#Maybe I will keep going just to see how far I can get

[fangel]

always, attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : jake’s hidden secret isn’t so secret anymore, but he’ll go to great lengths to keep it. he reaches his breaking point when faced with betrayal. he relinquishes any remaining sense of sanctity, surrendering to everything he's spent his life trying to suppress. ⇀ read part 1 here ⸝⸝ updated playlist

pairing : jake sim x fem. reader featuring : heeseung genre : psychological thriller, smut, yandere word count : 7.7k content advisory : dark content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, possessive!jake, jake in general, corrupt!reader, choking, dubcon, somnophilia, spanking, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome, religious themes and concepts, violence, blood, mentions of homicide/death, open ending - mostly proofread

“can you keep a secret?”

jake wasn’t only asking heeseung the literal question, but he was questioning himself. how long could he realistically hide you away? were you, his sacred secret, something that he could actually keep? he’s thought about it a lot. often losing hours in a day just going over the agonizing idea of not.

heeseung at a loss for words, just watches jake’s body language. jake is like nothing he’s ever seen before. jay and sunghoon have brought up jake’s odd behavior with concern, but he always brushed it off. now heeseung is here to witness it himself, stunned with his brows furrowed and a mouth opening and closing, looking for words he can’t find. he looks back up to the top of staircase, the room that he knows is occupied with someone. hundreds of questions flood his mind but he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“jake,” he says quietly, eyes darting from the door up the stairs and to the boys huddled in the living room. “what did you do? who is here?” even if jake did have a girlfriend, or just someone he’s been seeing, why would he need to act this way? with the way the air feels around them, heeseung is sure that there’s much more going on. and whatever it could be, was far from good. 

jake still can’t look at heeseung. he just stares to the floor with a death grip on heeseung. his breathing picks up in slow, deep heaves. he holds onto his hyung like a lifeline. heeseung feels genuine dread. the chill he feels run through his body makes every hair stand up. he wants to pull away from jake, to go investigate before the others get nosy or cause a scene. but he can’t. his instincts are telling him that if he moves too quickly that jake will break.  

“jake… if i go up there—” he begins to say slowly, quietly. and that’s when jake looks up at heeseung. his eyes look wild, almost like they’re threatening him. heeseung swallows hard, sensing that maybe he is silently threatening him. 

heeseung tries to step back but jake only digs his nails into the flesh of heeseung’s arm. he hisses at the sting and attempts to tug his arm away from the hold. jake’s strength is something heeseung never knew he had; he thinks that jake might just fucking break his arm at the elbow right here and now. 

through clenched teeth, jake seethes under his breath, “i’ll explain, but get them all out of my house first. and i swear to god if you tell another soul you’ll be buried out back too.” 

what the fuck, is all heeseung can think. his eyes wide from the venomous threat. he complies with jake out of fear. these were treacherous waters and he wasn’t going to test it out by diving in. especially with the tension growing too thick and too fast for heeseung to waste any time. 

jake follows heeseung to the living, standing behind him, watching and listening. he doesn’t say a word as his older friend handles the situation. he just shifts on his feet while staring into the back of heeseung’s head.

heeseung stumbles over his words, nervously attempting a lie to get the rest of the boys to leave. the words catching in his throat that he masks with a cough whenever one of them makes a questioning expression. 

although disoriented and perturbed, they all listen to heeseung. heeseung being obviously troubled with something serious made them gather their things with haste. they were rushing out to the car in minutes with no questions asked. there were many to be had, but they assumed they would find out eventually. 

jake and heeseung watch as they drive away, from the front door. neither of them say a word even when the vehicle is out of sight. the taillights fading into the snowscape treeline of gravel road is all to be heard and seen. 

there’s a pregnant pause before jake closes the door and locks it, all 5 different locks. heeseung raises a brow, stepping back slowly. his eyes watching as jake stuffs the ring of keys into his front hoodie pocket. he makes note of it. 

jake, still yet to utter a word, just walks into the living room area to clean up the leftover mess. heeseung, unsure of what to do, just helps in stillness. the tv remains a static screen displaying no signal: (1) check the cable connections and settings of your source device. the kitchen oven light flickers every so often. and the darkness of the night bleeds into the house. it’s eerily quiet between them. 

after some time, there’s a slow creak of a door to be heard. both of the boys heads shoot upward and down the hallway. layla trots away from them and sits at the end of staircase. her head tilted, ears raised, and mouth open in what would be interpreted as a smile. 

slow footsteps make their way down. the space between each creaking step of the wooden floorboards shows how apprehensive and timorous you are. once halfway down, there’s a pause. you’re standing there, waiting for a noise or response from jake. you saw the group of his friends leave, but there was still another car parked outside. and after waiting for so long, listening to silence, you had to see why jake hadn’t come up to see you, to tell you it’s safe to come out. 

jake stands from his crouched position, dropping the wet wipe he was just using to clean the low coffee table. he throws off his jacket to the edge of the couch. there’s a clink of the cluttered keys, but only heeseung hears it. jake’s already in tunnel vision. he gives heeseung a daring glare before walking away to meet you halfway. heeseung sits down on the couch, his hands folded over his lap while his leg picks up an anxious bounce. he looks at the pocket of the abandoned material. a glimmer of metals peak through the opening. 

jake walks up the stairs that you stand in the middle of, layla hot on his trail. he gives you a small smile as he places his hands on your shoulders to turn your body back around. “i didn’t tell you when to come out, did i?” he whispers with small anger, trying to keep his tone light but what’s deeper surfaces regardless. 

you very rarely made jake angry. a feeling of disappointment envelops you like instinct. as if you had to feel bad for going against him. 

“i���m sorry i made a noise,” you mumble, “i got excited when i heard them mention me.” it’s an honest admission. you turn your head back to jake and your guilt drops to something empty. the color fades from your face when you see him. he looks disgusted. “i-i’m sorry, i-” your mouth open and mind trying to find the right thing so say. 

he grabs the back of your neck and begins to walk forward, forcing your body back up to the bedroom. you stumble over your feet, nearly falling. his footsteps stomp against the wooden stairs. his hold on you is squeezing with fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. you want to cough away the feeling but decide on struggling to remain quiet instead. someone is still here. i promised to behave. 

when back in the room, he shoves you forward with the release of his grip. the door slams behind him. you lose balance but catch your own feet, your ankle shooting in a great affliction that you’ve become accustomed to ignore. your hands reach for your throat to massage the ache. you whimper at the touch. 

“it was a perilous decision, making you my attic angel.” his heavy footsteps march forward. he picks you up from under your arms and tosses you onto the bed. you bounce slightly before gathering yourself. you push yourself back into the corner of the bed, hugging your knees to tuck into your body, like you’re protecting yourself. you watch as he places his knee onto the bed, his hands too, leaning towards you. “i am trying so hard, so why isn’t it enough?” his head shakes in disbelief. “i’m just not enough for you? you want everyone to see you, to know you. why? as if they would need or love you as much as i do.” the last sentence is a scoff, spat with hate. he just stares at you with a tilt to his head. you feel that he’s mocking you in some way with his ridiculous words. 

tears brim your eyes, your hands forming small fists that tremble in a rage you’ve always felt within you. “i never asked you to.” your words are firm, a tight lip frown wears your face. you want to argue that this isn’t love and he’s just a sick man, but you don’t want to spill more tears over him. you’ve been drained enough.

jake’s face flashes with an array of emotions. his fingers curl into the blankets so tight his knuckles turn white. he looks irated and dejected, but mostly broken.

“you didn’t have to.” his face is a scowl, glaring at you for the first time. how could his attitude change so quickly? “you wanted me, and now you have me. let it be enough.” he pushes himself off the bed and picks up the metal cuff chain from the floor with one hand. you instantly try to scramble up off the bed but he’s faster; he takes your bruised, weakened ankle in his free hand to drag you into him. you yelp with agony, trying to kick your leg around in a struggle that would hopefully prevent the entrapment. but he secures it onto you with a low growl, warning you that your actions have been enough. 

with a burning gaze, he pushes you back down onto the bed before making strides to the door. he’s never been so blatantly mean towards you. it hurts far more than you could’ve ever expected. you slide yourself off the bed with urgency, tripping up behind him. you want to cry so badly, but you also want to show you’re stronger than he allows you to be. your hands reach for him to grab at the back of his shirt, a try of pulling him back from the door. “take it off! take it off now!” you stomp your metal clad foot, the chain rattles against the floor. 

layla begins to bark loudly from the other side of the door. her paws scratch at the closed white wood. 

jake spins around with your raised voice and slaps his hand over your mouth, “shut the fuck up!” he whispers with heated aggression. his other hand grabbing the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and craning your neck back to look at him. crazed eyes stare into yours like they want to rip you apart. you can no longer help it now, tears escape and wash down to meet his hand. your entire body is now shaking in fear. “angel, i thought i taught you better than this… haven’t you made yourself known enough tonight?” he softens in tone, but his expression and hands don’t match. they’re strong, keeping you still. 

you shake your head frantically under his hold. his large hand taking up half your face, making it hard to breathe. your mouth and nose only taking in larger breaths of air that just isn’t sufficient. fat tears run down your face as you continue to shout muffled pleas into his palm. 

“take it off!” 

“let me go!” 

“stop, stop!” 

“help me!” it’s a deadened attempt of a shrill scream.

it’s all lost against his skin. you try to slap his hand and arms off of you but it’s to no avail. you’re simply too feeble to put up the fight you want to. you’ll always be overpowered by man. 

his hold doesn’t let up. he just watches you struggle in blazing silence. your lungs losing oxygen make you see bright white stars scatter your vision. the burning tears only make it all the more hazy. your body feels weak, like it’s about to collapse in on itself. is this what it’s like to lose consciousness? weird, it feels kind of good. you use all your strength to keep your eyes open, but they blink slowly to a close. 

“please.” is the final beg to be said against his palm.

“i love you.” is the final words he promises before it all goes black. 

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 　when jake finally comes downstairs, he looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

heeseung—who was in the kitchen—heard jake’s descent with the settling creaks of the house’s floors, returns to the couch. he nervously watches jake, who was yet to look over at him, as he stuffs something back into the hoodie that jake left behind before going up to that room. 

jake just stands at the bottom of the staircase with a dead stare, eyes unblinking and unfocused. he looks pale, stuck in a state that heeseung is not ready to approach or question. heeseung heard nearly everything from upstairs. it was jarring, and enough evidence to understand that the house is dangerous for everyone in it. 

to think that he’s been here before without a clue of what was happening behind closed doors makes his skin crawl. he never could have imagined that his own friend, or himself, would get wrapped up in a scenario like this. was it all merely a matter of time? 

heeseung slowly stands up. due to the silence, even the slight sound of movement has jake’s heard turn in a split second to his friend's direction. 

unknowing of what to do, heeseung just stays still like a deer in headlights. frightful in nature as if he was the one to be caught in the wrong place. he’s frozen under the cold, black eyes that bore into him. 

jake stalks over to heeseung slowly. the unbreaking eye contact and lack of words sends chills through the older male. the kitchen oven light hums in the background, and it’s all to be heard. jake places himself on the other couch in the living room. the light flickers off and on again when heeseung follows jake’s actions, sitting once more. 

“i’ve never hurt her before,” his tone hostile, as if to defend himself from whatever he was imagining that heeseung was thinking, “not physically at least, i don’t think.” 

heeseung feels a cold sweat take over. his palms sweaty, squeezing his own thighs for a sense of stability. this can’t be real. he couldn’t process any of this. how could this be what jake is? he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws with anxiety. eyes trained on the intense presence before him. 

jake speaks up again, his voice breaking like he’s about to cry, “she looked at me so.. she looked terrified of me, seung. and i made her cry again.” jake has his elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low with hands fisted in his hair. he pulls on his dark locks in distress. 

heeseung glances from jake to the front door. then back to jake. and then the staircase. and then the front door again before going back to jake. he feels like his lungs are going to burst, his breathing something he now has to force himself to manually maintain. 

“but fuck, man!” jake hits himself in the head once, twice, three times. his smack echoing through the room, sending shivers of panic through heeseung each time. “i-i can’t think! what the hell am i supposed to do!?” there’s a pause. “i want to be good for her. she’s supposed to help me but i’m getting worse everyday.” his hands drag down over his face, covering it. 

“jake, i don’t know—”, heeseung’s voice didn’t reach. 

“i went to church. i prayed. i couldn’t confess though. i was too cowardly to say what ill thoughts consumed me.” jake looks up to heeseung with tears in his eyes, “too cowardly to admit to what i’ve done. i want to be clean, man. but i am full of greed, lust, and wrath. i can wash my hands over and over, but i still remember the feeling. a damned confession wouldn’t take the weight of that away.” he laughs lowly, shaking his head. a hand lazily wiping his tears from his face. “and i see it every night. the stains that painted me, that should’ve made me feel dirty. it didn’t.” 

heeseung needs to get the fuck of here now. he can’t keep up with jake’s insane behavior or confession. this has gone far beyond his expectations; his flight or fight instincts are screaming that this is unsafe territory. 

“but when i have her, it’s not so bad. i can’t--i can’t have you getting in the way, or anything, anyone else, for that matter.” jake is hanging on by a thread, it’s clear. he was going to snap soon. “do you understand that?”

heeseung nods his head but can’t bring himself to say a word. 

“well say it, damn it! say ‘jake, i won’t get in the way.’” his voice loud, demanding. 

“jake,” he stands on shaking legs, “i won’t get in your way. i w-won’t say a thing. this has nothing to do with me, man.” his hands up in a defending position as he makes brave steps that lead to the front of the house. “you can trust me…” 

“i hope so, or you’ll end up like her parents… somewhere in the back of those woods to feed the maggots.” 

heeseung nods again then darts for the door and out to his car. he wastes no time in getting far away from that nightmare. as he starts the car, he looks up to the window at the highest point of the house. the light is off and there is no face peaking through with hope. heeseung exhales deeply. he recalls the smile jake wore with his leaving statement. closing his eyes, he knows that he is no hero, and certainly won’t be made a victim. 

but, he also isn’t someone to do nothing. so, he’ll leave for now. 

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 　jake’s mind is in a whirlwind. he needs to release the weight of everything that’s suffocating him from the inside. he feels as if all his organs have corroded and are crawling up his esophagus, like hundreds of little centipede feet, only to get stuck in his throat. 

he doesn’t even recognize how he got back to the bedroom since heeseung’s escape; unable to realize that some has passed. 

he stands in the middle of room, blinking his eyes back to a state of awareness. he was watching you sleep in the bed he placed you in. or perhaps he was just looking through you. he made you pass out in and from his own hands. he despised himself for it, and how it gave him a sense of god-like power. 

jake moves towards the bed and creeps in next to you. his hands find a place on your hips to pull you on top of him. the subtle movement of your chest and small breaths assure him of your liveness. he hugs you close like that for a minute.

his fingers trail up and down your body, squeezing and caressing his favorite parts of you. they stop at your ass, full in his hands he begins to move your body back and forth. his growing cock pressing up into your pussy, grinding with the maneuver. the back of his throat releases a soft, guttural sound. 

his large hands slip up your night dress and pull your underwear to the side. he runs a finger along your folds, feeling every detail of your womanhood. the callosed tips rub over your core until a layer of wetness leaks through.   

you shift on top of him, not awake, but subconsciously sensing an uncomfortable intrusion. a small noise leaves your lips, something of a whine. 

“i know you’re not all there. you’re too compliant with all i’ve done. you listen too well.” he’s whispering against the side of your face. his free hand working to take off his pants and boxer briefs. “you’re like me.” he licks a strip up your face, wet saliva leaving a trail. you stir again, face scrunching before rubbing onto jake’s shirt. 

he grins at you, thinking you’re cute all out of it and on top of him. his eyes find the teeth marks on your shoulder. the thin spaghetti strap of your dress falling from it, revealing full sight to the scarring mark of his possession. “i can sink my teeth into you and you will do nothing but watch me lick it clean. and you would still let me hold you. kiss you. and,” he’s rubbing his leaking cock against your pussy, humping up into you so the head dips in and out. “fuckkk.” he moans, feeling himself being teased with the enveloping of your creamy, warm hole. 

you make another tired, bothered sound with eyes squeezed shut. 

“possibly i have let you think of me as tender, but i will prove to you i am everything but.” he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock pushing into your tight core. he moans at the feeling of you wrapped around him, hugging him with wet heat. “i’ve always had these tainted thoughts with me. i could never admit to anyone, or myself, what i longed for.” his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close. his legs propped up, knees bent and feet pressed down to the bed, as he begins a brutal pace to pound himself in and out of you. 

your eyes open along with your mouth, a sound in between a moan and gasp leaves your lips. you look up to the man who is fucking you, confused and disoriented. you feel a deep pain between your legs and in the bottom of your stomach. you try to pull yourself back, to sit up, but jake grounds you to his chest. 

“i prayed for all the disturbed thinking to come to an end. my mind became more grotesque, morbid.” he looks at you and all you see is misery. his eyes are so empty yet he forces a smile. “i am haunted like a sick man.” i know, you think. your head rests tucked by his chin and neck. you just watch him, letting your body make little moans and chases to his touch like it’s trained to. “i always wanted more. i didn’t want to just think it, i wanted to do it all.” 

“mhmm.” your eyes blink slowly, watching the faces of pleasure he makes through your eyelashes. maybe this is all a dream, you imagine wishfully. 

“i stopped praying a long time ago, yet kept stepping into god’s house. i knew something, someone, would come for me.” he grunts, squeezing the skin on your back to bruises. his trusts become messy as squelching sounds of your pussy. skin slaps and fragmented noises come from the both of you. “in the bible; tell me, angel, who did god send to fulfill all his obligations?” he nibbles on your ear. sometimes licking and leaving his spit coating it. 

him pistoning his cock at his assaulting speed and force, elicits a loud mewl from you. you wish he would fuck you even harder. violent enough that it rattles your brain and body senseless. you don’t want to think at all, just want to see those stars again. 

jake is pissed when you ignore his question. one of his hands slides up your back while the other moves down to slap your ass. you whine at the sting. he grabs the back of your neck like he did earlier and you can’t help but grin a little. he yanks your head back and your body sits up on top of him. he feels so deep inside of you. you hum at the feeling, not even realizing your hand drops down to rub over your lower stomach. 

you still wear the faint grin on your lips as you look down at him. “hm?” 

“who carried out his judgements, served punishments, and set examples?” he fucks into you slower, focusing on your body. noticing how your hips move in small swivels and bounces on his cock. how your nipples peek through in needy points of the thin material. 

he gives your ass another slap and your head tips back with a moan, “ngh, the angels.” 

he squeezes your neck from behind at your response. your eyes rolls back as you continue to fuck yourself down onto him in severity. a slutty sound leaving you with every kiss of his dick to your cervix. 

“yes,” he pulls you back down to his face. his hand is still tight around your neck, borderline suffocating in pressure. “and he sent one to me too.” he feels your pussy pulse around him, signaling you’re close to cumming. “he sent you to me. but instead of learning a lesson i became obsessed just as my thoughts.” jake always had a dangerous personality, hiding inside of him. his obsessions becoming an illness was nothing he should be shocked by. or maybe it’s the other way around and he was always sick so he became it. “i so badly wanted you to be my savior… to tell me lies of purity and goodness.” he feels his cock throb, aching to release. he chases the feeling of pure want, pounding relentlessly into you. 

“open your mouth,” he demands with a low growl. you listen without a second thought and he spits into it. his saliva meeting your tongue only to be swallowed down. 

he pressed a kiss to your lips while you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure as you cum. your body collapses on top of his like an act of defeat. your breathing so ragged and lungs suffering; jake releases his hold on your neck only to use both hands on your hips to bounce your body on him. 

while your body makes small quivers in overstimulation, jake groans loudly as he cums inside of you. as you feel the deep warmth coat your insides, a sense of drowsiness takes over you. 

“i feel like a besotted rot has taken over me, and it’s been growing evermore since i met you.” he whispers, relaxing his body flat against the bed. with you still on top of him and his cock still buried in you with his seed, he hugs you. “it’s killing me from the inside out. you’re going to kill me. i can feel it.” 

the quiet and gentle honesty of his fearful ending confession lulls you to sleep. 

he continues to fuck you until he’s too tired to not. 

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 　when you wake up the next morning, you feel your entire body is in pain. there’s a throbbing pain in your head, a dull strain in your neck, and a heavy ache in between your legs. 

you sigh as you sit your body up, hands place slightly behind you at your sides. you make slow circles of your head to stretch your neck muscles. there’s a pang of sharp pain for a split second but you relax once reversing the movements around. 

with lazy eyes, you scan the surroundings of the bedroom. the sun shines bright through the thin lace, white curtains. the clock reads that it is half past 10 in the morning. on the white, wooden night stand beside the bed is a note, a cup of water, and a plate of cut up fruit that has probably been out longer than intended. the door is slightly cracked open and the cold, heavy weight is missing from around your ankle. 

you stretch your arms and back before leaning over to chug down the glass of water. you think of eating the fruit presented for you, but decide on not. it's hard to have an appetite these days. 

you move yourself to sit at the end of the bed, legs and feet dangling off the mattress. you realize how quiet the house is. normally, jake is always with you when he’s home. if he’s working from home then he is next to you, or at least at the desk with his work laptop. but it’s saturday, so why would he be working? 

“jake!” you call out his name, but there is no response. your voice doesn’t sound like normal, it’s rough. you call for him again and still there is nothing. only layla comes up the stairs to push past the door. she too looks confused. 

you look outside the large window next to the bed and realize that his car isn’t there either. 

you look back to the nightstand, remembering there was a note left for you. you pick it up and read: had to run out. i will be back soon. rest and eat well, angel. 

with the note in your hand, you squeeze your hand into a fist, crushing and crinkling the paper in your palm. you stare at the destroyed paper, enclasped in your hand, before releasing your fist and letting it fall to the floor. 

the sound of a car driving makes you turn around. you don’t know if it’s annoyance or ease that washes over you. but once your eyes see the car, you know that it’s neither. because it’s not jake’s car that you see outside. you can recognize it’s one from the other night though. 

you’re quick to stand up and make your way over to the side of the clear glass. you peek over the side of the window, suddenly not comfortable to be seen. is it because you know jake isn’t here? your heart rate picks up rather quick, along with a feeling of anxiety. who is here? why? 

a tall man with dark, brownish.. no reddish hair, steps out of the now parked vehicle. he glances around before jogging over to the side of the house. you furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what he could be doing. you bite at your lip, trying to look around the house as much as the window allows.

then you walk over to the bedroom door and close it quietly, leaving you and layla inside. you lean your back to the door and slide down to the floor. your ear presses against the wood, listening to anything that you can. there isn’t much to be heard for a minute or so. and then there is. there’s a landing thud from somewhere downstairs. a clashing of objects hit the floor with it. something like a glass bowl or cup, if you had to assume. you can tell it’s coming from the kitchen based on the direction alone. 

your heart beats harder now and you don’t even realize how your hands hold a small tremble. you’re frozen in place; you don’t know what to do. jake always tells you what to do. he tells how to handle situations, how to react, how to respond. 

the footsteps of the intruder are rushed. quick feet move through the house and up to the stairs, only to stop right outside the door that you’re in front of. you feel a dangerous panic coarse through you, and unknown to you, you’re holding your breath as if it could give you away. 

seconds feel like minutes followed by a knock at the door. it’s slow and just as scared as you are. 

you place your hands over your mouth, silencing yourself from uttering a sound or a word. meanwhile layla lets out a guarded growl. you shake your head as you look at her, as if she could understand the notion. 

“i know you’re in there. i’m here… i’m here to help you.” the voice is sweet, familiar. it’s a friend of jake that’s been here before. he must have been the one who stayed longer than he should’ve last night. 

for some reason, you still remain silent. why would he come back? 

“i don’t know what exactly is going on between you two, but i know when something isn’t right. and jake isn’t…” his voice goes soft. he’s worried and nervous. 

“he isn’t what?” heeseung hears your melodic voice, weak yet defensive. 

“can you open the door? i don’t know how much time we have.” the door knob turns but doesn’t push open. it’s not locked. you both know it, but neither of you bring yourself to break the barrier. 

you stand from the door, your legs uneasy as if a baby fawn learning to walk. you grab the door handle with a timid hand. you turn it slowly and pull back the door just a crack. you look up with wide eyes. you’re face to face with someone other than jake for the first time in what feels like forever. someone is finally seeing you, talking to you, acknowledging your existence. why isn’t it as exciting as you anticipated? 

heeseung gapes at your disheveled appearance. his eyes quick to find the many bruises that litter your body, from your neck to your arms and legs. then to the scarred bite mark that’s discolored and horrid along your shoulder. and lastly over your face: dry, bitten lips and dark circles around your sad eyes. “i’m sorry.” is all heeseung can say. you think his voice sounds disappointed. 

“why? it’s not like you did anything.” you pull the door open a little more, unintentionally though. it furthered the exposure of the room when your hand pulled back to wrap around yourself. your eyes scan over his face, taking in the up close new appearance. you think he’s very cute for a second before a dread of guilt becomes you. you wrap your arms tighter around your midriff, as if to conceal what you’ve begged to be seen. you avert your eyes from his, suddenly embarrassed. 

heeseung steps into the room, and you step back. your eyes watch his feet. it feels like you weren’t given the permission to look at him; like you’ve already overstepped jake’s boundaries and broken his rules by seeing and speaking what you already have. yet your heart races with adrenaline. 

“that’s the problem. i didn’t do anything the minute i knew something was wrong.” 

it’s nice to hear something rational for once.  

“i tried to come up with some sort of plan as soon as i could. he left and i found his keys,” you immediately look up at heeseung when he mentions the object you fantasize about. keys. unlocked cage. freedom. “i figured the kitchen window would be the less susceptible.” he attempts a laugh but it’s clearly full of nerves. his eyes dart from you to the outside window. it reminds you of yourself. that feeling of waiting for jake, always mixed with too many emotions to really decipher. 

“but for real, you need to get a jacket and shoes on. we have to leave right now.” heeseung deadpans. his eyes watching yours that refuse to look back. you just stand still in the room, shaking like a leaf in the wind. your focus trained to the floor, spacing out from the scenario. 

“is this real?” your voice is quiet, unsure. “did jake put you up to this to test me? i don’t want to cause more trouble with him. i don’t like when he’s…”

heeseung begins to frantically search the room. he goes to the closet and shifts through the hanging clothes for the thickest jacket he can find. he grabs a big one with faux fur lining and heavy material, “put this on. where are your socks?” he hands it to you but you just hold it low in your hands, letting it hit the floor. he opens drawers of the dresser nearby, finding a pair of socks. 

still spacing out, feeling dreamlike, you sit down at the edge of the bed. the large winter coat still hands in your fingers, half over your lap and exposed legs. 

heeseung crouches down in front of you with socks in hand and a pair of boots by his side. he looks up at you with despairing eyes, but you just watch the floor below him. i should sweep the floors. there’s dog hair and dust everywhere. 

trepidatious, large and unknown hands pick up your foot. the cold fingers brush over your abused ankle. a sick feeling of flutters fills your stomach, you jerk your leg back from his touch. this isn’t right. something like a stray cat who doesn’t let strangers touch. 

“what happened to this?” he lightly taps the bone, “you need to see a doctor.” he tries again but faster this time. gentle hands pulling the sock over your foot and then the other. next he reaches for the boots to put your feet into. “come on, get the jacket on.” he says as he stands, a hand reaching out to you. you stand from the bed and ignore the offered gesture. 

you take a few steps forward and stop. heeseung takes notice of the slight limp in your walk. his eyes follow the floor from your feet and that's when he sees it. the long silver chain that’s attached to the bedpost, mounted to the floorboards. 

“jesus fucking christ…” he exhales, taking the coat from your hands to put it on you himself. 

“i used to try and break that whenever i had the chance, but i ended up hurting myself in the process.” you laugh a little. he sees your blank stare and lost smile. “he would ice my ankle for me though. and he wrapped it up, changing the bandages everyday when it was worse.” 

“i’m gonna get you somewhere safe.” heeseung promises, taking your hand in his own to lead you to the door. “you won’t have to live like this anymore, okay? do you have more family somewhere, someone we could call?” heeseung is doing his best to remain calm, but inside he senses immense uneasiness. you can feel how his palms are sweaty and holding too tight of you. you don’t like it. 

“my parents…” it’s a whisper. he helps you down the stairs and to the kitchen. your heart feels like it's a ticking time bomb set to explode. each beat a warning that screams louder and louder.

“well, how about anyone else.” there’s consternation. 

you stop in your tracks, heeseung tries to pull you forward. his eyes begging to leave through the window he left open for you two. “why anyone else?” you question. you feel heavy again, a boil builds in your body, your heart racing faster than you know it was capable. your breathing becomes quick and panicked. heaves and wheezes now leaving your body. “what? w-what do you m-mean?!” 

“they… jake, he…” heeseung stammers, his head moving side to side in a slow display of sorrow. he reaches out to you, to pull you into a hug of comfort. 

but you just stand there, unbelieving of what the man is trying to imply to you. “no, no… he wouldn’t—” your bottom lip quivers and eyes sting. 

from the corner of your eyes, you see a dark shadow approaching heeseung from behind. a large object hangs high in the air with the shadow. you let out a blood curdling scream, eyes looking past heeseung. the tall man turns his head around before the held object comes crashing down into the back of his head. heeseung drops to the floor in an instant, his hand slipping out of yours. 

it all happened so fast. 

you’re in a fit of panicked sobs now. your eyes can’t look away from the man who tried to help you; the man you didn’t try to believe in. there’s an open gash in his head, bleeding and matting into the hair. you feel sick. 

your attention is removed from the man when a familiar hard grip pulls on your hair. “where the hell did you think you were going!?” jake’s voice is terribly sad, loud and croaking. he’s dragging you back down the hall and up the stairs to your room. 

“i wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm around trying to look back at him, “i was never going to leave! i swear!” 

jake sits you down at the chair by the desk, his hands place on your shoulders. he looks down at you with disquiet heartache, “you promise?” he’s fixing to cry. you hate when jake cries. 

you nod your head quickly, still having a panic attack, still frightful and overwhelmed. 

jake swallows hard, staring into your eyes. he’s trying to trust your word, and ultimately he just does. he places a long kiss to your forehead. you feel a drop of wetness land against your skin. and you just sit there, watching him leave the room with hands of shaking fists. 

you hear a lot happening downstairs while you’re glued to the chair. there’s loud commotion and aggressive words being passed between the two. heeseung is still alive. they’re fighting. 

unknowing of what to do, you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your body inwards and cover your ears, gently rocking yourself back and forth to ease your mind of the chaos. this isn’t real. it’s all a bad dream. it’s another bad story you conjured up. 

and then someone yells. a painful, agonizing noise that you can’t disassociate from. it sends shivers through you. you can’t open your eyes, you can’t leave the room. if you don’t see it then it’s not happening, right? 

the clashing of aggression comes to a halt. and the usual eerily silence of the house stands still. 

a few minutes go by. 

you lift your head and open your eyes when you sense the door being weakly pushed open. 

you gasp and stand up, quickly moving over to jake to help him stand up straight instead of leaning on the door. 

“j-jake…” you’re crying, “hey, wha-what happened?” you’re trying to support his weight but it’s too much. you both somehow manage to make it to the bed. did he do it? did he kill heeseung? 

jake is covered in blood and he’s crying too. he simply shakes his head and presses wet kisses your cheek, pulling you down to lay next to him. he can’t say anything. 

confused and scared, you ask him again, but he doesn’t speak yet. he just holds onto you as tight as his body allows. the blood begins to stain your clothes, the bed sheets and blankets.

he breathes a ragged sigh, looking at you with wet, thick lashes, “i thought god hated me. ya know, for making me the way i am and expecting me to follow him.” he coughs, turning his head away from you, hiding. “but why would he hate me and still give you to me?” he laughs with a small cough, he feels his mouth tinge with metallic iron. 

you watch from the side of his face, crying quietly. then you feel it. the warm, seeping of thick liquid spilling onto you. your eyes track down your body and his, landing on the gash of his shirt. an open wound punctured in his side. a wrecked sound slips past your lips with your cries. 

“even if it was a punishment, you’ll always just be an angel to me.” his head turns back to face you, his mouth painted red with slips of blood passing the corners of his smile. 

you push yourself from his hug, crazed to find some material to wrap around jake and stop the bleeding. but he pulls you back to him, his eyes closing. “h-hey, hey. stop, it’s okay. just hold me close a little longer.” and you do. through all your whimpers, hiccups, and tears. you wrap your entire body into him, legs entangled and arms wrapped never this tight around him before. 

eve was made from adam’s rib. so is it really your fault for wanting to crawl inside the man you’re closest to? 

jake’s breathing is starting to become dangerously slow, along with the pulse of his heartbeat. 

heeseung, who managed to crawl his way up the stairs, waits outside the door. blood is dripping down his face and neck from his head. he coughs, grabbing your attention. 

you sit up just enough to not let go of jake, swollen eyes watching heeseung sit at the edge of the stairs. his body is struggling to stay upward, he wobbles and sways. his eyes not able to stay open. he asks you if you could drive them to the hospital, in hopes that there is still time to save them. 

you don’t take the risk of losing the only family you have left, so you do what he asks.  

 　time passes by in a blur. you end up back at house a day later to take care of layla. jake and heeseung are still in the hospital. you don’t know who will recover or die first.

when you return to the house, you do all the things that jake would normally do. you take layla outside for a walk around the house. you make sure she has food and water. you make yourself a meal that will be left untouched. 

and then you trudge up to your room and you crawl into the blood stained bed. you attach the metal cuff to your ankle, and lay there in silence. you think of praying but end up crying yourself to sleep instead. 

the first man you knew to really sin, not just true nor venially but mortally sin, you can’t help but want to wait for the return of. to be damned with him may be his punishment and your fate, but whatever happens is in gods hands now. maybe it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be his attic angel, always.

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ — feedback and reblogs are appreciated 🗝️ !

꒰ tags & those who asked for part 2 ⸝⸝ if you want removed lmk ꔛ @nshmrarki @enhalxvr @jaengwon @taeminsboogers @beomsdoll @immelissaaa @pshfan0812 @supershy3 @hauntsoul @jenniferecand @randomanothercreature @numnomn @en-heedeungie @hwasangel @thatonedaragirltho @hooneverse @maliakealoha @kon-ss @laybensu @whateveridontcaresheesh @strawberrynull ꒱

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟛 – 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕔

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

Part 1 𝜗𝜚 Part 2

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚞𝚣𝚣𝙲𝚞𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warning: language, pet names, kissing, angst, accidental cheating, manipulation, cheating, skype sex, sex toys, mutual masterbation, mentions of a sex tape, swearing, degredation, dom!rafe, multiple orgasms, overstim., brief oral (fem. receiving), Cam takes the toy and starts using it on her, he also performs brief oral without verbal constant

📖 After meeting Rafe's (CurtainBangs!) twin brother Cam (BuzzCut!) for the first time, Rafe gives you a proposal you can't help but accept: sharing you. What Rafe didn't expect was his jealousy… And what you didn't expect was a text from Cam a week later wanting to see you again.

Reader’s POV:

The text from Cam sat there staring at you. Miss me? ‘Cause I need you princess.’ Those words carry the weight of everything you hadn’t even gotten to process yet. You pace the apartment, thinking about the next steps, your thoughts battling—looping on an endless cycle. Cam’s text wasn’t just a message… That was an invitation.

Rafe told you the night was supposed to mean nothing, but it meant an awful lot. It was supposed to be something fun, maybe a one-time thing… Something Rafe said he had done in the past, but something had changed when it came to you. There were feelings there far beyond anything he had felt before. Now you’re left standing in the aftermath a week later, feeling like the ground is shifting underneath you.

Cam is Rafe’s brother… His fucking twin. Someone he trusts–someone he brought into your life without hesitation. But to you, Cam wasn’t just Rafe’s brother anymore. That night created something new between you that you didn’t think you could handle…

Grabbing your phone, you sit on the couch, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: Okay.

The word stares back at you… Simple, but heavy. Sending this message without talking to Rafe first… what am I thinking? But, in a way, it wasn’t just you and Rafe anymore. Rafe had opened that door… And you weren’t ready to close it.

I can’t. You toss your phone down on the couch cushion beside you, heart banging in your chest. Walking to your room, you gather your things, desperately needing to get out of the house and clear your mind. Maybe time is exactly what I need; you think to yourself as you grab your keys and head toward the door.

You bite your lips, guilt creeping in as you come to terms with the fact that Cam is Rafe’s brother… If I don't say anything at all, he’d come regardless. Rafe takes what he wants, and he doesn’t go down with a fight. Hopefully, that runs in the family.

You look down at your phone, the message still sitting there unsent. Your stomach twists as you think about Rafe’s admittance last week in the bedroom. How blindsided would he be if he knew you had been thinking about this as much as you have–letting it affect you the way it is?

Again, you set your phone down and roll out the tension in your neck, weighing the pros and cons and analyzing the risk. As you tip your head back on the couch, you hear your phone buzz. You grab it off the couch cushion, half-expecting another text from Cam, until you see Unkown.

“Hey,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but you can hear the waver.

“Hey, princess,” Rafe replies, his voice warm and familiar, helping ease your tension. You can hear the commotion of the hotel lobby in the background, the faint hum of noise as the boys gear up to head out to the stadium. “What are you up to, baby?”

You glance at the TV ESPN College GameDay, already loaded. It should be a simple answer… But your mind is a mess, making it hard to wade through your thoughts.

“Baby?” He tries in a gentle voice. “You there?”

“Mhmm…” You hum, pushing the utterance past your lips. “Just scrolling Tumblr, waiting for the game to start; relaxing.”

“Good,” he drawls, his voice warm and smooth. “Just wanted to make sure you got the game to load.”

You pause and close your eyes, feeling the weight of your messages from Cam pushing down on your chest. The words are already forming in your throat. “Rafe,” you blurt.

“Yo,” he laughs nervously. “Uhh… You good, baby?”

You clear your throat, feeling heat pool in your cheeks. “Yeah… I–I got a text from Cam.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. You listen closely, hearing the lobby noise come through a little louder. “Uh, what? What did he say, baby?” He finally asks, keeping his tone calm.

“He said he wants to see me,” you whisper, met with more silence from Rafe.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “He’s my brother… ‘Course he can’t stay away.” There’s a lightness to his tone as if he’s not at all surprised. The tension in your shoulders falls slightly at his response. Unsure of what his response would be—anger or jealousy—no part of you expected this. “You’re fine, princess. Just got in my head a little bit last weekend. It’s not a big deal, aight?”

“Okay…” You breathe, the nagging want to ask if it’s okay if he can come over replacing the previous discomfort. “Is it alright if he does?”

“Yeah, baby. I'll give him a quick call when we off.”

“You sure?” You ask uneasily.

“You gotta relax, baby. I wouldn’t have introduced the two of you if I was worried… I never worry about you.” You take a deep breath, pressing it out slowly, listening to Rafe’s light laugh on the other end. “Stop worryin’, pretty.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“C’mon... You’re my girl. I need you happy before I go out on the field or I'm not gonna be able to concentrate on shit.”

“I’m your girl,” you answer sweetly. “I’m fine. Just fine baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rafe adds.

“I’m excited to watch you play,” you smile.

“Mmm… That’s my girl,” he hums. “I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel tonight. Shouldn’t be too late, aight?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply.

The phone clicks off, leaving you with your thoughts in the apartment's quiet. Rafe’s trust was absolute, making everything much more complicated when you knew you were about to step outside your relationship without him knowing—especially now, discovering he had been okay with it all along.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside you. Looking at the screen, you try your best to relax, smiling as you see your boyfriend’s face pop up.

After a while, the game was on, and Rafe was playing like a star. The commenters praised Rafe, his name coming through the speakers repeatedly, leaving your thoughts ping-ponging between both boys—back and forth, back and forth–the grip on your phone getting tighter by the second.

Buzz.

Cam: Out front

Your eyes widen as you see the notification, making all of those thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Just like you had guessed, Cam didn’t wait for your response, taking the Cameron approach to the matter, leaving you relieved and nervous, stressed and elated, completely fuckin’ torn as you walked to the door. Your body trembles with adrenaline as you grab the handle.

Rafe said it was ‘okay.’ So why am I still so nervous? You feel a familiar rush as you look into his beautiful eyes–that same feeling bubbling just under the surface as it had been night one.

“Hey, baby,” Cam smiles, his voice deep and warm. “M’sorry for just coming. You can tell me to fuck off. I just–I couldn’t wait any longer.” You swallow thickly as he steps closer, waiting for a response.

“It’s fine,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I just didn’t–” Your words get swallowed in a deep, uneasy breath.

“You didn’t know if Rafe would be okay with it,” he answers for you. You look up at him, feeling overwhelmed.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t think he’d agree either, but he came around,” he assures you as he wraps his arm around your waist. You draw a sharp little breath, and before you can speak, he captures your lips in a tender kiss.

He chuckles breathily against your lips as he feels you tremble in his arms.

“You’re good, alright? We got you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, looking up at him, your nails scratching into his tight buzz cut. “Okay.”

“Atta girl,” he soothes as his lips travel along your cheeks and neck, pressing gentle kisses on top.

“I missed you,” you whisper. He lets out a delighted groan, squeezing you as he lifts you off your feet into a hug.

“Fuck… I missed you too, sweetheart. Haven't stopped thinkin’ about you.”

“Neither have I.” You bury yourself in his arms for a few more moments.

“… Relax,” teases again, and you melt in his arms a little more. You let out a laborious laugh before drawing a deeper breath than you have in days. “Now let’s watch this jackass play ball, huh?” Cam sets you down on the ground, walking into the living room. His fingers stay laced in yours, eyes tracing your body as he follows you. “You look good. Fuck, you look pretty, baby,” he hums.

You let out a little gasp and a laugh as he crashes down on the couch, pulling you on top of him as the second half starts. He wraps you up in his big arms, your head resting on his muscular chest.

You listen to his level breathing and the steady beating of his heart as the game goes on. His big, rough fingers trace your spine lazily during commercial breaks, making your entire body feel electric from that simple touch alone.

You watch proudly as your boyfriend stands with the other team captain for the post-game interview, grinning ear to ear. The interviewer kicks it back to the ESPN studio, leaving Cam with your full attention.

The corners of Cam’s lips curl into the prettiest smile, making your stomach flutter. “Princess…” He mumbles as you rest your chin resting on his chest.

“Mhmm,” you hum.

“I don’t think I could have stayed away even if Rafe said ‘no,’” he whispers, his voice just above a hush. You can tell those words hadn’t left his lips easily— like he had been thinking about them since he left. And, like you, he knew that feeling that was wrong, too.

“Me either,” you breathe, answering honestly.

“We don’t need to tell him, alright?” He asks. “Can you keep that between you and me? I just don’t wanna have him get in the way of this– you and I. Of course, you two still have each other, but I think what we have is different.”

“I think so, too,” you whisper.

The post-game show droned on, and then the highlights of the day’s games, all just background noise as the two of you fell into a steady rhythm together: talking, joking, and snuggling as the warmth of his body pressed against yours. You could feel the connection between the two of you growing stronger, a bond you hadn’t anticipated this early hitting you hard and fast–absolutely impossible to forget.

Buzz.

You watch as your phone trembles on the coffee table with a new message from Rafe, letting you know he is back at the hotel and waiting. “It’s Rafe,” you beam; Cam’s expression softens as he brushes some hair off your face.

“Sounds good, baby…”

You step off the couch and walk toward the bedroom. Pulling open the laptop, you look across the room, fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror as Skype loads.

“Babygirl,” you hear Rafe cheer. His loud voice breaks the speakers a little, crackling in the feedback with his post-win excitement. You swoon, looking at the pretty boy on the other side of the screen. “Get the fuck out, Maybank,” he scoffs.

“What, you’re not gonna let me watch,” JJ smiles and winks as he sees you on Rafe’s end. Rafe shoves him out of focus–the two bickering back and forth, getting their jabs in between laughs. “Goodnight, sweetheart,’ JJ calls to you.

“Yeah, you too, bitch,” Rafe smiles, flicking off the cornerback as he continues to accost Rafe ‘til the door shuts, the room falling silent.

“Hey, princess!” Rafe hums in a deeper tone, glowing with pride and excitement.

“Fuck, baby. That was a good game,” you smile as you crawl closer.

He gets easily distracted, seeing you in his jersey, making your excitement rise as well. “Look at you,” he praises as he leans in a little closer.

“You look good too, baby. Is that new?” You giggle and wink, the man already knowing where you're going as you eye up his new sweatshirt.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s all yours, baby,” he chuckles and his plays with the strings a little before pulling off the hood. “N’thank you, sweetheart. We did alright.”

“Alright?” You puff. “You were amazing.”

He laughs that laugh, running his fingers through his hair. “I wish I had you here to celebrate with me, pretty.” His tone softens as he looks at you; you can tell he means every word. You look over your computer, watching as Cam walks into the room and takes a seat atop the dresser. “Hate leavin’ you alone on a Saturday night,” your stomach falls, eyes fluttering at his words.

“Oh…” Your heart and mind start to race. “I wish I was there too.” Your voice breaks with adrenaline as you try to explain it away in your mind… Maybe he just means without him? Alone… without him?

“You should go out or somethin’... Get some air, have a little fun, get a drink for me. I’ll be home tomorrow, and we can celebrate then, okay?” You nod quickly, trying to push that uneasy feeling aside.

I mean, I got a call from him before the game… I talked to Rafe. Am I going fucking crazy?

“I’ll be fine,” you smile, feeling your lips tremble.

“Missed our pregame chat… And our post-game shower for sure,” he chuckles sleazily.

You look at Cam, he holds your gaze for a moment before burying his face in his hands. No.

“You doin’ okay, baby?” Rafe asks as he cocks his head slightly, looking back at you. “After last week n’all? Seems like you've had a lot on your mind.”

“Mhmm… m’fine,” you answer far too casually for how uneasy you look now.

“Good, baby. That’s good,” he smiles. “So, uhh... You still up for a little fun tonight, princess?”

Cam looks up to the ceiling, fighting his own internal battle. I mean, he lied… He pretended to be Rafe–his own brother, the man who told him to stay away. He throws his gaze back down to the floor, nodding to himself as he pulls himself to his feet, and right when he goes to step toward the door, you reach down, pulling Rafe’s jersey over your head, leaving you in nothing but a lace bra and panties, acting before you can even think it through.

His head turns toward you, and the man draws a deep breath as his eyes fall down your body, taking you in like the first time. Your eyes return to the computer screen, watching Rafe do the same. A deep moan comes through your speakers; his pretty blue eyes rolling back in his skull.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs blissfully, tearing himself out of his shirt. You settle back down on the mattress, thighs spread wide as you look back at Rafe, watching out of the corner of your eye as Cam walks back, taking a more comfortable position on a chair as his darkened eyes lay set on you.

“Why did you stop, baby?” You ask Rafe, letting your eyes flick up to Cam’s as well, running on pure adrenaline. “Strip.”

Rafe chuckles darkly, and Cam smiles and bites his lip, catching the direction meant for both of them. Cam quickly pulls himself out of his shirt as well, making your mind swirl. You feel yourself growing wetter by the second, the chill of the wet lace clinging to your hot skin. And just like clockwork, the two boys pull down their pants, crashing back down onto the seat and the bed, their boxers tented out by their big cocks.

You bite your lip and smile as you reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and holding the lace to your chest as your hand shakes like a leaf, but you can’t stop. “You gonna be a tease, princess?” Rafe asks through a laugh. “M’not there to discipline you. You gonna test me, or are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Always a good girl for you, baby,” you whisper as you flick your bra to the floor.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans as he paws off his last bit of clothing, his long, thick clock hitting his tight abs with a smack as Cam quickly does the same. Goosebumps bloom across your skin and your body, riding an indescribable high. “Got that video, baby?” Rafe asks.

“Mhmm…” You prop up your phone on your computer, pushing play, listening to your soft giggle and Rafe's low moan swell through the phone’s tiny speaker.

“Do you have the video, baby?” You ask as your right-hand drifts between your thighs, rubbing your clit lightly through the fabric. You see a flicker of movement out of the top of your eyes as Cam licks his lips hungrily.

“‘Course I do, princess… I’ve been thinkin’ about it all fuckin’ day.”

Cam straightens up a little, his view obstructed by the laptop, desperately wanting to watch you play with your pussy. He stands up from his seat, his fat cock standing straight–his swollen head already leaking with precum sheened at the tip as he walks to the edge of the bed, taking a seat.

Your fingers work a little quicker, teasing both boys with what they can’t touch. Your head falls back, a soft moan leaving your lips with every even breath. You look down at Rafe, watching his big fist wrap around his thick cock, stroking slowly.

“Take off your panties, baby,” Rafe mumbles. You drag the wet material down your thighs, flicking them to Cam, making the beautiful boy take his bottom lip between his teeth as he runs the material through his big fingers. He rubs this thumb across the wetness, lifting it to his lips to suck it clean with his eyes on you.

“You look so pretty on camera, princess… Tell me why I’m takin’ my eyes off you again?” Rafe chuckles, his eyes dancing between you and the home movie on his phone, the man on Cloud 9.

“I love having your attention, Daddy,” you smile as you glide your fingers wet through your slick folds, “gets me wet,” you tease as you bring them back up to your clit hating yourself for how comfortable you feel—not hating yourself enough to quit.

“So fuckin’ dirty, princess. I love it,” he hums as he starts to stroke his dick a little faster, getting off at the sight of you, spitting on his cock for lube.

Your eyes shift slightly, biting back as you smile as Cam wraps the pretty lace around the base of his thick length, hissing at the contact as he wraps himself tight. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, the boys holding back their sounds just to hear more of it as they watch you close.

You lean out of the screen, reaching into the nightstand, pulling out a vibrator, showing it off for the camera. “Fuck, baby,” Rafe hums as he adjusts slightly, forgoing the video altogether as he catches a glimpse of your toy, “you’re killin’ me.” You look up at Cam, the desperation in his eyes, fighting back his praise and pleasured sounds with his life.

“Babygirl,” Rafe murmurs as his eyes rake over your naked body, the tip of the vibrator replacing your fingers on your sex. “Stop fuckin’ with me.” Chills fall down your spine as you hear Rafe’s deep, commanding voice.

“What do you want, Rafe?” You ask breathily as you push it a little deeper between your thighs, tracing your slit before showing it to the boys; the head drenched with your wetness.

“Shittt… Turn it on,” he mumbles as his breathing quickens, the gold chain on his chest catching the light.

“Yes, Daddy,” you turn it on, making a show of it as the length of it twirls and shakes. You can feel how drenched you are, your drooling hole leaking down your inner thigh. You gasp as the silicone tip meets your plush skin, tracing through the mess before lifting your eyes to Rafe.

“Push it in, pretty.” You gasp as the vibrations hit your clit, muscles jolting from the contact, that shock quickly turning into pleasure. Your thighs tremble as you ghost the tip over your puffy clit, pussy clenching around nothing. “Fuckin’ push it in,” Rafe moans. “Damn, you’re evil for this, baby. Shit… Just wait for tomorrow night I fuckin’ swear-”

“Shit!” You squeal; both boys’ moans cancel each other out as you stuff the toy inside your aching core. Your eyes shift between Rafe and Cam as they work their fists over their throbbing dicks.

“Play with that shit. C’mon, baby. C’mon,” Rafe pleads through a deep groan as he watches you close.

“So pretty, baby. Shit, you look so damn good,” Cam mumbles under his breath as he watches the toy fuck in and out of you, keeping your pace with your strokes.

You let out a hoarse cry as you find your g-spot, the little vibrating nub pressing against your clit perfectly. Your breathing starts to quicken with your heart, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Your eyes clamp shut as you feel yourself about to near your peak.

“Open your eyes, baby. M’gonna cum… Fuck. I’m gonna cum for you,” Rafe hums. Your orgasm hits you fast, washing over you like a wave. You watch the screen as Rafe strokes a few more times before letting his thick cock go, pulsing as he cums in ropes landing hot on his abs as he pants like a dog.

Cam bites his lips, wrapping his fist around the delicate lace, pulling it down to his tip. His head falls back as he empties himself into the lace. His ab muscles clench as his heavy load dirties your panties, making an absolute mess of the fabric.

The three of you breathe heavily, coming down from your highs together. A broad smile spreads across Rafe’s lips as he tilts his head back, hitting the hotel headboard with a soft thud. “Mmm… Get on your back, baby,” Rafe hums. “You're cummin’ again.”

“Yeah?” You ask with a breathless laugh as you look between Rafe and the video playing on the phone, watching Rafe throw you to the mattress and plunge back in fast.

“Yeah, princess. Wanna hear you cum with yourself. Better hurry up, sweetheart. Sounds like you’re close,” he smiles smugly as you lay down on the bed, starting up the vibrator, your thighs, pussy still quaking from your first orgasm.

Your eyes widen as you look between your thighs, watching Cam take it off your hands before pushing it inside for you. You cry out, back arching off the mattress as he works it in at the perfect angle, the head of the vibration swirls against your g-spot, vibrator flicking at your clit.

“Fuck, you can take dick like a pornstar. Can't you princess?” Rafe praises—his cock still hard, as he shifts his focus between the old video and the pleasure on your face, the rest of your body cut off from the lens as Cam works the toy in and out.

Your bottom lip pouts and trembles in overstimulation as fat tears roll down your hot cheeks. You look down at Cam, scratching your nails into his buzzed hair. His eyes rake up your body, landing on your lips, licking his own—no doubt thinking about his dick sliding in and out and your lips on him.

He turns up the speed to the max, making you fight against him slightly, but he grabs your body, pinning you to the mattress.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Rafe drawls, and you nod rapidly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Give it to me.”

“Mhmm,” is all you can muster. “Fuck!” You whine as your damn breaks, pleasure coursing through your body as you flutter around the vibrator, cumming in tandem with the video of yourself.

Cam pulls out the vibrator, making you gasp. He flattens his tongue, licking a line up your silk, causing you to whimper pathetically as he works you through your high. Cam curls his arms, forcing you closer as he locks onto your puffy clit, sucking and flicking his tongue; feeling yourself close to a third release but you trap him between your thighs, throwing him daggers with your gaze.

“Fuck–Fuck, JJ. What the hell?” Rafe calls as you hear the door push open on Rafe’s end, making all three of you jump. Your hand clamps over your lips, as you watch your boyfriend, do his best to cover himself up while his teammate cackles. “Knock on the goddamn door,” he barks.

“Forgot my wallet,” JJ says, his voice on the edge of laughter.

Rafe covers himself more, putting his big hand up to the camera as JJ pops his head in, grabbing his wallet off the nightstand. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Rafe hisses, only half-kidding, but you’re already covered up with a blanket anyway. His eyes track JJ as he walks away, heading out the door.

“Goddamn…” Rafe mutters as he pulls back the dirtied duvet, eyeing the mess. “How many more guys am I gonna have to fight off you today?” He huffs.

Cam looks over his shoulder slightly as he pulls back on his sweats. You can see it in his eyes, Cam hit with the bitter taste of guilt. Rafe smiles at you lovingly, utterly oblivious to the war in your mind and his brother in the room.

“Rafe-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, princess. I love you,” he cuts you off before you go to speak, seconds away from spilling your guts. Maybe it’s for the best…

“I love you too,” you whisper, hearing the slight crack in your voice.

You grab the top of your laptop, pulling it shut, your heart banging in your ears as the weight of the situation starts to pile on you. You felt a rush of panic flood through you—not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

What the fuck did I just do?

Part 4

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy @rafestoothbrush

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

You Should Have Run Away

✰ summary: once upon a time, in the bustling streets of shibuya, there lived a beautiful mafia princess who had angered her brother greatly. no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake off her brother’s overprotective grip. frustrated and seeking revenge, the princess decided to venture into the forbidden territory of shinjuku. when the princess stepped into the lair of the evil king, it was impossible for her not to catch his attention. to her, using her brother’s greatest enemy as a tool for revenge seemed like a brilliant idea. but once the beast wanted something, it became his. in the end, the beast would make sure the princess paid the price for daring to enter forbidden territory.

✰ pairing: rival mafia boss!sukuna x mafia princess fem!reader

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 mafia au, mentioning of beating, mentioning of sex, gojo as a protective brother, use of mature language, use of alcohol, eventual smut, neck kissing and sucking, sukuna calls reader “miss gojo” and “brat”, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, sukuna has a definitely heels fetish, little teasing, big dick alert!!!!!, unprotected sex, possesive behaviours, creampie, sukuna hates gojo lol

✰ word count: 5.4k

✰ a little note: while i’ve started reading mafia romance books again, it wouldn’t feel right not to write something like this. enjoy!

“This was your last chance, and you used it, princess,” your brother yelled at you furiously.

“Fuck off, Toru! Just because I slept with someone doesn’t mean you can beat him half to death and then force him to grovel at my feet to apologize,” you snapped back, your tone far angrier than his.

Your brother’s increasingly overprotective behavior was becoming unbearable. Fine, maybe he was about to take over an important clan, and sure, given the dirty work he handled, he knew how manipulative and dangerous people could be.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t a bad person—at least not when it came to his family. But if someone disrespected the clan? No one wanted to see his bad side. And if they wanted something even worse than that, all they had to do was mess with you.

“Go to your room, princess. I don’t even want to see you step outside for the next two weeks. If you need something, tell Yuji to get it for you. But you’re not setting foot out of this house. Understood?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t test me, princess. You know the rules—anyone who dares to touch you faces a fate worse than death.” His eyes were bloodshot. He must not have slept all night, and finding out about your little escapade had probably wiped any chance of sleep from his mind.

Screw this. Enough was enough. You were perfectly capable of seeing whoever you wanted. If someone tried to use you, you’d know. After all, the whole “Six Eyes” thing, which basically meant knowing and seeing everything, wasn’t exclusive to your brother. But still, the bastard refused to believe you could protect yourself.

“How long are you planning to keep protecting me, Gojo Satoru? Until I’m dead? I’ll be with whoever I want—” Your words cut off as your brother shot you a deadly glare. You usually chose to fight back in situations like this, but Satoru, with his anger and lack of sleep, might very well set the house on fire.

“Go to your room. Now.” He didn’t shout, but the tone of his voice made it clear you shouldn’t push him any further.

“Fuck you, Gojo Satoru.” With that, you turned toward the stairs and headed to your room.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you began pacing back and forth, your anger boiling over. Did he really think you wouldn’t leave the house? You weren’t his precious little princess. And he wasn’t even officially the head of the clan yet. Sure, he ran most of the operations since your father had grown old, but the final word still belonged to your father.

Your pacing came to a halt when your phone buzzed with incoming messages.

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: holy shit i just saw your message so your brother found out huh?

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: honestly the only thing i can say about that guy is that satoru gojo’s gonna kill him

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if not he’ll probably do something worse

Nobara was right. Unfortunately, your brother had already made the guy wish he were dead.

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: i wish he’d just killed him

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: oh and guess what? i’m grounded for two weeks can’t leave the house

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if I know you there’s no way you’re staying put

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: wanna do something fun?

You? Of course, you wanted to. Especially right now.

𓉘22:34𓉝 You: what's on your mind?

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: there’s a party in shinjuku

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: you know where

Shit. Unfortunately you knew. Everyone knew about Malevolent Shrine. And everyone knew what went down at the parties there. That club was pure chaos—exclusive and dripping with danger. Just like its owner.

Shinjuku was off-limits for you. Actually, it was off-limits for anyone from your clan. That wasn’t your territory. Worse, the owner, Ryomen Sukuna, was your family’s sworn enemy. His empire ruled Shinjuku, and he was the Evil King.

Sukuna was the kind of man no one should mess with. Especially not you.

You could never go there. For one, you’d die—not by your brother’s hands but Sukuna’s. The moment you stepped foot in Shinjuku, his men would put a bullet in your head. And if you somehow made it to the club, the security would handle the rest.

𓉘22:35𓉝 You: you know i can’t go there

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: name a better way to get back at your brother?

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: girl are you insane? the second i step foot there i’m dead meat

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: stop calling me that

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: i’m not stopping until you say yes

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken chicken chicken

This girl was crazy. Watching the string of “chicken” messages fill your screen, you considered her plan. You were furious with your brother. You didn’t want him to protect you forever. You were a grown woman who had every right to be with whoever you wanted. No one could dare talk about a woman’s “honor” like it was their business.

You were so sick of men.

The messages on your screen had already hit 20. Were you really going to stay home like a scared little chicken? Or were you going to be the mafia princess who didn’t care about the danger?

Screw it. There wasn’t a single drop of cowardice in Gojo blood.

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: fuck my fingers are cramping but i'm not stopping

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 You: i’ll be at your place in thirty

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: my brother’s probably too busy at our club blowing off steam and fucking someone to notice

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: also yuji owes me a favor

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: but yuji can’t drive us there you know they’d recognize the car

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: i knew you weren’t a chicken 😘

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: wear that gold dress

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: we’re stealing all the attention tonight 💃

Shutting off your phone, you walked to your closet and pulled out the gold mini-dress you’d just bought from Rabanne. As you held it up, a sly smile spread across your face.

There was no way you wouldn’t get noticed in this.

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Yuji said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror as he drove.

“You owed me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” In a high-pitched, comical voice, he added, “I didn’t know my debt was death!”

When you hurriedly got ready and came downstairs, as expected, your brother wasn’t home. Yuji was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. When he heard the sound of your heels clicking, he turned his head toward you, and the look on his face wasn’t a good sign. The sight of you in 10 cm heels and a sparkling gold dress could only mean trouble.

As you checked your lipstick in a small mirror, you said, “Don’t worry. My brother will drink himself into oblivion and fuck someone senseless tonight. It’s the perfect time to teach him a lesson.”

“Even if you threatened to tattle to Papa Gojo, I still shouldn’t be doing this. But damn it, your dad is even scarier.”

Your brother could definitely be terrifying, but the person who made him that way was your father. If what you wanted wasn’t done, your father wouldn’t hesitate to put bullets through anyone.

Of course, if your father knew you were heading to enemy territory in Shinjuku right now, things would turn out very differently.

Ten minutes later, when Yuji stopped in front of Nobara’s house, you planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Nobara said she called an Uber. That must be the car in front. Thanks for the ride.”

Just as you were about to step out, Yuji grabbed your arm. When you turned to look at him, you saw the worry etched on his face. “This clears my debt. If anyone asks you, I didn’t bring you here, okay? Also…” He took a deep breath. “If anything happens, you call me. Immediately.”

“You’ve got it.” You smiled to ease his concern and stepped out of the car. As soon as you approached the idling car with its lights on, you peered through the window to see Nobara. The moment you spotted her, you opened the door and got in.

“God, it’s freezing out there.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Holy shit, that dress is incredible.” Nobara whistled, giving you an approving once-over.

“We have to make this night worth it, don’t we?” you said, a sly grin spreading across your face. Both of you laughed, and during the drive to the club, you recounted every infuriating thing your brother had done lately.

When the Uber driver announced you’d arrived, you looked at the black building bathed in red lights. If you were to paint a picture of hell, this would probably be it.

You were officially in forbidden territory. Maybe threatening Yuji by dangling your father over his head hadn’t been the best idea. Going back home and curling up in your warm bed suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. But Gojo Satoru had asked for this, and as his little sister, you were going to push it further.

The guards at the entrance immediately shot you suspicious looks, their brows furrowed as if asking, What the hell are you doing here? It must have surprised them to see anyone from the Gojo clan walk into this place so boldly.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I hope there’s room for two lovely ladies tonight?” With a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile, you asked the towering guards as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Go home,” one of the guards said, his stern expression unchanging.

“But who stays home on a Friday night, right, Nobara?” Your friend chuckled in agreement.

“If you don’t want the boss to blow your head off, go back where you came from.” The guard’s tone suggested he knew exactly how this would end.

You weren’t leaving. Whatever lie you had to tell to get inside, you’d say it.

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but your famous boss invited us here tonight.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The guard on the left stepped toward you angrily, but the other stopped him with an arm and turned to you. “The boss invited you?”

“Yep. Apparently, there’s at least one Gojo he doesn’t hate.” You had no idea what you were saying, but you rolled with it.

The guard stared at you and Nobara for a moment before finally stepping aside. “Tell the bartender inside you’re special guests. They’ll direct you where to go. Enjoy your evening, Miss Gojo.”

Well, that lie had actually worked.

“Thank you, sir.” Hooking your arm through Nobara’s, you hurried inside. The moment you stepped into the club, you realized it was even more hellish than it looked from the outside.

First, it was boiling hot—a relief, given how freezing it had been outside. Second, the place was all black and red. No matter where you looked, there wasn’t a hint of any other color. When you told the bartender what the guard had said, they led you to a quiet lounge upstairs. While the club itself was luxurious, this space was something else entirely. There weren’t many people—just a few men you assumed were businessmen, an actor you’d seen in an action movie, and two women hanging off his arms.

As you sank into the plush leather seats, Nobara turned to you. “I think this place lives up to the hype.”

Leaning back, you replied, “Seems like it. So, where are these infamous sex parties?”

Nobara laughed. “Probably in some hidden area. You know, like in the movies where you go through a secret passage.”

That was likely true. Based on what you’d heard about Sukuna, the man probably designed this place like a maze.

When the waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, he said, “A gift from the boss, Miss Gojo.”

Sukuna knew. Not that you hadn’t expected this. The guards must have informed him the second you walked in. Honestly, you’d assumed they’d tell him when you’d first started lying.

“Please send our thanks to the boss,” you said with a bright smile, taking the glasses the waiter had filled. You handed one to Nobara, and the two of you clinked your glasses before sipping the expensive, delicious champagne.

“Why don’t we finish this and hit the dance floor?” you suggested, the mix of alcohol, music, and the lingering fear of Sukuna making your adrenaline spike.

Nobara grinned, clinking her glass against yours again before downing the rest of her champagne. Then she poured herself another glass.

If you had to guess, the two of you would finish the entire bottle within fifteen minutes.

I guess you were wrong with your predictions because you and Nobara finished that bottle in just ten minutes. You had no idea how you managed it so fast, but you drank it like it was water while talking. Anytime you were with Nobara, there wasn’t a single moment that wasn’t fun. She was one of those people who made time fly without you realizing it.

With the rhythm of the song pulsing through you, you ground your hips against the man behind you, feeling the hardness growing against your back. You weren’t drunk—sure, you’d downed that massive bottle in ten minutes, but it was just champagne. You’d had far heavier nights, and your tolerance was nothing to scoff at.

“You know how to dance,” the man murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you replied, your tone just as flirtatious.

“I’m sure there’s something you’re even better at,” he whispered, and his hands slowly slid lower, brushing against your hips. You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Maybe,” you teased.

The truth was, you had no intention of sleeping with this guy. Sure, it would’ve been a great way to stir up even more trouble, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the crimson-eyed devil who hadn’t taken his eyes off you from the upper floor.

From the moment you stepped onto the dance floor with Nobara, you felt someone watching you. A few minutes later, when your gaze drifted upward, it wasn’t hard to figure out who it was. Sukuna, leaning casually against the railing with a glass of whiskey in hand, was watching your every move.

Every sway of your hips, every time you brushed your damp hair back, every teasing grind against the men who approached you—he didn’t miss a single second of it.

You wanted to create a scene, but only for him.

There was no denying his handsomeness. Even though you’d never seen him in person before tonight, it was clear he was mesmerizing, even from a distance. As you danced, you realized why your brother had kept you far away from him all these years. If you had ever seen this man before, you, like everyone else, would’ve wanted him to ruin you. Even knowing the danger he posed.

He might just be the only bad boy you’d ever want to destroy you. But calling Sukuna a “boy” was an insult. Ryomen Sukuna was a “man” in every sense of the word.

When your partner’s hands drifted lower, you pressed them down, urging him to squeeze your hips. He didn’t hesitate, gripping you firmly. His lips found your neck, and he sucked hard, marking you. You tilted your head back, letting out a soft moan, all while keeping your gaze locked on Sukuna.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to see. Maybe it was something like, “Look at me, I’m here, the one person who absolutely shouldn’t be in your territory. And I’m letting someone else touch me in your club,” as if you wanted to make yourself stand out.

It was a childish move. Trying to make someone like Sukuna jealous was a fool’s errand.

But those crimson eyes followed your every motion. You were certain. Even as he took a sip from his glass, he raised it slightly in your direction, as if to say, Enjoy yourself.

You laughed, throwing your head back.

“Like what you see, baby? I can give you more if you want,” the man murmured against your neck.

You barely heard him. Sukuna had disappeared into a black-tinted, private room upstairs, and your focus was entirely on him.

You pushed the man’s hands away and stepped back. Without even looking at him, you said, “See you around,” and made your way toward the room Sukuna had entered.

When you reached the third floor, two guards stood in front of the door. You expected them to stop you, but instead, they said, “Welcome, Miss Gojo,” and stepped aside.

Even in your own territory, you weren’t treated with this level of respect.

Offering a polite “thank you,” you opened the black glass door without hesitation. The room, unsurprisingly, was black. Oddly, there were no hints of red here. Sukuna stood behind his desk, speaking on the phone. Though you couldn’t catch the full conversation, it was something about a delivery. He didn’t turn around, not even to see who had entered.

It was as if he had been expecting you all along.

“Call me when you cross the border tomorrow. If there’s a problem, consider yourself dead, understand?” He ended the call but still didn’t face you. The sound of keys clicking echoed in the room as he typed out a message, his attention still fixed on the screen.

“Well, what a lovely surprise, Miss Gojo.” Finally, he put the phone down and turned to you. His tone was calm, almost warm.

You were still standing by the door, unsure of your next move.

“Looks like the boy on the dance floor didn’t keep you entertained,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Pity. He probably thought he had your full attention, but Little Miss Gojo didn’t care for him at all, did she?”

Finally finding the energy to move, you walked over to the couch in front of his desk. “I don’t like overly grabby men,” you said, sinking into the seat.

“Well, that’s his loss,” Sukuna replied as he sat in his own chair. “I take it the clubs your brother owns don’t amuse you anymore, so you decided to try out Shinjuku’s nightlife instead?”

“Oh, absolutely. Our clubs are, how should I put it… dull. And my brother, as you know, Mr. Sukuna, is a complete buzzkill.”

Sukuna laughed, a genuine, deep laugh. “Gojo Satoru has no idea how to have fun. I’m glad you chose to come here.”

“Thank you. Even as an uninvited guest, you’ve treated my friend and me so well. But seriously, why are your guards so polite? I’ve never been called ‘Miss Gojo’ so many times in my life.” As you crossed one leg over the other, Sukuna’s eyes followed the movement. He watched, unblinking, even after you’d finished.

“My men know how to address people properly, Miss Gojo. And no one would dare speak disrespectfully to you.”

That was… unexpected.

“Why?” you asked, letting your top leg sway slightly as you spoke.

“No one disrespects my special guests, Miss Gojo. If they do, I’ll have to cut their tongues out. And I doubt anyone wants that.”

Ryomen Sukuna would absolutely do it. You were sure of that—and you doubted it would stop at just the tongue.

“You look like a runaway sun,” Sukuna said, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving you.

The sudden compliment made you laugh. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” you managed to say between chuckles.

He smirked. “It was. Being something so hot that it melts everything in its path isn’t easy. Not everyone dares to touch.” Sukuna leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “This is where you wanted to be, isn’t it? Rather than getting more riled up by some amateur boy, you came here to play with the greatest danger in the room. You think you can burn me.”

“You said it yourself—I’m the sun. That means I can burn you.”

Sukuna rose from his chair and walked toward you. He leaned over the armrests of your couch, caging you in. You leaned back, but the space between you was negligible.

“Miss Gojo, if there’s anything hotter than the sun, it’s hell. Don’t forget that.”

You didn’t care. You could burn in hell. All you wanted was a touch.

One of Sukuna’s hands trailed up the inside of your thigh, brushing the fabric of your gold dress. “What a beautiful dress. Shame it’s so short—it leaves a lot to the imagination.”

You struggled to keep your thighs from pressing together at his touch. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the subtle trembling of your legs as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. The soft yet firm caress made resisting impossible.

“Gojo Satoru did well to keep you away from me. But you’re too much of a brat to listen, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, in my territory.” His hand stopped moving, and this time he squeezed the inside of your thigh, firm enough to send a jolt through you, but not painful—just enough to make you crave more.

“Yes…” Your voice came out as little more than a moan.

“Know this, Miss Gojo: if I’m entertaining you as my special guest, I’ll expect a favor in return.” His hand kneaded your thigh, coaxing another soft sound from your lips.

“W-what kind of favor?”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes, you did. You’d wanted it from the moment your eyes met.

“I-I—”

“You wanted it to be me instead of that boy, didn’t you?” He leaned closer, his face hovering near your neck. He didn’t touch, but his eyes lingered on the mark left by the other man. “Should I track him down and kill him? It’s my job to keep my special guest satisfied.”

“Oh…”

“Use your words, Miss Gojo.” The way he called you Miss Gojo made your head spin.

“Yes. I wanted him to be you, Sukuna. I wanted the Evil King to claim me in his territory.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you heard the low growl rumble from his chest at your words. Before you could say anything more, he easily lifted you with one arm, carrying you to his desk like you weighed nothing at all.

Before you could brace yourself, Sukuna swept everything off the desk with one hand, the clutter crashing to the floor as he pinned you down. The hard surface met your back, and the look in his eyes told you all you needed to know—he had transformed into a ravenous beast, his gaze hungry, predatory.

Your dress was shoved up almost to your waist, and, unsurprisingly, the panties you’d forgotten to wear were nowhere in sight. Your dripping, needy core was now fully exposed to Sukuna’s greedy attention.

When his gaze dropped to your slick heat, his eyes fluttered shut briefly, as if fighting to maintain control.

“I wish I could see how Gojo Satoru loses his mind when he hears about this,” Sukuna muttered, dragging your body closer to the edge of the desk. He yanked your gold dress the rest of the way up, spreading your legs wide to get a clearer view of the spot he clearly intended to devour.

“Fuck…” he murmured, his left hand gripping the inside of your right thigh while his right hand traced over your wet folds. He moved achingly slow, teasing, as though savoring every drop of slickness that coated his fingers. His touch was deliberate, exploring the sensitive walls of your entrance, his movements maddeningly unhurried.

But as much as the teasing ignited your body, you wanted—no, needed—more.

“Sukuna…” Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with need.

“What is it? You want more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. His fingers moved with such infuriating precision that you were losing yourself.

“If I give you more, there’s no going back. You won’t be able to escape. Are you sure?”

You should’ve run. You should’ve left and never come back. But here you were, in enemy territory, no longer thinking about revenge on your brother. All you could think about was your own desperate need.

“I don’t want to run,” you managed, biting back a moan.

“Fuck,” Sukuna growled under his breath. Taking your response as permission, he leaned in, his mouth claiming the place that needed him most. His large hands spread your legs even wider, giving him complete access as his tongue began its sinful work.

“Su-Sukuna—ohhh,” you whimpered as his head moved between your thighs. His tongue licked you from your folds to your clit, his pace changing between slow, teasing drags and targeted, rapid flicks. Occasionally, he focused on a single spot, making you cry out, his masculine groans vibrating against you as he continued.

You couldn’t describe it. You weren’t someone who slept with men often, but none of them—not a single one—had ever worshiped you like this. The man who should’ve been the last person to ever touch you was devouring you like you were his last meal.

“The forbidden things are always the most delicious,” Sukuna murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your swollen lips. Just before plunging his tongue inside you, he added, “You taste incredible.”

“Oh, God… Sukuna…” you moaned. His tongue worked inside you with practiced precision, each movement sending fresh waves of slickness to coat him.

“Your walls want to keep my tongue inside. I can feel it,” he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. “Fuck, you’re so tight. How’s my cock supposed to fit in here?” His right hand left a sharp smack on your inner thigh before he returned to licking you, unrelenting.

Then he added his fingers. Without warning, two thick digits plunged inside you, curling as his mouth latched onto your clit. The wet, obscene noises his hand created only added to the intensity.

“You made a big mistake making me kneel for you, little brat.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, drawing a desperate, shaky cry from your lips.

“H-how?” you stammered.

“It means you’re never getting away from me,” he said, his fingers moving faster, hitting the perfect spot inside you. The heat between your legs became unbearable, and you knew you were close.

“You’re so filthy. Look what you’re doing to my fingers,” he teased, driving them deeper. “When I pull them out, I swear they’ll be wrinkled from your juices.” His lips returned to your clit, sucking hard while his fingers pumped relentlessly.

“D-don’t stop… I’m so close—UGH I’M GONNA CUM S-SUKUNA!” The tension in your body coiled tighter, seconds from snapping.

“Fuck no,” he growled, suddenly pulling his fingers and mouth away. Just as your release hovered on the edge, Sukuna stood and unzipped his black slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers.

Your breath caught. There was no way that was real. The massive, throbbing cock he held in his hand couldn’t possibly be human.

“Are you ready for my cock, Miss Gojo?” His voice was a low, primal growl.

You weren’t. Not even close. You had no idea how it would fit.

He brought his cock closer to your entrance, teasing you by sliding the tip along your soaked entrance . He let out a moan as the wet heat of your pussy coated him. You could feel the precum leaking from his tip mixing with your own arousal.

“This—this is torture. Please…” You were barely coherent, but you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You needed him.

“What? Say what you want, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna taunted, his cock brushing lightly against you.

“I-I want you. I want your cock inside me,” you begged, your words tumbling out in desperation.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “You can’t even form a proper sentence. All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“Then take it,” he growled before slamming into you in one swift motion.

Your entire body arched off the desk as you cried out. He didn’t ease in, didn’t give you time to adjust. He buried himself to the hilt, filling you completely. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your heels dug into his lower back, earning a low groan from him.

“Every time I thrust into you, I want those heels to dig in. Do you understand me?” His voice was a harsh command.

“Y-yes,” you gasped.

“Good. Seems the only time you behave is when someone’s fucking you.” Sukuna began moving, his hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force.

He was too big, stretching you so wide it felt like he was splitting you open. Every thrust pushed you to your limits, his thick cock hitting places you didn’t know existed.

“Do you hear that, Miss Gojo?” He was referring to the sound of his hips slamming against yours, the wet smacks of his length plunging into you. “That’s real music.”

“You’re—you’re insane, Sukuna. F-fuck, right there—” His tip hit the perfect spot inside you, making your toes curl.

“Here?” he taunted. “Take it all, Miss Gojo. Be a good girl and take everything I give you.” Your legs trembled as your heels dug harder into him, pulling him closer, making his thrusts even deeper.

Provoking a beast like Sukuna was a terrible idea. Yes, he was driving you wild with pleasure, but you knew that after tonight, no one else would ever compare. No one would ever fuck you like this, hitting your G-spot with every thrust, coaxing more of your juices out with every motion.

Sukuna Ryomen was about to become your addiction.

“I should kill Gojo Satoru for keeping me from this for so long—fuck—for keeping you from me,” Sukuna growled, his cock continuing to batter your sweet spot. “I fucking hate that man.”

Even fully clothed, beads of sweat ran down from his abs to your thighs, dampening the space between your bodies. His head tipped back, his hands gripping your legs tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Know this, Miss G-Gojo,” he growled, his words rough as your silken walls squeezed tighter around his thick, veined cock. “From this moment on, you’re mine—ughhh.”

"Sukuna—just a little more, please—so close—"

"Say you’re mine," he demanded, leaning closer to pound into you harder. Though his hands released your legs, you still clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

His thrusts grew deeper, each movement dragging along every sensitive spot inside you, making you shiver. With his lips brushing your ear, you whispered, your voice trembling with surrender, “I-I’m yours, Sukuna.”

“Fuck, yes! You’re mine. Get that through your head!” he roared into your neck, burying himself deeper.

“SUKUNA, IT’S TOO DEEP—I’M GONNA CUM!” your screams echoed through the room as your legs spasmed, and the sharp heels of your shoes dug further into his flesh.

“Don’t hold back on me, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna growled as he bit your neck, sending you over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

Your juices dripped onto his black wooden table while his hot seed filled you to the brim. The feeling of his warmth pumping inside you only reignited the arousal coursing through your veins.

Still buried deep within you, Sukuna pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark he’d left. As you worried about how you’d hide it from your brother, Sukuna’s words snapped you back to reality “Tell that idiot brother of yours you’re mine now. And if he behaves, I might even let him step foot in my territory.”

Your eyes widened. “W-wait, this wasn’t just a one-time thing?” No matter how much you had told him you belonged to him, you had only said it under the heat of lust. You had never truly considered that Sukuna might actually want to claim you.

Sukuna raised his head from your neck, his hungry, feral gaze pinning you in place as he braced himself above you. “Sunday. My house. I’ll fuck you against every wall until your marks are all over them.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You should’ve stayed home today, listened to your brother. Or, when you stepped into this office, you should’ve run as fast as you could. Anything to avoid this.

But the beast had already claimed you.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

art by @Crain1Art on X

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[yappaccinocookie]

the strongest version of you.

yn cookie who awakens theirs fullest potential (like golden cheese and dark cacao)... ancients and beasts react to? (maybe gingerbrave and co too if u want!!)

of course you can! i did the same layout as the last request i made, since doing full oneshots for each cookie might actually kill me. I LEFT FOR A WHOLE 1 MONTH, IM SO SORRY. listen, this did not specify anything romantic, thus it's not romantic. the beasts are cruel, and it's obvious in their lore no this is not yandere is plain truth. sorry if some are short, I haven't gotten back into crk, and yk that's not rlly good!

LOWERCASE INTENDED!

ANCIENTS —

— White Lily

"Amazing... You found the strongest version of yourself!"

white lily cookie is overjoyed, she's always sensed that you're not to your fullest the first time she's seen you. she's very supportive and tries her best to help you get used to all of your new powers! don't expect any fights though, she's quite cautious. she trusts you that you can fight, but white lily doesn't trust herself.

her friends had an awakening like yours before, it all still feels unreal to her. you will definitely have those buddy–buddy sleep over conversations where there is no sleep, just psychology questions that make you wonder if she really is sane or if dark enchantress took all the sanity with her too.

— Golden Cheese

"Really? Does this mean we can battle!"

the shine in her eyes when you said that was absolutely priceless, tell her everything about it! power always amazes no matter no matter who its form, foe or ally! golden cheese has also awakened her fullest potential like you, and she's proud you were able to do it! saying how you guys are the coolest duo ever.

and of course, she's battle hungry! since she's unlocked her fullest potential and you've unlocked yours, it's only logical you guys battle right? it's to see the difference your strength. imagine how longer battles would last (and how many natural disasters it could cause in earth bread) don't worry you can entertain her shenanigans, but you shouldn't let her go overboard.

— Dark Cacao

"Well done."

dark cacao cookie doesn’t openly gush about your newfound power, but his respect for you deepens tenfold. he acknowledges your growth with a firm nod and a simple, “well done.” behind the scenes, he ensures you have everything you need to master your abilities, from intense training regimens to personal advice on staying disciplined.

he might test you in combat, not to belittle you, but to see how far you’ve come. don't worry, he won't mock you if you won't land a hit! he's got the patience of a snail. dark cacao will keep training and training with you until you're able to do more than your simple basic attacks.

he sees you as a vital pillar for the future of earthbread, he's seen you grow into this strong cookie with their own life ahead of them! more heroic duties to come, he's more than proud of you.

— Hollyberry

"Never hold back now! Cookies need more of us!"

hollyberry cookie is your biggest cheerleader. the moment your powers manifested, she was already planning a celebration in your honor. dialing everybody to come to your party, dialing fine arts to paint you 500 paintings to post as relics for guild museums. hollyberry throws a massive feast, complete with stories, music, and enough food to feed an army.

she insists on sparring with you, but it’s less about testing your strength and more about having fun. she laughs heartily every time you manage to surprise her.

she brags about you to anyone who will listen. “did you see them? that’s MY friend! stronger than ten hundred cookies combined!" she makes sure everyone knows how proud she is of you.

— Pure Vanilla

"My dear friend... I am so proud of you."

if you thought the others were so sweet, then you haven't seen the purest cookie of them all speak. they aren't even close to what our kings got! pure vanilla is absolutely overjoyed and emotional about your transformation. he probably tears up when he sees the extent of your growth.

he becomes even more protective of you, not because he doubts your strength, but because he knows the burden that comes with such power. he spends a lot of time talking to you about balance, reminding you to care for yourself as much as you care for others. pure vanilla is your go-to for advice on controlling your powers. he offers patient guidance and reassures you during moments of self-doubt.

he's not one to give you an extravagant celebration, because it's not his right to do such things. he'll buy you celebratory gifts on his own though, but considering this cookie is absolutely rich idk how many small gifts becomes one too many. purevanilla won't even talk about the awakening to anyone if you tell him not to!

BEASTS —

— Shadow Milk

"Oh, so you've decided to stop pretending you're ordinary?"

sure you've gotten your strongest potential, but for beasts it isn't really a problem considering they are much stronger than normal cookies. hes not impressed at all. he thrives on making others doubt themselves, and your newfound strength is no exception. (do not bring up golden cheese vs burning spice he could've won she got plot armor and although I'm happy she's alive him winning made more sense)

despite his dismissive attitude, he’s intrigued. he watches you closely, studying your every move, though he’d never admit it. “you’re an interesting little puzzle,” he mutters, half to himself. being all supernatural and ultra powerful doesn't protect you from this beasts horrifying teases, he'll ask you if you're a princess now or if you can talk to animals, that's like 2 from the several nonsense he's asked you daily.

he's actually quite hittable, hit him he won't hit back honestly, but if you ever call him unfunny? he's weeping and rolling on the floor (as a joke) saying "YOU MAY HAVE GOTTEN A LITTLE BIT STRONGER, BUT UR SENSE OF HUMOR WILL ALWAYS BE WEAK"

— Burning Spice

"That's it? I expected more!"

he actually gets intrigued fast, just like his counterpart he is also interested in strength. considering how he got wrecked by his counterpart because of her awakening, he might actually use his time to train with you.

burning spice is all about fighting everything until there is nothing left to fight, he'll push his limits. even yours! just say when u need a break, he'll say something corny like "I expected more!" and then run off and wait until ur done doing weak cookie stuff. hes not inhumane, hes just like you. it may feel unreal be he was once just a bunch of dough until the soul jam was created.

— Mystic Flour

"the world remains unchanged."

wins the idgaf war, she lost from that guy, but does not wish to prove herself again. mystic flour does not want to pressure herself with more nonsense, and probably doesn't want to for you either.

she recognizes your strength with a simple "impressive" or "fascinating" without putting much emotion into her words, then never look into it ever again.

Silent Salt and Eternal Sugar do not seem to be here, try again later?

[revelboo]

I have been throughly enjoying your writing, your work scratches an inch I didn't think I had. Absolutely love Armada Starscream, can't wait to see more of TFP Knockout and Starcream. But what got mw the most delighted was seeing Skids, he honestly doesn't get a lot of love and he is my favourite in the MTMTE comics. Thank you so much for creating all these works!

Thank you guys for reading my silly stories

Even If It Kills Me Pt 10

Armada Starscream x Reader

• “Share a meal with us.” Because if he doesn’t ask you won’t, you’ll just linger on the outskirts like you think you don’t belong. Offering you his hand, some of his tension eases when you climb into his palm so he can lower you to the floor where he’s sitting with the mini-cons. As relaxed as you are around the mini-cons, you still act uncertain around him. Hesitant. When you slide out of his hand to sit on the floor, he’s tempted to pick you up and place you on his leg, but resists. While you don’t protest being handled, he’s not sure you actually enjoy it. It must drive home how small you are compared to him. How helpless.

• “Thank you.” Reaching to accept the package of cookies, you realize you’re going to have to explain that wherever he’s thieving food from, he’s going to have to steal real food sooner or later if you’re staying a while. Because what he keeps bringing you is bottled water and junk food. He’s trying, though. Even if you’re almost positive he doesn’t really understand much about humans. “You have to patrol today?”

• Wings fidgeting as you open the package and remove one of the little brown and black speckled discs, he’s almost positive you need more than that to eat. “Of course.” Maybe the food he stole from the kids is unsatisfactory? Neither of you have talked about the nightmare or him singing to you. You joining in. Something about it had felt strangely intimate. Like it’s something that shouldn’t be discussed. There had been an aching loneliness in your voice that had echoed in his own spark, though. That makes him wonder if you’re lonely when he leaves with the mini-cons. You must be. “I could take you for a flight sometime?”

• Blinking at the offer, you look up at him to find Starscream pointedly looking everywhere but at you. Embarrassed? He’d been embarrassed the night before when he’d sang to you, his gruff voice pulling you out of the nightmare. Distracting you. “I’d love that,” you say, wanting to ask him what the song had meant. To translate the words for you, but unsure if it’d be asking too much. You’re already indebted to him far more than you can ever repay. Unintentionally saving you from a life you hated, but were too scared to give up on your own. A life that was going to end up killing you.

• “Good,” he murmurs, wings flicking. Why is it so hard to talk to you? So stilted? When you smile up at him, his spark warms and he loses his train of thought. Just wants to bask in that smile, find all the little things he can do to keep you smiling. Because his servos itch to touch you when you look at him like that. To touch the back of your hand or your hair and that’s not meant for him. Knows that, but still longs for it. Doesn’t want to ever see you look like you had the day he’d found you, defeated and broken.

Previous

[boobav]

fluff ☁️ with curly

A thousand pretty stars hover above you, below you, all around you. Every inch of infinite darkness embroidered with twinkling lights.

If only there was a window.

A big window, framed ornately with curling silver and sparkling jewels. A planet or two far off, reminding you of home, of the promise of earth. You dream quietly of soil and dirt. Of clouds and pouring rain. Mundanity. It's so overlooked when you have it. When you hold simplicity in your hands, you disregard it. Then, when it's gone, you beg for its return. Never pleased. Never-

"Can't sleep?" A voice comes from behind, cuts through the air and your thoughts with ease as though they were one. Curly.

You hum. "No. Somehow I ended up back here, staring at the screen."

His footsteps sound out loud in the silence as he makes his way to your side, then hovers for a moment, like he doesn't know what to do with himself. He motions to the spot beside you on the couch.

"May I?"

"'Course. You're the captain, after all."

"Well," he sits down with a huff. Your knees touch, and the two of you flinch away on instinct. A glance is shared as an apology, but you both run from it. "I wouldn't want to be an intrusive captain. I don't think anyone would appreciate that."

"How responsible." Your eyes remain trained on the fake night sky, the screen that works only to make your yearning harsher. The room seems infinitely warmer with the captain here. There's space between you, but clearly not enough. "I'm sure Pony Express is... proud."

The shift of his hips draws your attention. He leans back, puts his hands up on the couch in an attempt to get comfortable. He looks anything but.

"I don't think the word proud has ever crossed their mind, to be honest."

There's a pause, a jittery quiet, and then he looks to you. His face illuminated by the ships nighttime blue and the fake moon. You hate how quickly your insides melt.

"And do you- does that bother you?"

His eyes dart down, and away.

"What? If Polle's proud of me or not?" Curly tries to laugh, but seems too tired for it.

"No, I mean," you struggle to grasp the right words, the right way of approaching what you really want to talk about. "Does it bother you that no one's proud? That nobody really... cares, or even knows that we're out here?"

His gaze returns to you. From the corner of your vision you can see, see how he watches your every twitch with unearthly interest, see how he takes his time to commit even the curve of your nose to memory. At least, it makes you feel better to imagine he's doing such.

"I don't know. Sometimes. But you should keep your head up, right? Think about the people who do care, like me- the crew." He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but it leaves quickly, too warm, too out of place.

"I really don't think Swansea would think twice if I disappeared off this ship, captain."

He laughs properly this time. The sound alone almost shatters the walls you've built, the high inhibitions your position calls for. You find yourself shuffling just an inch closer to his warmth regardless. The sun, smothered and hidden by metal, yet visible just for you.

"Well, maybe. But I would. More than twice, actually, I'd probably..." he clears his throat, "probably think a few times. You know, think about where you've gone."

Now comes your turn to stare. The gentle blue light on his warm features, the red creeping up his thick neck, his hair falling perfectly over his face. Every movement you make now is deliberate, awfully so, each inching move towards him a desperate crawl through dirt. Your knee nudges his again. This time, neither of you move.

"When we're back on earth, what do you wanna do?" You ask. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Get a nice dinner somewhere, maybe. There's this one place I used to love but... I haven't been there in ages. I'm sure they've forgotten me by now. You?"

"Go on a hike in the rain. Breath in some fresh air. Pet a dog, buy groceries. Everything I can't do up here I guess."

He fixes his eyes on you now, clenches the fist that's fallen to his lap.

"Would you..." he pauses, "would you, by any chance, need some help with that?"

"With... breathing?"

He blinks. "No, I meant- would you-"

"Like to go on a date when we're back?" The words spill from your lips, molten and hot. You regret them instantly, curse yourself for pushing so far, but the look in his eye changes your mind. A gentle glimmer of hope, of surprise, of hesitation.

"Uh, yeah. I'd take you on one now if I could but we're in the middle of space and I'm, well- I'm your captain. I don't want you to... feel pressured."

You smile. His expression is uncharacteristically timid. It fits strangely onto his strong features, runs along his nose to leave muddy footprints. With another push against the tides of your hesitation, you reach over, pull his clenched hand into yours. He sighs from the contact, sighs again when you run your thumb along his knuckles.

"Good thing we're getting fired after this, I guess. You won't have to worry about the captain thing anymore."

He leans his head against your shoulder. Your other hand wraps around him, kneads through his hair as if you'd done this a thousand times before. Maybe you have in some other, distant life. But with how fast your heart is beating now, how hot your skin feels at every touch, that life must have been centuries ago.

"What then? I take lead of another ship? The pays good, but... there's so many things I wanted to do before I put myself in this loop. Now, they're just empty boxes on a bucket list." He looks up through his lashes, embarrassed yet emboldened by his vulnerability. By your acceptance of his vulnerability. "Sorry. I shouldn't just dump that on you."

"It's okay. You're in a difficult position. We all are." You weave your fingers through his thick hair, crumble at every small noise that leaves his throat. The bags under his eyes are getting darker, you notice. "We'll do one thing at a time."

"Right. Yeah," Curly sits up, "but the first thing's dinner, alright?"

His smile is contagious. The sweetest disease in the galaxy.

"Alright."

[vytels]

I keep thinking about jazzprowl in @keferon ‘s mech au and the idea of Prowl’s frame getting dissected by MECH so that they can make better mechs and the addition of Swerve in that manner. I kept asking myself, how could MECH keep Jazz so busy that he doesn’t realize this is happening to Prowl? How long would it take them to do this?

And then I was rereading the texaid story line when it hit me.

The best thing for MECH to do is to keep Jazz as separate from Prowl as possible, because clearly he’s compromised… But also he’s been to space so obviously a check up on his health is in order. And whatever Pharma was injecting into First Aid could easily keep Jazz out of it and down for the count. It’s the perfect way to keep Jazz away from Prowl.

Pharma could even tell him, “you’re fighting off some kind of space disease we’ve never seen before,” to explain why suddenly Jazz doesn’t feel so good, why he’s losing time, why he’s so cold and tired.

Also, once free of this weird drug, Jazz coming to the realization that the corruption at MECH runs further than he thought. He was always creeped out by Shockwave and Pharma, but didn’t think they’d go as far as to try to murder him so that they could dissect his boyfriend and he’s livid that he wasn’t able to see that, that he wasn’t able to keep Prowl from harm, and that they’re running on borrowed time now to save Prowl and Serve but he’s not even in a state to control his mech with those drugs still pumping through his veins.

What does Jazz do now? Who helped him get out of the drugs? First Aid? Hot Rod? Blurr?

How far was MECH willing to go to cover this up? Were they planning on telling the public a fake story? Mech Pilot Jazz escapes from new hostile aliens, saved by MECH but dies due to an alien virus?

Now just imagine First Aid finding out that Pharma is doing this to another person now, that it’s not just him, and out of everyone it’s Jazz.

OR Blurr trying to figure out how to save Swerve, somehow stumbles upon Jazz during one of Pharma’s “check-ups” and shit hit the fan.

OR Hot Rod hearing that Jazz is back, that he had two robotic alien life forms with him that sound a little too familiar and now no one is allowed near Jazz to find out what really happened… and obviously, Hot Rod can’t stand for that.

Or maybe even a mixture of them all?

The possibilities are so endless and I’ve been chomping at each one for the past hour and UGHHH I hope you all like this little addition I’m adding… I’ve been reading lots of this au and so many different stories and it’s just all so amazing, so I thought I’d poke my toe in the water to test it out

[nana-luvy]

. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤

warnings: fem!reader, no established relationship, suggestive content (may i say, heavy makeout), a little foul language

In which he never wants to get used to it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You know this feeling ? The feeling you get sometimes, the feeling that you never want the current moment to end ? Like you’d just want it replayed, over and over, nobody interrupting, nothing breaking the atmosphere, just a loop of this moment you crave to feel forever on end.

This was the moment.

“Hey, where are we going exactly ?”

His voice alone was warming your chest, the little laugh accompanying it making your heart leap in your body. Or maybe it was the alcohol in your system ? You knew it wasn’t your best idea, but you also knew you were still more conscious than not, and it was probably the only time you’d ever feel brave enough to do it.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too far away ~”

You two were almost running, you ahead as you lead him somewhere away from the campfire. The older campers had gathered on the beach for a late hangout, bonfire lighting up the dark night as everyone chatted away, passing bottles around for everyone to enjoy. And enjoying them you did. But it was the liquid courage you needed when Luke had been there all night, sitting next to you, talking to you, eyes looking straight into yours as his voice was all you could hear. Few innocent touches of your fingers over the warm sand in the warm summer night, digits brushing a strand of hair out of your face, having to mentally prevent yourself from leaning into his hand. But this look he gave you… it made something snap in place, and you asked him to follow you, and he wouldn’t have said ‘no’ in a million universes, taking the hand you were offering.

After just a couple minutes, you finally reached a small cabin, not too far into the woods.

“What’s this place ? I’ve never seen it before.” Luke asked, looking around and realizing he had already been on this part of the forest but had never seen the little hut.

“Well, I just like keeping this place to myself so I just… make sure nobody can see it if I'm not around ~” you simply answered, rubbing the fingers on your free hand and creating a small spark of magic, before sending a wink his way. “But I wanted to show it to you, I'm quite proud of my decorating.”

Luke couldn’t resist the smile on your lips, practically melting as you cupped his hand with both of yours now, pulling him inside and he opposed no resistance.

On the other side of the door were wooden walls and a wooden flooring, fluffy white carpets covering it, and fairy lights suspended across the ceiling to give that eerie atmosphere. There was a long, beige loveseat in a corner of the single room, inviting and cosy, a bigger couch of a more pink tone on the side, and the walls were stripped of any decoration other than a couple windows. It was just so…

“So cozy…”

“Well, I'm glad you like it, I've barely shown this place to anyone, I mostly use it for alone time… but it’s pretty cool, yeah..”

Still holding Luke’s hand, you tripped over your own feet, still feeling your head buzzing from the alcohol, landing on the nearby loveseat. Trying to compose yourself back while the boy in front of you stifled a small laugh, you patted the empty seat next to you, and he immediately took it, your hands untangling as you both longed for that feeling back.

“So… you brought me here to… show me how you decorated ?” He inquired, slightly cocking an eyebrow questioningly as he got more comfortable on the soft furniture, bending one leg to rest it closer to him on the beige fabric.

“Can I kiss you, Luke ?” He didn’t expect the bluntness, taken aback for a second, and the confusion in his eyes immediately made your tipsy self only want to talk and talk to fill the awkward silence. You stood up, trying to escape the weird tension between you two. “I mean, it’s probably because I'm drunk- I'm conscious of what I say, don't worry, it’s not like an assault or anyth- oh gods what am I even saying…? I just wanted to say, you don’t have to feel obl-”

Luke stood up right in front of you while you spoke, planting his two hands on the sides of your face gently before pulling his own head down towards yours, his lips melting over your own instantly like it was made to fit like two puzzle pieces.

You relaxed immediately, the hands that were previously flying in all direction as you poorly tried to explain yourself falling at your sides before they crawled upwards, hovering over his toned arms and crossing behind his neck for leverage, pulling him lower. In response, Luke’s fingers came to tickle the sliver of skin exposed by your short top, on your lower back, clasping your waist to keep you from falling as he bent over you and forced your backwards arch. It didn’t feel animalistic, even through the clash of teeth and the spit smudged over your lips in just a few instants together only, but instead full of this ungovernable need you both felt, wanting the other closer, deeper.

You both refused to pull away, heavy breaths hitting the other’s cheek with every exhale, your eyes closed shut tightly as you tried to take in everything you two could feel in the moment, inking it in your memory. Your hands went up the boy’s curls, fingers threading in his darks locks, nails scratching his scalp as you pulled him even tighter in your embrace when his own hands ventured around your body, digits pressing against any displayed skin, roaming your arms and barely waiting for any kind of permission —found in a low moan— before dipping under your top to feel the smooth skin of your back, tracing a gentle path up your spine. This simple sensation was soft and delicious, your head dipping back and your mouth falling agape from the feather-light touch that trailed fire along your skin, and Luke took the opportunity to leave your lips and drag his lower, following the line of your jaw, tracing a path down your neck and coming back up to leave a lingering kiss right below your ear. Your fingers ran through his hair mindlessly, or from his view maddeningly, ruining the defined pattern to leave a mess of disheveled curls that just made him look that much hotter in the end. As his lips attached themselves behind your ear in a wet kiss that echoed through your mind, you tugged lightly in an attempt to keep yourself grounded, making him groan against your skin, a sound that sent your head spiraling down a never-ending slope of lust.

Standing a little straighter, you backed him up into the nearest wall, avoiding any piece of furniture in the way before resting one hand on his chest, feeling the taught muscles under your palm, as the other grabbed his chin to make him look down at you.

“Are you usually this bold?” Luke asked, panting as he tried to even his breathing when you finally took a short break, his chest heaving with each breath.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a little smirk dancing on your face. “I wish I was always like this, I would’ve kissed you way earlier. Why, y’like it ?”

“Damnit,” he groaned, swiping his hand over his face, “you’re so fucking hot.” He dipped his head to join your lips again, but you quickly pushed him back against the wall with your hand on his chin after barely a peck. Your smile broadened before you went on your tip-toes, leaving a kiss right at the corner of his lips, trailing along his cheekbone and letting your tongue wander the length of his scar while he exhaled heavily, eyes closed shut as he became almost putty at the surface of your touch. He could barely think past the sensation of your lips, his mind spinning, body practically arching into your touch.

“You’re not fair…”

“Then learn to enjoy the chase, because I don’t wanna play fair, right now,” you replied softly, eyes looking up at his pained expression with a smile in your gaze. “Can I?”

As the whisper reached his ears, Luke felt dainty finger playing with the first button of his short-sleeved shirt, twisting it around in anticipation, and his face got impossibly more flushed. “Whatever you want-” he replied with a heavy sigh, all possible tension in his body relaxing as he felt your lips pressing against the thin skin of his neck. He laid back on the wall completely, trapped within your grasp as your lips latched onto the skin of his torso, tracing the path right in the middle as you tugged off one by one each button of his shirt. “Shit… You're gonna make me loose it…”

“Good,” was all you murmured before letting your fingers nimbly undo the last few buttons, nose nudging his face so he’d face back down and kiss you. His lips were like honey and you were a bear, hungrily taking them in, tugging them between your teeth gently, wanting selfishly to keep them to yourself forever, and Luke was only mirroring your energy. His hands had found purchase at the nape of your neck, playing with stray hair and keeping your head angled without putting too much tension in your neck, giving him the perfect way down to match your hunger, eating at your lips like a starved man. Teeth were still clashing, tongues sweeping past lips to explore mouths and bringing the other in a maddening dance for the lead, while words consisted more in low whines and groaned moans than actual intelligible thoughts.

“How come- mmph- we never did this?”

The air was electric around the both of you, bolts of energy shooting in your body each time his fingers tugged your head a little further back, urging you for more. “I don’t know..” you sighed against Luke's lips, refusing to pull away, and he was the first to do as his lips reattached to your skin, grazing over your jaw in the most teasing tickle. “I didn’t think it’d ever work ou- oh dear gods, never stop that…”

Through the moan that left your lips as Luke finally —after minutes of holding himself back— suckled a purple bruise right under your jaw, the boy could only feel the surprise from your words and the flush adorning his face from the praise, feeling his body heating up. “Why would you of all people think that ?” he whispered against your skin, the vibration deliciously ringing up to your ears.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your fingers finally leaving his clothed sides to run slowly down his heated skin, the feeling almost emboldening as your head filled with all the possibilities. “You’re just you, and I can’t talk to you unless I’m… well, like this-”

“Like this ?” he asked, a little quip accompanied by a smile you could feel tugging at his lips against your collarbone.

“Tipsy, Luke, I can’t fucking talk to you without this cheap ass vodka in my system, of course it didn’t happen earlier…” you sighed, pleased hums tumbling past your lips with each wet kiss he placed along your neck. Still, your hands didn’t shy away, tracing the outline of every muscle adorning his front, his chiseled chest, the dips and ridges of his abdomen, the low-waist of his cargo pants allowing you to gently trace the v-line adorning his hips, nails scratching against the skin until reaching the hem of his bottoms.

“Wow wow wait- slow down, pretty…” he immediately reacted, voice vibrating against your skin as he didn’t remove his face from the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips to entangle his fingers with yours, bringing them away from him and rather leaving them around his neck, arms resting loosely on his shoulders while he held your hands behind his head. “Let’s not-” he stopped for a second, gulping down hard, and you could feel his panting breath on your skin. “Let’s not… go there, yeah ?”

Whatever confusion might’ve been written on your face, it was quickly wiped right off as he tugged you closer by the arms, hands still in his, his face going back up to yours and crashing your mouths together. He didn’t let you go, didn’t let you move away, instead trying to get every parcel of your skin stuck to his: his hands left yours to fall around his neck, only to circle your waist back in a split second; his head was dipping to make you arch back in his touch, making sure his front was pressed against yours and his hands held you back; his tongue was persistent, pushing past your lips and tangling with yours any chance he got, letting you drink in low moans whenever your hands tugged at his curls while he walked you backwards.

It wasn’t long before he turned you both around, his hands on your waist and behind you thigh you tug you back on him as his knees hit a couch and he sat back on it. “You know, I could get used to this,” he murmured on your lips, refusing to pull away too far, and a shiver ran up your back while his hands idly traced meaningless patterns on your exposed skin.

“Don't, I wanna feel that feeling of new everytime.”

First request aaaaaaaah (im actually tweaking, anon i love you.)

I'm not really used to writing this kind of fic, i'm more into writing fluffy fluff, i guess, so i hope it's good <3

Tell me yourthoughts if you got any, recommendations and critics greatly appreciated ~

Love, Nana ♡

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: kissing?

Alessia Russo x Reader:

Title: a match

MasterList

“I’m not doing it,” you said firmly, glaring at your best friend, Emma, from across your living room.

Emma sighed, leaning against the armrest of your couch. “Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s just one date. One evening of your life. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “Maybe it’ll be awkward. Or maybe we’ll have nothing to talk about. Or maybe I’ll embarrass myself in front of someone who is, oh, I don’t know… world-famous?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For the hundredth time, Alessia is not some untouchable superstar. She’s just a person. A really lovely, single person who happens to play football.”

“Exactly! Football. As in, one of the most popular athletes in England. Meanwhile, I can barely keep my plants alive.”

Emma waved you off. “Details. You’re perfect for her. Besides, she’s not some egotistical diva. She’s grounded, funny, and genuinely kind. You’ll see.”

You let out a dramatic groan, throwing yourself back against the couch cushions. “Fine. But if this is a disaster, I reserve the right to mock you endlessly.”

The day of the date arrived far too quickly. You spent the afternoon oscillating between excitement and sheer panic, trying on and discarding at least ten different outfits before finally settling on a simple yet flattering ensemble.

By the time you reached the small Italian restaurant Emma had picked out, your nerves were in overdrive. You checked the time: ten minutes early. Great—just enough time to second-guess everything.

You were fidgeting with your napkin when the door opened, and in walked Alessia Russo.

The photos didn’t do her justice. She was tall, effortlessly elegant in a blazer and jeans, her golden hair falling in loose waves around her face. When her blue eyes found yours, she smiled—a genuine, radiant smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N?” she asked, her voice warm and tinged with curiosity.

You stood awkwardly, nearly knocking over your water glass in the process. “Hi. Yes, that’s me.”

She laughed softly, her presence somehow both calming and electrifying. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The two of you sat down, and for a moment, an awkward silence lingered. Alessia broke it with a self-deprecating chuckle. “So… blind dates. Not as terrifying as they seem, right?”

You relaxed a little, smiling at her effort to lighten the mood. “I mean, the night is young. Plenty of time for disaster.”

Her laugh was genuine, her shoulders easing as the ice between you began to thaw.

As the evening unfolded, you were surprised by how easy it was to talk to Alessia. Despite her fame, she was refreshingly down-to-earth, her stories peppered with humor and warmth.

“I have to ask,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “What’s it like being recognized everywhere you go?”

She shrugged, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “It’s… surreal sometimes. But mostly, I try not to let it get to me. At the end of the day, I’m just someone who loves playing football.”

You nodded, impressed by her humility. “And what about the pressure? Doesn’t it ever get overwhelming?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I have a great support system—my family, my teammates. And now, hopefully, you?”

The teasing note in her voice made your cheeks warm.

“I guess I’ll see how tonight goes before I commit to being your cheerleader,” you replied with a smirk.

Alessia grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Fair enough.”

By the time dessert arrived, you felt like you’d known her for years. The conversation was effortless, your laughter coming easily, and for the first time in a long time, you found yourself genuinely enjoying someone’s company.

Emma pounced the moment you walked through the door later that night.

“Spill. How was it?”

You kicked off your shoes, trying to suppress a grin. “It was… good. Really good, actually.”

Emma’s eyes lit up. “I knew it! You like her, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. She’s funny and sweet and—ugh, stop looking at me like that.”

Emma smirked, leaning back against the couch. “I told you. You owe me.”

Over the next few weeks, you and Alessia fell into a comfortable rhythm of texts and phone calls. She sent you good-morning messages, often accompanied by silly selfies, and you found yourself looking forward to her daily updates.

The first time she invited you to one of her matches, you hesitated.

“Are you sure?” you asked nervously. “I don’t want to distract you.”

Alessia laughed. “Trust me, having you there will be the opposite of distracting. Besides, Emma will be there too, so you won’t be alone.”

The match was a surreal experience. Seeing Alessia on the pitch, commanding attention with her skill and presence, left you in awe. The crowd roared every time she touched the ball, and when she scored, the stadium erupted.

Afterward, you met her outside the locker room, feeling a little out of place amid the buzz of players and fans. Alessia’s face lit up when she saw you, her smile brighter than the stadium lights.

“Hey,” she said, pulling you into a quick hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“You were amazing,” you said, still a little starstruck.

Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head shyly. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Despite how well things were going, dating someone like Alessia wasn’t without its challenges.

One evening, as you scrolled through social media, you stumbled upon a photo of the two of you leaving the restaurant after your first date. It had been picked up by a gossip page, the caption speculating about Alessia’s “mystery partner.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach as you read through the comments—some supportive, others invasive.

When Alessia called later that night, you hesitated before bringing it up.

“Do you ever get used to it?” you asked softly.

“To what?”

“The scrutiny. The constant attention.”

“It’s somewhat hard. They will interfere with your life a lot but, don’t worry. You’ll be okay. I will make sure of it.” Alessia says.

Her reassurance eased some of your anxiety, but the reality of dating someone so high-profile was something you continued to grapple with.

As the months passed, you and Alessia grew closer, your connection deepening with each shared experience. She introduced you to her family, who welcomed you with open arms, and you brought her to your favorite hidden spots around London.

One evening, as the two of you sat curled up on the couch, Alessia turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked, her voice tentative.

You looked at her, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… us. Where we’re headed.”

Your heart raced at the vulnerability in her voice. “I think about it all the time,” you admitted. “And honestly? I want to be wherever you are.”

Her smile was soft and full of emotion as she leaned in to kiss you.

Despite the challenges, you and Alessia found a way to make it work. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was real, built on mutual respect, trust, and a shared determination to navigate the ups and downs together.

And as you stood by her side, cheering her on through every victory and setback, you realized that Emma had been right all along.

Sometimes, the best things in life come when you least expect them.

[rafecswhore]

fractured tides. : stormy beginnings - r.c x pogue reader

01 | 02 | 03

the tension in the room was so thick, it felt like it might suffocate her. y/n sat at the far end of the long oak table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she tried to ignore the sharp, piercing stare of rafe cameron from across the room.

“we don’t need her,” rafe said coldly, his voice slicing through the awkward silence. “she’s just going to slow us down.”

y/n rolled her eyes, biting back the urge to snap. “oh, i’m sorry—wasn’t it your fault we’re even in this mess in the first place?”

“my fault?” rafe shot back, leaning forward, his blue eyes blazing with anger. “you’re the one who insisted on tagging along like we needed your help.”

“i didn’t ‘tag along,’” y/n retorted, her voice rising. “i was asked. apparently, some people actually value what i bring to the table.” she glanced pointedly at john b, who was awkwardly pretending to read a map in the corner.

it was supposed to be a simple trip—map the hidden coves of the outer banks for a research project funded by the marshals. a chance to help her community and work alongside others, except no one told her she’d have to work with him. rafe cameron. arrogant, entitled, and insufferably good-looking.

john b finally broke the silence, clearing his throat nervously. “okay, maybe we should just… cool off for a second?”

“cool off?” y/n muttered under her breath. “yeah, maybe he should try it.”

“what was that?” rafe challenged, his sharp tone making her snap her head back to him.

“i said, maybe you should learn how to be part of a team instead of stomping around like you own the world,” she said, standing up from her chair, her anger boiling over.

he stood too, towering over her, but y/n didn’t flinch. “maybe if you weren’t so desperate to prove yourself, you wouldn’t be getting in the way.”

“oh, i’m sorry. is your ego too big to handle the fact that someone might actually know what they’re doing?”

“enough!” john b shouted, throwing the map on the table. “we haven’t even started this trip, and you two are already at each other’s throats. if you can’t get along, maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

y/n took a deep breath, glaring at rafe one last time before grabbing her bag. “fine. whatever. just tell me where to set up so i don’t have to listen to him all night.”

“good,” rafe said with a tight smile. “the feeling’s mutual.”

later that night, as the group set up camp near the water, y/n tried to focus on her work. she crouched by her equipment, checking the tide charts and scribbling notes into her journal. the air was warm and salty, the waves crashing softly in the background, but even the calming atmosphere couldn’t ease her frustration.

“you might want to move your stuff,” came rafe’s voice from behind her.

she turned to see him standing there, arms crossed, his usual smirk plastered on his face. “excuse me?”

“the tide’s coming in,” he said, motioning to where her things were spread out along the sand. “but hey, if you want to lose your fancy notebook, be my guest.”

y/n looked at the shoreline, realizing he was right. the water was already inching closer. she scowled, hating that he had a point. “i can handle it.”

“sure you can,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

as he walked away, y/n clenched her fists, determined not to let him get under her skin. but as the night wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to rafe cameron than his sharp words and infuriating smirks. beneath the bravado, there was something guarded, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

and as much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to figure him out—or keep her distance.

[davidlikebowie-noturaccountant]

okay this is fully rushed and just the first part because i’m sleepy tired but

i wasn’t TOTALLY sure if the au was meant to be like neil still tries and fails or what but that was how i read it and so the following also tw for references to suicide (canon compliant)

anyway there will probs be a part two… tomorrow? idk but i hope u like it op (i may have accidentally made it less of a silly goofy au and more of too much internal serious reflection whoopsies)

When Neil comes to, it’s in a sterile room. Bleak, white light filters in from the open door, and he is…… completely alone. It’s silent, save for the intermittent beeping of the machines, and everything hurts. For a moment, a blessed, easy moment, he can’t remember where he is, or why he’s there. And then it all comes crashing back, a 12-foot wave of pain, guilt, and regret. Then the heavy sadness. It didn’t work. He’s trapped. God fucking damn it, can he do anything right?

In the drawing-room, Tom and Eleanor are sitting by the phone, quiet. Grief had washed away the anger that stood staunch in that room only days before, and uncertainty continued to pool in them. And then they got the phone call. It felt like a miracle. Eleanor had fallen into Tom, crying, once again, but for the first time in ages, the tears were those of relief. Their family was going to be okay. They could heal from this.

The months that followed were hard. The hardest they’d ever had to reckon with. Neil, somehow, blessedly, escaped without lasting damage to his brain. When he was left alone for any longer than a moment, it weighed on him. When he had gone into the study that night, he had felt… steady. Sure. More sure than he’d been in a while. Resolute. And– in the wake of that– to find out he’d been foiled by a shaky hand, it felt like a cruel slap to the face. As time wore on, he tried hard to find the lust for life he’d briefly gotten his hands on, but his parents had deliberated, they’d decided to send him away, and they only told the school he’d- nothing after. And send him away they did, somewhere where he couldn’t make long-distance calls, and any calls he would have tried to make were long-distance. He was completely cut off from the person he used to be, and the people who had made him that person. Total isolation. He barely heard from his parents, save the occasional letter reminding him of the expectations they had. Forget lust for life, he hardly had it in him to resist. He was back to square one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 32, Neil felt as if he stopped needing to adjust to things, or maybe he only just realised it. Suburban New Jersey was both exactly like Vermont and a far, far cry from it. He rarely let himself think about Vermont, though. The person he was before he went to military school in Scotland. Before what he only lets himself refer to as “The Incident.”

He’s a far cry from that person now. Dwelling on it only serves to make him sad. So, he settles into his new routine, and for a while, he forces himself, pointedly, not to think about how close he is to Vermont. Then, as time continues to pass, that becomes routine too. Suppressed without him having to think about it. He finds, in time, that he likes the bustle of the hospital. There’s no time for him to think past his cases. Saves him from himself some days.

The pager on his belt beeps, and he sees the code on the little screen. The one which means he has a new patient. And he steps back into the routine, going to the emergency room to do his job. One foot in front of the other. He has to remind himself sometimes not to mourn. He did his time, he felt his grief. Even 16 years later, it tries to get on top of him. But, his job keeps it at bay. Occupies his mind. Most days, he can hardly remember he used to be a different person. Some days he feels it brewing, just under the surface of his attention. It doesn’t get on top of him though. Never.

So, when he pulls the curtain back, clipboard in hand, his mind is blessedly empty, his gait is sure, and he doesn’t think twice about only skimming the chart he was handed for symptoms. Usually, he just takes the patient history himself. So, he walks in, as secure as he can be, doing the job he knows he’s good at.

He knows the EMTs had to resuscitate. From the beeping, he can tell that the pulse is still thready. But there. He knows the basics from his perfunctory skim of the chart. Overdose, patient’s pulse was lost for 3 seconds while unresponsive. This seems fairly easy, comparatively. He knows what to do. He’s well trained. He’s secure in his knowledge. Resolute.

And then he looks up from his clipboard.

It’s amazing how much 16 years can change a person. Features age, the angles of youth soften. But there are some things about a person that don’t change. A laugh, a smile.

Big blue eyes.

There are some things about a person you can never forget. He glances down at his chart. And there it is, the thing he didn’t read, in the same swoopy handwriting he remembered from- then.

Todd Anderson.

Fuck.

after seeing clips from tape and house I can only think of an anderperry au where Neil doesn’t die, but gets sent away and becomes a doctor. The next time he and Todd meet? Todd overdosed. You just have to hear me out for this one:

“Neil! We all thought you died!”

“Well I didn’t. You though? You did. Legally. For three whole seconds. Todd what the fuck?”

[horse-girl-anthy]

essay on the UFO motif in RGU (and YKA) under the cut

one of the things that makes aliens so interesting is their versatility. YKA uses the classic alien invasion trope as the set up for its narrative; aliens as outsiders, infiltrating human society and sowing paranoia. as anyone who's seen the show knows, this premise is soon subverted. fear of the other is used by the invisible storm girls to justify securitization and eventual militarization, while the main characters work to break down the self-other dichotomy.

RGU doesn't feature its UFO motif so prominently; or anyway, it's not present from the beginning of the show, but instead scattered throughout. this marginality does not make the motif any less important, however. let's take a look at the text to see how the motif itself is used.

in almost all instances, UFOs and aliens are associated with the shadow girls. the first time they're mentioned is in episode 9.

in the skit, A-Ko insists she saw a UFO, while B-Ko says it must have just been a shooting star. they argue about this for a while, until A-Ko changes the topic to disillusionment: she knows that Santa Claus, wizards, fairies, princes on white horses, and kind-hearted, true friends only exist in fantasy. but she begs to be allowed to keep her belief in UFOs.

the inclusion of UFOs in this scene may not seem particularly meaningful. the skit draws a constrast between childhood illusions and adult cynicism, notably including "true friends" on the list of fantasy creatures. with hindsight, though, this choice does seem purposeful. maybe A-Ko wants to believe in what the UFOs represent, which is more clearly spelled out as the show goes on.

in episode 12, the shadow girls list "normal things" for people to do: study normal subjects, get a normal job, fall in love normally, get married normally, have a normal family, and live a normal life. but they conclude that being normal "has nothing to do with them" and proceed to board a UFO so that they can "go back to what's normal for them."

this is an obvious parallel to Utena's arc in the episode, where she rejects how society wants her to act and reclaims her own normal. but it's also telling us something about the shadow girls.

the shadow girls don't just "want to believe" in UFOs--it seems that they are aliens. they're "from Planet Kashira" according to Ikuhara; "Inhabitants of Planet Kashira" is the title of the shadow girls track on the first OST.

I think what this is telling us is that the shadow girls are outside observers. they're not natural citizens of Ohtori but exist at a remove from it. they can interact with the story, but they're a constant reminder that something beyond it exists--that the "rules of the rose crest" are not the laws of the universe.

from episode 13 on, the shadow girls put on their plays after returning to earth from their UFO. episode 24 ends with an encounter between Suzuki, Yamada, Tanaka and the UFO. we see the "monkey-catching-robot" again; once it successfully bags its prey, it enters the craft and flies away.

I could probably provide a reading of this scene if I tried, but mostly, I think it's there to round out the Black Rose arc. it's rather tongue-in-cheek; the UFOs are a part of the silly side of RGU. this eccentricity is humorous, but in my view also tied to the theme of individuality, which requires unapologetic strangeness. there's also something to be said for RGU's use of the inexplicable and uncanny, which often have a far deeper impact on the audience than concrete story elements.

in the final arc, the shadow girl plays begin with their UFO crashing into the chairman's tower. this is as clear a metaphor as one can hope for: the shadow girls and their alienness are a destabilizing force. maybe they're not revolutionaries--the crash appears to be accidental--but their randomness, their strangeness, their lack of propriety are a threat to the order, the masculine rule represented by Akio.

that's about it for the shadow girls. but as I mentioned, aliens are brought up in another context: the episode "Nanami's Egg."

the line "Nanami's some kind of space alien" is rather famous, and that part of the episode isn't hard to read. she's worried that she's seen as a freak, an other, by her peers. however, we also get a return of the motif at the end of the episode.

after abandoning her egg, Nanami is unable to put it out of her mind and runs out into the night to find it. she sings and dances with it, but after a bedtime conversation between Utena and Anthy, the show cuts back to Nanami, now bereft of her egg again.

she finds it, grown 100 times larger, propped up in the woods. she promises never to abandon it again, but it seems not to forgive her, shooting strange beams at her in attack. then it fades and lays before her, cracked open.

I think this scene is adding a new dimension to the egg metaphor: in the final moments of the episode, the egg becomes a symbol of Nanami's self. she tried to be rid of it, as she killed the cat--but just as she did then, she found herself regretting it. but she's unable to forgive herself for it, feeling that she's betrayed herself and lost something very important for the sake of a false normality.

to finish this essay, I'd like to reflect on how the motif of alienness is reflected in the larger themes of RGU. in the episode 11 commentary, Ikuhara wrote the following:

I tried to live true to myself. “You’re just like an alien,” someone said to me one day. They must have been telling me, “You’re not normal.” In other words, apparently “living true to yourself” means “living as an alien.” And so I became “an alien all alone in this world.”

alienation, individuality, and deviance are all major themes in RGU. the shadow girls present a positive image of what it means to be an alien: they are carefree and unconstrained. however, for the other characters, being an alien--an individual--is not so easy. it sets them apart from the social order and may even put them in danger. therefore, RGU depicts the defiant joy of deviation, along with the pain that often accompanies it. individuality may be a threat to the system, but that's exactly why it's difficult to achieve.

finally, "alienness" serves as a great metaphor for self-other encounters, as I've touched on throughout this essay. if we are individuals, that means we are fundamentally separate from one another, because we cannot experience each other's experience. thus, we are each of us aliens to each other.

Anthy asks Utena this question as if she truly does not know, as if Utena is some mysterious being encountered in a dream. they are drawing closer together, and so the fact of their alienness is only becoming more pronounced. it will take the rest of the show to find out if contact is possible.

[minheelovelee]

hii who do you think in zb1 (legal line ofc) is into corruption kink? do you think all of them would be into it? 😵‍💫 thanks xx

zb1 + corruption

thanks for requesting nonie!!! this is just gonna be some thoughts that came to mind when i thought of each member and a corruption kink. 🤔🤔 enjoy!

jiwoong

there isn’t a better example of someone with a corruption kink. he’s so much more experienced than you could ever dream to be. he qualified to touch you. you’re hardly even qualified to touch yourself. at least that’s what he whispers in your ear as he finishes you off on his fingers. he compares your hand sizes, asking which one you think would feel better. he’ll press a wet kiss to your cheek when you give him the answer he wants.

woongie who asks you to come to him when you get that special feeling in your tummy. he wants to be a reliable figure for you. but more than that, he wants to see you in ways no one has before. so he offers to teach you about pleasure. it’s the only way he can get what he wants without scaring you off. is it selfish? maybe. but is it mutually beneficial? absolutely.

hao

he very much gives me “rival who finds out you’re a virgin” vibes. you two have always clashed, but he can’t deny that he’s attracted to your bold personality. when one-too-many drinks turns into confessions of purity, he can’t help but be shocked.

he takes you then and there. not all the way- but far enough to have you fall apart on his tongue. far enough to bring you to tears. far enough to get the upper hand. when you’re coming down from your final high, he’ll tell you what he wants. keep meeting him like this, or pay the price. let everyone find out about your uncomfortable secret, with a phone camera quality video to drive the point home. he’ll leave you with your pants around you ankles and a deep feeling in your stomach. much like the one he made you feel mere minutes ago.

hanbin

he would be so so sweet. it’s hard to imagine him doing anything inherently negative. he’s not your boyfriend, yet. but he’s sure going to try to be. he’s just an upperclassman who you worked with for a project. he was sure surprised when you touched his thigh and asked him to kiss you.

when you saw his hard-on and asked if you did that to him, he almost died. replying sweetly with “yes, darling. did you want to see it?”. watching you nod “yes” sent him to the moon. a clearly inexperienced and barely pleasurable hand job was more than enough for him. he came anyway, as he watched you lose your breath from the new activity. his chest swelled with pride when you asked to touch him during your next working session. and the next. until he was making plans with you on a whim, not even bothering to bring his school work. you were getting so much better and much more confident. he couldn’t wait to teach you everything he knew.

matt

childhood best friend kind of deal. the tension between you has been thick for a handful of years. you listen to him jerk off in the bathroom and he watches you rub your thighs together when watching spicy movie scenes. he reads your texts to your boyfriend over your shoulder and you beg him to stay with you instead of leaving to see another girl. he always listens to you in the end.

one day, it just snaps. there’s nothing spectacular to push you to that moment. it’s just happens. you look at each other, then you kiss. then you touch. then you roll around. and suddenly, your shirts are off. you stop him with a hand in his chest. “matty, i’ve never done this before.” you’ve had more boyfriends than he can remember, how have you never done this? “you’re telling me this pussy has never been used before?” he asks, bluntly. you can’t help but laugh as you nod. “holy shit, baby. i’m gonna give it to you so good.” so you let him. he loves the shocked look on your face every time you find out a little more about who he truly is.

tae

you were just supposed to watch a new movie tonight. you were not meant to be touching yourself in front of taerae, on his bed. but somehow, you are. the movie had multiple scenes feature the female lead, bringing herself to a climax with screaming moans. you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh at the acting. he nudges you with his head. “what? you think this is a comedy?” you stop. “it’s ridiculous. surely it can’t feel that good.” he scoffs. “well then you might be doing it wrong, little miss.”

and he leaves it at that. until the end of the movie. he grabs you wrist. “do you want me to show you how to do it. how to really make yourself cum?” and something in you made you say yes. maybe it was his smile. or a yearning within for true pleasure. he laughed when he saw you touch yourself. quickly, he guided your hands and taught you how to build up, and come down. as you lay in bed, breathless, he asks you one more question. “want me to show you how i would make you cum?”

ricky

he agreed to wait until marriage. you both did. he wears the famed ring on a chain around his neck to prove it. the ring loses its meaning as he loses his composure. you notice him growing more distant and increasingly agitated. when confronted, he breaks. “i can’t even look at you without getting hard anymore. it’s fucking ridiculous. i- i don’t even know what happened to me.”

there’s a pause. he freezes as you wordlessly reach around his neck. the light weight falls into your hand and into your pocket. he nearly faints as you shimmy the silver ring off of your right hand, slipping it into the same pocket. “baby, i-” he’s cut off when your lips touch his. he lets you kiss him while his hands stay occupied. he’s dreamt about this moment for weeks, imagining where he would touch first and what it might feel like. he finds that he was completely wrong, nothing compares to the feelings he experienced that night. and every night after that for a week and a half. he feels himself getting addicted to you and wonders if this is the very reason he was urged to wear the necklace in the first place.

gyuv

he’s very curious by nature. when he took your virginity, you took his. he asked you questions for hours after the event took place. “did my dick even fit in all the way?” “do you think i lasted long enough?” “next time should i flip you over?” he wants to learn more and more until he knows everything about you. it’s romantic, in a sense, but it’s eating him alive.

he thinks about it all day. getting flashbacks to your last session and daydreaming about the future. he spends more time hiding his erections than he has ever had to before. you jokingly suggest that he was possessed by a sex demon. he agrees. it seems like ever week he has a new idea to bring up in bed. “hey can we try…?” “would you like if i…” “can i….? please, just this once?” he’s not satisfied until he’s tried everything and made you follow suit.

gunwook

he thinks you’re adorable. the way you do your hair, how you dress, your mannerisms, he sees every detail. his favorite this to see is you being shy. it’s so easy to get you red and flustered. it’s almost too easy. knowing you were a virgin, he did his best not to push you in the bedroom. he was slow and careful. he was waiting. waiting for you to start initiating sex, so he could start playing with you how he wanted.

he started by making you ride his thigh. you were needy on his lap, so he told you to take what you wanted. you blushed and whined, but did as he told, because he had never failed you before. then he made you watch as he fingered you in the mirror. he held your chin and made you look at yourself, even if you cried. he pushed you further. he ate you out on the kitchen counter. he tied your wrists to the bed. he had you suck him off on a phone call. he played you like a fucking game. it’s was oh-so satisfying to him, and he can’t wait for the next round.

[lavenderovercast]

FINE DINING

summary: shota has an unconventional way of helping you calm your nerves down when you're feeling out of your element at a party. relationships: fem!reader x shota aizawa tags & warnings: !! 18+ CONTENT, MINORS DNI !! established relationship, public sex, cunnilingus // fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, praise kink BABY, u get talked thru it <3 🍑 prefer to read on ao3? well, lookie here! 🍑

While you’re far from shy, you have never been a fan of parties. Not only because they have other people, but because you have to put so much effort into them. Especially when it’s something like a gala or ball, which you have… No experience with. Because of this fact, you’re holed up in some corner with a cocktail in hand and anxiety in your chest.

You smile at the occasional stranger you make eye contact with, but for the most part pray that no one actually notices you or takes the time to talk with you. It feels like your tongue might try to fall out of your mouth if you use it right now. 

Your outfit doesn’t help the situation much, either. It’s a lovely gown, really— with glitter tastefully applied to the fabric in a way that makes the clothing feel dreamy. And you know that you look good in the damned thing too, because the slit down the leg and the sweetheart neckline complimented you wonderfully when you looked in the mirror.

So it’s not a matter of discomfort with your outfit, but rather the fanciness of it all. It doesn’t feel like you belong, try as you might. 

“Nervous?” 

“You could tell?” You ask playfully, eyebrows lifting as you peek up at your husband over the rim of your glass. His lips twitch a little at your question, but he only nods his head in confirmation. 

“Kind of hard not to when I’ve watched you down multiple cocktails now.” He replies, making your smirk drop. Eesh, maybe you should keep track of how much you’re drinking. Or maybe this place just needs better liquor, because this is not helping. You roll your eyes in reply, lips twitching into the tiniest of smiles. 

“Yeah, well,” You mumble into your glass, averting your gaze sheepishly. “I’m not really used to… Any of this.” You make a vague gesturing motion, and then clear your throat before taking another sip of your alcohol. From beside you, Shota gives an acknowledging hum, his expression thoughtful. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Shota states, making your eyebrows raise quizzically. Your expression shows your skepticism, because he offers a smirk as he continues. “Meet me in the restroom. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, intrigued by the man’s vagueness and mildly concerned as to what he could have in mind. But you trust Shota with your life, so you let your lips quirk up into a little smile as you nod your head. He seems satisfied with your response, slipping away from you. Naturally, you follow after the man— making sure to keep some distance to have some subtlety. 

When you make it to the restroom about a minute after Shota does, you close the door behind you with a gentle ‘click’, looking at the man with curiosity. He’s leaned over the counter now, seemingly fixing up some of the dishevelled strands of his hair. A rare and interesting sight to bear witness to. Before you can comment on the action, though, he catches your gaze in the mirror. 

You smile in return, making your way closer to the man so you can wrap your arms around him. Chest pressed against his back, you tilt your head up with a hum. “So… Are you going to tell me the reason why you’ve brought me into the restroom?” 

Shota gives a hum, as though he’s considering how to answer you. Knowing him, he’s just doing it to prolong whatever amusement he’s taking from your squirming and curiosity. You can see it in the way the corners of his lips subtly curve up, until he shifts so he’s turned to face you. Rough fingers gently grasp your chin before his lips are on yours. 

A soft noise leaves you when he kisses you, your lips tugging into the smallest of smiles against his mouth. You hum, snaking your arms around the man’s neck as your eyes slip closed. You’re not really sure of where this is going, because it’s… Different of Shota to act so affectionately in public.

Well, if you could consider this public, anyway. It’s probably the closest you’re getting to any PDA, and you are perfectly content with that thought.

When your kiss only deepens, his teeth nipping carefully at your bottom lip, is when your suspicion and confusion, with a healthy dose of curiosity, really begins to rise. You’re able to push your suspicions and rising emotions to the back of your mind until you feel yourself being gently backed up.

You give a muffled squeak in surprise when your lower back gently hits the counter, moving a hand from Shota so you can try to stabilize yourself by gripping the edge. 

To be truthful, this position on this counter is awfully familiar to you. Something about Shota has, since very early on in your relationship, seemed to magnetically draw you into the man. To the point that him pressing you up against a counter like this is familiar. There’s a big difference with this time around though, because you’re in public. Shota clearly doesn’t mind this fact, but you want a moment to decide if you do. 

Cold hands brush against his wrists, careful fingers wrapping around them before pulling his hands off of your person. With his hands go his sweet lips and bitter tongue, and as per usual, it’s difficult to convince yourself to stay away from him. Even when you know something is up, and now your suspicions are waving around red flags. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you can imagine there’s some worry in the way he observes you—as if he’s afraid he’s made you feel uncomfortable. But he’s always had a way of making you feel safe and secure, so you’re blunt with your questioning. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You question, raising your eyebrows at the man. Shota blinks, and then shrugs his shoulders a little. You swear you can see him fighting off a smile, the cheeky bastard he can be. 

“You’re tense,” Shota observes as though you haven’t known the fact for the whole night. “I can help.” 

“In a public bathroom?” You question with a quizzical eyebrow, tilting your head up to look at the man. There’s a mischievous smirk on his face as he nods— cheeky bastard. You feel the skin on your face grow hot as you squint your eyes at him. “You really want to take that risk?” 

“Sure,” He hums nonchalantly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He places a chaste kiss against your skin, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to avoid shivering at the sensation. Shota really does know all the ways to make you melt. “Long as we’re quiet… They won’t even notice we’re gone.” 

You bite your lip, considering the pros and cons of getting frisky in a restroom. There’s a beat of hesitation on your end as you spare a glance to the locked door. The worst that can happen is someone knocks, so… Fuck it, why not. 

“For a hero, you sure like finding trouble.” You mumble playfully, your own lips tilting up into a smile before your gaze drifts to Shota’s lips. Those familiar feelings of love and want come hurtling back into your chest, and you find yourself leaning forward on your tiptoes. All so you can wrap your arms around the man’s neck and tilt your head up to him. Shota looks amused. 

“Mmm, only with you.” Is his mumbled response, and you can’t help flashing a grin before pressing your lips to his. With the urgency he was displaying earlier, you’re pleasantly surprised by the gentleness the man expresses as he leans into you, lips moving carefully against your own. The faint taste of alcohol and mint floods your tongue. In any other situation, you’d joke about the mint. 

The kiss is over as quickly as it’s started. Shota’s breath is hot against your skin as he presses his face into your neck, where you can feel him smiling against your now clammy skin. Adrenaline is beginning to pump through your veins, and you’d be a liar if you said that you weren’t very interested in doing this now. Any anxiety that you might still have is thrown out of your mind when Shota begins to kiss your neck. 

It takes him no time at all to find the sweet spot that has your fingers digging into the edge of the counter, your breath catching at the little sparks that flitter across your skin. You can hear a deep chuckle rumble from the man, but he doesn’t say anything as he focuses on leaving little hickies and marks across your previously unblemished skin. Unfortunately, this is a fact that you aren’t dwelling on. 

No, instead, you focus on the fact that his hands have wandered to your hips to pick you up and place you on the counter. Your legs dangle off the edge, but the surface seems stable enough. Shota’s hands are quick to wander from your hips to your thighs, a satisfied noise coming from him as his mouth comes off of your neck. 

You feel the dress being pulled up by Shota’s careful hands, and suck in a sharp breath when they wander up the skirt to your panties. He’s happy to pull them off and you’re happy to lift your hips a little so he can do so with ease. You’re even more happy when calloused fingers find your clit nearly immediately, making your mouth part open into a soft ‘O’ shape as your brain goes fuzzy with need. 

Little sparks and tingles dash across your skin as Shota sets a careful pace, familiar with what you prefer when it comes to these exchanges by now. He applies little pressure at first, and rubs slow, tight circles to start building you up. It’s when he starts to pick up the pace that you give a soft moan, much to his satisfaction. He seems to take it as his signal to pump a finger into your pussy, pleased with just how wet you are for him. 

Like always, he’s methodical and careful not to hurt you. He works his finger in and out of you slowly, causing more of those sparks and friction to light a fire in your belly. It’s when he inserts another finger that he starts to pick up the pace again, slowly stretching out your pussy with his digits. There’s the familiar sensation of adjusting to him, a dull ache that you’ve always enjoyed. 

“Fuck, Shota…” You pant, eyes growing half-lidded as you lean your head against his own. It’s hard to focus, despite how much you want to praise him for this pleasure. He hums, and you can feel him leave a gentle kiss against your skin. Something about his sweetness only makes the fire in your belly, your need for him, grow. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” Shota huffs into your neck, the words sending a rush of heat over your person. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers as he pumps them in your pussy, cooing softly as he stretches you out. “Look at my good girl.” 

The praise doesn’t fall on deaf ears. You give a little whine, pleased with the words rolling so sweetly off of Shota’s tongue as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You feel him nuzzle his face against your head, whispered praises continuing to flood your hearing as your hips buck into his moving fingers.

You’ve fucked before, of course, but this is a different experience. In comparison to past encounters, it’s far more intense with the risk of being caught. 

And when Shota’s fingers curl in a ‘come hither’ motion that leaves his fingers grazing against your g-spot, you can’t help the pitchy whine that leaves your mouth. The sound causes Shota to lift his free hand so he can cover your mouth, but the low groan that you hear coming from somewhere deep in his chest tells you that he enjoyed the sound. 

His fingers don’t stop as he gently scolds you, voice raspy against your ear. “Gotta stay quiet.” The statement makes you huff softly, wanting to retaliate. He’s the one that had the idea to bring you both in here, why should he also be teasing you? Normally, you would tell him to be quiet—but your mind feels a little too foggy from the feeling of his thick fingers in your pussy to form words, let alone argue with him. 

You only manage to nod instead, tongue fat and heavy in your mouth again. Words would fail to describe how fucking badly you want the man to just push you up against the counter and fuck you silly right now, so you seem to subconsciously do your best to rip a hole into Shota’s shirt instead. You can’t help anchoring yourself to him, your fingers dug so harshly into the fabric of his shirt that your knuckles start to turn white as the pleasure increases. 

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” Shota coos, and another shiver runs up your spine. It takes everything in you not to whine, instead opting to dig your teeth into your bottom lip with a muffled sound.

It becomes increasingly more difficult to control your volume, however, when you watch your lover shift his weight so he can kneel in front of you. Rough hands grab at the hem of your dress, and your breath catches as he pulls them up just enough to reveal your pussy to the man. 

Shota doesn’t seem all that interested in keeping his mouth off of you for any longer than necessary, however. A blessing in disguise, really, because you think you would go crazy if his lips didn’t immediately start pressing hot kisses against your inner thighs. His hands move to your knees, carefully spreading your legs apart as you shift your weight on the counter. A gentle squeeze reminds you to be patient. 

It’s only when you are still that Shota comes closer to your aching cunt, his tongue feeling heavenly when he finally buries his face between your legs like he belongs there. Your breathing quickens as your hands lift to his head, fingers now digging into the man’s hair as his nose brushes against your clit.

His tongue laps at you for only a moment before he dives right in, his hands squeezing where they grasp you just a little tighter than they had before. 

Shota laps at you like a man starved, seemingly as desperate as you feel right now. The noises that are starting to fill the room are downright filthy, wet and obscene in a way that would typically embarrass you. But goddammit, does Shota’s tongue feel like heaven— and goddammit are you so very turned on by the eager groans that he’s providing you as he drinks you up. 

You still have enough sense in your lust-addled brain to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound now threatening to rise up from your chest at the contact. Your anxiety at the thought of being caught in this lewd act is more prevalent than it was earlier, but it’s hard to try and stop the man when his tongue is buried in your cunt like this. The best you can do is try to make sure that you won’t be caught. 

A calloused finger finds its way back to your pussy, and you can’t help the low, muffled whine that slips past your lips again. You press your palm harder against your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep yourself quiet.

Shota seems more than pleased with himself, though, and you can imagine that the man would be smirking if he could. His tongue moves against your clit at an eager pace, his moving fingers matching the speed of the muscle in a way that makes your head spin. 

It’s just the right amount of friction and pressure to make you feel absolutely boneless, a skill that Shota has perfected over years of being with you. Your orgasm approaches quickly and suddenly, making little stars fill the corners of your vision as you gasp. A wave of heat and sparks comes rushing over you, and you can feel yourself shaking as your hips buck into Shota’s face.

Your fingers dig into the dark locks of hair on his head, nails barely grazing his scalp. You can hear a pleased groan from the man in front of you as he laps at you like you’re his last meal. 

The feeling subsides slowly, but leaves you trying to catch your breath as your grasp on Shota’s head loosens, before you’re gently running your fingers through your lover’s hair. His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your overstimulated cunt until you’re gently pushing him away, your entire body suddenly feeling like jelly from your intense orgasm.

You’re a little nervous that you won’t be able to stand on your own, especially when Shota rises back to his full height and slots himself between your legs. He’s gentle as he brushes some hair from your face with his fingers. 

“Do you feel better?” Shota questions, his face warm with subtle affection. The sight of it makes you smile as you give a slow nod.  

“Sort of,” You mumble lazily, reaching a hand up to catch his wrist so you can press your head into the palm of his hand. “Might need to get my hands on you again when we get home, though…” 

Shota raises his eyebrows at you, and then chuckles as he tilts his head to yours. A gentle kiss on the forehead, and then the subtlest of smirks comes crawling over his face. “Well, I’m glad that was just an appetizer then.”

[paperyowl]

Okay, I really need to make this into an actual story, but let me just write this idea down before I forget: Imagine Annie walking into S.W.A.T. headquarters, with all of the 20-squat (and the 50-squat) already knowing about the divorce Deacon and her are getting, but before anyone knowing about Rocker.

The team is surprised to see her - Luca even calls out a greeting which she ignores completely - and even more surprised when she walks right past them and up to Rocker, who's working on a screen in the corner - he turns to her when he sees her approach, not saying anything.

When Annie gets close enough, she slaps Rocker across the face hard enough for his head to snap to the side. Shock ripples through the room, and no one moves for long moments, too stunned to do anything.

Rocker hardly even reacts, standing very still and keeping his face blank even as he looks back at her. That only makes her angry - she moves as if to slap him again, but Deacon catches her wrist with a furious glance - he all but drags her to the break room.

He kind of hears Rocker respond to Luca behind him, "It's all good. I'm going to get cleaned up", but the flat tone makes Deacon's heart clench and something furious roars in his chest.

Annie stumbles behind him. He only lets Annie go when the door closes behind them. Annie has tears in her eyes.

"Him?" she asks, voice small. "Why him?"

And Deacon has so many responses for that, but all he can think about is how she just went and assaulted Rocker, how they are both so far off the rails now - and when did this happen?

He still loves her. He does.

But this.

"Leave him out of this."

"How can I, when-"

"Annie, "the shape of her name was sharp in his mouth. Cutting. "Do you understand what you just did? "

"I slapped the man who-"

"You attacked an officer. "

Annie stilled for a moment. "I didn't. "

"Yes, you did. Do you understand that he can get you arrested for that? "

She splutters, and then her face does something complicated—and Annie is just so hurt after everything, and maybe Deacon should have tried harder. Except he'd tried so hard—for so long—Rocker hadn't been the reason for his decision—not by a long shot.

But he's all the reason that Deacon aches now, and he desperately needs to check on him.

"Stay here. Please, "Deacon pleads with Annie. "I'll be right back. "

And there is love between them still because Annie nodded and looked almost ashamed about the whole thing. She apologizes, and even if it means nothing to Deacon right then, he nods (if she's slapped him, that would have been understandable- but Rocker doesn't deserve this.)

When he walks out, Deacon passes Hondo but no one else, and thank god for that everyone else is back at work. Hondo points him down the hall to the bathroom in the back. Deacon thanks him and goes before Hondo can say anything else - but Deacon is sure he hasn't heard the last of that.

When he steps into the bathroom, Rocker looks up, meeting Deacon's eyes in the mirror. Deacon can't read the first expression on his face, but it melts away too quickly for him to focus on it.

What he can focus on is the way that Rocker looks: His cheek is red, and there is a line of split skin just below his eye like a nail had caught him. When Rocker spits into the sink, it is bloody. That fact startles Deacon, but it's not a lot - it's more spit than blood, even if there should be none at all.

"Oh good, "Luca says - because they wouldn't leave Rocker alone, so Luca followed him - leaning against the wall. Descon jumps a little. He hadn't even seen him there.

"Will you finally leave now?" Rocker snarks at Luca - but Luca barely acknowledges his tone.

"Higgs told him to get cleaned up and go home, "Luca tells Deacon. "Hondo told me to let you know you're off for the rest of the day, too. So unless Rocker wants to put in a formal complaint-"

"oh my god, how often do I have to say it? I won't, " Rocker gripes. "and don't talk about me like I'm not right here."

"I wouldn't if you would actually talk to me," Luca tells him, and towards Descon, he says: "Where's Annie? I'll take her home if you take care of this one. "

"I'm fine-"

"Break room. I will. Thank you, Luca. "

Luca nods and pats Descons shoulder on his way out.

"Did you tell him? "Rocker asks when Luca is out of earshot. There is such tension between them now because this is not a great situation for either of them.

"No. But he's Swat, he can connect the dots. "

Rocker breathes and spits into the sink again.

"Are you-"

"Bit my cheek. I'm fine." and after a beat, "She didn't get my eyes or anything. Didn't even hit that hard."

Deacon is certain that Rocker doesn't notice what his words just gave away, what they implied. But he wasn't going to comment on it right then.

Deacon moves to cross the distance between them. When he put a hand on Rocker's shoulder, he tensed him.

"Let me get you cleaned up. I'll take you home. "

Rocker shakes his head.

"‚No' to getting cleaned up? Or to go home? Or both? "

There is a moment of silence - and then Rocker finally turns, looking at Deacon. There is something in his eyes that makes Deacon feel cold all over. But he can't quite understand it.

"Can you leave?" Rocker asks, voice thin. "I'm really okay. I need a minute."

(Because, really, how does Rocker explain this to anyone?)

He doesn't sound okay.

Deacon hesitates by the door. Rocker sighs. And it is funny because it seems that for all his closed-mouth approach to so many things in his life, everything hidden behind that boisterous exterior, it is actually Rocker who found the compromise for them here.

(An awful compromise, but still, he isn't sending Deacon away for good, only for the moment.)

"Give me two hours to get my second briefed, go home and take a shower. Come over sometime after 5?"

"I'll be there at 5."

"Yeah, alright."

[angelsdvsts]

"such a thoughtful person, i'll be sure to give you some good payments. i could be extremely giving," her voice was filled with a teasing manner, eyes glistening at the different ways she can repay him; a little something to say thank you. "you seem awfully confident that i'll be able to satisfy you. . . i'm beginning to think you're placing me on a pedestal, going to be gut wrenching if you find out that i'm not truly up to your standards," a pout appears across her lips, knowing that her devilish manner would keep him locked in, that a single taste of her might drive him crazy enough to keep coming back for more. "think i much prefer you going in blind, it'll actually prove to me if you have the skills to read if i'm really feeling it or if i'm faking to get you off," lips curves, wanting nothing more than to forever leave him guessing about her true intentions. ayla had no doubts that he'd be able to please her like no other and maybe a small part of her was terrified she'd be attached. "like you said, i'm tight everywhere.." her voice barley above a whisper -- having the urge to dress up all pretty for the camera, undress in front of it and allow her digits to explore her body everywhere, making sure he got to see each and every angle. "i do not believe that you'd chase me down the halls and allow me to skip class," laughter falls from her lips, yet there was a part of her that had a deep appeal for it, to miss her boring professor go on and on for an hour and do something more entertaining with her time. "one cold breeze and my nipples would be hard as shit," she admits, knowing just how easily she gotten cold -- but she had a good feeling that he would enjoy the view. amusement twinkles in her bambied eyes as chuckles falls from lips, "oh, do i have to prepare myself for an awkward talk before we fuck?" a part of her did wonder what he did say to the girls before indulging in a night of them. ayla subtly rocks her hips, arm loosely hung around his neck as she gasps, "gentleman my ass, i know that's all you can think about right now!" she exclaims, digit move to caress his cheek, "i could tell from your eyes, you're imagining me climbed on top of you while you bury yourself deep inside of me, am i right?" like magnetics, the two couldn't really stray far away from one another. "and why would i do that? it'd only make you try to get me under your control," soft moan falls at the feeling of large hand grasping her ass. "control yourself, we're in public. . . " she mutters against the corner of his lips, teasing him once more by nibbling upon his bottom lip, the taste of blood lingers causing her to smooth it out with her tongue once more. "remind me to share my chapstick with you later, didn't mean to draw blood."

"y'know i'm not a very materialistic type of guy, so whatever payment you can offer me is greatly appreciated", and if that just so happened to include ayla spreading her legs for him then arlo would be thankful for it. "there's no doubt you'll be able to satisfy me", homme is quick to remark, hues dipping to her rosebud mouth, those sinful lips that he just knows would look so pretty wrapped around his cock. "but you gotta tell me what you like, ayla. unless you want me going in blind?" but either way arlo was fairly confident that he could show her a good time and have her coming back for more. she was already so different than the girls he used to fuck, the ones who spoke a big game about their kinkiness yet when the time came all they wanted was a light spanking and to be called a good girl — it was fine, arlo had a decent time but it never made him hunger for more. their desires just didn't align with his. "just how tight what, ayla? how tight you are between those pretty thighs? or maybe that other hole that you probably haven't let anyone play with yet?" if she decided to follow through and send him some educational videos arlo would be sure to sit and watch every damn minute, soaking up her beautiful body and how she knew how hot she was, how badly he wanted her. "seeing you in the hallway would make me chase you down and pull you away from your classes, ruin that perfect attendance you might having going on right now — do you want that?" arlo had never been the most academically minded student, his talents lay in soccer and everyone knew it, so if he happened to miss a lecture or two it was okay, he was their soccer star and nobody wanted to give him shit for needing to decompress. "no bra?" arlo was a little in the dark about what difference a bra did or didn't make when it came to women wearing them, but he did know that without one those perky tits and pebbled nipples would be even more noticeable. "then i think you should get that dress out, have it hanging up for our next date." he had no idea what his past hookups thought of him now, but he could hazard a guess that they hated him for seemingly dropping them the moment he rolled that condom off and tossed it. "i really did try, like . . . it's awkward, having that type of talk before fucking someone but i did it and i thought they got it y'know?" but he wouldn't let that worry him, not when he had ayla sitting pretty on his lap, rubbing against his hardening cock. "i'm a gentleman, ayla. i wouldn't dream of trying to fuck you in my car when we leave here", and yet his tone indicates something entirely different, that if she gave him the chance he'd blow her damn mind. "really? i think you need to prove it, baby. prove how uncontrollable you are and maybe i'll believe you." cock strains against the seam of his trousers as she toys with his lips, a quiet groan escaping, hands moving from her hips down toward her ass. "do it again and i'll be the one getting carried away."