#PEBBLES YOU ASSHOLE what the fuck

[foxstens]

the journey was difficult but holy fuck am i glad i went to moon first

[druidshollow]

guys.......... is suns actually an asshole (read the tags for a trip lmao)

[requiemforthepoets]

he drives me crazy, it’s so beyond me 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

SUMMARY: you’ve been hating on lando for a very long time now, since you were kids to be exact. only to realize that those hatred is only a mask for what you truly feel for him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’ve been on a slump lately, have so many works unfinished but i don’t really have the drive to finish them lol but my break from uni is near, so maybe i’ll get the motivation to finish all of it. for the meantime, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: typos, cursing, and playboy lando

Growing up being Max’s younger sister meant that you were always surrounded by his friends, and none of them irritated you more than Lando Norris. From the very beginning, something about Lando rubbed you off the wrong way. Though you had never understood why, there was something—an inexplicable annoyance that only grew stronger with time.

As kids, you tolerated him, well mainly because Max adored him and that they are racing karts together. You can’t just tell Max to stay away from Lando for no apparent reason, that would make look like an absolute ass. But as you all grew up, Lando’s behavior began to infuriate you even more, and it just got worse when he got to F1. He began dating girls and moving on as quickly as the seasons changed, never seeming to care about the trail of broken hearts he left behind. It wasn’t just his carefree attitude towards relationships or life in general; it was the way he would tease you every fucking chance he gets. If you tripped over a pebble or on air, he’d make a joke about it. Making fun of every little thing that he would notice about you. You just couldn’t stand it, and you couldn’t stand him and his whole existence.

But somewhere along the line, something strange started to happen. With all the teasing and eye rolls, you found yourself paying a little too much attention to him. Too much for your liking. It was almost as if you were noticing the first time how his aquamarine eyes sparkled everytime he laughed, or how his curly hair seemed to suit him perfectly. It made you mad—so fucking mad that you wanted to scream. How could you, of all people, start to like Lando Norris? Your public enemy number one.

Then the realization hit you like a shit ton of bricks. You were developing a massive crush on the one person you were supposed to hate. Surprised by the sudden realization, and you being you, instead of acknowledging it, you decided to bury it deep down, covering it with even more layers of loathing. If he said something stupid, which he always does, you’d snap back at him twice as hard. If he smiled that cocky grin, you’d glare daggers at him. But inside, your heart would be pounding, and it drove you crazy. It’s pretty much a fucking miracle that you have been able to stay sane.

One day, after a particularly annoying comment from Lando about your choice of outfit, you finally snapped. “You know, Lando, if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it. But I didn’t, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?” Then you rolled his eyes at him. You’re going out today, you don’t need this kind of negativity. “Besides, don’t you have your own fucking house? Why are you even here?”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying how riled up you were. “I’m just saying, those shoes look like something a hobo would wear.”

You groaned in frustration. “God, you’re such an asshole, Norris! Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He shot back, winking at you.

You felt your cheeks flush, and not from anger. You wanted to punch him, but at the same time, there was this insane urge to grab him by the collar and kiss him just to shut him up. But instead, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, muttering under your breath about how he was the most annoying person on the planet.

But then there were those moments when you saw the other side of Lando, the one that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t even fucking explain. Like the time when he won his first race in Miami. The whole crowd erupted in cheers, everyone was celebrating his win and you found yourself smiling as he won his first race, a huge smile on his face as he celebrated. Your first instinct was to run up to him and give him a hug and tell him how proud you were. But then, almost immediately, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck for making you feel this way. He had a unique talent for pushing all your buttons, and yet, no one could make you feel the way he did.

After the race, you all went out to celebrate, and as usual, Lando couldn’t resist teasing you. “Come on, admit it, you were impressed, weren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. “You were okay, I guess,” you said nonchalantly.

“Okay? Just okay?” Lando feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. “I expected more from my biggest hater.”

“Well, don’t expect me to start fangirling over you now,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Lando just playfully winked at you, and excused himself, walking away and waving at someone else. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to admit it. To finally confess that maybe the reason why you hated Lando so much was because you love him in a way that no one else could. But you quickly dismissed that thought, shaking your head. There was no way you’d ever let him know how much he affected you. Not when he had the power to break your heart with a single word.

As the night went on, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was the center of attention, as always, and yet, for a moment, his eyes caught yours, and he smiled. Not a teasing grin that he would always send your way, but a genuine, warm smile. It made your stomach do flips, and you quickly looked away, mentally cursing yourself for being so weak.

In the middle of the night, you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in your mind. You hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he made you feel things you didn’t want to feel. It was maddening, infuriating, it drives you nuts, and yet…you couldn’t stop thinking about him. How was it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? You didn’t know. You don’t have an answer for the lingering questions in your mind and it drove you crazy.

“Why him?” You whispered to yourself that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. “Out of all the fucking people in the world, why does it have to be him?”

You knew Lando could be a major asshole, but somehow, he was your asshole. No one else could make you feel this crazy mix of anger, frustration, and affection all at once, and despite all the annoyance, deep down, you knew you loved him. It made you mad, and yet, in some twisted way, it also made sense. No one else could make your heart race like Lando did, that can make you feel so alive, so frustrated, so utterly confused—and most importantly, no else could break your heart like Lando Norris, and you were beginning to think that maybe, you didn’t want anyone else to.

It has been three months since Lando’s first win, but the tension between the two of you hadn’t eased. In fact, it felt like it was growing stronger, pulling you into a confusing spiral of emotions. It was one of those days that you were grateful enough that you were back in uni, and have to forget about him even for a short period of time.

Though it didn’t last long, you can’t stay and hide in uni forever. So here you were, officially back home for a break, and you decided to stay at Max’s for the time being. Prior to arriving from uni, Max had already asked you if you wanted to come with them on their holiday trip, but you passed on it, making up some silly excuse and wanting to get the rest you need since you haven’t had the proper rest back when you were in uni. You wanted to avoid being in the same place with him as much as possible, you definitely don’t trust yourself to keep up the charade of hating him when your heart was screaming the exact opposite.

It was when they’re already back from their trip, and as usual, Lando is at Max’s place. You found yourself in exactly in the situation you’d been dreading. Max had invited Lando over to help him with something, and you figured you could just stay in your room, far away from the inevitable teasing from him. But when Max suddenly had to leave to deal with some urgent matter, you were stuck. It was just you and Lando, alone in the living room, with a show neither of you cared about playing in the background.

Lando being Lando, of course he wasted no time in getting into your nerves. “So, how long are you planning to hide up there?” He asked, his tone annoyingly casual as he sprawled out on the couch.

“I was not hiding,” you retorted, focusing on your phone and pretending he wasn’t there.

“Sure, you’re not,” he said with a smirk. “You’ve been acting pretty weird lately. You didn’t even come to the trip that we invited you on. Is everything alright?”

You nearly choked on your words. How could you even begin to explain what was wrong—that you were utterly terrified of how much you liked him? That every time he teased you, your heart skipped a beat instead of fuming with anger? That you couldn’t fucking stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see the turmoil behind your eyes. God, you just wanted for this conversation to end or better yet, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Oh my god, why do you even care?” You shot back defensively. “You’re just here to annoy me, right? So why don’t you just go call someone and bother them instead?”

Lando’s smirk faded slightly, and he studied you with an intensity that made you uncomfortable. “You think I just want to annoy you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, frustrated by his persistent questioning. “That’s what you’ve always done ever since, isn’t it?”

Lando shook his head, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “No. Not really.”

The shift in his demeanor threw you off balance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his beautiful curly hair that you want to touch so badly. “It means that maybe I didn’t just do it to annoy you. Maybe there was another reason.”

You blinked, your mind racing to keep up. “What reason?”

Lando sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. “God, this is harder than I thought,” he muttered to himself before finally looking at you. “Look, I’ve known you since forever. Yeah, I used to tease you because you were Max’s younger sister and it was fun. But somewhere along the way, it wasn’t just about teasing anymore. I think I did it because…I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying, Lando?”

“I’m saying that maybe I’ve had a crush on you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “And I’ve been acting like an idiot because to be fairly honest, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him in utter shock, your brain struggling to process what he’d just said. All this time, you thought your feelings were unrequited, that he was just being his usual annoying self, but now, everything was different. The anger, the frustration, the confusion—it all made sense now.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, still reeling from his confession. “Honestly.”

Lando smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know. I get it if you don’t feel the same way, or if you’re too mad at me for being a jerk all these years. But I wanted to be completely honest with you for once.”

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Lando, I—“

But before you could finish, Lando suddenly stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “You know what? I can’t fucking take it anymore.” And with that, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you, pulling you into a kiss that was both urgent and tender at the same time.

For a split second, you were too shocked to respond. But then, your body seemed to take over, and you found yourself kissing back, all the frustration and anger melting away in the warmth of his embrace. It felt like everything you’d been holding back, all the mixed emotions you’d been burying, finally broke free. When Lando finally pulled back, you were both breathless, staring at each other in stunned silence.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Because I’ve wanting to do it for a long fucking time,” Lando admitted, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “And because I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me for real.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t hate you, Lando. I…I think I might be falling for you, and it’s terrifying to tell you honestly.”

Lando grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

“And you’re still a pain in the ass,” Lando shot back, his grin widening.

This time, there was no venom behind your words, no hidden frustration like it was used to. Instead, there was a new understanding between you—a mutual acknowledgment that maybe the thing you’d both been fighting against all these years was exactly what you needed. When Lando leaned in to kiss you again, you realized that no one else could make your heart race like he did, and no one else could make you as crazy or as happy.

However, Lando’s confession and that unexpected kiss did leave you feeling more confused as ever. As much as you wanted to believe in the moment, in the warmth of his touch and softness of his lips, a familiar fear gnawed at the back of your mind. After all, this is Lando Norris that you’re talking about—the guy who seemed to switch girlfriends at lightning speed. You’d seen him charm his way through countless girls, only to move on without any second thought. The idea of being just another name on his list made your chest tighten with fear and anxiety.

As you sat still, still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, Lando looked at you with a hopeful expression, waiting for you to say something. But instead of responding with the excitement that was bubbling up inside you, all you could think about were the stories, the rumors, and the heartbreaks you’d witnessed.

“Lando,” you began, moving away slightly, creating a small but significant distance between you and him on the couch. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” His smile faltered, concern creeping into his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words that won’t hurt him. “Because…” you trailed off, “I know you, Lando. I know your way with girls. Yes, I can’t deny the fact that you’re very charming and sweet when you want to be, but the way you get bored and move on quickly scares me. I…I don’t think I can handle being just another girl you get tired of.” You breathed out.

Lando’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand, but you hesitated. He noticed this right away and dropped his hand to his side.

“I get why you’d think that. I haven’t exactly been the most reliable guy when it comes to relationships, am I?” You nodded and he chuckled, “but this…this is different.”

“Is it?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or are you just saying that because I’m here and it’s convenient?”

Lando shook his head, gaze so intense that you might melt and turn into a puddle any second. “It’s not like that, I promise. I know I’ve messed up before, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re not just another girl, and I’m not just saying that. I’m really serious about you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But the fear of getting your heart broken, of being left behind like so many others, made it hard to fully trust his words.

“But what if you get bored? What if this is just a phase for you, and once you’ve had your fun, you move on to someone else?”

He looked at you with an earnestness that you weren’t used to seeing him. “I can’t blame you for being scared. But the truth is, I’m scared too. I’m scared because I’ve never wanted someone so much, something to work out this badly. I don’t want to mess this up. I know I have a reputation, but I don’t want that to be who I am with you. I want to be better—for you.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your head. Could he really mean what he was saying? Was it possible that he could change, that you could be the one he was serious about? But even as the doubts swirled around you, there was a part of you that desperately wanted to take the leap, to believe that maybe this could be different.

“I don’t know if I can handle getting hurt,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

Lando took a deep breath, his expression sincere. “I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” He said, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear, “I care about you too much to let that happen. But if you don’t want to take the risk, I’ll understand. I’ll back off if that’s what you want.”

You could see the honesty in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your heart ache, knowing that he was giving you the power to decide where this would go. It would be easy to walk away, to protect yourself from the possibility of pain. But then again, what if he was telling the truth, what if this was real.

“No, I don’t want you to back off,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “But I need time, Lando. I need to see that you’re serious before I can let myself fall for you completely.”

Lando nodded, relief washing over his face. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Good. Because I’m not sure I could handle it if you did.”

As the two of you sat side by side on the couch, the show was still playing in the background, the atmosphere between you had shifted. There was no rush, no need to force anything. It was just the two of you, slowly navigating the complicated mess of emotions that came with falling for someone who scared you as much as they made you feel alive, and maybe that this was the start of something real.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[toji-sweetheart]

𝐨𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐫. 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: Sukuna has never wanted to be a brother, but that couldn’t be helped when his twin Yuji was born a few moments after him, and when his dad got remarried to your mom his worst nightmare came true, little did he know just how sweet and sinful you’d be, someone he wants to ruin.

wc: 4.3k

tags: dark content (stepcest) + 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost + modern au (no curses) + you’re shorter than him and Megumi + jealous! Sukuna + he wraps his fingers around your neck but really no choking + unprotected sex + creampie + hard degradation such as whore and slut + public teasing + fingering + praising + he uses two belts for bondage + big bro/little sis used + feminine presenting reader such as wearing skirts and lip gloss + pet names + he won my poll + any missing tag lmk!

Anger and embarrassment and a small tinge of want bloomed in your chest, flushing warmth through your entire body as you had no choice but to stand in front of your mirror with Sukuna.

Your step-brother who is an asshole of the highest regard, all muscle but lacks the brain in the head that rests between his shoulders, no, that seemed to be between his legs and he couldn’t just let you walk out of the house in a skirt so small. 

He walked around your trembling form, your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt glaring at him in the mirror.

“My dad put me in charge, ya know the man of the house and what kind of brother would I be if I let you go out in this? If you just wanted a compliment all you have to do is ask.” His voice boarded on teasing and something else that you couldn’t pinpoint. 

Sukuna flicked the bottom hem of your skirt watching it swish giving him a very quick view of your panties, his favorite ones by far, the pink satin felt so good when he used it to jerk himself off, and the thought of you putting them back on after he came on it never failed to make him hard. 

“First of all, I’m twenty-two-” 

You were cut off hearing Sukuna chuckle and shake his head standing behind you again, you could feel the warmth of him roll off and seep into you. “And I’m twenty-three,” he bent down pressing his lips against the shell of your ear, “plus, I’m so much stronger and bigger than you.” 

“What the hell ever, you are not my dad, nor would I even consider you my brother. You’re a fucking pervert.” You spit meeting his gaze in the mirror, he smirked and took a step forward pressing his broad chest to your back and sliding his hand up your body to grasp your cheeks pinching them together knowing you liked that he has power over you like this. 

He ignored your tantrum and your mumbling while walking out of your bedroom chuckling again. “Change your skirt or you won’t be able to go out and have fun with your little friends,” Sukuna called out before heading into his own bedroom. 

You flipped him off knowing he couldn’t see it but it made you feel a bit better as you twirled around in the mirror bending over to see the edge of your panties, with a smirk you grabbed your phone and sat on your bed texting Megumi to come over along with a selfie that you knew would set the tone of why you wanted him over. 

The raven-haired man couldn’t help but get a little hard when your text popped up, the angle gave him a view of down your shirt and your pebbled nipples, the thought of him sucking on the pert buds only made his dick harder making him feel guilt for lusting after his best friends step-sister.

But somehow, it felt so right especially when you opened the door to greet him with open and wide arms with a giggle as you hugged Megumi tightly and pressed your tits against him. “Hi! ‘Gumi! How are you?” You asked letting him inside leading him to the kitchen hand in hand to see Sukuna standing there looking through the fridge. 

Sukuna turned to face you both the moment he honed in on your giggles. His red eyes quickly zoned in on your manicured fingers wrapped around his brother’s friend’s bicep with a sly smile as you looked at your step-brother. “I’m taking Megumi out for some boba and to chill at his apartment for a bit, don’t stay up too late.” 

His eyebrows pinched together in the middle and a frown graced his lips as he shook his head, and bits of pink strands fell from his hair. “Are you serious? You think I’m going to let you go out there dressed like that?” 

“Dressed like what?” You asked innocently batting your eyelashes, you were anything but and Sukuna knew it, and he knew it was a trap you were trying to set, the little game that began two years ago when you two first met is only bound to come to an end sooner or later. 

Sukuna shook his head again and shut the fridge. “I’m going to tag along, it’s not like Megumi asked you on a date or anything.” He said cooly eyeing the other man who stayed silent the entire conversation, he knew better than to get between you both in a conversation like this. 

You wanted to argue and stomp your feet like a petulant child and pout but you knew Sukuna would only find it cute and pat your head like a dog. “Great.” You muttered heading to the front door with Megumi letting Sukuna trail behind you and Megumi keeping an eye on his hand. 

Once you three arrived at the mall Sukuna was sure to stand between you and Megumi earning an elbow in the ribs from you. “Are you serious right now? Go stand on the other side of him.” You hissed annoyed he was trying his hardest to get under your skin. 

Sukuna looked at you raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” He asked with a devilish smirk. 

For a brief moment, you thought about stomping on his foot and walking away, but another idea quickly pushed it away, instead, you sidestepped him and slid your hand into Megumi’s tugging him away from Sukuna who stared at the back of your head with a glare. 

He hoped that you could feel it, the blaze of fury that danced in his eyes, dammit he knew that getting jealous of his brother’s friend and step-sister holding hands shouldn’t bother him but he’s your big brother and that means he has to protect you no matter the cost even though he hated that title. 

Lava-red eyes followed every movement you made, especially when you clung to Megumi pressing your tits against his arm again and looking up at him with soft eyes that almost watered when he complimented on the new dress you showed him. 

“Sukuna can sit out here and wait, I need help zipping up the back of it.” You told the dark-haired man once you three entered a clothing store, but little did you know that Sukuna overheard you and shook his head once more, it seemed to be his motion of the day. 

He set his large palm on Megumi’s shoulder and looked at him, a small pout gracing his lips before Sukuna smiled, one that wasn’t tender or warm, but one that spoke of a serious threat. “Actually can you do us a favor and get us some drinks? I’m thirsty from all this walking.” He told the younger man. 

Megumi nodded and glanced over at you with his lips pressed together in a thin line as he headed out of the store, as soon as he was out of sight your step-brother turned to look at you with fire in his eyes as he pointed to the dressing room. 

You looked around for anyone watching before slipping into the small room with Sukuna who followed behind you, his hands coming down on your shoulders as he loomed over you, your chest was pressed against the wall with him molded against you as you gripped your skirt. 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” He asked lowering his head until his lips were pressed against your ear, his chest puffed up with deep ragged breaths trailing his palms to your upper arms hearing you suck in a breath. 

“What do you mean?” You asked and turned your head to look at him, your glossy pink lips shone under the light, and the glitter mixed in made him want to rub it off with his thumb but instead, he chuckled, his red eyes darkening. 

He pushed you more against the wall making sure you felt how hard he was. “Letting Megumi come in here with you so what? He could finger you or something? You’re so filthy.” He sneered with faux disgust. 

His words swirled deep inside you causing every inch of your skin to feel like fire licked at it, the comeback you had ready was shot down, instead, you looked up at him batting your eyelashes, sure people might think you’re a bit of a bimbo but you still knew the game that was at stake. 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t going to let him just finger me, I would suck his cock until he blew his sticky load all over my face and lips then I’d lick it off.” You cooed. 

Sukuna moved one hand to the back of your neck holding you still as the other one slid down your back and into your skirt and panties. “Then you’d be nothing but a nasty whore if you did that, and if you want to be one then get on your knees.” He demanded in a tone that you couldn’t argue with. 

It was a challenge you didn’t want to back down from but still didn’t want him to have all the satisfaction. He watched with a smirk as you kneeled at his feet.  

He sat down on the small chair spreading his long legs, the room was already cramped but with him like this, you truly had nowhere to go, his leg blocked the door. 

You rested the heels of your feet under your ass and palmed his thighs looking at him. He watched you closely, his eyes roamed each inch of you, the gaze lingering on your breasts. 

This was perhaps the most insane thing either of you had ever done before, but you never stopped once as you tugged his shorts down mid-thigh. 

Already there was a wet stain on the front of his boxers, you pulled the hand down letting his cock spring free, the tip leaking. “Mhm, so cute.” You teased and giggled wrapping your manicured nails around the shaft giving it a few pumps of your fist. 

Sukuna felt like he was about to explode the longer you stared at it, your eyes going up and down as you trailed your finger up the seam of his ballsack with a sweet smile, and God those lips of yours, he really wanted to see them wrapped around his dick. 

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he rested his hands on his legs. “Good luck hiding it.” You said as you stood up and smiled, patting his head with a sinister smile now, the good girl performance you play has to be tiring by now Sukuna thought as he watched you with wide eyes. 

You poked your head out and looked both ways before stepping out of the dressing room just in time for Megumi to walk back to the small cluster of changing rooms with three cups in his hand, his eyes roamed over your disheveled shirt but kept quiet especially when Sukuna joined you both. 

The rest of the trip you ignored the daggers Sukuna sent you by cuddling back up to Megumi, even inviting him inside when he pulled his car into the driveway, who was quick to hop out and open your door helping you out.

Before he could follow you into the house Sukuna stopped him, his face twisted with jealousy, the feeling sat like a heavy rock in his stomach, and he knew he shouldn’t be, the relationship between you and him already dipped into taboo and he’s all for pushing the limits. 

“Before you say anything to me about touching your sister, remember she’s only that because your dad married her mom and she is well over the age of twenty, a grown woman who doesn’t need her step-brother to follow her,”  Megumi said matter-of-factly with a titled smile. 

Sukuna stared back at him, his jaw clenched with anger at the pushback his brothers friend was giving him. “A slut like her needs to be well trained before letting her off the leash so I had to go with.” He shot back and rolled his eyes before disappering upstairs for a little alone time. 

This meant he loves to use your panties to jerk himself off, or sometimes he’ll wait until your work before sneaking into your room to lay face first in your pillows, the overly sweet vanilla perfume you use all the time invaded his brain like little bugs festering on it as he humped your bed. 

“Fucking loser.” He mumbled under his breath stopping at your door and leaning in to listen to the hushed whispers exchanged between you and Megumi followed by your annoying giggling, oh how Sukuna wanted to fuck you senseless until you couldn’t even speak a word. 

You squealed and he heard the squeak of your bed, his hand swooped down to the doorhandle gripping it in a tight hold, the flesh on his fingers turning white. He pulled it away and knocked on the door, a lie sitting on the tip of his tongue as he waited for you to open the door. 

“Come in!” You called out sitting up on your elbows to watch it swing open to reveal Sukuna who stood there, his face pinched in anger then he soon relaxed when he saw Megumi standing by your bookshelf fingering the spines of the paperbacks. 

Sukuna glanced at him then you, his eyes drifted down to your thighs, your skirt barely managing to hide anything, even your fishnet stockings couldn’t hide the soft satin of your panties which caused his dick to twitch and he found himself thanking Mother Nature for the warm weather and your short shorts and skirts you always wore. 

“We need to head back to town to help my dad, he just called and said he’s broken down.” 

It was so easy for him to tell the lie because he knew what would happen as soon as Megumi left. “I should head back anyway, I need to do some studying,” He said then looked at you holding a book in his hand, “thank you for inviting me out, I’ll see you Saturday.” 

Silence choked your bedroom once Megumi was gone and the door clicked shut, you or Sukuna didn’t dare to move or even speak until you heard the car door shut, you watched him with bated breath as he walked over to the edge of your bed towering above you. 

He leaned down resting his hands on either side of you, his face only mere inches away from yours, and his eyes blown with lust and desire. “I’m going to make sure you don’t think about another man from now on, all you’re going to want is your big brother.” 

His lips slotted against yours in a hot kiss as he grabbed your nape forcing you to fall on your back, he used his entire weight to pin you down wanting to break you and your bratty behavior. “I think all you need is a good fuck, and you’re not going to get it anywhere else.” He growled against your lips. 

His tongue slid in your mouth after he finished his sentence pressing his whole body against yours leaving not even an inch, you succumbed quickly and slid your hands up his shirt touching him as he was touching you, his free hand was under your shirt cupping your tit over your bra. 

“Does it turn you on knowing that your big brother will take care of your sweet pussy?” He whispered in between nibbling on your bottom lip, it really didn’t take long for you to whine a little seeking his lips on yours again as you nodded wildly, your head thrashing about. 

He pulled away and kneeled between your legs, a smirked tugged his lips up as he looked down at you, with locks of pink hair that framed his handsome face.  

“You turned into such a dumb slut for me with just a bit of kissing.” He mused. Sukuna leaned over you and hooked two fingers in your mouth and pulled on your cheek, his other hand ripped a hole in the crotch of your fishnets to stroke your slick puffy cunt over your panties.

“I hate you!” You whined which was muffled by his fingers still in your mouth as he rubbed tight circles on your clit with a deep chuckle, his cock throbbed at the way you sucked on his digits like it really was his dick, you looked so unashamed that it made him hot and bothered to a point he’s never felt. 

That wasn’t the truth.

You love him more than you should and he fucking knows it.

“You do? Are you sure about that?” He asked, moving your panties to the side. He glided a finger through your pussy lips gathering the pearly essence that accumulated from his teasing and words. 

He brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it. “For someone who hates me so much you sure are wet.”

He thrust two fingers inside of you making your eyes roll into the back of your head. This is the first time in almost two months since you’ve been touched like this, your toes curled as you gripped the sheets gritting your teeth.

“Sukuna!” You cried out in a muffled tone and grabbed his wrist staring at him with lust-blown-pupils. 

“Submit yourself to me. Show me how you beg.” He demanded in a rough tone.

 You ground your hips against his hand and nodded letting yourself slip into submission, as much as you put on a front all you wanted was this; to have your big brother put you in your place. 

“You look so fucking pathetic trying to get more. Is this what you want?” He removed his fingers from your mouth with a sadistic grin. 

“Oh, God, yes! More!” You moaned as he picked up the pace drawing you to your orgasm, but he pulled his fingers out tasting you again.

“Yes, refer to me as your God. Taste how fucking wet you got for me.” He mused running his fingers along your lips.

“Sukuna - wait - we should stop before we cross a line we can’t come back from,” You said feeling some of the fog lift from your mind, but it was way too late now and you knew it but the ‘righteous’ part of you knew it this was wrong, all you needed was a bit of a push. 

“Don’t you think it’s way too late for that, sis?” Sukuna asked, quirking an eyebrow with a huff. 

“We’re related.”

“We’re two consenting adults, right? Unless I’ve mistaken this,” he held up the two fingers that were just knuckle deep inside of you, “for something else? Perhaps you’re just a slut who wants her pussy fucked and filled? And we’re only related through marriage, it might be wrong to some but you still want it, I can feel it.”

You rolled your eyes and glanced at his hand, his fore and middle finger shone under your soft lamp. 

“Man. You’re awfully cocky for someone dripping.” He spread his fingers apart and you could see your arousal strung between the digits.

“What about after?” You asked him wanting to know what’s happening next. 

“Let’s talk about that later.” He pulled you against him, kissing you again. Each stroke of his tongue exploring your mouth made you lose all sense of self-control, when he had you flat on your back again, you didn’t say anything, letting the hidden feelings take over. The consequences of your actions didn’t matter anymore as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He yanked your shirt up and your bra down, exposing your nipples. He drew the left one in his mouth while he pinched the other. He used his knee to grind it against your cunt as your hands fisted his hair and curled your fingers in the soft locks. 

Sukuna wasn’t acting sweet. He grabbed and groped harshly, leaving indents in the soft skin of your waist and hips for tomorrow, a reminder that you’re his. You whined against him when he removed his finger from your nipple down to your clit where he circled it, his mouth went to your other nipple.

“Tell me how much you hate me.” He growled with your nipple between his teeth.

“I hate you-fuck-I hate you so much!” His movement on your clit became faster, building your orgasm up, but once again he stopped right before you could reach it.

He brought his hand up, closing it around your throat. “I want you to cream on my dick. I’m going to fill you up with so much cum it’s going to leak down your legs.” He warned with an evil smirk. 

“Please, I want you to fill me up.” You begged desperately, switching gears just like that at the promise of being fucked. 

He got off the bed and got naked before he walked over to your dresser grabbing two belts before he joined you back on the bed. “What are you doing with those?” You asked taking your panties off quickly, your whole body felt like it was on fire at this point as you watched him.

Sukuna smiled and helped you to the iron four-poster bedframe before he spread your legs pushing on the back of your thighs until they met your ears, you watched while panting as he looped the belt around each ankle and the bedframe keeping your legs wide open and in place.

Before he did anything else he lifted your arms up and slid them through the belt loop tying your ankles and wrists to the frame with a grin. “So you can’t run away, you’ve been so bitchy lately and I think all you need is a good fuck.” He replied getting back on top of you he rubbed the head up and down your slit teasing you.

“Sukuna!” You whined.

With a sadistic smile, he roughly thrust his hips thrusting inside you, bottoming out. “Damn, you are so fucking wet for me.” He grunted.

For a moment he stayed still, lavishing the feeling of you. Pulling out, he snapped his hips forward then stopped before he grabbed a pillow and shoved it under your ass. 

When he thrust back in and at this angle, he hit the sweet spot over and over, which made stars burst behind your eyes which he took note of and continued to fuck you with slow precise snaps of his hips. 

“The best pussy I’ve ever fucked.” He moaned and moved his hand to your throat squeezing it lightly, just enough pressure to add to the pleasure coursing through you with each thrust, the bliss of his cock throbbing against your walls made you feel dizzy in the best way possible. 

“Who do you belong to?” He asked as he leaned in kissing you again, the soft muscle tangling with yours. 

“You! Just you!” You cried out against his lips. 

He thrust back inside you, his thighs slapping against the back of your legs. “Mine.” He thrust again. “Mine.” Again. “Mine.” and again. Sukuna was now a hundred percent sure that he was in love with you, and he didn’t give a fuck about the marriage between the marriage of your parents or what anyone thought because no other woman could possibly hold a torch to you. 

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer to him. You’ve seen Sukuna become primal before when he was mad or trying to fight someone,  but this time was different. The animalistic urge to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight or talk took over him. He wanted to claim you as his entirely.

Drool hung from your mouth. “I’ve fucked you senseless, huh?” Sukuna said laughing deep in his chest followed by a loud moan when you squeezed his cock that pistioned in and out of you, the wet squelching filled your bedroom accompanied by the smell of sex and the bed creaking. 

“Now tell me why I should let you cum?” He asked, slowing his pace to a teasing one making sure to slowly fill up your quivering pussy. 

“I need this. I need you!”

“That’s all you have?” He laughed. 

You growled under your breath wanting to cum. “No other man has made me feel this way, only you can big bro.” You mewled tugging on the belt. 

He didn’t reply instead he fucked you with new vigor at the name, ‘big bro’ and Sukuna knew for sure he was a fucking pervert getting off to you calling him that but again, he was well past the point of caring. “Good girl.” He praised kissing you again. 

Your orgasm finally crashed over you, your pussy fluttering which drew endless moans and incoherent mumbling from you and Sukuna. He snapped his hips forward one last time filling you fully. His orgasm feasted on yours, your walls tightened almost painfully around his cock as he spilled his load into you. 

He sighed in contentment and rested his forehead against yours feeling his cum leak out onto your sheets, Sukuna stayed still for a few minutes before pulling out to see the mess you two created between your thighs.

“A sight I will never get tired of looking at, you are such a good little sister. Now say thank you.” He told you patting your head with a smirk. 

Your eyes met with his in an intense stare down, the way he looked at you made your heart and pussy flutter pushing out a glob of cum. “Thank you for fucking me, and I will never forget it.” You replied looking away shyly. 

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[aizawaz]

Task Force 141 headcanons ; ass or tits

Trying to post somewhat consistently, so have this!!

Warnings: afab!reader , butt stuff (oral , fingering , plugs) , impact play , praise & degradation , brief mommy kink (I’m not sorry) , dirty talk , all the good stuff!

! NSFW under the cut !

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley - Tits

Simon is a man that definitely enjoys larger breasts, but ultimately he’s a ‘boobs are boobs’ guy. He’s addicted to the way your plush flesh spills over the cups of your bra (he bought it for you) that fits just a little too small for your taste (he did that on purpose).

Low-cut shirts are Simon’s favourite, he takes them almost as a challenge to see how long he can stare before his dick is hard and he’s all over you. He can never last more than a few minutes, eventually shoving his large and cold hands beneath your shirt to paw at your “perfect fuckin’ tits, dovey. Can’t help but touch ‘em.”

Titty slapper. 100%. Does it as a form of punishment if you were being particularly bratty that day, starting with firm taps to get you riled up before fully administering the punishment. He’s not entirely gentle with it either, slapping until your tits are red and you’re looking all sorry ‘n teary-eyed at him. Even then, Simon doesn’t budge. If anything, he gets crueler, now pinching and pulling on your sore nipples. “C’mon, y’can take it like a big girl, can’t ya?”

Cpt. John Price - Ass

Has a thing for buttplugs, especially if they can vibrate. The first time John turned it on while deep in your pussy, he felt his entire spine tingle and was emptying his balls into you in seconds. Was hooked ever since but never uses it often. Likes to press down on the base with his thumb when it’s buried in your ass, gruffly chuckling when your hips jerk away.

John is a simple man, he sees you with a skirt on and he’s sauntering over to slip his rugged hands beneath the flimsy fabric and grab a handful. Not wearing any panties underneath? Even better, makes everything easier for him. He fondles your ass like it’s nothing but putty, looking over your shoulder to observe how malleable you are and groaning in your ear the whole time. “Hope you weren’t goin’ anywhere looking like this, love. Can’t have anyone lookin’ at what’s mine.”

Similar to Simon, John uses spanking as a punishment. However, he’s not easing you into it like Simon. As soon as his patience is tested, he’s bending you over his knee to teach you a lesson. Don’t expect to leave his lap until his handprint is welted in your skin, angry and red and just the way John likes it. “Maybe next time you’ll be obedient and listen to your Captain, yeah?”

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish - Ass

Johnny’s an ass eater, I gotta say it. He adores the soft squeal you make when his tongue strays from your drenched pussy to instead prod and lick at your asshole. He’s absolutely filthy with it too, slurping and huffing like a starved animal because the taste of you drives Johnny absolutely mad.

He will slip in a finger or thumb while he’s hitting it in doggy, it always makes you clench so much tighter around his cock and Johnny swears he goes dumb for a second when he feels it. “Christ, bonnie. Y’like me playin’ with your li’l ass, huh? Greedy li’l thing.”

Wear yoga pants/shorts around this man and you’re not leaving without him getting a good feel. Comes up behind you and presses his already hard dick into you, grinding against and delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His hands are merciless, groping and squeezing your pliant skin all while murmuring under his breath about how you’re “just askin’ to be fucked, walkin’ around like tha’.”

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick - Tits

Kyle would live between your boobs if he could, no matter the size. As long as he has something to latch his lips to, he has zero complaints. He could spend hours just kissing and sucking your tits if you’d let him, thinks it’s so intimate feeling how your nipple pebbles against his tongue and your heart hammers against his lips.

Push-up bras are Kyle’s bread and butter, they get him so hard and if you pair it with a low-cut shirt he’s cumming in his pants the moment his eyes find your cleavage. He cannot stop staring either, watching every delicious jiggle of your perky boobs as you do mundane tasks around the apartment. “Fuck, babe, you’re drivin’ crazy. I swear you’re doin’ it on purpose.”

Kyle is his most vulnerable when he has your tits in his mouth, and he’s not ashamed to admit that. Having Kyle in your lap, stroking his weeping cock and whispering soft praises into his ear as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, gets him closer to heaven than anything else. “You have the prettiest tits, momma. Love you so much.”

© aizawaz on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 31

part 1 | part 30 | ao3

updating the rating to E. cw: recreational drug use/marijuana, foreplay, mild-to-moderate spit kink

“I feel like a water bottle,” Steve slurs. At some point he wiggled his way between Eddie’s legs to get a better look at his tattoos — starting at his ankles and working his way up, pointing at each piece and asking, "What's this? And what's that?"

Eddie explained each one in turn: the quotes, the lyrics, the silly art. "This one's the Elvish word for friend. That one's from an Iron Maiden song. Oh, the asterisk? It's supposed to be an asshole. No, I'm serious! That's how Vonnegut drew them in his books."

Now Steve’s lying flat on his back between Eddie’s splayed thighs, eyelids heavy, body warm. 'Go Your Own Way' plays softly on the stereo, and Eddie continues his tattoo tour, the fingers of his free hand weaving patterns through Steve's hair — lazy, twirling zig-zags that send skitters of sensation across his scalp and down his spine.

Steve feels like he could die right now. Happy. Held. Content.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

“This is fucking awesome,” he hums.

“Good,” Eddie grins at him, “I’m glad.” He scratches lightly at his scalp. “What were you, uh— what were you saying about a water bottle?”

Oh, right. Steve lifts a hand; pantomimes tilting a bottle back and forth. “Like, uh….. Sssloshy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie snorts. “You’re so high.”

“Mmmmhm.”

“And you look like you’re jerking off a ghost."

“I’ll jerk off your ghost,” Steve mutters petulantly.

"I’m sure my ghost would love that.”

Eddie reaches for the joint and takes another drag, and Steve tilts his neck, arching up to look at him. Bites his lip at the pretty picture Eddie makes: the sharp shadows and delicate lines, the shape of his full lips exhaling rings of smoke. Big for a guy's. He remembers thinking that a couple weeks ago. That they were big. That they looked soft.

And now he thinks: Kissable.

Steve licks his lips. “What about your, uh- not ghost?”

Eddie laughs like he’s watching a newborn puppy try to walk. “You want to touch my dick so bad.”

“S’probably a good dick,” Steve shrugs, unashamed.

He probably should be — ashamed. Guilty for the feelings stirring deep inside his chest; feelings weed brings to the surface, sends southbound, turns to need. He can imagine how the good, god-fearing Catholics who raised him would react if they could see him now, how they'd foam and froth and rage, red-faced and covered in spittle as they shouted that he's condemning himself to Hell.

But the thing is, he's already in Hell. He's been here since July.

And anyway, Hell's kinda nice. Gentle and warm, surprisingly kind. Hell smells like leather and tobacco, like weed and aftershave, and it sounds like Lindsey Buckingham, and it likes to braid Steve's hair.

Hell has endless, inky eyes and probably kisses him with tongue.

Heat spreads through him like molten honey at the thought, spilling hot over the edges, curling in his core, and Steve turns his head to the side and drags his mouth over a tattoo on Eddie’s inner thigh — a cartoon cloud over a curled-up snoozing fox. He noses at the edge of Eddie's shorts; pushes them up.

Goosebumps pebble under the warm press of his lips. "What's this one?" Steve whispers, nudging the fabric further up.

Eddie’s laugh is quiet and strained. "Something I don't want to discuss with your mouth this close to my dick. Stevie," he warns, but it's breathless, full of want. There's a wet spot on his shorts.

Steve pushes onto his belly, blows hot breath over the spot, liquid fire coursing through him at he stares at the bulge in Eddie’s shorts. Blistering heat, the sweetness dense, rich and thick on his tongue; in his veins. He mouths at the crease of Eddie's thigh. Eddie smells so good, like skin and sweat and boy, and Steve wants this. Wants it so badly he feels the ache inside his teeth. I dreamed the goddess poured ambrosia...

Steve feels it drip from head to toe.

"Steve." Eddie's voice is sharp this time, commanding and firm as he fists a hand in Steve's hair — not hurting him; not letting him move. Keeping him from putting his mouth just where he wants.

Steve makes a desperate sound and rocks his hips against the bed.

"Steve, stop," Eddie scolds. Pulls his hair a little harder, like he’s tugging on a leash.

"Eddie, please.” Steve’s eyes roll back, and he shifts his hips again. Just once; just a bit. Not nearly hard enough.

"No. Behave. Be good."

Steve freezes — tenses every muscle, holds himself so still, his face flushing with shame, because he didn’t mean to not be good. Didn’t mean to do anything bad. He blinks at Eddie with watery eyes and says he’s sorry, his voice cracking around the word.

"God," Eddie groans. His fist tightens in Steve’s hair, and his hips twitch off the bed, the curve of his cock brushing the tip of Steve's nose. Fuck. "Holy shit. Roll over."

"What?"

"On your back, like you were before." He’s panting when he says it, and Steve does as he's told; flips over onto his back, face bracketed by Eddie's thighs, the tent in his own shorts embarrassingly big. Obvious.

"Good,” Eddie exhales. “That’s- Jesus. Yeah, that’s good." He sinks back against the wall with a winded sigh.

And then he doesn't say anything else.

Doesn’t even move, just slouches down to catch his breath.

Steve kind of wants to cry; feels chastised and stupid, because of course Eddie doesn't want this. He already said he didn't, didn't he? Not tonight, anyway. And now Steve’s ruined things by being high and dumb and selfish, getting himself worked up over nothing and making it Eddie’s problem, and he'll probably spend the rest of this night miserable and blue-balled because he's a horny idiot, but that's—

It’s fine, if Eddie wants to cool things off; if he doesn't want to— he's allowed to not want—

"Here's what's about to happen.”

Steve snaps his head up to listen. Twists his neck around, sees Eddie lounging against the wall like a bored king on a throne, one ringed hand cupping himself loosely through his shorts. He squeezes once, takes another deep breath; lets it out long and controlled. Steve’s gonna fucking drool. "You’re gonna touch yourself for me.”

Steve moans. Guttural and loud, the sound punched out of his lungs, because Eddie’s voice comes out like gravel — husky, deep, the words authoritative and slow; like Steve needs to be punished; like Eddie’s merciful.

“You’re going to touch yourself exactly how I tell you to, and only how I tell you to. If I say stop, you stop. If I say faster, you speed up. If it's too much—" His hand moves to Steve’s cheek, slapping lightly against the bone. “—you tap out, or you tell me.”

Steve nods his head, entranced. Eddie’s thumb moves to his mouth. “And if you’re very, very good…” He tugs his bottom lip; presses in; lets him suck. “…then I’ll let you watch me come. How does that sound?”

Steve whines; hollows his cheeks, sucking harder, flicking his tongue. Eddie’s thighs clamp down around him, and when he pulls his hand away the spit clings to his thumb, a delicate string connecting them before it breaks. “Asked you a question, sweetheart.” He smears the spit over Steve’s chin. “Does that sound good?”

Steve nearly swallows his tongue.

—

part 32

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Dumb Little Bunny

...kinda cnc, argument to sex, switch! Toji and reader hehe, low-key foot stuff but also not really, hint of misogyny (use of slut, whore), degradation, and a possessive Toji. Happy Halloween!

"You're not wearing that."

Glancing down, you swiftly study your skin tight garment, pouting slightly.

"Yes, I am... it's on my body, isn't it?" Head whipping towards a brooding Toji, you smirk, a playful giggle bubbling in your chest.

"Very funny, smart ass." He huffs out, the beginning fire of a hissy-fit sparking up in his pebble-shaded eyes. He drags his feet over to you, bit-to-the-stub nails gripping at the skin engulfed by faux leather.

"Don't you think you're gonna get cold? Your legs are hangin' out like it's nobody's business." Toji grumbles, turning you towards the full sized mirror angled against your bedroom wall.

Toji is less than thrilled, to say the least. There you stand, figure squeezed and kissed by the tight fabric of your Playboy bunny one-piece. Complete with a puffy cotton tail and upright, pointed ears. Words can't describe the feeling that struck deep inside Toji's gut the second he saw you all whored out for this stupid Halloween party. The feeling grew from pleasurable to territorial when he realized he wouldn't be the only one seeing you tonight.

"The alcohol should keep me warm." You wiggle out of his grasp, patting his stone chest, before sitting down at the princess vanity he built for you. You pat at your cheeks with blush, sharpen your eyeliner, and touch up your burgundy lipstick.

"Don't start with that. Don't be such a little fucking brat." Toji's tone is harsh as he crosses his arms across his broad chest.

The lack of control brewed anxiety in his limbs and lungs. You invited him... you really meant it, too. But he was the one who turned you down.

"A Halloween party? Sweets, I'm too damn old for that shit."

Toji's attitude was expected, but throughly unappreciated by you... so you simply ignore him. You hear him groan before he lifts you off your cushioned seat, taking your place and settling you into his lap.

Before you can tell him off, he's nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, tenderizing the area, before roughly biting down. You hiss, pushing his heavy head away and once again escaping his almost solid embrace.

"Ouch Toji! Ugh, what the fuck..." You trail off towards the end of your sentence, feeling the sting of his sharp teeth at the base of your neck.

"Fuckin assholes... their eyes are gonna be all over you, y'know... my fucking bunny. Dressed all cute and slutty."

Toji is still sat, arms crossed, a suble pout on his lips. A grown man throwing a tantrum like a four year old. And he said he's too old for a Halloween party.

Bending at your hips, you push past Toji's slumped shoulders, your eyes making out a wide, dark red mark on your neck.

"For fuck sakes, Toji... you're that fucking jealous hm?" Steadying yourself, hands flat on the vanity, you speak to him through your reflection, voice stern, concrete. He stands behind you, leaning down, his chest flat against your back. He lightly kisses, and kitten licks at the bold mark of territory. Leaning back into him, you feel his semi-hard pressing into the exposed skin of your fishnet-clad ass.

"You look so fucking good, mama. Don't want any of those usless fucking tools seein' ya all dolled up. I want to show you off, not sit here, knowing you're showing off." Finishing off his sentence with a light tug on your hair, he rolls his hips into your backside. Turning in your place, you pull Toji large body into you by his biceps. Groping his growing bulge, you use your other hand to hoist your bottom half onto the desk of your hand-crafted vanity. He follows your lead, staring at you almost expectantly. Sharp eyes follow your foot as it inches its way up Toji's thick thigh. Landing on his crotch, you playfully kick him soft as to not hurt him but firm enough to coax a small groan out of him.

"You like it, though, don't you, Toji? You like knowing that a young, sexy bunny is all yours. You know what to do... maybe if you make me proud, I won't flirt around tonight." You smirk, snapping off the flimsy buttons between your legs. Usually, hearing something like that would force Toji into a juvenile fit. His venomous jealousy would take over, fully souring his mind. But when you have him like this, under your spell, he just wants to prove himself to the woman he admires most.

Quickly, he pulls your pretty red panties aside, allowing the chilling air to wisp at your core. But, the change of temperature isn't the only thing that widens your eyes. Toji's wide tongue flattens upon your heat, licking up and down like an ice cream cone. His head makes exaggerated movements as the tip of his defined nose rubs into your sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure through your body, sizzling out at your toes.

Toji straightens out on his knees, grasping at the back of your calve, bending your leg to fit between him and the wood you're placed upon. Pulling the ball of your foot back against his crotch, he holds the top of your foot to his weeping cock, moaning into you at the easing pressure. He slowly picks up a steady rhythm. You throw your head back, grabbing at Toji's dark locks and pull his face flush against you.

Before you can even reach your climax, you feel Toji stiffen and detach himself from you, and you peer down just in time to see the front of his grey sweatpants deepen in color.

A gruff groan escapes his throat as he sinks his pearly whites into the soft skin of your inner thigh between the open bubbles of your fishnets, like a dog and his bone.

"Ruined my fuckin' sweatpants, shit." Toji grumbles out, standing to his full height, towering over your sitting form. He pulls down the stained fabric, just enough for his veiny, throbbing, stiff dick to pop out. Without warning, he shoves himself into your fluttering, sensitive hole.

"'M gonna fuck ya dumb, bunny." Toji pants out, placing his hands behind you on the polished wood, thrusts immediately adopting a harsh, sharp pulse. Quickly, you begin babbling and cooing out, already being fucked stupid. You can feel your power slip through your fingers with every snap of your boyfriend's powerful hips. Before your dominance completely runs off, shriveled up in fear, you grab onto the back of his head, your mouth seeking his neck.

Toji groans as overstimulation creeps in, weakening his knees until he's in a partial squat, hunched over you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up, pretty girl. Gonna breed you like a fucking bunny. Every one of those idiots are gonna know who you're a disgusting little whore for." He grunts before you feel warm ropes of cum stuff your womb full. Still cumming, Toji pulls out, aiming his flushed head toward the shiny fabric of your sluttly little suit. He stumbles back, admiring the white streaks soaking into the slick black costume.

"Ugh, Toji, it's gonna stain." You mumble out, still shaking as you try to wipe off his cum with your fingers, engulfing them in your mouth, tasting the salty essence.

"Heh. Good." He lowly chuckles, sitting back down on your fragile chair, throwing his head back in exhaustion. You study the dark purple marks on his neck, perfectly matching the love-bites poorly hidden by the patchwork material on your legs.

"You sure you don't want to tag along? You might need to keep me in check." You smile devilishly, cheekily winking, before snapping the buttons of your skimpy onesie back together.

Toji huffs dramatically, irritation slowly snooping back into his dazed mind.

So there you are, frazzled and flushed, walking into this stupid Halloween party. Hand in hand. A dumb, sweet little bunny with her big, mean, dumber man.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[silent-stories]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 - 𝟑

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: There will be a party at your house even if you didn't organize it. The only thing you can do now is invite Eddie and hope he will come.

Part 2

Friday morning, everyone at school was talking about the party you were having at your house that night. The only problem was, you'd never decided or told anyone you were going to throw a party, much less invite half the school.

You understood what was going on when a girl whose name you didn't even know told you she couldn't wait to come over to your house that night.

You knew whose fault it was.

"Since when do you like parties?" Max asked as she walked next to you towards school with her usual skateboard under her right arm and the sun's rays making her blue eyes shine.

"And I still don't like them." You answered with frustration. "I'm not the one who organized the party."

"Oh, so it's not you who organized the party at your house?" The redhead laughed.

"Max, I swear. It was Aaron, you know, the new one?" You absent-mindedly kicked a pebble in the school parking lot, wondering what you could do to fix that shitty situation that guy had put you in.

"Oh, I know who he is. Everyone seems to be talking about him lately." The redhead answered.

"I can assure you that he's not as perfect as everyone believes. He's quite an asshole, if you wanna know."

"Oh, I knew it!" She exlamed. "I never liked that guy. He looks too much like Jason."

Your gaze fell on a young boy who was looking in your direction, not far from you.

"But I think I know someone you like." You commented with a smik.

"What?" she asked before you nodded at Lucas.

Max lowered her head hiding a smile.

"What are you waiting for? Go to him."

She rolled her eyes.

"Go!" You repeated giving her a light push in a playful way.

"Okay, okay." She laughed as she put her skateboard down and stepped on it with her foot. "See you later, okay?"

"Bye!" You said as she reached Lucas.

You watched them as they walked close and laughed with each other, you wondered if you and Eddie were something like that too. They were cute.

But now you had to suppress all your desire to kill Aaron and try to have a conversation with him.

"Aaron!" You called to him in the school corridor perhaps a little too loudly, causing some heads to turn in your direction, as you recognized his blonde hair from afar, talking to a fourth year girl.

You grabbed him by the arm, turning him towards you.

As usual, he flashed you the sparkling smile that you so wanted to punch right then.

"What the hell did you do?" You blurted out, clutching your bag in your hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about, honey."

Breathe, Y/N. Breathe.

"First, don't call me that. Second, you told everyone there's going to be a party at my fucking house."

He rolled his eyes, as if it wasn't even his fault.

"I just told a few friends that there was a chance there was a party at your house. And my friends told their friends. And their friends-"

"I get the point." You cut him off. "But I told you I didn't want to."

"And I told you it would be fun. Really, I didn't want to make everyone think there was actually going to be a party. It was just an idea."

"Well, thanks to your great idea, half the school will be at my house tonight."

"I'm sorry okay? I just-"

At that moment you glimpsed Eddie at the end of the hallway, wearing a black sabbath shirt, ripped jeans and making his way through the sea of ​​students.

You liked the way your eyes always managed to find him despite the hundreds of students who went through the hallways of the school every day.

"I gotta go." You suddenly said even if you stopped listening to his words a few minutes before and you walked away from him while he was still talking.

"Hey, wait!"

You've had enough of him for all day.

Eddie saw you talking to Aaron and he couldn't hide from himself that every time he saw you with him he felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and every time he tried to convince himself it wasn't jealousy.

It couldn't be, you weren't his. You never were and you never would be.

Yet every time you shyly smiled at him in the hallway, tou almost made Eddie believe he might have a chance with you, that things really could have worked out between you despite everything.

Despite the looks and despite what others thought of him.

Even if you weren't his, Eddie was definitely yours. And maybe it always would be.

Maybe he was from the first time he'd seen you outside of school talking to Robin, when he still didn't know your name. Or maybe he was even earlier, since Dustin had mentioned you while they were getting ready for a campaign and he mentioned his ex-babysitter who for three years had helped him and his friends come up with backstories for their characters and also draw them.

"Man, she was doing it because your mom was paying her." Eddie had commented at the time.

"Oh no. It's not just for that, trust me. You should meet her, you'd love her." He had answered.

He didn't know yet that he really would. Maybe even too much.

"Hi." Your voice brought him back to reality, he hadn't even seen you reach him and now you were walking beside him, occasionally brushing your shoulder against his.

"Hey." He smiled. "You have history now, right?"

"Yes. And you too, this time you won't skip it."

"Hey! I don't skip classes!"

At least he didn't do it anymore with history, it was the only class he was glad to be in, just because you were there too.

"Yeah, sure." You chuckled as you moved a little to the left to let a freshman pass.

"I heard there's going to be a party at your house. I didn't think you liked parties." Eddie said as you walked to your classroom.

He had heard people talking about your party too and was surprised because he remembered that when you had told him that you would rather stay at home and watch a movie on the couch than go out.

"Please, not you too." You sighed.

"What?"

"I didn't organize the party."

Eddie raised his eyebrows.

"Aaron told everyone even though I said I didn't want to and now it looks like half of school will be at my house tonight."

Eddie placed a hand on your shoulder softly pushing you aside to prevent you from colliding with a guy who was running down the hall despite the hundreds of signs saying not to.

The gesture was so natural that he almost didn't realize he had done it.

"You know, I don't like that guy." It was the first time he said it out loud to you.

"Yeah, me neither."

Eddie was surprised. Didn't you like Aaron? He even thought there was something going on between you two. Was it possible that he misinterpreted it?

"So, will you come?"

"What?"

"I asked you if you will come to the party."

"I'm not one for parties."

"Well, luckily for you, neither am I."

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head.

"Eddie, please. There's going to be a lot of people I hate and that I don't even know. At least if you come there will be someone I really like."

You said you liked Eddie with such spontaneity and simplicity that he wanted to hear you say it a hundred more times.

"I don't know." He said finally, as you crossed the threshold of the classroom.

He didn't want to disappoint you but he couldn't come.

It was kind of weird being invited to a party after years of no one ever doing it but it was nice to know that you cared enough about him to ask him to come. Thinking about it, maybe kids had stopped hanging out with him when he was in about second grade, when they found out his father was involved in illegal activities.

But he really couldn't and he was sorry. He was sorry because you were the best part of his day and he wanted to hang out with you and spend every single free moment outside of school with you.

But with you. Only with you. Not with everyone else in the school, who would watch and judge and laugh at him when he showed up at an event like a party of a girl like you.

Eddie watched you in amazement as you took the seat next to him in class, it was the first time you'd done so since you'd been late that day.

"Please?" You asked again, Eddie could hear the hope in your voice and his heart ached because he really wanted to, but he knew someone like him couldn't come.

"I'll think about it, okay?" He hated himself for that.

You smiled. "Okay."

I'm sorry. I won't come. I know I won't come. Don't hate me, please. Everyone already hates me. Don't hate me too.

The teacher started talking and Eddie found history rather boring like all the other times, he was spinning a pencil he rarely used for taking notes between his fingers when you handed him a folded note.

He looked at you questioningly and you glanced at the note, as if telling him to open it.

When Eddie did it he nearly burst out laughing.

It was a stylized drawing, done entirely with a blue pen, much uglier than what you were capable of making: on one side there were you two, Eddie immediately recognized the stikman who represented him thanks to the bush of curly hair you had drawn on his head and the one next to him was definitely you.

Your arms were linked and Eddie thought that meant you were holding hands, but he couldn't be sure.

You were both smiling, unlike the others on the opposite side of the page, drawn with no hair and no clothes, with angry expressions and smoke billowing from their non-existent ears.

Eddie was betting that Jason and Aaron were among them, but since they were all the same, he couldn't tell for sure which was who.

Eddie stifled another laugh. It wasn't one of the prettiest drawings you had done but it was definitely the funniest.

"What the hell is that?" He asked in a whisper, a huge grin on his face.

"It's us at the party having fun and not giving a shit about Aaron and the other assholes that will be there."

Eddie's gaze returned to the drawing. It would have been nice to turn that into reality.

"Because you are coming, right?" You asked again.

Eddie looked you in the eye and fuck, it was really hard to say no looking into your eyes.

"Maybe." He finally said.

"Okay. Maybe."

You haven't spoken the entire lesson. When the bell rang you had to run away because you had a test you couldn't be late for, so you didn't see Eddie carefully fold the paper you handed him and close it in the middle of a book.

It would probably be one of the few things he would keep for his entire life.

Part 4

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

Love you from afar tags: @capitanostella @enam3l @saramelaniemoon @ang3lb44by @einkitty @themorriganisamonster @esme-viridian @daisyridleyyyy @whenshelanded @eggo-segual @comfortcharactercraze @callmeyn @expiredcum21 @unholyyylita @squidscottjeans @twilight-love-nochu-main @idkatee @bakugouswh0r3 @amira0303 @greatpizzascissorstaco @ebonybloom @emxxblog @lunaryasha @cherryobx @jasminelafleur @magicalchocolatecheesecake @tracymbcm @harrypotter-imaginees @eli-flow @mrsjellymunson @tttttttttttts-things @miabiar @wayfaring----stranger @princess-eddie @omgshesinsane @littlestarfighter03 @zoeymunson

[planet-dusk]

minho + corruption kink !!!!!! (i probably said this already but is so lee know corruption)

- 😽

🏷️ f!reader, dubcon-ish, dad's best friend!minho, dom!minho, aged up minho (he's 40 and mc is 23), corruption (both), fingering, oral (m), mc is called sweetheart, doll

you’re off-limits. minho knows. you’re his friend's daughter; it’s an unspoken rule. it should’ve been unambiguous when said friend had trusted minho enough to ask him to pick you up from your girl’s night out after your car broke down. 

the ride to your apartment had been quiet, tension palpable in the air. but what would’ve been there to talk about? minho isn’t a fan of small talk, and he doesn’t know you that well. doesn’t even know what kind of music you like. what kind of movies. or if you prefer pizza over chinese takeout (it has to be chinese). 

you said you do but he doubts you remember him. he barely remembers you — and certainly not like this. he’d only seen you a handful of times before his return. you’d been so young back then. fuck, you still are. you’re what, 23 now? way too fucking young. he should know better.

it’d been a classic case of high school sweethearts coupled with an accidental pregnancy. minho recalls the long nights filled with his friend’s anxiety, slowly being replaced by naive happiness, and then he and your dad had gone their separate ways. 

for minho it’d been moving countries. for your dad it’d been starting a family. they’d stayed in touch throughout the years, on and off, and you’d been little more than a speck in his periphery. until he moved back. 

now he’s caging you against your kitchen wall and he prays your father won’t question why he’d been so eager to pick you up well past midnight. 

on a fucking tuesday. 

his hands slip underneath your shirt and you whimper into his mouth when his fingertips graze your nipples. they’re pebbling through your flimsy lace bra. 

“minho, w-what are you doing?” you push his shoulders, looking up at him with rounded eyes. 

minho wants to fucking ruin you.

“don’t play dumb right now,” he scoffs and tugs at your nipples, earning another moan from you. he knows you’re not stupid. you invited him in for a drink. you might as well have hung a neon sign asking him to fuck you. but there’s something about this innocent act of yours that drives him crazy.

why did you call your dad in the first place? don’t you have any friends who could’ve picked you up? your dad’s out of town and minho doesn’t want to think of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t been around. but it’s clear you’re daddy’s little girl; you’re spoiled rotten. he even bought you this apartment close to your family home. 

ever since he came back minho’s been hanging out at your father’s place nearly every weekend. first and foremost because he enjoys his friend’s company (he’s not that big of an asshole), but you’re a close second.

scratch that; you’re the main reason. you and those skimpy shorts you wear to the weekly barbeque. who the fuck has a weekly family tradition? minho loves his parents, but he’s fine seeing them once every few months at most. 

maybe it’s because he doesn’t have any kids himself. maybe that’s the reason why the voice inside his head is doing such a terrible job of stopping him from kissing his way down your neck. 

the sweet noises you’re making are even better than he imagined. he should’ve never gone back to this cursed town. should’ve stayed on the other fucking side of the globe where you’re not malleable and soft under his touch. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this, minho,” you protest. 

he ought to feel sick to his stomach about betraying his friend — your father — like this but all he feels is his cock throbbing in his pants. 

“shh, doll, no one has to know,” he presses his body closer and watches your eyes gloss over. oh, you like that. he likes that. he wants to discover all the ways he can make you cry on his cock.

“we’ll keep this between us,” he whispers and undoes the button on your jeans. you let him. “it’ll be our little secret. won’t that be fun?” 

his fingers find your clit and your answer turns into a sweet high-pitched whine. you’re so wet for him already. he was right.

“i see the way you look at me… wearing those pitiful things you call shorts just to toy with me. pathetic pieces of fabric haunt my dreams at night,” he chuckles dryly, “don’t think i don’t notice. two can play this game.” 

he kicks your legs apart with his foot and sinks a finger into your hole. you swallow a moan and hold onto his forearm, shaking your head. “i don’t play —”

“don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know you want this. do you hear that?” he pumps his finger in and out of you, the wet sounds betraying your arousal, “that’s how much you want me.”

minho tries not to think of the other guys you’ve fucked in here. eager young boys you met at work or at the one (and only) bar in town. and now your eyes are begging him for more. he can’t help but feel lightheaded. this is a dangerous game. 

he retracts his hand and chuckles when your face falls at the loss. he brings it up to your lips, pupils blown wide as he watches you suck on his fingers. 

“pretty little thing,” he grabs a handful of your ass and grinds his hard cock into your core for some relief, “i’m going to fucking ruin you tonight. and you’re going to let me.” 

your answer is muffled around his fingers but your actions say enough. you’re unclasping his belt, wriggling your body out of his grasp and dropping onto your knees in front of him. 

minho kicks his head back with a groan when you kitten-lick the precum off his tip, eyes never leaving his face. he has to force himself to look down at you, watch how you take your time to map every vein and ridge with your tongue, content hums of approval falling from your lips. 

when your throat wraps around him and he has to pull out to stop himself from cumming too soon, your sly smile finally dawns on him. this wasn’t a simple mistake. but it’s too late to go back now. 

tonight won’t be the last time.

[postersofleon]

gonna bully re6 leon because he needs to be humbled. the way he disrespected chris is still living in my mind. angry/mean sex. fem!reader

the trip back to america was silent. you and leon sat silently in a hotel. you tapped on your foot, feeling annoyed that leon thought he was right. you were the only idiot making progress in the simmons case while leon pointed a gun at chris. "i," you attempted to swallow your anger towards your boyfriend, "why, why didn't you just fucking read my reports?" you even worked on it with ada to see the consequences of simmons, but the moron thought carla was ada. you repeatedly tried over and over through cons or messages and the idiot read it way too late.

"i always feel like I'm talking with a stupid brick wall."

leon opened his legs to man spread, "i thought i was doing right."

"yeah, and what did that get you?" you asked him. leon faked his death to chase simmons and... he gained what? new wounds she has to clean up. you rubbed your face, "and ada still having to clear your name because you focused on the wrong things."

he grimaced for a bit. "simmons was threatening the situation."

"did you even try to ask the people around you?" you asked him. "i know you and Chris don't speak a lot, but, fuck," you couldn't help but laugh, "you are so lucky chris is a good guy. you threatening him for ada despite you knowing shit."

leon's face turned red, "ada saved me. ada had saved the two of us so many times-" his voice was raising every second he got more angry. you laughed softly, he was unbelievable sometimes. "yeah, and defending her for neo-umbrella." you snapped back, "jesus, kennedy, i didn't know you fucked with neo-umbrella. was i the only one actually trying to form a friendship with ada?" the three of them have met for so long. ever since raccoon city, you were the only one who apparently spoke to ada.

leon's nose twitched, "i just wanted to help her."

a small silence was between you two. you two always swore to have sex if an argument was getting too bad. leon took off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. you followed his direction. you took off your jeans and kicked them down.

"you are a fucking idiot." you hissed softly before sitting on his lap. you rubbed against his bulge, "you are only worth it because of your cock." you grabbed his face.

leon glared at you, but once he felt your pussy lips rubbing on his bulge he groaned weakly. "bitch..." he muttered back. your breaths were mixing with each others. leon's eyes soften for a second until he remembered his anger.

he leaned in and kissed you, nearly throwing you to the ground. leon ripped open your shirt and slapped your tits. "those fucking tits always so fucking needy. you are so angry with me yet your cunt needs me." you grunted weakly from each slap. his hand grabbed your tits and squeezed it.

"you fucking asshole." you moaned weakly. leon dove in and sucked on your nipples. his teeth nibble on the pebble and gently tugged on it.

"you love my bullshit." he muttered softly.

trimming was enough for the two of you.

leon tugged down his underwear and rubbed his cock around your covered panties, "you fucking love my bullshit." you were getting more pissed off and leon moaned softly. "your pussy..." his fingers tugged the sides of your panties. his pre-cum was trailing down your own pubes that you didn't have time to shave completely. you worked too much to worry about it, and leon was the same.

the tip of his cock dragged around your pussy lips. "look at you... god... i need to marry you before i fuck up too badly." his tip circled around your clit making your back arch.

leon's fingers harshly rubbed your clit and they slowly slide down your hole. harshly moving his fingers deep in you. your eyes rolled back as you moaned loudly. "pu-put your stupid cock to work..." you mumbled softly. leon nodded his head.

in the end of the day, leon loved your pussy more than anything. he removed his fingers and slowly slid into your hole. he moaned softly. his anger turned into lust so quickly. your warm walls were always so good. you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

"you need to apologize to chris."

leon nodded his head, "i will. i promise." he grabbed your legs and put them on his waist. you tighten around his cock and he moaned pathetically.

leon is a moron who can't think straight, but he shuts up so fast when he is inside of your cunt. those pathetic little cries of pleasure, his cheeks all red because he wants to keep quiet. leon was moron. you roll your hips so he can feel those specific details, his pathetic cock slips out and oozes out his cum on your tummy.

"i'll be good. i'll shut the fuck up." he grabbed his cock and put it back inside. you two moaned together as he began to push himself deeper into you. your butt was raised from the ground as he pounded you faster and deeper. his balls hit you over and over. his face was in front of yours. the anger in your eyes vanished for a second. you fucking loved this idiot. you kissed you, he stopped thrusting for a bit to properly kiss you.

"i love you..." he mumbled against your lips.

"i love you too."

leon smiled brightly before continuing to fuck your pussy. he rubbed your thighs gently and held your ass tightly against the palm of his hand. he didn't want to lose you despite it sometimes being seen like that. especially with the way you looked at him. he moaned softly, you had the galaxy in your eyes everytime he was around.

he pounded you faster over and over. his hand grabbed you a bit too hard that you moaned loudly. leon was bending you more and more, your legs were completely off the ground as he kept and kept going. the tip of his cock hitting your spot over and over. "leon... leon!" You grabbed his injured shoulder, he hissed out with pain but kept going. his cum painted your wall and filled you up. leon looked at you weakly, he was just an idiot in love with his girlfriend. his hand gently caressed your face. his fingers caressed your lips, "i'm sorry." He whispered softly.

[too0bsessedformyowngood]

More Batfam incorrect quotes (pt. 2)

pt. 1

pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | pt. 6

-

Steph: “You’re running on four hours of sleep-”

Tim: “Two”

Steph: “What?”

Tim: “It’s two hours of sleep”

Steph: “Did you not take a nap?”

Tim: “No I had a monster”

Steph: “You sad little pebble, sad little creature on the floor”

-

Duke: “You’re starting patrol I’m starting dinner. We are not the same”

-

Dick: “there’s three whole slices of pizza in the trash”

Jason: “Dick no”

Dick: “Dick yes”

Jason: “Dick no”

Dick: “Dick yes”

Jason: “Dick NO”

Dick: “Dick YES” *grab a slice of pizza*

Damian: *slaps the pizza out of his hand*

Damian: “RICHARD NO”

-

Steph: “You guys are just haters”

Duke: “no”

Cass: “fuck you”

-

Dick: “Jason that is a great way to lose a finger”

Bruce: *appearing from the void* “What’s a great way to lose a finger?”

-

Steph: "Cassandra.." *falling onto a couch very dramatically*

Cass: *Lands dramatically and matching energy on other couch to mirror Steph* "Stephanie"

-

Jason: “I can be the biggest asshole and I’m fucking proud of it”

-

Dick: “I have to preface this story by saying I was in a good comma afterwards for 17 hours”

Bruce: WHAT?!

Dick: “Alfred woke me the next day at 5pm to see if I was alive”

-

*Tim and Stephwalking past each other on campus*

Tim: “Steph!”

Steph: “Tim!”

Tim: “I got like 3 hours of sleep last night! :D”

Steph: “I got like 4 hours of sleep last night! :D”

Tim: “Ayeeee”

Steph: “Ayeeee”

*continue to walk past each other*

-

*Jason talking to the Outlaws*

Jason: “I lent out some of my books to one of my siblings and I just realized that there was a piece of paper in one that was used as a bookmark, so I took it out and this is what I saw”

*picture of a small piece of paper that says “this is your place :) satan loves you 🖤🖤” *

[alexthetrashyracoon]

CW// Smut (It’s probably real bad and sucks) Age Gap (Price is 40, Reader is 25-30) Cheating (Readers’s partner is an asshole and deserves it) MDNI 18+

Price who is hearing you having a fight with your partner about him barely having time for you and probably sleeping with his secretary which they doesn’t actually deny.

So when he hears your scream that they should never come back again, followed by the banging of a door, Price knows, it’s time to make a move, even if it was wrong.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

He knocks, three quick rasps against your front door and a second later, as if you were waiting for someone, probably that loser you call your partner, you rip the door almost out of its hinges. When you see him instead of someone else, you’re visibly disappointed.

“Brought wine and a shoulder to cry on, luv.” He grinned and held the bottle up. You chuckle and step aside. “Thanks, John.”

You sit down on your worn couch, you talk most of the time, Price listens. And he looks, he looks how your lips move with every word you say, how your nose crinkles when you get angry. Or how the disappointment in your eyes was bigger than ever since he met you.

“I could make you forget all about them, luv. Can make you think about nothing else but me for a while or forever, however you like.” Price said and squeezes your thigh.

You both know you shouldn’t go down that way, because Price knows, despite your partner being an asshole with an ego the size of Mars, you’re loyal. But also desperate to be treated like you deserved it.

It’s not long after that he has you riding his cock on the worn couch, Price had worked his way into your pants, gentle touches to your shoulder down to your chest over the swell of your belly and to the waistband of your pants. He has a hand in them the second you nod and give him permission to move on, hand slipping in and playing your most sensitive parts, rubbing, tugging, everything to make you a sensitive mess in his arms.

But Price isn’t a cruel lover, far from it, he makes sure you cum at least twice before he thinks about himself and his pleasure and removes his hard, straining cock from his pants and boxers, strokes it a few times before nudging its red, leaking cock against you winking entrance, Price makes you feel every inch of heated meat he pushes into you, your walls clenching around him, making it hard to move, while he sucks and licks around your pebbled nipples, playing with them until even the smallest hit of cold air makes your eyes turn inwards.

Price will definitely remember all the special spots that make you scream for more, for the next time you and him are together, he’s a simple man who loves to hear more of your sexy noises.

“Shit, so good, taking my cock so well…” He grunts into your ear while plunging into your hole, short cut nails digging into the fat of your thighs, pulling you down at the same time to make it even more delicious for the both of you.

He grins when he feels you clenching around his thick meaty dick a third time, another orgasm building, squeezing harder than before, making it almost impossible for him to keep control. You moan and whine, nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, biting his skin as if to lay claim and Price can’t say he’s against it. “God, I’m close…” He says, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

You cum before him. A choked up, broken moan spilling your lips before he crashes his against yours to swallow every single sound you make while pounding even faster into your hole and seconds later spilling himself inside you.

“Fuck…” You pant when the adrenaline starts to wear off.

“That we did indeed.” Price grins and squeezes your hips, bucking his hips to drive the point home with his softening cock still inside you.

He helps you clean yourself, a real gentleman this one, wiping away the sweat that gathered on your body, massaging your calves and thighs until you’re groaning again, but no (maybe a small amount) sexual tension between them right now.

“Thanks.” You smile, dressed in your oversized sweater, voice still a bit hoarse from your previous activities.

“What for, dear? Fucking you so well or for listening to you?” He asks while sipping his wine.

“Both I guess… I needed that. Think I picked my self-worth back up again thanks to you.” You sound much better now, voice still slightly wrecked but less sad about this loser you call a partner.

Ex-Partner, John thinks to himself.

“Mhm, glad I could help, sweets. Now, let me take you out on a real date, so I’ve got an excuse to fuck you again.” Price grins before catching your lips in another kiss, swallowing your giggles before glancing over to the open apartment door, hiding the grin in that kiss. Price was glad he made you forget about that dick of a partner and he was even gladder to make your partner see how well Price could treat you.

[likedovesinthewindd]

okay so boom you and patrick break up and art offers to take you out to get shitfaced and he ends up white boy wasted and so sloppy he confesses his love for you but the feelings just aren’t mutual and now he feels like he can’t breathe and u feel fucked up but you can’t help but still be in love with the other man and if you never dated his best friend maybe things would be different but they aren’t and i just love seeing a man with tears running down his face

I LOVE this anon, giving you a kiss on the cheek 💋💋

You give yourself a moment to laugh at how the night had turned out. Earlier, you were laying in bed feeling sorry for yourself before Art had come knocking at your door softly, offering to take you out for the night with the promise of getting shitfaced.

And now, the two of you were walking back to his dorm, his arm around your waist in an effort to seem somewhat upright as both your laughter filled the quiet of the night. He ironically was the one that ended up wasted, cheeks tinted soft pink and pretty eyes slightly droopy as he talked your ear off and you listened happily.

You had your fun as well, had a few drinks that in return got you happily buzzed, and successfully got your mind off the terrible day, so you'd say everything turned out well in the end, even if you deterred from the game plan.

"Did you have fun tonight?" you heard him ask softly as you halted in front of his dormitory's building. He was looking at you expectedly, a small, unsure smile on his lips as he stared at you with beautiful big eyes. You laughed as you nodded. "Yes, I did. But obviously not as much as you," you said jokingly, to which he nodded begrudgingly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I got a little carried away, should've been looking after you now you're looking after me," he said softly as he shook his head. "No, it's okay. I don't mind," you said through another laugh, "I really did have a lot of fun. Plus, it did get my mind off things, so at least your plan worked."

Art's expression faltered at the mention of the reason for the whole outing. "Right," he sighed softly, hand letting go of your waist to rub across his forehead as if deep in thought. "God, Patrick is a fucking idiot."

"Does your friend know you talk like that behind his back?" you asked with an awkward laugh, trying to lighten the mood. You weren't really in the mood to talk about what an asshole your now-ex was. Maybe it was because a small part of you didn't want to badmouth him, even if everything said was true. But that was something to unpack for another unfortunate night.

"I don't care, I'd say it to his face too," he simply said, looking at you with a serious sincerity in his eyes. "He's an asshole, and he knows it." You spare him a small smile as you nod in agreement, but his head is already titled down as he absent-mindedly kicks at pebbles. When he lifts his head to look at you, his face is beautifully illuminated by the lampposts, highlighting all his perfect features. Watery and dilated eyes staring into your soul, the alcohol no doubt still very present in his system. "You're so beautiful," he said after a moment of silence, so quiet you would've missed it if you didn't have all your attention on him.

"Thank you, Art," you laugh at his drunken babbling, watching the way he frowns before he smiles at the sound of your laughter. "I'm serious!" he starts, even though he's still smiling, "You're absolutely gorgeous. I was so mad when you ended up with Patrick, even though I never made a move on you."

"You're really drunk," you say more to yourself with a sigh, "C'mon, lemme help you inside." You move to help him, but he just shakes his head. "I'll go inside in a minute just lemme—"

He sighs as he straightens himself again, trying to look sober, but the look on his face is anything but because his cheeks are still dusted that lovely pink and his eyes are still almost black from dilation. "I've been crazy about you since the moment we first talked. I can't get you out of my head, ever," he started, "And forgive me if I sound like the worst friend ever right now, but I never thought Patrick deserved you."

You try to shut him up, but he's spilling out words like vomit at an impressive pace for someone as wasted as he is. "You're always so sweet and understanding. Always forgave him when he ditched you, always finding excuses for him being a terrible boyfriend and defending him. He never even realized how lucky he was."

His words settled deep in the pit of your stomach, making you feel like you were ready to sink into the ground. You felt hot all over, your hands clenching into fists as you physically felt the weight of his words settle on your shoulder. Suddenly, that sinking feeling was back, and you could feel the tears pooling behind your eyes as your face became warm.

"Art, c'mon," you tried, but he only shook his head once more. He grabs your hands as they flexed by your side nervously, holding them in his much warmer ones. You looked down at your connected hands as he continued. "I know I can give you everything you deserve. Show you how you should be treated. Just gimme a chance to, please," he asked softly.

You shake your head softly, trying to retract your hands, but he only holds them tighter, a soft frown forming on his face as he watched the way your face fell. "We can't, Art," you said softly. "Why not?" he asks as he squeezes at your hands. He lifts them to his mouth and presses warm kisses to your knuckles. "I just broke up with your best friend, do you know how crazy that sounds?" you say, but it's like your words are in the one ear and out the other.

"I don't care. I don't care what he thinks or anyone else. I wanna be with you," he reasons, his eyes pleading with you. At that moment, you wanted the earth to swallow you whole, make you disappear, and not have to face this right now. You were too drunk to he having a conversation like this, and it was becoming clearer with the way your head started spinning as he talked and your body felt too heavy to be standing anymore.

"I can't Art," you repeat softly, "Maybe if things were different, but they're not. Even though he hurt me, I do still love Patrick."

"Why?" Art asked, face morphing into a mix of distraught and confusion. "I dunno, but I can't do this, Art," you said defeatedly, "If we did, I wouldn't be giving myself to you fully, and that's not fair to you." His hands dropped yours softly, and you crossed your arms over your chest as you rubbed your arms, the cold suddenly biting at your skin. Art's head dropped down to the ground, body seemingly lax as the wind around you started to pick up slightly, the autumn air relentless against your skin.

"I'm so sorry, Art," you said, your hand gently moving to lift his head so that he'd look at you. His head lifted with your hand, and he looked at you with eyes brimming with tears. Your stomach dropped all the way down to your feet at the sight, your mouth salivating as you practically grew nauseous with guilt.

You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a half futile attempt to comfort him. You thought he'd stay stiff, but he welcomed it, arms in return wrapping around you as he breathed you in, everything about you overwhelming and clinging to his senses almost as if to taunt him, remind him of what he couldn't have. The pain in his chest was all consuming as the smell of your perfume and shampoo and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his invaded his senses.

He wanted to hold onto you forever, never let you go, but you weren't his to keep, and you've made that very clear tonight. But he couldn't help the way he felt, he couldn't help that he wanted you this close to him all the time, and that he truly believed you were the one for him.

You felt so right in his arms, warm and soft and sweet and it grounded him, so much so that he almost felt sobered up once you pulled away, the cold once again surrounding him as your arms retracted themselves from around his waist.

"Goodnight," was all you said, voice soft and not even sparing him another look as you turned on your heels and made your way back to your dorm. And with every step you took, the knot in Art's throat only tightened, and the ache in his heart only worsened as he realized how badly he had messed up. And despite all the hurt and regret he felt, he still knew he was willing to wait for you.

[ddejavvu]

can I request reader x James but they are meeting for the first time and reader is dating one of James’ asshole friends and James gets really jealous - I love your writing so much it’s genuinely always perfect

"'Drew? Can I have the marshmallows, please?" Your sweet voice rings out across the campfire, but apparently it doesn't induce the same butterflies in your boyfriend's stomach as it does in James's.

"Yeah. Don't eat 'em all." Andrew passes you the bag without even looking, tuning back into the conversation he'd been listening in on.

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth as James watches you skewer the marshmallow, sticking it into the fire and watching the flames slowly blacken the surface.

"You like it when it's burnt?" James asks, and you almost seem surprised that he's speaking to you. Most of his friends are engaged in other conversations, and it takes you a quick second to acclimate to being included in one of your own.

"Yeah, I do." You grin bashfully, "Andrew says it's gross, though. What about you?"

"I like them burnt," James agrees, even though it's a lie. He barely gets his marshmallow warm enough to melt it, but he's not about to oppose you.

"You want this one?" You offer, but he shakes his head with a kind smile.

"S'alright, love. You have it. You want the chocolate?"

"Yes, please." You nod, and James chucks a pebble at Andrew's shoulder across the fire.

"Mate, toss me the chocolate."

"Ow! You git," Andrew snickers, launching the chocolate over the flames and watching James catch it, "Nice save."

James hands two pieces over to you as you withdraw your charred marshmallow, helping you balance them atop the surface.

"Andrew? The graham crackers," You feel bad interrupting him yet again, especially when he lets out a sharp scoff.

"Alright! Jesus, how many fucking times are you gonna interrupt me?" He snaps, the cardboard of the graham cracker box warping as he holds it too tightly.

"As many times as it takes to build a s'more." James laughs incredulously, his brows furrowed. "S'not her fault you're hoarding the food over there. Don't be a dick, man."

"There." Andrew drawls, shoving the box in your direction, "That's it, right? You don't need anything else?"

"That's it." You grumble, "Thank you."

Andrew mumbles something under his breath as he turns away. It makes James's blood boil, and he's sure he'd be even more upset if he had heard whatever Andrew had said.

There's a tense silence over you and James as you smash your chocolate-covered marshmallow between two graham crackers. Andrew's still paying rapt attention to the conversation beside him, but the words have long since stopped registering in either of your heads, and you're thinking about how awful your boyfriend is in unison.

James watches as you swallow, the action thick as marshmallow blends with chocolate down your throat. Andrew's sitting beside the stash of water bottles you'd brought, and he watches you eye them, though you don't dare ask for one.

"Here," James grabs his own, holding the half-empty bottle out towards you, "You can have the rest of it, m'not thirsty."

You meet his eye and James is pleased to see a miniscule smile curving your lips upwards, even if it is overshadowed by the dismal reason he'd offered.

"Thanks," You hum, and that saccharine tone is back in your voice where it belongs.

[jolapeno]

v. you make me feel wild

javier peña x f!reader | chapter five of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: it's happening. everyone stay calm. also, we have a new header ;) wordcount: 2.2k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Woke up this morning and remembered that we’re going to meet

I may have also woke up smiling

On a scale of Javi smiles was it bigger than the one when we destressed one another?

bigger you flirt

I’ve learnt from you. Never used to be like this. I was innocent before talking to you.

somehow baby I doubt that

We can argue about it later if you want? When I kick your ass at the crossword.

cant wait. try not to let those assholes get you down

I’m on my best behaviour this week. Need them to not revoke going to Houston.

oh any special reason

Not really.

ouch baby

Ask silly questions, win silly prizes.

im going to houston too

Oh are you? Any special reason?

gonna meet this beautiful woman who is an outrageous flirt

Great now I'm blushing.

you make it so easy

I have to go, the meeting is beginning, I'm sorry. Speak later, baby xx

Pop doesn’t bring it up, even if he knows. He waits—like dads do.

Forcing Javi to bring it up, all awkward—sweat pebbling around his neck, lower spine and brow. Not helped by the sun beating down on them, having to shout parts over the occasional animal grunt heard over their discussion as they repair the barn door.

Lately, his Pop leaves him to do bits like this alone. But he’s been hovering. More since the phone calls began and a level above that since he walked in on him the other night.

He stews in it. Allows it to thicken before he really brings it up—unsure whether to come out with it or skate around it. The two of them have gotten out of practice when it comes to sharing.

Javi is more used to lying to save face than being honest.

A hazard of his old job, he supposed. A mask he applied so his old man didn’t worry. Now, with those same occupational worries gone, Javi still finds it hard to let people in. Truly in. Not wanting to discuss Colombia, discuss Cali or Escobar.

It all adds to a pile of things the two Peñas don't talk about.

This wasn’t even bad news. It was good. Precisely what everyone wanted—including him—yet the words still seem to ball up in his throat. Rounding off, becoming a lump that sits.

Making it hard to breathe as he lifts a piece of wood; making it hard to twist when he moves to grab the hammer.

So much so, the words eventually just burst out of him. More like a confession than anything else.

“—that must have been real embarrassing for you.”

He can hear you stifling a laugh. His verbal reenactment of the conversation in the field with his Pop having tickled you.

“You’re an awful person,” he says, twisting the cord around his finger, smirking.

“If you feel that way, baby. We can always not meet.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. We’re meeting,” he says, coating his words in playfulness, even if there's a serious undertone remaining.

Turning on the spot, he leans against the wall. Finger looping more of the cord—hearing you lightly laugh.

“What... what is the plan, anyway?”

You hum, and he hears you shifting. Likely getting comfortable or reaching for something.

He’s learnt that often when he calls, you’re on your sofa—a blanket, sometimes over your lap. You like to be cosy, even if it's a warm day.

Other times you’re in your room, sitting on the bed—or under the sheets. It depends entirely on how warm you are, and how you’re feeling.

“Well, work will pay for my hotel for my two-night stay, and then if we, y'know, wanted to stay, I’ll just need to sort a room out for after.”

“How long have you managed to book off?”

It comes out shaky, more than he means it to.

Some of the finer details of your two’s meet left simmering in the centre of your usual conversations.

Both of you are evidently too afraid to ask.

“I’ll have managed to book off the week. Two days, including the day I land, for work and then the rest—if you're not a weirdo—can be with you.”

Grinning, he leans his head back, resting it against the wall. “Bit late now for you to be worrying about me being a weirdo, baby. I know the sounds you make when I make you—“

“Javi!”

Smirking, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It sounds good. Tell me the hotel, and I can book a room there.”

He hears it, the relief. The way you let out a breath, it blowing down the phone—making him smile.

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“You expected me to?” 

Pausing, he hears you shuffle again. Sounding more like you’re on your bed than your sofa. “I mean, no. I guess I wasn’t sure what you’d assume. Cause, while there’s a good chance when I see you, I’ll want to spend every waking moment with you, there’s, y’know…”

Grinning, he curls the phone line around his palm, fingers sliding between parts. “The chance it could be a lot?”

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” 

He doubts you could.

From what he knows of you, he’s sure of it.

But, he also isn’t quite ready to confess he’s already pretty head over heels for you. That he is without seeing your face, knowing how tall you are—whether you have dimples or not, whether you smile with your lips or your entire face. 

“How’re you gonna fuck this up, baby?” 

You go silent, wondering if that’s the point you’ve shrugged to no one but your apartment. 

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” you say quietly. 

Something snaps in him, a fracture running through him. “That’s alright. Steve told me I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole—“

“And I promise you’re not a lot. If anything, you could actually talk more to me.”

“Shut up, I talk loads.” 

He smiles, biting the inside of his cheek as he sighs. “I'm excited to see you.” 

“Me too.” 

Moving closer to the wall, he swallows, looking at the chipped tile in his kitchen. “You’re not gonna fuck this up, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise. Let me book the room for the same amount of days as you, and then we can take it from there,” he says.

Struggling to hide his smile as you excitedly tell him you'll go grab your hotel details. More so when he's sure he heard you trip over something.

Are we going to do this when we meet?

you want to still do the crossword together

Yeah! We can find a place to pick up the paper if you want?

id like that

Good! Now, hit me with the next one so I can get some sleep so I can see you quicker.

got me blushing baby

7th word is d from ciders and clue is replacing, nine

Insteadof. This one is easy.

yeah im beginning to see that

Maybe we’re getting good at it?

let’s put it to the test, self-confidence six

Okay that one did take me a second but it’s aplomb.

you amaze me

Thank you. I think I should try and get some sleep, don’t want to look half-dead when I see you.

I doubt you ever could

I can’t believe I’m going to see the face that matches that suave voice.

suave ay. cant wait to see how pretty your smile is

You’re making me blush again.

tomorrow ill get to see it in person

You will. Goodnight, baby.

If I wasn’t meeting you it would be criminal being up this early.

Actually, it isn't even early. It is still night.

morning to you to baby I’m about to get on the road

Ok, I'm going to make myself the largest coffee.

Also if you’re not there after half an hour I’ll just head to the hotel.

hermosa I’m picking you up 

I know but just in case, least you know I won’t be standing around. 

you won’t be because I’ll be there 

Javi, this way you have options to take one look at me and drive the other way. 

I won’t do that 

I’m just giving options and in case there is traffic 

hermosa, im not going to stand you up

Okay, can’t blame a girl for wanting to help.

you can help me by getting your ass to the airport

Getting bossy, are we? I like it.

fuck baby you cant say things like that to me when i need to leave

Just something to think about on your long drive. Please drive safe, baby. See you soon.

see you in several hours

Javi is surprised at how smooth the drive is.

He watches the sun rise up as the miles tick on, sliding his aviators from his shirt to up on his nose. He finds a surprising road stop that serves not-bad coffee.

The kind that doesn’t leave that cheap tinge on his tongue or bitterly sitting in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t feel nervous, either.

And on top of that, he finds a parking spot at the airport with ease.

In a way, he worries it’s too good to be true. That such smoothness now means a rocky hill later.

That’s when the nerves kick in. It sitting, fluttering in his stomach—at first, all little wings and then all of a sudden something larger.

Shifting the parking brake into place, he turns the key to silence the car. His pulse creates a beat—steady, almost orchestral—as he glances up at the sea of people stepping out of the airport. 

This is it.

He’s been trying not to picture you—attempting not to turn shapes into something solid. Javi wants the experience when his eyes land on you, as though his world is in black and white, and then he’ll see colour.

It’s what he hopes.

A part, small but insistent, keeps chipping away at him, reminding him to plan for the worst. To have a backup plan—a way out.

Picking up his phone, he stares at the blank screen. Somewhat reassured that you hadn’t either texted that you’d arrived earlier—or worse, you’d changed your mind.

Lifting his chin, sliding his palm over his jeans, he takes a breath—deep, heavy, the kind that expands his chest until it can’t anymore.

You should have landed by now.

His eyes glance at the time on his watch as he takes another breath. Checking down at his shirt, making sure for the hundredth time he hadn’t spilt coffee—ensuring dark brown hadn’t stained pink.

It’s what you had asked for.

How will I know it’s you? youll know Because you’re oh so handsome? yes that and ill wear bright pink For me? You spoil me.

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he brushes his palm over his face.

It’s only then that he allows his eyes to flick from face to face, worry creeping in. It trying to merge with the happiness he’s been stifling on the drive. Scanning and scanning, glancing and glancing—

Then, in a worn denim jacket, legs out, dragging a battered suitcase behind, he sees you.

Or who he hopes is you.

If it is, you look nervous. It makes you stand out from the crowd of bustling people around you, as they struggle to get past you, and you struggle to force it behind a smile or banish it from your cheeks.

Even from here, it pulsates. You finding it more difficult as shaky hands pull out something from your pocket, unfolding it, before he sees the most ridiculous hand-drawn sign in between your fingers.

It’s definitely you. 

You who has scratched Javi P onto a piece of paper, all accompanied by a worried expression on your face as you shift from leg to leg. 

Javi isn’t sure why you made the sign. You didn’t need it.

Somehow, against all logic and odds, he knew it was you. His arm shoving the car door wide as he exits, not looking back to check it slams into place as he crosses to you, watching, waiting with his heart in his throat for your eyes to land on him. 

And when they do. 

It’s an eclipse. 

It hits your eyes first, making them gleam like a beacon guiding him home. Then it reaches your cheeks, lips sliding up, teeth showing as you lower the sign, staring at him as he moves closer, forgetting all the others around the two of you.

As though a single soul has never even existed outside the two of you.

It’s just him and you.

Coming to a stop in front of you, he lets himself stare you up and down—voice and texts stitching themselves to the face he now sees. 

Flexing his fingers at his side, Javi watches you slowly lick your lips as his heart slides back into its rightful place. The nerves slowly stop fluttering, and his mind begins to catch back up with him.

And the only thought that remains is: You're beautiful.

More than his mind could ever conjure or create.

“Hi,” you say.

And it falls like glitter from your lips to his ears. 

His lips are unable to relax from their grin, spreading wider, cheeks aching as he fights running his knuckles against your cheek. “Hi.”

an: if this was a sitcom, this would be my season finale... but alas it isn’t, so you only have to wait a week for them to be hanging out *wink, wink*

✨ also, check out this really cool moodboard a beautiful soul made for LNT for the birthday bash

next chapter ->