the green embezzlement that could get you to submit without even a word, “More experienced, if you catch my drift.”

#planet of the apes #pota #caesar #caesar x reader #caesar pota #pota fanfiction #emmy writes #AH

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unpleazant-stormz · 5 months ago

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Surprise! Welcome to Tumblr! Doot!

*his eyes dart around a bit, he's very confused.*

#zeus beaten at his own game fled from the pantheon in shame // storm (unpleasant gradient) ic #a ray of hope shone through the static of oblivion // doot anon #helpless and afraid the young demigod weeped for guidance // anons #arc one: fading memory

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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I’d Break the Back of Love for You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), sexual situations

Summary: You have some serious appreciation for Daryl’s shoulders.

A/N: As you should, reader. As you should.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“How long will you be gone?” You asked before popping a strawberry into your mouth. Daryl had brought them home upon his return only two days prior. You didn’t ask where he found them and he didn’t offer, but he wasn't banged up so he likely didn’t risk life and limb for them. Well, anymore than he always did by going outside the safety of the Commonwealth.

He was already gathering supplies to head out again after a broadcast that Eugene had picked up on the radio. There wasn’t much to it. Just a couple of scrambled words and a lot of static. Not enough, in your opinion, for Daryl to run out and risk himself.

The archer gave you a quick look, a corner of his mouth tugging upward when he noticed the plate of strawberries by your hip. “Few days maybe.” He answered, wrapping some bread and grabbing a couple of refilled bottles of water. He placed the items next to his shirt, on the counter you were currently calling a seat.

When he scratched at his chin, your eyes followed his movements but lingered once he had dropped his hand and moved on with packing. His goatee was more of a starter beard these days, no time for trimming. It didn’t bother you. The salt-n-pepper hair felt good when scratching against the right patches of skin.

There were so many things about your archer that you could admire in that regard all day if you ever had the chance.

The obvious one being his cock. You couldn’t say it was the biggest you’d ever seen but it was definitely to be admired. The first time, back on the Greene farm, he’d pushed into you and you’d nearly came from the stretch alone. It wasn’t just about size though. The man knew how to use it to make you come apart over and over. It always made you want to giggle when you would think back to how socially stunted he had been one day and then the next, he was fucking you stupid over Hershel’s porch railing.

His hair was so long now, the waves taking off a few inches. It was well onto his back when wet. You could still remember when it was barely over his eyes. You had loved it then too. But now, when you would bathe together, you’d have him sit in front of you so you could wash it for him. You’d always end up playing with it; braiding it or carding your fingers through it. However, the best thing was how it clung to his face and neck when he was sweaty after a thorough fucking. You’d push it off of his face, letting your fingers catch on the tangles as you kissed him.

His hands were so much bigger than yours. On the few lazy mornings you were granted, when Carol would get the kids to school for you, you’d just lie there and hold your hands together. With your palm flat against his, he could bend his fingers over the tops of your own. It was easy to imagine his thick fingers inside of you. He had sent you tumbling into oblivion plenty of times with only one curling within your walls. Those hands didn’t just hold weapons; they worked magic, too.

But it was the man’s shoulders that did you in. All that lean muscle that contracted and moved as he lifted and tugged at things to pack. You’d never admit it, but the nights alone in his absence, it was the thought of your legs over those broad shoulders and his face buried in your cunt that brought you to completion over and over.

You really needed to hide any of his shirts that weren’t tank tops.

Who would’ve thought that out of any part of that man, the one that would make you almost instantly wet was his “shoulders—”

“What?”

You shook your head and looked around a bit wildly until you found his gaze and locked on. “Hmm?”

“What ‘bout my shoulders?” He asked as you lifted another strawberry toward your lips. His question had you fumbling the fruit, catching it at the last second before it could fall to the floor.

You laughed nervously. “Shoulders? What? I didn’t say—” you stuffed the entire berry into your mouth to stop your embarrassing rambling. Hopefully, he’d just let it go and keep packing.

That hope went careening out the window when he looked down at his right shoulder and then back at you, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Nah, ya definitely said somethin’ ‘bout shoulders.” He sat the canteen he had been about to fill next to the sink and started walking toward you. “Still got my hearin’, Sunshine.”

You felt heat pooling in your cheeks and…other places when he leaned into your space, a hand braced on either side of your hips. The strawberry was swallowed down with an audible gulp.

“I, uh, like your shoulders.” You whispered. Daryl laughed in the form of an exhale and leaned in closer, his lips coming to press against the side of your neck. Maintaining any sort of control was almost futile. “Daryl, you need to get packed.” You attempted to sway him but he simply hummed against your flesh.

“Whatcha thinkin’, pretty girl?”

You groaned but leaned back your head to grant him more access. “A lot of things that are gonna make you late.” He didn’t respond to that. Not verbally. He grabbed your hips and pulled your body to the edge of the countertop, your groin coming into contact with the evidence of his own arousal.

“You’re right.” He rasped against your collarbone. With one roll of his hips, you both gasped from the friction. “I guess I should be gettin’ on with packin’.” He rolled his hips again, growling against your jaw. “D’rather have those legs’a yours over these shoulders.”

You whimpered and squirmed against him, mewling when the rough fabric of his jeans grazed against your sensitive core through your thin sleep shorts and panties. That voice of his always made you putty in his hands. “I—please, Daryl.”

“M’gonna give ya whatcha need, Sunshine.” He leaned back and tapped both of your biceps. “Up.” Your arms were immediately raised and your shirt pulled over and off. The cold air against your nipples had them hardening before Daryl could even touch you.

Your small hands found his shoulders, gripping tight while he worshiped your breasts with mouth and hands. The skin of his palms was rough and calloused but that alone brought you so much pleasure. He cupped your left breast, kneading the soft mound and pinching your nipple while circling his tongue over its twin. You had never been so sensitive to a man’s touch in your life, but Daryl could play your body like an instrument.

He pulled off of your breast with a wet pop and searched out your lips, his tongue pressing through to tangle with your own.

“Lay back.” He ordered against your mouth. You did as you were told, only slightly embarrassed by how you knew your wetness was showing through your shorts. Of course, that was the first thing he noticed when he took a step back. “So wet for me an’ I’ve barely touched ya.” His thumb pressed into your clothed opening and trekked upward, earning a few panted moans and a raise of your hips.

He continued past your pussy until he reached the waistband and turned his hand to dip his fingers underneath it. Joined by his other, he pulled your shorts and panties off in slow movements, letting them fall onto the floor.

His large hands pressed into your inner thighs to open you up so wide that it bordered painful. All you could do was bite your lip and watch him. His tongue creeped across his bottom lip, and you shivered.

“Prettiest pussy there ever was.” He commented absently, releasing one of your legs so he could slide his index finger up and down your slick lips. He was rewarded with a needy whine and the sight of you clenching around nothing. With a smirk, he moved his finger straight to his mouth, not pushing it past his lips until you opened your eyes. “Sweet lil’ thing too.”

“Daryl.” You whined. You both knew you weren’t above begging. It was only a matter of whether or not he wanted to hear it this time.

“I gotcha, Sunshine. Gonna make ya feel real good, okay?”

You had zero doubt about that.

“Sit up for me.”

You planted your palms on the counter and came up to meet him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to drag him in for a kiss. He chuckled, a sound you adored, and pulled away from you to sink to one knee. A sweet kiss was pressed into your left thigh and then he was looking up at you. Oh, you were burning that sight into your memory for later. He placed his hands beneath your knees and stilled, smirking.

“You’re gonna need to hold on, pretty thing.”

You gave him a quizzical look but then he pulled you forward, his face diving into your waiting cunt as his hands quickly moved to your ass. You had just enough time to twist your fingers in his hair before he was rising from the floor.

“Oh, fuck.” You yelped, not just at the sensation of his tongue breaching your opening, but also at being six feet off the ground. How the man knew where to walk was anyone’s guess but his steps were sure. Your back pressed against the wall beside the refrigerator, giving him a little leverage to really work at your pussy in earnest.

The initial shock had worn off, now replaced by the sensations his mouth was causing and the absolute thrill of legitimately being perched on those fucking shoulders while he devoured you like a man starved.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You praised, fisting one hand in his hair while the other came up to palm the wall beside your head. He knew exactly what he was doing in every sense at that moment. You could feel the tense muscle below your thighs. His tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. His nose rubbing against your rapidly swelling clit. His beard scraping your overheated flesh.

A new wave of arousal seeped out of you and he groaned, happily lapping it up with sounds that definitely did not belong in a kitchen. The cord inside you was heating up, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, an absolutely delicious feeling of both tension and ecstasy building and yearning just below the skin.

When he slid his tongue up through your wetness to flick at your clit, you almost couldn’t stand it; desperate to cum and hear him cooing praises after he drank every drop, but also wanting to savor the delectable journey toward an inevitable mind blowing orgasm that would likely leave you unable to speak anything but his name.

“Fuck, oh, right there!” You slapped your palm once against the wall with a long, wanton moan. You wanted to grind against his face, aid in coaxing your high out of you, but he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. His grip on your ass tightened and he pressed face even closer to you, lips encircling your bundle of nerves to suck at it while his tongue worked it from inside his mouth. “Goddamn, Daryl! Fuck!”

He went back to kitten licks, tilting his head down so his nose continued to press at your pulsing nub while he slurped up any new arousal that had dripped out of your entrance.

He was killing you. And you loved it.

Daryl Dixon may have been called many things in his life, but absolute destroyer of pussy needed to be added to that list. When he wasn’t sucking your ability to think right out of your clit, maybe you could remember to call him that in front of one of your friends.

“Fuck.” You felt like you could almost cry, your orgasm not just creeping closer but sprinting. “Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna cum.” He gave your ass a hard squeeze, his way of demanding you let go.

It was gradual, a pins and needles sensation that started from where his lips pulled tightly on your clit and spread out through your limbs, causing them to begin trembling. Then it was all at once, a wave of pleasure hit you so hard that you jerked and the back of your head hit the wall while your hands pulled roughly on his hair. There were a few moments unaccounted for, your vision overtaken by darkness and stars and the distant sounds of your own screams of his name.

When you came back to yourself, your arms were dangling uselessly. You were panting while your body spasmed through the last pulses of your high. And Daryl was eagerly lapping up every drop.

Once you were completely spent, you felt one of his large hands slid up to brace the small of your back while the other lifted one of your legs from his shoulder. He switched, gripping just above your hip on that side to keep you from falling while he moved your other leg. Then you were sliding down until he stopped you just in front of his face, his lips readily pressing against yours.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, feel your own wetness smearing across your face from where it had gathered on his beard. The kiss itself was sweet and lazy and loving, whispered praises between each press of his lips. Your feet slowly touched the floor and his hands came up to cradle your face.

You wanted to melt against him and beg him not to leave you. To clean you up and take you to bed so you could surprise you both by climbing above him and riding him until he filled you over and over. That fantasy had you reaching to cup him through his pants, feeling the straining hardness for only a moment before he gently grabbed your wrist.

“Let’s take a bath an’ getcha cleaned up an’ ready for bed.”

You pulled back, frowning in confusion. “Don’t you have to leave?” You felt your heart spin when he gave you the sweetest smile; the one he gave to only you.

“Nah, need to be here.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, one side and then the other, before gently cupping your chin and kissing you. “They can send someone else.”

“You mean it?” You asked, eyes sparkling with more hope than you meant to reveal.

“Nah, lemme go an’ finish packin’.” He started to turn away but you caught one of those beautiful shoulders to easily spin him back to you. He deflected your attempt to smack him by ducking and hoisting you up over the very same shoulder you had grabbed. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, woe is me!” You laughed, kicking your legs to get out of his hold. You didn’t even remember you were still naked until he gave your ass a gentle smack as he walked up the stairs. Once at the top, you wiggled forward so you could reach and slap his ass one good time. “Hey, if that’s what happens when I say your shoulders are sexy, what would you do if I said you have a nice ass?”

He barked out a laugh that you didn’t hear often enough and used the heel of his boot to kick the door closed.

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pr0cyon-lotor · 2 months ago

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I've been thinking about my COTL AU for Svsss. I made some designs for the main guys :D

Our simple but put together Cult Leader

His cold and sharp right hand man and husband

And their troublesome husband I mean— follower 👀

A little excerpt (im taking liberties with the lore because ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯) ↓

The Bishop of Death was once a kind shepherd. He led lost souls to eternal rest with a comforting smile.

No one knew where he came from or why he stayed, but he was loved, and he loved his kin back. It was like the heavens above graced their undeserving lives with a good reason for death. Just to be cradled in his arms and pulled to permanent sleep. It was something to love with him there.

No one knows when it happened, but the bishop changed. Something tainted the shepherd. Those smiles were no longer kind; there was a madness in his eyes, and his voice lost its warmth.

A snake and a crow always whispered in his ears, the culprits many guessed. Yet his devoted followers refused to believe their shepherd would lead them astray.

A little lamb and goat were the most vocal about their belief in their shepherd. They were saved by him long ago; they didn't believe that cat, who smiled so fondly as he shielded two herdless creatures from the cruelty of their world, was gone. That kind shepherd was in there, they swear.

Then their shepherd attacked the other bishops. They heard this information from the very same bishops, bloodied and torn.

It didn't matter to the lamb and the goat. All they knew was that their god was gone.

It wasn't long before the lamb was taken after so much senseless slaughter of his kind. The goat tried to stop it but only got discarded on the forest floor, drawing his final breath as the lamb cried out for him to wake up. Those cries turned to static as the goat closed his eyes.

It hurt. The lamb never thought he'd be the one on an altar, a knife puncturing through his soft wool and even softer flesh like it was nothing. His last breath came out in a muffled cry, and darkness met him.

Oblivion. The same oblivion their shepherd would lead lost souls to. If only they were led by him this one time...

Except it wasn't oblivion where they stayed. They were thrown at the feet of a massive, chained figure. Fear bloomed in their chests before a familiar voice welcomed them.

"Ah— My little lamb. My lovely goat. You visited me far too early," said that comforting voice. A veil covered his face, but there was a smile, barely visible under the dark veil.

It was almost worrying how quickly they agreed to make a cult in his name. Maybe it was simple devotion, although it felt different than devotion. It felt warmer. It was more.

They fought tooth and nail for their god. In those small moments of failure, they were greeted with a smile and sent back gently. They truly didn't see the insanity in the shepherd's eyes, or maybe they didn't want to believe it.

Bishop after bishop, they fell like cards. Each gave warnings about the shepherd, and their god's excitement turned to mania with each fallen card.

Once the last card fell, they were left with the last one. The Ace. It was truly no surprise that the shepherd betrayed them. The veil was ripped off during the fight; they were met with the insanity in those eyes.

It hurt as much as the knife that reunited them as they made a mighty mountain fall. No longer the colossal being that they looked up to, just a cat. Wounded and weak.

They approached, and there was a moment of clarity in his eyes. The fallen shepherd looked at them and smiled as he did that first day.

"My little lamb. My lovely goat," he said fondly, as if he wasn't at their mercy.

The lamb just needed to raise his blade and...

It would be so easy. So simple. Their fallen shepherd wouldn't have to suffer anymore, but...

There was a silent agreement between the lamb and the goat as they sheathed their blades. The lamb gingerly picked up the former god of death, careful with his injuries, and brought him half unconscious to the very same cult they made to his name.

They left him to their healer. Yes, their shepherd wouldn't have his madness healed overnight, but they were going to make sure he can once more see through his madness and see them again. No matter how long it took.

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dappledpaintbrush · 1 year ago

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fuck it I’m plugging this

Check tags for autism

only I make a playlist for a character that doesn’t even make a canonical experience in the game and you gotta 2939393 miles go out of your way to figure out even exists

#okay so I tried to arrange it in order of her story #first three songs are basically childhood before the horrors #youth is the death of her mom and brother COUGJ dimentioCOOUGHHF #medicine is when she gets sick #original i know #fourth of july is her death from her father’s perspective #‘what could I have said to raise you from the dead’ get it. GET IT #the static song is her soul to pixl transformation essentially #moon will sing is directed towards her dad #‘I could have been anyone anyone else before you made the choice for me’ GET IT (wild look in my eye)#I SHINE ONLY WITH THE LIGHT YOU GIVE ME🗣🗣🗣🗣#the next two songs are her being depressed/angry #yk for that thousand years #oblivion is her breaking point #birdcage is like her homage to her dead (not) brother #blow my brains out is her mindset during the war #soldier poet king is the war through the perspective of those fighting against her and the celebration of their victory #forest fires is essentially her singing to herself #IIIIIIIII DONT BLAME YOUUUUUUUU… WHO WOULD WANNA BE AROUND.. ME…#and finally #who is she is not only about the pixl queen/shadoo herself #like a wrap up yk #but it’s ALSO dimentio’s homage back to her #okay I’m done #maybe #I’m normal

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pupyuj · 9 months ago

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im ngl overstimulated yujin has me stuttering

combining these two asks cuz why not! anyways atp i’m looking like i genuinely believe yujin has a dick bcs i almost never write about yuj w a cooch anymore (yuj cooch enthusiasts i will deliver soon do NAWT worry) but listen … she does have a dick and i know bcs she’s constantly slamming it inside m—[STATIC]

(p.s. i think it’s way too obvious that i enjoyed this a lot pls i loooveee yujin sm don’t look at me like thatttt)

we all agree that yujin has crazy stamina and even if she’s exhausted, the feeling of being inside you is just too good that she never really pulls out after the two of you finish :(( if she could, baby would be inside you all the time really! you always wondered how much yujin could take before she’s crying and pleading for mercy… it’s about time that you’re the one who has her whimpering and getting all limp after all! 😵‍💫

binding her to a soft, comfortable chair and letting her keep at least her shirt on bcs you’re not gonna lie, your shirt looked way too good on her 😍 you’d start slow with a cute little handjob and for a while it’d look like just another friday night of good fucking for the two of you but yujin notices what you were up to when she was three orgasms deep and you still haven’t taken her dick down your throat or inside you! i’d love to think that she’d start squirming! yuj is used to being the one who does all the teasing and the cruel ‘make her cry all night by pulling eight orgasms out of her in a matter of an hour’ game—not the other way around!

baby’s never been overstimulated… a part of her would be excited, but mostly she’d be terrified bcs what if she embarrasses herself! :(( her pride wouldn’t let her go down without a fight.. she’d try to get control but you wouldn’t budge of course.. this was a once in a blue moon opportunity! you have to see yujin beg helplessly for you to stop 🥺🥺

“hm.. don’t dry out so quick, baby… you still have to fill me up, remember?” you’d whisper in her ear while tears well up in her eyes after her sixth orgasm 🫣 her legs shaking, dick twitching in your hand… i love to think about how she’d bite her lip to not be too loud but ending up failing and cutting her lip on the process oh the poor girl 💔 kissing down her neck and whispering the nastiest, most degrading things in her while you gear her up for another climax… yujin really doesn’t know if she should be turned on or humiliated but either way, one of those feelings was the one making her cum so—

ah it’d be soooo messy too?:!;!/&,& your entire hand would be drenched with her cum and every time you lick it up it only makes yujin’s dick go stiff again,, it’s impressive really! how she’s still able to keep cumming so much 😵‍💫 “good puppy, you just know what mommy wants from you, huh?” oh yujinnie would go insane 🤤🤤 you’d think she’d start resisting and acting all bratty but nooo puppy loves to get praised! sure she hated the humiliating aspect of it all (…or did she?) but one “good girl” and her brain just goes all dumb for you 🥺💕

seeing her pretty, shiny eyes all glossed up with tears once you decided to have a taste of her cum directly from the source… god you’d only have her tip in your mouth and she’d already be thrashing around and shaking her head bcs yujinnie was so sensitive at that point :(( sobbing pathetically and moaning at the pleasure at the same time.. loving how she was so obviously torn between wanting to break free of her restraints to stop you or to finish what you started and fuck you to oblivion… yujinnie will get her fun later but right now, it was time for yours 🥰

taking in all of her dick down your throat in one fell swoop and yujin’s screaming in the air with her eyes nearly rolled back 😵‍💫 ugh the sight of her dick disappearing inside your mouth flawlessy every now and again only made things worse.. she has to fuck you and breed you until she was empty :(( it wouldn’t take long for her to cum again.. but at least this time not a drop was wasted! you made sure to swallow it all, just how she liked to see it 🤭 it would be her eleventh orgasm and poor puppy would be so tired ☹️ chest heaving up and down, sobbing softly while still struggling to break free… and now you feel bad! 😔

“i know, baby.. sorry i went overboard, i know…” you’d whisper while spooning her on your bed, making up for all your meanness with your awesome aftercare 🥺 yujinnie would be so cute all cuddled up to your side, face buried in your chest where it was warm… and you’d think that she would be too tired to even keep her eyes open but nope! the second you let down your guard, yujin would be rolling on top of you and pinnjng your hands above your head, grinning down at you like the sick pervert that was 🤭🤭

“your turn. make daddy happy now.”

don’t you just love switches?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

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rafesapologist · 9 months ago

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the setback ─ rafe cameron; part two

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: substance use, alcohol, mentions of crime, infidelity

Rafe navigated through the throngs of partygoers, a forced grin plastered on his face as he exchanged pleasantries with familiar faces. Topper and Kelce were holding court near the keg, their laughter mingling with the music as they regaled their friends with tales of their latest conquests.

"Hey, Rafe!" Topper called out, clapping him on the back as he approached. "Glad you could make it, man. This party's gonna be legendary."

Rafe forced a chuckle, the weight of the small bag tucked into his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever. "You haven't seen anything yet," he replied, flashing a sly grin as he reached into his pocket and produced the bag of coke.

Topper's eyes lit up with excitement as he took in the sight, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "Now we're talking," he said, his voice barely audible over the pounding music. "This party just got a whole lot better."

Kelce nodded in agreement, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for the perfect spot to indulge. "Hell yeah, let's do this," he said eagerly, his voice tinged with anticipation.

Rafe felt a surge of adrenaline course through him as he handed the bag to Topper, a sense of reckless abandon washing over him. In that moment, surrounded by the pulsing beat of the music and the raucous energy of the party, he couldn't help but feel alive in a way he hadn't in a long time.

But beneath the surface, a nagging voice whispered warnings of the dangers that lay ahead, a reminder of the thin line between euphoria and despair. As he watched Topper and Kelce prepare to indulge, Rafe couldn't help but wonder if tonight would end in triumph or tragedy. Only time would tell.

The living room pulsed with the rhythmic beat of the music, the air thick with anticipation as Rafe, Topper, and Kelce huddled together on a couch and chairs arranged around a coffee table. With shaky hands, they set out lines of coke, each one a promise of temporary escape from the realities of their lives.

"Ready, boys?" Topper asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as he leaned in close to the table.

Rafe nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Topper and Kelce prepare to snort a line each. He felt a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through him, a sense of danger lingering in the air like static electricity.

"Let's do this," Kelce muttered, his voice trembling slightly as he leaned in closer to the table.

With a shared glance, the three of them leaned down simultaneously, their noses hovering just above the lines of coke. In unison, they took a deep breath, their hearts racing as they prepared to snort the powder.

And then, with a swift motion, they each inhaled sharply, the powder disappearing into their nostrils in a cloud of white dust. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they savored the rush of euphoria coursing through their veins, the world around them fading into oblivion as they surrendered to the sweet embrace of escape.

As the boys lifted their heads from the table, Rafe couldn't help but let out a low groan, the rush of the substance hitting him with a jolt of energy. For a moment, he tilted his head back, allowing the sensation to wash over him before shaking his head quickly to clear it.

"Alright, enough of that," Rafe exclaimed, his voice cutting through the haze of the room. "It's time for shots!"

His words were met with enthusiastic cheers from the group of boys, their excitement palpable as they eagerly rose from their seats and made their way towards the makeshift bar. The promise of alcohol served as the perfect complement to the rush of the coke, a potent combination that promised to take the night to new heights.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Rafe led the way, his steps sure and steady as he navigated through the crowd towards the bar. As he reached for a bottle of liquor, he couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, the thrill of the night stretching out before him like an endless expanse of possibilities.

Tonight, he would embrace the chaos, revel in the euphoria of the moment, and forget, if only for a little while, the weight of his troubles. And as he raised a shot glass in a silent toast to the night ahead, Rafe couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom wash over him, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world fraught with uncertainty.

With a grin plastered on his face, Rafe passed out shot glasses to his friends, the anticipation of the night's adventures coursing through their veins. The room buzzed with excitement as they raised their glasses in a silent salute, the clinking of glass filling the air like a symphony of celebration.

"Here's to tonight!" Rafe declared, his voice ringing out above the din of the party.

The group echoed his sentiment with enthusiastic cheers, their voices blending together in a chorus of anticipation. And then, with a simultaneous motion, they threw back their shots, the fiery liquid burning a path down their throats as they swallowed it down in one smooth gulp.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of their shared experience hanging in the air like a heavy fog. And then, as if on cue, the music resumed, the party roaring back to life with renewed fervor.

Rafe grinned, the rush of the alcohol mingling with the remnants of the coke, sending a surge of energy coursing through his veins. Tonight was shaping up to be one for the books, a night filled with adventure and excitement, a night where anything was possible.

As he glanced around at his friends, their faces illuminated by the pulsing lights of the party, Rafe felt a sense of camaraderie unlike anything he had ever known. In this moment, surrounded by the people he loved, he knew that no matter what the night held in store, they would face it together, united in their pursuit of the ultimate thrill.

As the effects of the alcohol and coke began to course through Rafe's system, a warm and intoxicating haze enveloped him, dulling the edges of his inhibitions. Sofia, the beacon of his thoughts just moments ago, faded into the background, her presence replaced by the allure of the party and the promise of new experiences.

With a devilish grin, Rafe's gaze wandered across the crowded room until it landed on a girl nearby. She caught his eye, returning his smile with one of her own, and Rafe felt a surge of confidence surge through him.

"Hey there," he said, sauntering over to her with a cocky swagger. "What's your name?"

The girl laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she sized him up. "I'm Lily," she replied, her voice low and sultry. "And you are?"

Rafe flashed her his most charming grin, leaning in closer as he extended his hand. "I'm Rafe," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And I have a feeling tonight's about to get a whole lot more interesting."

Lily's amusement danced in her eyes as she leaned in closer to Rafe, the tantalizing promise of the night hanging in the air between them. With each exchange of words and lingering glance, the tension crackled like electricity, a palpable energy drawing them closer together.

As the music pulsed in the background, Rafe and Lily engaged in a dance of seduction, their banter filled with innuendo and playful teasing. Subtle touches and shared laughter further fueled the flames of desire, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Rafe couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through him as he reveled in the thrill of the chase, his heart pounding with anticipation. Lost in the heat of the moment, he allowed himself to be swept away by the allure of this mysterious girl, his thoughts consumed by the promise of what could be.

Deep down, beneath the veneer of confidence and bravado, a nagging voice whispered warnings of caution in Rafe's mind. This wasn't him—not the Rafe who valued loyalty and sincerity, the Rafe who would have never considered flirting with a stranger while in a committed relationship.

Two years ago, he wouldn't have even looked at Lily twice, let alone engage in the flirtatious dance they were now entangled in. But the potent mixture of substances coursing through his body had clouded his judgment, turning him into a stranger—a ticking time bomb on the brink of something self-destructive.

Despite the thrill of the moment, a sense of unease gnawed at Rafe's conscience. He knew he was playing with fire, dancing dangerously close to the edge of a precipice from which there might be no return. But in the haze of the party, with the allure of the substances pulling him further into the abyss, he found himself unable—or unwilling—to pull away.

As he continued to exchange seductive glances and subtle touches with the random girl, Rafe couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one wrong move away from tumbling into the darkness below. And yet, in that moment, the pull of the unknown was too strong to resist, and Rafe found himself surrendering to the intoxicating rush of desire, heedless of the consequences that awaited him on the other side.

As the heat of the moment intensified and Rafe found himself locked in a passionate embrace with Lily, a sudden surge of clarity pierced through the fog of intoxication. In the midst of their heated makeout session, an unexpected image flashed before his eyes—a haunting vision of your face, your eyes filled with hurt and disappointment.

The sight stopped Rafe in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat as the reality of his actions came crashing down around him. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled away from Lily, his mind reeling with confusion and guilt.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

Lily blinked in surprise, confusion flickering across her features as she searched his face for answers. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

But Rafe couldn't bring himself to answer. The image of your face lingered in his mind like a ghost, a haunting reminder of the person he used to be and the choices he had made.

As the image of your face flashed before him, a pang of longing pierced through Rafe's heart, stirring up a torrent of conflicting emotions. In that moment of vulnerability, he found himself grappling with the overwhelming desire to seek solace in the arms of the girl before him, even as the memory of you lingered like a specter in his mind.

With a mixture of desperation and resignation, Rafe seized the opportunity to pull Lily close once again, his lips crashing against hers in a feverish kiss. But despite the physical connection, his mind was elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of regret and yearning.

As their kiss deepened, Rafe's thoughts drifted further away from the present moment, consumed by the memory of you—the person who had captured his heart and held it captive, even in your absence. In the heat of the passion, he clung to the fleeting illusion of intimacy, desperate for a temporary reprieve from the ache of longing that gnawed at his soul.

As the intensity of their embrace deepened, Rafe found himself losing himself in the moment, the rush of desire clouding his senses and driving him to seek solace in the arms of the girl before him. But as their passion reached a fever pitch, a sudden surge of guilt and longing welled up within him, threatening to overwhelm his fragile facade.

As the name slipped from his lips, a surge of panic shot through Rafe's veins, but the intoxicating blend of substances clouding his judgment stifled the impulse to address his slip-up. With a reckless abandon fueled by the drugs coursing through his system, he ignored the weight of his mistake and instead doubled down on the kiss, burying the nagging voice of guilt beneath a veil of indifference.

Lily pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion as she searched his face for answers. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lily's momentary confusion was met with Rafe's feverish embrace, his lips moving hungrily against hers as if trying to drown out the echoes of your name with each fleeting touch. The urgency of his actions masked the turmoil churning within him, a futile attempt to escape the truth of his betrayal and the longing that threatened to consume him whole.

As the kiss intensified, Rafe lost himself in the sensation, allowing the rush of desire to wash over him like a tidal wave. With each passing moment, the boundaries between reality and illusion blurred, and he surrendered himself to the reckless abandon of the night, heedless of the consequences that awaited him on the other side.

In that fleeting moment of abandon, Rafe relinquished himself to the seductive allure of the substances coursing through his veins, allowing them to guide his actions and shield him from the harsh glare of reality. And as he sank deeper into the embrace of the girl before him, he pushed aside the lingering doubts and fears, choosing instead to embrace the fleeting ecstasy of the present, no matter the cost.

As Rafe's lips moved against the stranger's, a wave of ecstasy washed over him, momentarily transporting him to a place where reality and imagination intertwined. In that fleeting moment of bliss, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to the illusion, imagining you standing before him as if you had never left the islands, as if you had never vanished without a word of explanation.

In his mind's eye, he saw you as vividly as if you were there in the flesh, your presence filling the empty spaces within him with a warmth he had longed for since the day you disappeared. He imagined the sound of your laughter, the sparkle of your eyes, the gentle touch of your hand against his cheek—all the things he had missed and yearned for in the lonely nights that followed your departure.

With each passing moment, the line between reality and fantasy blurred, and Rafe found himself lost in a reverie of what could have been, of the life they could have shared if only things had been different. The weight of his longing mingled with the intoxicating rush of the substances coursing through his veins, amplifying the intensity of his emotions until they threatened to consume him whole.

But even in the midst of his ecstasy, a nagging voice whispered warnings of caution in Rafe's mind, reminding him of the painful truth he had tried so desperately to bury. As he opened his eyes, the illusion shattered like glass, leaving him grappling with the harsh reality of your absence and the wounds it had left behind.

Rafe's mind raced as he looked at the girl before him, torn between the conflicting desires warring within him. The potent cocktail of liquor and coke coursing through his veins clouded his judgment, blurring the lines between right and wrong, desire and regret.

For a moment, he entertained the dangerous idea of surrendering to his desires, of allowing himself to indulge in the illusion that the girl before him could fill the void left by your absence. But deep down, he knew that she could never compare to you—that no one could ever take your place in his heart.

As he weighed his options, Rafe felt the weight of your memory pressing down upon him, a constant reminder of the love he had lost and the pain he had endured in your absence. The thought of betraying your memory filled him with a sense of shame and guilt, but the allure of escape proved too tempting to resist.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe made his decision, choosing to give in to his desires for just one night—to pretend, if only for a fleeting moment, that you were still here by his side. It was a reckless choice, driven by the desperate longing that gnawed at his soul, but in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences.

As he leaned in to resume their embrace, Rafe pushed aside the doubts and fears that threatened to engulf him, allowing himself to be swept away by the illusion of intimacy and the promise of temporary escape. And as he lost himself in the heat of the moment, he couldn't help but wonder if, just for tonight, he could find solace in the arms of a stranger and forget, if only for a moment, the pain of your absence.

With a reckless abandon fueled by the intoxicating mix of substances coursing through his veins, Rafe found himself surrendering to the moment, his inhibitions drowned out by a desperate longing for escape. Ignoring the warnings of his conscience, he turned to the girl beside him with a daring glint in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Wanna go upstairs?"

The girl's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she met his gaze. But instead of recoiling, a mischievous smile spread across her face, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Lead the way," she replied, her voice a sultry whisper.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

As you lay on the towel, the golden warmth of the sun kissing your skin, the rhythmic lullaby of the ocean waves enveloped you in a soothing embrace. Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries of the world melting away with each gentle caress of the breeze.

Suddenly, the serene ambiance was shattered by JJ's arrival from the ocean, his surfboard in tow. Standing above you, he unleashed a playful assault, shaking his wet hair vigorously, sending a cascade of droplets raining down upon you.

You let out a surprised squeal, laughing as you shielded yourself from the impromptu shower. Despite the initial shock, you couldn't help but join in JJ's infectious laughter, the carefree joy of the moment washing over you like a wave crashing upon the shore.

"JJ, seriously!" you protested, your voice tinged with mock annoyance as you brushed the droplets from your face.

As you reclined on the towel, still recovering from JJ's playful assault of seawater, he settled in beside you, a grin playing on his lips as he observed your sun-kissed complexion.

"Hey there, beach babe," he teased, nudging you gently with his elbow. "You're looking pretty tan today. And check it out, your freckles are making a comeback."

You couldn't help but laugh at his observation, running a hand self-consciously over your face as if to confirm his words. The summer sun had indeed left its mark, sprinkling your cheeks and nose with a smattering of freckles that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

"Blame it on all those hours we've been spending out here," you replied, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Guess I can't complain about getting some color, though."

JJ chuckled, the sound mingling with the gentle rhythm of the waves as he settled back on the towel, his gaze lingering on your face.

"Nah, you're rocking it," he said, his tone genuine as he reached out to give your shoulder a playful squeeze. "Besides, freckles are cute. Adds character."

You rolled your eyes playfully at his compliment, but couldn't help the warmth that spread through you at his words. As you settled into conversation with JJ, the cares of the world seemed to melt away, replaced by the easy camaraderie and warmth that defined your friendship. And as you laughed and joked together, surrounded by the beauty of the beach and the comfort of each other's company, you couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like these—for the simple joys that made life worth living, and for the blond boy who made every day a little brighter.

JJ's azure eyes lingered over your sunscreen-covered skin, the sunlight casting a soft glow upon it, enhancing its silky texture. A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took in your lively demeanor, the way the sunlight danced in your hair and the warmth of your laughter filled the air. In that moment, it seemed as though you had been brought back to him, vibrant and full of life.

As he watched you, a sense of gratitude welled up within JJ, grateful for your presence beside him, for the easy companionship and genuine connection you shared. In a world filled with chaos and uncertainty, you were his anchor, grounding him in the here and now, reminding him of the beauty that surrounded them.

With a gentle sigh, JJ leaned back on the towel, content to bask in the warmth of the sun and the comfort of your company. As he gazed at you, a sense of peace washed over him, knowing that as long as you were by his side, everything would be okay. And in that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the beach and the warmth of your friendship, JJ couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the gift of your presence in his life.

You caught JJ's gaze lingering on you, and with a playful grin, you raised an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "What are you looking at?" you teased, nudging him gently with your elbow.

JJ's expression softened, his azure eyes warm and genuine as he met your gaze. "Just admiring the view," he replied with a lopsided smile. "I haven't seen you this happy in a long time."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, surprised by his observation but warmed by the sincerity in his tone. "Well, I have you to thank for that," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Being out here with you, it's like all my worries just melt away."

JJ's smile widened at your words, a flicker of pride shining in his eyes. "Glad I could help," he said, reaching out to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, you know."

You squeezed his hand back, touched by his sincerity. "Right back at you, JJ," you said, your voice soft but earnest. "Thanks for always being there for me."

JJ's gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching your expression as if trying to read your thoughts. A curious furrow creased your brow as you met his gaze, wondering what had prompted his sudden inquiry.

"Do you ever miss your life back on the cut?" he asked, his voice quiet but earnest.

The question hung in the air between you, the weight of its implications sinking in. Memories of your past life on the cut flooded your mind, a mix of nostalgia and pain intertwining as you considered JJ's question.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you thought back to the carefree days spent on the islands, the salty sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on your skin. But beneath the surface, there was a darkness—a shadow that lingered in the recesses of your mind, a reminder of the trials and tribulations you had faced.

"It's complicated," you replied finally, your voice soft but tinged with emotion. "There are definitely things I miss about it—the freedom, the sense of adventure. But there are also things I'm glad to leave behind."

JJ nodded understandingly, his gaze softening with empathy. "I get that," he said, his tone gentle. "Life on the cut wasn't always easy, but there were moments of magic too."

As you sat together, lost in contemplation, a sense of camaraderie settled between you—a shared understanding of the complexities of life and the bittersweet nostalgia of memories past. And as you gazed out at the endless expanse of the ocean before you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the present moment.

But JJ's question lingered in your mind like a persistent echo, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions as you contemplated your past life on the cut. Memories, both sweet and bitter, flooded your mind—the bustling streets of the chateau, the familiar faces of the locals, and the thrill of adventure that had once defined your days.

But amid the nostalgia, there was a darker undercurrent—a reminder of the tumultuous relationship you had shared with Rafe Cameron. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself swept up in memories of the highs and lows, the dizzying rush of passion and the crushing weight of betrayal. There had been a time when you had believed in him, when you had thought that love could conquer all.

But as you reflected on the pain and heartache he had caused, the illusion shattered like glass, leaving behind a bitter taste in its wake. The truth was clear now—Rafe Cameron was nothing more than a manipulative and selfish individual, incapable of genuine love or loyalty. And with each passing day, your hatred for him grew stronger, fueled by the wounds he had inflicted and the scars that still lingered.

In that moment of clarity, you realized that while life on the cut had held its moments of magic, it had also been fraught with danger and deception. And as you looked to the future, you knew that leaving it all behind had been the right choice—one that had freed you from the toxic grip of Rafe Cameron and paved the way for a new beginning.

"I'm just glad to be away from Rafe Cameron," you admitted, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of defiance.

JJ nodded in understanding, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his eyes. "I get that," he replied, his tone somber. "He's caused a lot of pain for a lot of people."

You nodded in agreement, the weight of his words resonating with your own experiences. "Yeah," you said, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. "But I'm not going to let him define me or my future. I'm done with that part of my life." As you spoke, a sense of determination settled over you, a steely resolve to move forward and leave the darkness of your past behind.

As the memories flooded back, you found yourself transported to that fateful day—the day you arrived on the island that would change your life forever. The sun beat down mercilessly as you and JJ made your way through the dense underbrush, your hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

John B stood at the center of the group, his expression grave as he recounted the events that had led to their current predicament. "They're framing me for murder," he explained, his voice tinged with desperation. "But it wasn't me. It was Ward, trying to cover up what Rafe did." His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their implications settling over you like a suffocating blanket. The betrayal cut deep, leaving you reeling with shock and disbelief.

As John B's words hung in the air, a wave of confusion and disbelief washed over you. "What do you mean, 'what Rafe did'?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of shock and incredulity.

John B met your gaze, his expression grim as he recounted the harrowing truth. "Rafe… he's the one who killed Sheriff Peterkin," he explained, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Ward's been covering for him, making it look like I'm the one responsible."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as John B's words sank in, the enormity of the revelation hitting you like a ton of bricks. Rafe Cameron, the boy you had once known, had committed an unforgivable act—a crime that had shattered lives and torn apart families.

A swell of emotions rose within you—anger, disbelief, betrayal. How could Rafe, someone you had once been in love with, be capable of such a heinous act? And how could Ward, his own father, be complicit in covering up the truth?

As John B's words sank in, a cold shiver ran down your spine, and your knees threatened to give way beneath you. The world around you seemed to blur, and your stomach churned with a sickening mix of disbelief and horror.

The boy you had once loved, the boy whose laughter had once filled your days with warmth and joy, was capable of something so heinous—a crime that had torn apart lives and shattered families. It felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you, leaving you reeling in a sea of uncertainty and despair.

But even more devastating was the realization that Rafe, the boy you had once trusted and cared for, could be so shallow as to let his own father accuse one of your friends for his wrongdoing. The betrayal cut deep, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a knot of anger and sorrow in your chest.

As you struggled to process the enormity of what John B had revealed, a sense of determination ignited within you—a resolve to seek justice for Sheriff Peterkin and to clear John B's name of the false accusations that had been leveled against him. No matter the cost, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead, you would stand by your friends and fight for what was right, even if it meant facing the painful truth about those you once held dear.

As Sarah's voice broke through the heavy silence, her words filled with remorse and sorrow, you felt a pang of sympathy wash over you. Despite the betrayal her family had inflicted, she remained steadfast in her loyalty to her friends.

"I'm so sorry," Sarah murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "I never thought… I never wanted any of this to happen."

Kiara's comforting presence at your side offered a small solace amidst the storm of emotions raging within you. As she wrapped her arms around you, you buried your face in her shoulder, the weight of the truth crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your cheeks, unchecked and unbidden, as the shock and disbelief threatened to overwhelm you.

"How could he do this?" you whispered brokenly, your voice choked with emotion. "How could Rafe… How could he let Ward frame John B for something he did?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of betrayal and grief. The boy you had once cared for, the boy you had once believed in, had committed an unspeakable act of violence, and in his cowardice, he had allowed another to shoulder the blame. As you grappled with the painful truth, Kiara's presence offered a glimmer of comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain.

As the weight of betrayal and sorrow pressed down upon you, a fire ignited within your heart—a fire fueled by anger, pain, and a deep-seated sense of betrayal. In that moment, you made a solemn vow to yourself, a vow born from the depths of your anguish and despair.

"I hate him," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I hate Rafe Cameron and all that he stands for."

The words hung heavy in the air, a declaration of war against the boy who had once held your heart in his hands. With each syllable uttered, you felt a surge of determination wash over you, a determination to rid yourself of the toxic influence that had poisoned your past and tainted your memories.

In that moment, you swore to yourself that you would forget—forget the love you had once felt, forget the pain of betrayal, forget the boy who had shattered your illusions and broken your heart. You would bury those memories deep within the recesses of your mind, locking them away behind a wall of resentment and indifference.

And though you knew that forgetting would not be easy, you were determined to try—to scrub clean the slate of your past and start anew, free from the shadows that had haunted you for so long. With each passing day, you would strive to leave behind the pain and sorrow of yesterday, forging ahead into a future untainted by the darkness of your past.

As you grappled with the decision to erase Rafe Cameron from your life, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that physical distance now separated you from him. Thousands of miles stretched between you, a vast expanse of ocean and land that made the chance of a chance encounter slim to none.

In some sense, the physical separation made it relatively easy to move forward without him. No longer would you have to worry about catching a glimpse of him on the street or in public places, no longer would you have to navigate the awkwardness of shared social circles or mutual acquaintances. He was now a world away, a distant memory fading into the depths of your past.

But despite the physical distance, the reminders of his presence lingered like ghosts in the corners of your mind. The memories of the love you had once shared, the laughter and the tears, the moments of joy and heartache—they were all still there, etched into the fabric of your being. And though you tried to push them away, to bury them deep within the recesses of your mind, they persisted, a constant reminder of what once was.

The hardest part, you realized, would not be the physical absence of Rafe, but rather the emotional weight of his memory. The knowledge that he had once been a part of your life, that he had once held a place in your heart—it was a bitter pill to swallow. But with each passing day, you vowed to chip away at the walls he had built around your heart, to reclaim your sense of self and your identity, free from the shadows of the past.

In your mind, he was dead to you—a relic of a bygone era, a chapter in your life that had come to a close. And though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and uncertainties, you were determined to walk it alone, forging ahead into a future untainted by the ghosts of your past.

As you forged ahead with your determination to leave Rafe Cameron and the memories of your past behind, unbeknownst to you, he remained trapped in the very place where you had once shared countless memories together. Every corner, every street, every familiar landmark served as a haunting reminder of the love that had once bloomed between you.

But for Rafe, these reminders were not bittersweet echoes of a bygone era. Instead, they were a constant source of torment, a relentless barrage of memories that threatened to consume him from within. He had no idea of the repulsion you felt towards him, no inkling that you had moved on and left him behind.

Instead, he found himself spiraling into a downward spiral of self-destructive behavior, his mind clouded by a fog of regret and longing. Despite the passing of two long years, the pain of your absence still gnawed at him like a festering wound, leaving him adrift in a sea of loneliness and despair.

And as he wandered the familiar streets, lost in a haze of nostalgia and longing, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness, a void that no amount of alcohol or drugs could ever hope to fill. He longed for the comfort of your presence, the warmth of your touch, but knew deep down that it was a longing that could never be fulfilled.

In his mind, you were still the girl he had once loved, the girl who had changed the trajectory of his life, his first love. And though he tried to push you away, to bury the memories of your time together deep within the recesses of his mind, they persisted, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Rafe began to realize the depth of his mistake—the magnitude of the pain he had caused and the consequences of his actions. And though he knew that he could never erase the past, he vowed to do whatever it took to make amends, to find redemption for the sins of his past and to prove himself worthy of the love he had once taken for granted.

For you, the decision to leave Rafe Cameron and the memories of your past behind was a choice born from a place of strength and determination. With each step forward, you felt a sense of liberation, a freedom from the chains of your past that had once bound you so tightly. Though the road ahead was uncertain, you walked it with a newfound sense of purpose, determined to carve out a future untainted by the shadows of your past.

But for Rafe, the passage of time had done little to ease the ache of your absence. Despite his best efforts to bury his feelings deep within the recesses of his mind, they persisted, a constant reminder of the love he had once lost. The pain of your departure gnawed at him like a festering wound, leaving him adrift in a sea of loneliness and regret.

As he wandered the familiar streets of the island you had once called home, Rafe found himself trapped in a downward spiral of self-destructive behavior. Each reminder of your absence served as a cruel twist of the knife, a relentless barrage of memories that threatened to consume him from within. Though he tried to drown out the pain with alcohol and drugs, it was a futile effort—a temporary reprieve from the agony that lingered in his heart.

And though you despised him, repulsed by the thought of the boy he had once been, Rafe remained unaware of your feelings, his mind clouded by a haze of longing and regret. In his eyes, you were still the girl he had once loved, the girl who had captured his heart and changed his life forever.

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