#She Came from Outer Space | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theresascove · 2 months ago

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like animals ₊ ⊹

ellie williams x f!reader

you’re ovulating and your partner—Ellie—is looking a little too good

tw: PURE FILTH, not proofread, farmer!ellie, established relationship (gf or married, I imagined married), ellie can carry reader, e can hold onto r’s hair, needy reader, multiple rounds of sex, strap described as Ellie’s dick, strap sucking (e receiving), strap (r receiving), oral (r&e receiving), fingering (e&r receiving), muscle kink, degrading, making out, grinding, spit kink, this is straight up filth yall im not fucking joking

wc ✎ 2.5k

It seeps into your system, spreading quickly when that time arises. It makes you feel hot, insatiable. The feeling erases most common sense and fills it instead with a need. Essentially you act as if you’re in heat.

The moment you knew that time had crept up on you was when you were washing a few dishes in the sink and caught Ellie talking to your neighbor. The sun, the golden rays had been placed just ever so perfectly to shape out her muscles—her tattoo. The one that was shining with your wetness just a day ago?

She was keeping a conversation going between the two of them whilst picking up and moving these bails of hay. Safe to say the water ran over your still fingers as you eyed her, checking her out.

Started with her arms before it switched over to her back. There were times when she was working in the heat of the day, so she’d remove her top shirt while cooling off. You met her on the porch, handing her a glass of tea and checking in on her. That’s when you noticed her fingers. The length, veins, the way she held onto the glass. Truth be told, you barely heard a thing she said.

Walking down the steps? Your eyes were hooked on her back as she put her shirt back on. The thoughts were getting increasingly intense with each passing minute. Just before her shirt completely slipped over her back—covering it—you noticed the light scars on her skin. The little scars you planted there after a session not too long ago. Fuck you needed her. Ellie had reached the bottom step when you finally found your voice.

“Els—?”

She hums, turning around and getting rightfully spooked at how close you covered the space between you two. You made it to the bottom of the steps, pulling on her jean loop to kiss her. She’s a bit taken aback but ultimately ends up kissing back—bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your heart skips when you feel her hand slide down your body, holding and gripping onto your waist.

“Mm was that all you needed?”

You should say yes. Yes, you’re done, nothing else, continue working—

“No,” you grip onto her like she’ll leave, “no, Ellie I need more.”

You’re so blessed when you feel her silly grin, it makes you giddy inside. A laugh breaking from you when she holds under your thighs and carries you back inside—pushing you against the wall. Since waking up with a fuzzy mind already, all this making out did was send you into outer space. Something Ellie loves to talk about when you sit out on the porch at night, looking at the stars.

“Please,” you beg, voice whiny, “please Ellie, don’t tease.”

She had her lips on your neck, engaging in your usual foreplay. It was absolutely maddening, you wanted her fingers in you now—not whatever this was. Usually it’s nice, but now it’s frustrating you.

You grip her hand that was placed on your hip, pulling it down to your already dripping cunt.

Usually you’d never do this, but this time it’s different. You’re drunk in your own lust.

Ellie catches on quickly, pulling your garments off and hiking one thigh over her hip—spreading you out for her. She drags her fingers up your heat and chokes on a moan.

“Shit you’re soaked, like—holy shit.”

You loose your mind when she pushes a finger though. Nails dig into her shoulder and your lips are dropped open in a shaky gasp. Her fingers, her lips, her sweaty hair and skin, her arms, her thighs, the way the pants sit on her waist, her ass, her voice—everything about her was turning you on.

You came embarrassingly quick. Might’ve been a new record. The moment your eyes opened this morning you felt as if you were already on edge, rubbing your thighs together to try and get some of the edge off. But you should’ve known nothing would except her.

She laughed a little, drawing her fingers out and wiping them on her pants.

“Love you,” she mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips and wondering back out onto the porch—leaving you panting against the wall.

Little did she know that didn’t sedate you, it only fueled the fire.

You met her in the barn later, catching her when she was staring to feed the horses. The way she had you this morning had crept up when she came into view and reminded you yet again of how attractive she was.

“Do we need more horse feed soon? Looks like we just have two barrels left.”

She looks back at you, momentarily stopping her scoop of the feed, “yeah sounds good. I can put the order in tonight.”

“I can do it, it’s no problem.”

She stood full height, looking to you with a bit of confusion in her eyes, “why’re you out here?”

To see you.

“Doing an inventory check.”

She hummed, moving along to feed your third horse. You stood there, shoulder leaned against the barn wall—eyeing her move around and do the chores you’re very similar with. She noticed, eyes changing in color after a bit when she realized the intent.

She tossed the scoop back into the barrel before her hands pulled your hips towards hers as she leaned in for a quick kiss. She had an arrogant smile, one that made you feel things. You reached a hand into her hair, pulling her back down for a kiss after a kiss after a kiss.

Next thing you knew you were being pushed back into the small tack room, shoved back against the table. She had you sat up on the table, legs wrapped around her shoulders as she ate you out. Your sounds filled the room, reaching her ears and transforming into a melody so beautiful it made Ellie’s throb. She moaned herself from your sounds and the way you tasted on her tongue.

You could almost cry, it felt amazing. It was like rain on a hot day, cooling you off from the warm that filled you. She’s holding your legs wide, arms wrapped around them so you can’t close them on her head. And fuck it’s driving you crazy, because any jolt of your hips has her muscles flexing.

“Els—“ you gasp, eyes dazed, “please.”

She had her eyes locked onto yours, her pupils blown wide just like yours. Only took another movement and you were coming on her tongue, head falling onto the wall behind you. It feels good, it always feels good—but now, each orgasm has increased tenfold. She stands to her full height, bringing a hand through her hair to brush it back and out of her face before reaching to help you. It was like it was practiced—long fingers gripping your chin, tipping it back so she could kiss you and let her spit (with the taste of you) fall onto your tongue.

You stand on wobbily legs, mind running around from the enactments just before. She had you wrap your arms around her shoulders as she sets your clothes back on straight—sharing kisses in between.

“Mm, my lips are all swollen now—“ you complain, but despite that you’re leaning back in for another kiss.

“You can tell me to stop,” she says, voice rasping near your ear.

You should. It was only noon. The last thing this farm and the both of you needed was the two of you going at it once again. The absolute last thing needed was you finding another way to meet her in the middle of a task to distract her. Nobody needed it, and yet it happened again.

You had met her near the house, seeing her talk to someone she’s introduced you to and yet you’ve forgotten the name. He’s an older man, near his 70s. Faintly you recall Joel, Ellie’s sort of father figure, introducing him to you as well. Due to the missing name, you gave him a polite smile instead and asked how his day was going. He was on his way eventually, hopping back in his truck and driving off.

“What did he need?”

She waves it off, resting her hands on her hips, “nothing, what’d you need?”

It had happened all too quick and before either of you could fully grasp it you had her spread beneath you, hot moans escaping her from the way you had her writing in pleasure. It flowed almost naturally. Just bringing her down with you when you reached the house. It was near her office, just outside the door.

Her leg was hiked up, giving you room to lick her all over and to easily move your fingers into her cunt. She was just as drenched as you were earlier, the sessions you shared only teasing her—so now it was your chance to give back. You needed her. Each time she made you come, she was up and out the door immediately after. Now, you were going to make her stay, she couldn’t wiggle herself out.

A hand was gripping your hair, pulling you into her—while the other was draped over her face. Her skin was flush, hot to the touch and tan from the sun. Some areas were tan, her farmers tan was quite obvious. She felt like she was on cloud nine in many ways. The way you looked beneath her—eyebrows furrowed and moaning against her, red lips, watching you pump your fingers into her—it drove her insane. Her hands gripped you tighter, force put into it this time.

“S-shit, come on,” she says, voice scratchy, “you can do it better, I know you can. Fucking come on.”

You tried, genuinely feeling like you weren’t doing something—but whatever you did, it broke her over the edge. She came with a loud, stretched out cry—hips pushing against your tongue and fingers.

“O-oh, fuck. Fuckfuck, so good.”

It sedated you enough. The post-orgasm would help you feel relief. Any pent up energy, the type that ran through you like molten lava at just the sight of her, would decrease. Not vanish entirely, but a good chunk of it would decrease.

The reason why it didn’t vanish entirely is because just as you were making dinner, Ellie—fresh out of the shower—had come to wrap her hands around you from behind. Kisses were placed down your neck, moving to bite as she then pressed her hips into you.

“Feel that,” she asks with a teasing grin.

You hum, moving your head so she can kiss you on your neck some more. It’s embarrassing how quickly you get turned on yet again. You’ve come two times from her and leaned down under her to make her come a total of one time as well. You should stop, but yet again she found a way onto you this time—and who were you to stop it. You never wanted the feeling to stop.

The feeling of her skin on yours is intoxicating, and the first time you felt it today. Her tits on yours, her hair brushing your forehead, her thighs brushing yours. Her smell too, brought you to feel all the more bothered. She smelled heavenly, in many ways. The way she smells right out of a shower is the best moments. You genuinely look forward to it as if hinted at the beginning of the soft section of the day.

Usually, anyways.

“Deeper, come on.”

Her fingers, the one you’ve been eyeing all day, were gripping your hair—forcing you to take her strap deeper. You had beautiful unsheathed tears in your eyes, looking like diamonds with how you were looking up at her—the lamp lights reflecting off of them.

You’ve been gagging, nails gripping into her thighs—and she hasn’t let up. Knowing you’re enjoying it if the slick dripping onto the floor wasn’t a sign enough. She lets you lead it for a second, vision dark and full of lust as she watches you bob your head on her length.

“Yeah—yeah, just like that,” she says with a tone that makes you squirm, “suck my dick.”

And you do, until it’s covered in your saliva—enough for her to slam you onto the kitchen table. Your chest is pushed against the cold wood—making your nipples stand to their full attention. She grinds her length over your underwear, slipping it and letting it get caught touching your clit. It was all purposeful, she wanted you to beg for her—act like you’re in heat.

You do, no shock. Hips grind back on hers, tears in your cheeks as you try and hint.

“Shh, no crying, tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,”you whisper, voice cracking, “please Els.”

She slides your under garnet to the side with her thumb, before pushing through. Your bottom lip drops open in a prolonged silent gasp. It stings so good, spreading you wide and open. It does something to your mind when she leans back and it pulls you back with her. Ellie groans softly from that, just from seeing how tight you are.

“Damn,” she drags her fingers around your entrance, “so fucking tight even though I’ve fucked you senseless just the other night.”

You nod, pushing back, “please Ellie, please fuck me I can’t—I need you, please!”

She finally does, settling a rough pace from the start. It shoves your thighs against the table side, and they act like a barrier. With it keeping your hips steady and set against a line—it makes her thrust all the more powerful. Your nails dig lines into the wood, tearing it up as you cry.

It’s so good. So good you can barely care to try and think about anything. The water bill, the burnt food—nothing. Nothing but her. It was so good.

From her side, you were laid out in front of her like a buffet on the table. Your ass moving with each thrust, it was hypnotic. She couldn’t keep her eyes away. Close to that was your face, half turned and shoved against the table—body sliding with each quick thrust. You practically bawled when you came, her length being grounded against that spongy spot while her fingers worked circles around your clit.

You legitimately thought you saw stars, mind dizzy as you came down from your high. Ellie was panting behind you, a dork look on her face as she stares down at the way you still grind back on her—despite having just come.

“You can tell me to sto—“

“No!”

It was going to be a long night.

taglist — @picklesarenice69

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tteokdoroki · 2 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.”

“or else, what, honey?”

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him. initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here?

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory.

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?”

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal. “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.”

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?”

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?”

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.”

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more.

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.”

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time.

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away.

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.”

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother.

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy.

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother.

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk.

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?”

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth.

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air.

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon.

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear.

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality.

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from.

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well.

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.”

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length.

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair.

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity.

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?”

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory.

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood.

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all, you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache.

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two.

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens. “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore.

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top.

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you.

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way.

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,”

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?” the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…”

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n down. keep goin’ just like that.”

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light.

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him.

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close.

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you.

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?”

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair. the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom.

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull.

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him.

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth.

he’s going to cum.

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him.

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time.

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good.

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words.

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?”

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.”

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared.

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger.

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #gojo thirst

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silhouettecrow · 1 year ago

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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 268

Adjective: Yellow

Noun: Funeral

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Yellow: of the color between green and orange in the spectrum, a primary subtractive color complementary to blue, or colored like ripe lemons or egg yolks; (informal) cowardly

Funeral: the ceremonies honoring a dead person, typically involving burial or cremation; (rare) (US) a sermon delivered at a funeral; (archaic) (literary) a procession of mourners at a burial

#im about to snap about my job #people keep pushing shit on me without as much as asking me first so im fully taken off guard by these new responsibilities im being given #and im pretty sure my temporary supervisor is subtly homophobic and/or transphobic and/or possibly racist #cos she keeps misgendering me on top of listing these new policies she wants to enact that seem pretty bigoted (from a minority perspective)#like she wants our offices to be decently plain #meaning she will likely want me to remove my rainbow flags and the numerous reminders of my pronouns and that its a safe space #as well as my coworkers blm flag and girl power painting #she even wants us to dress professionally all the time (which is not possible for my disabled ass)#and that comment came about after i noticed her looking closely at my sylvia rivera 'we have to be visible' pride shirt #not to mention she made a big deal today about me asking our clients for their pronouns on our client forms #its ridiculous especially after all the horrible shit i went through with my past supervisor and coworker #im planning on emailing her first thing tomorrow morning about the misgendering so we will see how that goes #on a happier note my girlfriend and i played escape from the aliens in outer space (one of the board games we bought yesterday) tonight #and it was lots of fun #anyway i like this prompt a lot because it subverts the ideas we tend to hold of 'funerals'#at least from the perspective of someone raised in an american christian household #i like the idea of a 'funeral' being a genuine celebration of someones life #and the colour 'yellow' feels very celebratory to me #so i think thats the direction im going to go with this prompt #thanks for reading #writing #writer #creative writing #writing prompt #writeblr #trying to be a writeblr at least

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rafesapologist · 2 months ago

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strangers ─ drew starkey; ch. 1

summary: getting casted on outer banks threw you into overnight stardom, and an unforeseeable off-screen romance with one of hollywood's newest and biggest heartthrobs.

warnings: nothing yet, just not proof read fully

author's note: i want to preface that i was heavily influenced by karen x graham from daisy jones and the six (iykyk) as well as chase and madelyn's irl relationship for this story. i'm really excited for you guys to read this and as usual, if you'd like to be on the taglist please let me know!

You couldn’t sit still, fingers twisting the hem of your shirt while your knee bounced uncontrollably in the backseat of the rented SUV. The soft hum of the engine only amplified your restlessness. Your eyes flickered around, catching glimpses of palm trees and blurred tourists through the tinted windows—offering a momentary shield from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun and the bustling crowds beyond.

“How are you feeling?” Kendra, your manager, chimed in from beside you, her smile perfectly in place, glossy lips forming a curve that felt rehearsed.

You forced a chuckle, though it barely masked the pounding in your chest. “Just a little nervous, that’s all.” The words came out flat, a thin veil over the tension twisting inside you.

Kendra gave your leg a quick pat, her reassurance as smooth as ever. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve already nailed the hardest part—the audition. A chemistry read? That’s a breeze in comparison.” Her voice was soothing, but her focus never left the phone in her hand, the gesture feeling mechanical—like a line delivered without thought.

Auditioning for the show had been a gamble, and the stakes felt even higher now. You were still a relative unknown, and Outer Banks wasn’t just any show—it was the show. A streaming giant. You’d almost declined when the offer came, the weight of its success pressing down like an invisible hand. But here you were, convinced by the right mix of encouragement and blind hope, about to see if that gamble would pay off.

"You just need to go in there and feed off your co-star’s energy. Whatever emotion they’re giving you, absorb it and give it right back," your manager instructed, her voice firm as her eyes finally lifted from her phone. She leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on your arm as if to ground you, while the SUV glided through the final stretch of traffic. The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, matched only by the tension in your chest. The destination loomed closer, visible just beyond the tinted windows, and her gaze locked on you, expectant and unwavering, as if her will alone could push you over the finish line.

“Got it,” you replied, forcing another thin-lipped smile—polite yet distant, as if dismissing her with the same gesture. Your attempt to stay cordial was barely masking your desire for space. Just then, your heart gave a hard thud, perfectly timed with the jolt of the SUV rolling over the first speed bump in the studio parking lot. The looming reality hit you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs, as the building came into full view. Each second that passed only deepened the pit in your stomach, the dreadful weight of what was to come pressing harder.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the driver, slipping a small cash tip across the center console as your manager was already halfway out of the SUV. It was a quiet gesture of appreciation, a way to acknowledge the small but crucial role he’d played in getting you there, to this moment. He turned, offering you a kind, knowing smile before you stepped out, gently closing the door behind you. As you straightened your skirt, you couldn’t help but stare up at the building in front of you, its towering stature appearing overhead.

Kendra strode ahead, confidently leading the way as she pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside. Though her presence could be demanding and stern, in that moment it offered a small but necessary comfort amid the unfamiliar sea of faces that now surrounded you. The room quieted as you entered, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction, their stares heavy and intense, making you feel small under the weight of their scrutiny. You forced a smile—thin but polite—trying to seem more outgoing than you felt, hoping to project the right impression even as your nerves simmered beneath the surface.

“Well, look who it is—the girl of the hour! Y/N! So nice to see you again,” an unfamiliar voice rang out, though the man’s face sparked a vague sense of recognition, likely from the audition. He stood up, extending his hand with a broad smile that was meant to put you at ease.

"Hello," you replied warmly, masking the swirl of anxiety inside as you shook his hand, maintaining a steady grip. “Thank you again for allowing me this far into the audition process. I’m very grateful.” Your voice remained poised, calm, even though your insides felt like they were twisting into knots.

Your manager’s approval resonated softly behind you, a gentle hum of reassurance as she watched the exchange unfold. “I’m not sure if I introduced myself properly last time we met. My name is Jonah; I’m the director for the show,” he said, his voice rich and authoritative, each word heavy with expectation. A lump formed in your throat, the gravity of his presence amplifying the stakes, pressing down like a lead weight.

“Today, we’re going to have you do a chemistry read with who will be your love interest on the show.” His words hung in the air like a charged whisper, and your eyes widened, disbelief swirling within you. The truth struck with the force of a summer storm; you hadn’t fully grasped the role awaiting you until now.

The thought of embodying someone’s love interest sent a ripple of exhilaration and fear through your veins, making your stomach tumble as if caught in a tempest. Would it be a playful spark, filled with laughter and fleeting glances, or a brooding romance, steeped in longing and tension?

You nodded, a practiced motion that belied the ball of anxiety swirling within. Each beat of your heart echoed the dread tightening in your stomach, the sensation bubbling up like a restless tide. The thought of being paired with one of the actors to portray a romance on-screen sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in your throat aside, your gaze flickering around the room, desperate for any hint of who your co-star might be. Each unfamiliar face felt like a potential source of scrutiny, and the air thickened with tension as you scanned the room, searching for clues amidst the sea of strangers.

“Okay!” Jonah clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and authoritative, breaking the taut silence that had settled. “Let’s get Drew out here.” His voice rang out, clear and commanding, drawing every eye to the door, where a buzz of anticipation rippled through the room. You felt the air shift, charged with expectation, as if the very walls were leaning in to hear who would step through that doorway.

A wave of heat washed over you at the sound of his name, igniting a fire of recognition deep within. You had seen him countless times in glossy magazines and flickering screens, caught glimpses of him at film festivals where the air buzzed with admiration, yet never had your paths crossed until now. Though he wasn’t the biggest name yet, he was a force—a powerful actor whose presence resonated through the industry like a distant thunderstorm.

As the thought of sharing the screen with him settled in your mind, your heart fluttered, a nervous bird trapped in a cage of anticipation. How could you possibly keep pace with someone whose talent seemed to flow effortlessly, whose performances were a masterclass in emotion? Doubt began to coil around your thoughts, tightening like a vine, each tendril whispering fears of inadequacy.

The room felt like a distant echo, the chatter of voices fading into a soft hum as you waited for him to enter. Your heart raced, a wild thump that reverberated through your chest, each pulse a reminder of the anticipation coursing through your veins. The other directors and screenwriters settled back into their seats, alongside your manager, their eyes fixed on you like an audience eager for the first act to begin.

Just as you began to drown in the weight of their stares, the atmosphere shifted, the air charged with electric anticipation. The door creaked open, and time seemed to stretch, every second hanging heavy. Your gaze snapped toward the sound, and your throat tightened as a tall, brooding figure stepped into the room. His presence filled the space, his stature both commanding and slightly intimidating.

For a brief moment, your mind went blissfully blank, as if time had paused to let the reality of him sink in. He moved with an effortless grace, each step purposeful as he greeted the group at the table, his voice smooth and resonant. You could see Jonah nodding in acknowledgment, and then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, he turned his gaze toward you.

Suddenly, he was there, standing before you, and the air between you felt impossibly thick, heavy with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The moment was alive with a sense of anticipation, the unknown curling around you like smoke. You straightened your posture instinctively, trying to summon every ounce of composure, as if by holding yourself steady, you could convince the room—and yourself—that this was effortless, that you weren’t rattled by the sheer gravity of the encounter.

With a smooth, fluid motion, Drew extended his hand, the gesture both graceful and commanding, his fingers outstretched with a quiet confidence that spoke of experience beyond his years. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Drew,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft, a gentle warmth woven into the words that caught you off guard. His tone was far kinder than you’d imagined, the kind of voice that could lull a room into ease.

As you reached out to meet his handshake, his touch was firm yet light, grounding yet unassuming, and in that brief connection, the world around you seemed to pause. The noise of the room, the watching eyes, the weight of your nerves—all of it faded, if only for a heartbeat. His presence was commanding but not overwhelming, his demeanor holding the delicate balance between strength and gentleness.

"Hello," you replied, your voice lifting an octave higher than usual, a subtle attempt to come across as feminine, poised. "I'm Y/N." As his hand met yours, your attention flickered to the way his fingers moved—effortlessly, fluidly—sending a tremor through your chest. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, your pulse quickening under the gentle but assured pressure of his grip.

You couldn’t ignore how small you felt beneath his towering presence. The realization that you had to tilt your head slightly just to meet his eyes made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. His height, his frame—it all made the space between you feel charged, his presence simultaneously grounding and intimidating.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said again, his voice smooth as honey, the warmth in his eyes unwavering. His gaze was soft, kind, a contradiction to the commanding figure he cut. You could feel his energy, an unspoken ease radiating from him, as if he could sense the nerves bubbling beneath your surface.

"If you're feeling nervous or uncomfortable at any point, just let me know," he added, his voice dropping lower, as though he were shielding his words from the watchful eyes of the casting directors around you. "But I'm sure you've got this." His tone was gentle, reassuring, his words slipping through the space between you with a quiet confidence.

You nodded quietly at his gesture, a soft acknowledgment of his awareness and kindness, the unspoken "thank you" hanging between you. Before you could find any words to respond, one of the casting crew approached, handing each of you a script for the audition. The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should, the magnitude of the moment settling in deeper.

Chemistry reads had never been your strong suit, not in the brief time you’d been working in this industry. And this? This felt like a leap into a whole new realm, with expectations looming over you. Your eyes flicked down to the script, scanning the lines with the practiced speed of someone used to absorbing words as if they were lifelines. You read them once, then twice, allowing the emotions on the page to sink in and swirl around your mind, even as the undercurrent of nerves made it harder to focus.

Drew stood calmly in front of you, his presence steadying but no less overwhelming. You could feel his quiet confidence as he glanced through his own lines. The room was still, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional murmur from the casting team in the background. You straightened your back, holding onto every ounce of composure you could muster, and waited for the director’s cue.

"Alright, you may begin whenever you're ready," Jonah announced, his soft smile doing little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. His eyes flickered between you and Drew, expectant, watching for the magic to unfold. As his words sank in, a queasy wave rolled through your stomach, the weight of the moment pressing harder against your nerves. There was no turning back now—any hesitation would be a glaring failure, something that could follow you like a shadow in this unforgiving industry. The thought of being blackballed clawed at your mind, and you suddenly longed to disappear, to slip into a place where eyes weren’t always watching.

But before you could let the panic take hold, Drew stepped into the moment, his voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline. He began his lines effortlessly, the words rolling off his tongue as though they belonged to him, his presence filling the room with a quiet confidence. It was as if he had taken command of the space, a seasoned professional steering the scene with ease.

As if possessed by his character, Rafe, Drew dove into his lines with raw intensity. "Maisy, I care about you. But I-I can't risk it. I would never forgive myself if I got you involved in my mess and you got hurt because of it." His hand trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he was drawing from deep within. He pointed to his chest with a shaky finger, his voice quivering just enough to feel real, to pull at the heartstrings. His head hung low, the weight of sorrow written across his face, his entire presence drenched in regret.

You stood there, momentarily in awe of his transformation. The way he embodied Rafe with such vulnerability fueled your own performance, making it impossible not to feel the emotions he was radiating. It lit a fire within you, urging you to dive into the scene, to match the depth he was offering.

"Rafe," you spoke, your voice slipping into the soft, pleading tone of Maisy, letting the character take over your body as effortlessly as breathing. The words trembled on your lips, each one laced with a quiet desperation. "I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to be with you. Don’t… don’t do this."

You shook your head slowly, your movements measured, deliberate, as you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your hand reached out, grazing his cheek, the tender contact filled with unspoken emotion. As if on cue, tears welled in your eyes, the sting of them amplifying the moment. You gazed up at him, your expression filled with a mixture of pain and hope, as if you were begging not just for Maisy’s life, but for everything she believed in. It was a skill you prided yourself on—channeling emotion so deeply that it felt like it bled from your very soul, and in this moment, you were no longer yourself. You were Maisy, standing on the edge of heartbreak.

Drew’s eyes, glossy with unshed tears, locked onto yours, his sorrow so palpable it seemed to seep into the air between you. His hands ran through his hair in frustration, fingers gripping the ends as if trying to hold himself together. He began to pace, his movements restless, the emotional weight in his voice thick and raw.

"You don’t get it, Maisy," he started, his voice breaking with a mix of frustration and pain. "Everything I’ve ever cared about in my life has abandoned me. I’ve never had anybody who cares about me like you do. I love you so much that it hurts—it hurts me," he cried, pressing a trembling finger into his chest, the gesture full of anguish. His blue eyes, once so calm, were now brimming with tears that slipped down his face, streaking his cheeks as he stood there, vulnerable in a way that left him utterly exposed.

"I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you," he continued, his voice cracking, "but I have to protect you, even if that means letting you go." His brows furrowed deeply, his entire expression twisted in agony, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, Rafe was no longer a character—he was real, and the pain etched on his face was authentic, an outpouring of emotions he couldn’t contain.

But you didn’t miss a beat. Despite the intensity of his performance, you held steady, the emotions boiling within you just as fierce. "You can’t make that decision for me, Rafe," you pleaded, your voice rising with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Your hands flew into the air as if surrendering to the chaos of the moment.

"If I get hurt, that’s on me. I knew the risk of being with you, and I don’t care!" Your words spilled out with conviction, each one wrapped in the weight of Maisy’s determination. "Nothing is going to make me leave." Your voice was firm but edged with vulnerability, the sternness in your tone undercut by the undeniable pain that flickered beneath. You stood there, watching him, as if your very heart was on the line, a pitiful sort of strength anchoring you in place, demanding that he listen—that he understand.

"Being with you is worth it all," you added softly, your voice tinged with a raw desperation that could only come from someone who had lived through heartbreak. The vulnerability in your tone wrapped itself around the moment, thickening the air between you. Drew’s blue eyes, glossy with emotion, flickered between yours as if he were trying to decode the tragedy etched in your expression. It was as though, in that fleeting silence, his heart was breaking too, caught in the moment of the scene you were creating together.

Then, without warning, his large hands cupped your face, his touch sending warmth rushing to your cheeks. His palms, rough yet tender, cradled your skin, and for a moment, the world outside the scene seemed to vanish. "Promise me you won't go anywhere," he pleaded, his voice trembling with the same desperate intensity that mirrored your own. The emotion in his words was so intense, it felt as if the two of you were teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

"I promise, Rafe," you reassured him, your voice soft but unwavering, a soothing balm to the storm brewing in the room. Despite the emotional intensity, you held steady, grounding both of you in the moment.

For a brief second, the world paused. There was silence—a sacred, fragile quiet—allowing the vulnerability between you to speak louder than any dialogue could. The casting crew sat in rapt attention, witnessing the depth you had both drawn from. Drew’s thumb gently grazed your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, as though he couldn’t bear to break the connection. The moment was electric, heavy with meaning, as if you were no longer acting but living the characters’ truths.

"I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? I swear on my life," he vowed, his voice deep and resolute, yet drenched in emotion and passion. His words hit like a surge of energy, drawing you in, making your heart skip in response. There was something in the way he spoke that made it feel real, as if this promise wasn't just for Maisy, but for you too.

You nodded up at him, chest heaving as you breathed in the weight of the moment, each inhale heavy with the raw intensity of the scene. It felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, emotions pulsing between your bodies like a silent current, your heart racing to keep up. You weren’t acting anymore—every word felt lived, every gesture steeped in the desperation and love your characters clung to. The air between you and Drew hummed, alive with the electricity of shared vulnerability, a fragile bond that tethered you both to this moment.

Then, like a sharp crack in the stillness, a clap echoed through the room. The spell shattered instantly, the delicate tension that had built between you dissolving as reality rushed back in.

"That was incredible," Jonah’s voice broke through the haze, his head shaking in awe, a grin of disbelief spreading across his face. "The chemistry between you two is beautiful." His words were thick with praise, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Drew, a faint smile teasing the edges of your lips. The connection you’d forged in those few minutes lingered, a quiet understanding that neither of you spoke aloud.

"I think we’ve seen enough," Jonah continued, his tone final yet filled with certainty. "I think you’d be perfect as Maisy."

The world around you stilled, sound fading into a distant hum as his words sank in. Your heart seemed to pause, suspended in disbelief, before it raced forward, pounding against your chest like a wild drum. It was as if time itself had slowed, every second stretching out as the magnitude of what he’d said enveloped you.

"Oh my God, thank you!" The words burst from your lips, a mix of breathless excitement and overwhelming gratitude. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink as joy flooded through you, warmth spreading through your body in waves. It was impossible to contain the wide, radiant smile that broke across your face. The world blurred around you, your focus narrowing to this single, life-altering moment. You felt lighter, as though all the doubts and fears you’d carried had evaporated into thin air.

Your eyes darted between Jonah and Drew, the weight of their gazes making everything feel real—so achingly real. You had done it. You had stepped into the role, not just as Maisy, but as someone who had finally claimed their place in the world.

"You did great," Drew said, his smile wide and genuine, a warm glow in his eyes that radiated excitement. You could feel his energy wrapping around you, a comforting embrace that mirrored your own joy. As your smile blossomed, his grew in tandem.

Your manager beamed, clapping along with the group of directors, her expression a blend of pride and exhilaration that you had never witnessed before. The room buzzed with energy, each person caught up in the moment of celebration.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity," you replied, your voice a melody of gratitude, bubbling up from within. "I won’t let you down." You stepped forward, reaching for Jonah’s hand, your heart fluttering with excitement as you shook his hand firmly. It was a gesture of gratitude, a promise of your commitment, and you felt a rush of warmth at the connection—a shared understanding that this was just the beginning.

You moved down the line, shaking hands with the rest of the crew, each grip solid and reassuring. Their smiles met yours, each one a testament to the hard work and passion that had brought you to this moment. In those brief exchanges, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose that ignited a fire within you.

You made your way back to Drew, and to your surprise, he enveloped you in a hug that spoke volumes, his arms wrapping around you in a warmth that felt both comforting and exhilarating. "Congratulations," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle melody that resonated in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The embrace lingered, a moment suspended in time, before he pulled back, his smile radiating a bright, infectious joy that lit up the room.

"Thank you. You were awesome, by the way. I'm excited to work with you," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips, raw and unfiltered, yet undeniably true.

Drew chuckled, a rich sound that sent a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he nodded, "Likewise," he replied, adding a playful wink that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. In that fleeting exchange, the connection deepened, an unspoken promise of collaboration and creativity.

Turning towards your manager, you embraced her, feeling the solid weight of her pride enveloping you like a soft cloak. She returned the hug with a firm pat on your back, her touch both grounding and uplifting. "You did great, kid. I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion, wrapping around you like a warm embrace on a chilly day.

You left the studio with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a buoyant feeling that danced in your chest like a flame ignited by success. The joy radiating off your manager only amplified your triumph, her excitement palpable, like the warm glow of the sun on your skin.

As you slipped into the black SUV parked outside, a smile crept onto your face, blossoming with every heartbeat. The vehicle felt like a cocoon, enveloping you in a new sense of pride, a sanctuary that held the promise of new beginnings.

Your manager, brimming with enthusiasm, quickly dialed your agency, her voice animated as she relayed the news of your audition triumph. You could hear her words spill forth like a rushing river, each syllable a testament to your hard work and dedication.

As you absorbed your newfound outlook on life, the sunny L.A. sky seemed to sparkle with an ethereal clarity, its azure expanse stretching endlessly above you like an artist’s canvas, brushed with hues of hope and possibility. The golden rays cascaded down, bathing the city in a warm embrace, each glimmer igniting your spirit as if the universe itself were celebrating your triumph alongside you. In that moment, it felt as though no force on earth could disrupt the intoxicating high that enveloped you, each breath filled with the sweet essence of achievement.

"You better get ready for tonight, 'cause we are celebrating on me!" your manager exclaimed, her voice a jubilant melody that danced through the air, weaving joy into the fabric of the day. Her enthusiasm sparkled like champagne bubbles, promising an evening alive with laughter and camaraderie.

With a smile stretching across your face, you realized that this was just the beginning. The night was a canvas yet to be painted, and you were the artist, ready to fill it with laughter, joy, and new memories.

And in that instant, you understood: you were no longer the girl who had once doubted herself. You were a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace every opportunity that lay ahead. The chapter of uncertainty had closed, making way for a new narrative, one filled with passion, courage, and the promise of dreams finally taking flight.

And maybe even something more.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #drew #drew starkey x y/n #obx 4 #obx fic #rafe obx

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rafeskai · 10 days ago

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Soft Spot — Rafe Cameron

Requested by @a-j-stuffs

Summary: One wild summer night, a bonfire turns intense, shaking up the dynamic between you and your lifelong friend, Rafe Cameron. When things get out of hand, emotions spill over, and the bond you’ve always shared starts to feel… different. As you deal with the fallout, layers you didn’t know existed start peeling back, showing a side of Rafe you hadn’t fully seen before. It’s a mix of fear, loyalty, and something deeper brewing under the surface. What happens next makes you question everything about where the two of you really stand.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings: profanities, violence, implied smut

The rivalry between the Kooks and Pogues was just part of life on the Outer Banks, but you had always thought it was ridiculous. Growing up as part of the Figure Eight elite came with its own perks and pressures, but you never saw yourself as better than anyone else. That mindset earned you side-eyes from both Kooks and Pogues, though you didn’t care much—especially now that Sarah Cameron’s relationship with John B had brought you closer to the so-called enemy.

Still, your longest friendships were with the boys you grew up with—Rafe Cameron, Topper Thornton, and Kelce. The trio had been a constant in your life since childhood. Even with their egos and bad decisions, you knew they had your back. Rafe especially had always been different with you. Your families were close, and that bond extended to the two of you. Beneath his rough edges and impulsive nature, Rafe was someone you trusted—a boy who seemed to turn into a better version of himself when you were around.

Tonight’s bonfire was supposed to be a distraction. The kind of wild, chaotic gathering where the lines between Kooks and Pogues blurred just enough for everyone to coexist. Sarah had convinced you to come, promising she’d stick by your side.

“Just an hour,” she’d said, grinning as she grabbed your hand and led you toward the glowing fire.

But Sarah had a habit of getting caught up in her own world, and the moment John B arrived, she was gone. You didn’t mind at first. The air was warm, the music loud, and the fire crackled against the night sky. It was the kind of summer night that should have felt perfect.

Until he showed up.

The man wasn’t someone you recognized—tall, with a rough edge to his features and a sloppiness to his movements that screamed drunk. His clothes were Kook-preppy, but his demeanor was far from charming.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, his grin too wide as he stepped into your space. “Why’re you standing here all alone?”

You took a small step back, clutching your red Solo cup tighter. “I’m not alone,” you said evenly. “Just waiting for someone.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, swaying slightly but still managing to block your path.

You glanced around the crowd, hoping to spot someone—anyone—familiar. “My friends,” you lied.

His grin twisted, and he leaned closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “C’mon, don’t play hard to get. You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, trying to step around him, but he grabbed your arm before you could.

His grip was rough, and it made your stomach drop. “Don’t be like that,” he said, his voice darkening. “You’re too pretty to be so cold.”

Your chest tightened. “Let go of me.”

The man didn’t listen. Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled you closer, his other hand brushing against your shoulder. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lie shattered the moment he yanked you hard, his fingers digging into your arm. You stumbled, the pain sharp enough to make you cry out.

“Stop!” you said, your voice cracking, but he ignored you.

The panic surged like a tidal wave, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he was too strong. His hand moved to your waist, and fear turned your legs to jelly.

“HEY!”

The shout came from behind you, and the man froze. You turned your head just enough to see Topper running toward you, his face a mix of shock and fury.

“Get your hands off her!” Topper bellowed, closing the distance in seconds.

The man released you abruptly, his grip leaving your arm throbbing. You stumbled backward, nearly falling before Topper caught you.

“Stay here,” Topper said, his voice tight with anger as he turned and bolted back toward the fire.

Moments later, Rafe appeared, his eyes scanning the scene. When they landed on you, his expression changed. The anger in his face turned cold, deadly.

“Who?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You didn’t have to say anything. Rafe’s gaze shifted to the man, who was already trying to slink back into the crowd. Without another word, Rafe stormed toward him, his entire body radiating fury.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rafe growled, shoving the man hard.

The stranger stumbled, muttering something incoherent before straightening up. “It’s not a big deal, man,” he slurred. “She’s just being a prude.”

The words barely left his mouth before Rafe swung. His fist connected with the man’s jaw, the force sending him to the ground.

“Rafe, stop!” you screamed, your voice breaking, but he didn’t hear you.

Rafe was on top of him, fists flying in a blur of rage. Each punch landed with a sickening crack, blood splattering against the sand.

“She said no!” Rafe roared, his voice shaking with fury.

It took both Topper and Kelce to pull him off. Even then, Rafe fought against their grip, his chest heaving and his knuckles coated in blood.

The man groaned, clutching his face as he lay motionless in the sand.

“Let’s get out of here,” Topper muttered, pulling Rafe back as Kelce threw an arm around your shoulders protectively.

The four of you left the bonfire behind, the chaos fading as you walked toward the quieter part of the beach.

Rafe finally turned to you, his expression softening as he saw the tears in your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, but the truth was written all over your face. Your hands were still shaking, your arm throbbing where the man had grabbed you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yes, I did. He hurt you. He scared you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you reached for his hand, wincing at the sight of his split knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away as you dabbed at the blood with a tissue.

“Let’s go.” He intertwines his hand with yours and leads you to your car.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The walk back to your car was silent, tension weaving itself between you and Rafe. Topper and Kelce had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving just the two of you under the soft glow of the moon. The waves crashed gently in the background, but the sound did little to calm your nerves.

Rafe had barely spoken since leaving the bonfire, his knuckles still bloodied from the fight. Every few steps, you stole a glance at him, the hard line of his jaw and the storm brewing behind his blue eyes making your stomach twist.

You reached your car and hesitated, fumbling with your keys. “Rafe, let me drive you home,” you offered softly.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he said firmly, his voice low but resolute.

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Nodding, you unlocked the car, and the two of you climbed in. The silence followed you the whole drive to your house, broken only by the occasional deep breath Rafe took to calm himself.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to your house was quiet, the tension between you and Rafe thick enough to cut with a knife. His hands, bloodied and bruised, rested on his lap as he stared out the window, his jaw clenched tight. You wanted to say something, but the words caught in your throat every time you opened your mouth.

When you finally reached your place, you parked the car and turned to him. “Come inside,” you said softly.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking to you before nodding. “Okay.”

The house was dark and still, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards as you led him to the living room. You flicked on a small lamp, casting a warm glow over the room, and gestured for him to sit on the couch.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but you gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks.

“Sit,” you repeated, your tone leaving no room for argument.

With a reluctant sigh, Rafe sat down, leaning back against the cushions as you disappeared into the bathroom. When you returned with the first aid kit, his eyes softened just a little, the hard edges of his expression giving way to something gentler.

You knelt in front of him, taking his hand carefully in yours. His knuckles were split and raw, and blood smeared across his skin like war paint. “This is going to sting,” you warned, dabbing a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic against the wounds.

Rafe flinched slightly but said nothing, his eyes fixed on you as you worked. The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Why do you always do this?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.

“Do what?”

“Fight. Lose your temper. Get yourself hurt.” Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotions you were trying to keep in check.

Rafe exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. “Because I have to,” he said finally, his voice low.

“You don’t have to,” you argued, meeting his gaze. “You choose to. But why?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he sighed, his eyes softening as they locked with yours.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply. “You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not completely fucked up.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening as you tried to process them. “Rafe…”

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” he continued, his voice raw. “And I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you. Not ever.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something in you. For years, you’d seen glimpses of the real Rafe—the one who hid behind bravado and anger—but hearing him lay it all out like this was overwhelming.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “Just let me…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but you didn’t need him to. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as if he was giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest as the kiss deepened.

The air between you crackled with a tension that had been building for years, a mix of desire, anger, and unspoken emotions. Rafe’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves buzzing under your skin.

Rafe’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile before he kissed you again, his hands tightening around you as he guided you onto the couch. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled together in the soft glow of the lamplight, the unspoken promise of something more lingering in the air.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction

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kittyfrisk9 · 2 months ago

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IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon/2

Part 1(?)

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Peace is, without a doubt, a precious commodity.

That was the conclusion Jason came to after a long moment of reflection, observing his cosmic boy: the dream demon who had saved him from that endless nightmare.

They were both in a field covered with flowers in shades of blue, purple and pink, under a starry sky where the stars seemed to shine with an unusual intensity. The same scenario as the last twenty times.

Yes, they had seen each other again. After Jason refused to forget that moment, the demon simply visited him again the next night, without even bothering to hide.

They didn't do much, they just played, had fun and enjoyed sweet moments together, like now, when the demon came up with the peculiar idea of making flower crowns.

However, despite being the one who had the idea, he was the last to finish his crown. Jason found it sincerely adorable how the demon frowned, frustrated at not being able to tie a knot. Her expression was so cute that Jason couldn't help but smile. Sure, he could have helped her, but that would have robbed him of those precious minutes of admiration for him.

He didn't know how much time passed, he just watched and pondered. After all, time in this place was strange.

"I'm done!" Void exclaimed, proudly raising his crown. "Isn't it pretty?"

Jason replied with a simple "Yes." However, he wasn't looking at the flower crown, but at the creator of it. Although Void didn't seem to notice that detail.

"Thank you. It's the same design that Sa-Saiph showed me!" He commented, satisfied.

There it was again. Those little slips of information that Jason had noticed in the multiple conversations they'd had. Jason chuckled; Void wasn't very good at hiding data. He mentally noted it down in the special folder he'd created in his head for him anyway.

Because he'd be a liar if he said he didn't try to find out more about that demon with the information he'd inadvertently given him. Though, to be honest, he didn't try very hard either.

After all, he could see that Void was a nice guy. (And maybe, just maybe, Jason had a little crush on him.)

"One of your friends?" Jason asked curiously.

"Yeah, my best friend," Void replied. "She's a huge plant fanatic. I suspect she's on the level of Poison Ivy."

"Eh, it would be a problem to have another plant invasion," Jason commented, remembering the woman's extremist past. How many times had she invaded the city with her plants?

"Oh no, no, it only happened once, and she was being forced to do it," the demon suddenly stated, as if trying to quickly correct the impression he had given.

"Your friend invaded a city with plants?" Jason asked, incredulous.

"Just once," Void emphasized, as if that made it any better.

What the hell? How had that not reached the ears of the Justice League? Forget it, he decided not to ask. Some things were better left unsaid.

He decided to change the subject instead.

Unintentionally, his vision focused on the hands holding the crown, and then on her arms. The areas on his arms were decorated with a design that reminded Jason of a starry sky, filled with tiny, glowing stars and nebulas against a dark background. It was so beautiful, as if Void's arms were an extension of outer space.

As he looked closer, he realized that some other parts of his body also shared that surreal effect of a universe filled with stars. There were sparkles of light on his skin that seemed to dance with every movement, creating an ethereal and captivating image.

"Your skin… is amazing," Jason said, without thinking. "You look like you're made of stars."

Void smiled, a little embarrassed. "Thanks. I guess it's just part of my nature. I've always loved outer space."

Jason was silent for a moment, enjoying the revelation. "Really? Why?" He asked, genuinely curious to know more.

Void looked at his hands fondly. "I think it's partly because of my older sister. When I was little, she was… gone for a while. It was only a short time, but I was lonely. Then, on a call, she told me that I wasn't alone, that the stars were keeping me company. She said that every point in the sky was a friend watching me." Void then turned his gaze to Jason. "It's a silly story, right?"

Jason shook his head. "No. It's cute." Then, blushing, he added, "I have things I like too for certain reasons."

Void looked at him with interest. "Really? I'd love to hear about it."

However, Jason looked away, visibly embarrassed. "No."

The answer made Void's expression immediately deflate. "Oh, ancients… Why not? Tell me, tell me, tell me!" He exclaimed as he excitedly threw himself at Jason, eager to discover his secrets.

Jason laughed. "Still a no." Then he quickly dodged Void, jumping up and running to avoid being caught. Void, amused and exasperated, chased after him, insisting that he deserved to know.

"Come on! It's not fair!" Void shouted with laughter as he ran after Jason.

Fresh air, laughter, and the feeling of freedom filled the field of flowers. Yes, this was the peace Jason so desperately needed.

…

As dawn came, Jason woke up. His bed was really comfortable, and the little meetings with his sleep demon were truly relaxing. Jason had certainly had a satisfying month.

Stretching out on his bed, Jason wondered what he should have for breakfast, until he saw him.

He immediately sat up cursing the person creepily standing in the corner of the room: the demon brat, still in Robin's costume and staring at him. "Shit, Damian! What are you doing standing there?"

Damian completely ignored his question and, in a serious tone, asked, "Todd, do you do drugs?"

"What?" Jason frowned.

"You laughed a lot in your dreams," his younger brother said, his expression a mix of curiosity and disdain.

Jason looked at him in disbelief. Had this kid been spying on him all night while he slept?

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

One of Damian's hypotheses is that his brother uses drugs. As for Jazz, she had an accident in her parents' basement that injured her arm, so she had to stay in the hospital for a while. Danny felt super lonely without his older sister.

Comment that nobody cares about: I wasn't planning on continuing with this, I know it's poorly written, but inspiration came when I saw this (honestly it's a very weird way to get inspiration)

#dead on main #dp x dc #batpham #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dcxdp #danny fenton x jason todd #dc x dp crossover #i used a translator #i do not know english #void!danny

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sinjaangels · 8 months ago

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Ramshackle - NRC uniform: Experiment 630, Alice

Her sci-fi leggings reflect her origins from her galaxy.

#twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst mc #ramshackle dorm #ramshackle prefect #NRC uniform #twst fic #she came from outer space #twst fic she came from outer space #twst scos

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

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backstage fun

rafe x 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚's𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭!𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

a/n: please remember that victoria’ssecret!angel!reader is tailored to how you look. these photos are just for reference. 😊i hope you all like it!🐇💗

the bright lights of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show beamed through the hallways, casting a soft glow over the bustling backstage area. makeup artists were adding final touches, hair stylists perfecting every curl, and models slipping into the iconic lingerie sets. in the center of all the action was you, one of the show's headlining outer banks angels, which was a small feature to the vsfs pre runway. wearing your wings proudly, you adjusted the strap of your lacey white bra, ensuring everything was perfect. you still needed your make up done but so far everything looked amazing.

but your mind wasn’t entirely on the show. it kept drifting back to one person—rafe cameron. his reputation preceded him—intense, sexy, dangerously charming, and every bit as addictive as you imagined him to be. he wasn’t part of your world, but through some twist of fate, he was here tonight, lurking in the shadows with that signature smirk of his.

you’d met him a few months prior at a cameron charity event. he was magnetic, the kind of man who made you feel like the only person in the room, even when surrounded by hundreds. the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his hand would casually brush against your waist—it was clear that he was interested, and you had felt that unmistakable spark, too.

a knock at your personal dressing room door pulled you from your thoughts. you glanced at your reflection, wings in place, lingerie hugging every curve, and then opened the door to find none other than rafe, leaning against the frame with a devilish grin.

“well, if it isn’t the angel herself,” rafe purred, his eyes darkening as they traveled from your face to your outfit. “you ready to so that sexy body off on the runway?”

your heart skipped a beat at his bold presence, but you played it cool, leaning back on your heels and giving him a teasing smile and a slight nod. “and what brings you backstage, Rafe? looking to join the show?”

he chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into your dressing room without an invitation. his eyes never left yours, but you could feel the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.

“i just came to see the most beautiful woman in the world do her thing,” he said smoothly, his voice low and rich. “and, of course, to make sure she hasn’t forgotten about me.”

you crossed your arms, amused by his confidence. “forgotten about you? now why would I do that?”

rafe moved closer, the space between you disappearing as he leaned in, his hand gently brushing against the strap of your bra close to your chest. “i don’t know,” he murmured, his fingers lingering on the thin strap. “but i’ve been thinking about you.” still toying with the strap, he slowly bites his lower lip.

the air between you thickened with tension, the kind that had been brewing ever since your first encounter. you weren’t immune to rafe’s charm, and he knew it. there was something dangerous about him, something that made your pulse race, even though you knew better.

“rafey,” you warned softly, trying to maintain your composure. “i’m about to go on stage.”

his hand trailed down your shimmery waist, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “i know,” he replied, his voice huskier now. “but you’ve got a few minutes. and i’ve got a proposition.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “oh?”

rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “how about a little fun before you hit the stage? a reminder of what’s waiting for you when the show’s over.”

your breath hitched at his words, the temptation pulling at you. there was something thrilling about the idea—rafe, here, backstage, where anyone could walk in. but it wasn’t just the risk that excited you—it was him. the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered. the way he made you feel like you were walking a dangerous line, one that could tip over into something wild and uncontrollable at any moment.

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “what do you say, angel?”

you swallowed hard, your pulse racing as his scent—something dark and intoxicating—washed over you. this wasn’t part of the plan, but with rafe, nothing ever was.

you could feel his breath on your neck, the warmth of his body as he hovered so close to you. his fingers grazed the fabric of your bra strap again, this time with more intent, and you felt the heat rising between you.

“rafe, this is…” you began, but your words trailed off as he pressed a soft kiss just beneath your ear, the sensation sending a shockwave through your body.

“this is what?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. “crazy? dangerous? exciting?”

you exhaled shakily, your resolve wavering as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as the energy between you and rafe crackled like electricity.

“exciting,” you whispered, unable to resist the pull any longer.

in an instant, rafe’s lips were on yours, claiming you with a hunger that made your knees weak. the kiss was fiery, intense, and everything you had been craving since the moment you met him. his hands roamed over your body, carefully around the lingerie, leaving a trail of heat as he pulled you flush against him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as your body melted into his.

but as the kiss grew more heated, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside your door. a reminder that you were still in the middle of one of the biggest fashion shows of the year. you pulled back, breathless, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“i have to go,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with desire.

rafe smirked, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “i know. but don’t forget, angel, i’ll be waiting for you when it’s over.”

you nodded, your heart still racing as you straightened your wings and adjusted your lingerie. rafe stepped back, his eyes filled with promise and mischief.

“good luck out there,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “not that you’ll need it.”

with one last smirk, rafe slipped out of the room, leaving you standing there, breathless and buzzing with adrenaline. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before heading to the runway.

#rafe obx #drew starkey #rafe imagine #drew x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe #rafe fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #victoria’s secret #Victoria’ssecret!angel!reader

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cherienymphe · 11 months ago

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Teenage Dirtbag VI (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

“I… I don’t know, Sarah,” you sighed, gaze resting on your wall as you held your phone up to your ear.

“What is there to think about? Rafe and my dad left this morning and won’t be back until tomorrow night…”

“I know.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” you heard her huff over the phone. “Rafe won’t know. You’ll be back in your house and waiting for him like the perfect girlfriend before he even has time to pull into the driveway.”

She said it so sweetly that you almost laughed, but all you could do was worry. Ward and Rafe needed to go to Charleston—they’d be staying the night—and for the first time in a while, you’d be without Rafe for at least a day. When he told you, all you’d been able to focus on was 24 hours without having to walk on egg shells or having to overthink every word. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that this was an opportunity for…more.

Rafe had been extra irritable as of late so doing anything that could bring on his wrath was so far from your mind…but then Sarah called you the moment they left…and all of a sudden the idea of going to The Cut of all places was being presented to you. You sat up, sliding your legs underneath you as you wracked your brain. You cursed Sarah in this moment.

…because you did kind of want to go.

When it came to Outer Banks, the farthest you’d ever gone outside of Figure 8 was the beach which technically didn’t count. It was a middle ground of sorts. No man’s land, and because your parents hardly discussed what went on on the other side of the island, you’d never had much desire or curiosity about it. Things were different, now, though.

…and it wasn’t just because of Sarah.

Blue eyes came to mind…and they didn’t belong to Rafe. If someone had told you months ago that your thoughts would be consumed by one JJ Maybank and the effect he was starting to have on you, you’d suggest they needed to be in a padded room. A year ago, you could barely recall his name. Months ago, he was that guy from The Cut that your boyfriend hated with a passion. Now…

Now, he was the guy who sometimes sought you out for painkillers after his dad put his hands on him. He was the guy who liked to tease you and tell you how much of an asshole your boyfriend was. He was the guy who wasn’t afraid of Rafe…and he was the only one outside of your family that had access to your parents’ pool house.

So far you didn’t think you’d seen him using it, and you supposed he didn’t have to take you up on the offer, but you did feel better knowing he had access to a place where he could safely sleep for a few days if need be. As much trouble as it could possibly bring, you definitely didn’t regret what you did. JJ was in trouble, and while he was in trouble like you were in trouble, it wasn’t exactly the same.

He didn’t have security and resources like you did. You’d never seen his house, but the way Sarah talked, you felt it safe to assume that he didn’t have a cozy space where he could just lock himself away to safely hide in. You both were in pretty crappy situations, but you felt you had a lot more to be grateful for than him, and the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to see him just to make sure he was okay.

So, your next words didn’t surprise you.

“I can’t take my car,” you told Sarah, thinking about the AirTag.

You heard Sarah’s hitch of breath, and you knew that she was both surprised and excited by your response.

“You’ve seen John B.’s van. He could fit like ten people in there if he really wanted to,” she laughed. “I’ll ride my bike to your house and then he’ll pick us both up from there.”

You were a little in disbelief that you agreed to this, and you were still in disbelief ten minutes later as you looked in the mirror adjusting your skirt. You felt overdressed, but the most casual thing you owned was an oversized t-shirt that actually belonged to Rafe, and you didn’t feel comfortable walking out of the house in that. You’d changed three times in the span of seven minutes, and you would wonder why you felt so flustered and nervous if you didn’t already know deep down.

When your mother let Sarah into the house, standing in front of the mirror was exactly where the blonde found you once you gave her the okay to come into your room.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. They’re my friends, not Congress,” she said to you as she sat on your bed.

“…but what if they don’t like me?”

Sarah playfully rolled her eyes before standing. You watched her walk around your room, taking in the odd detail here and there.

“They’ll like you just fine. They’re not nearly as judgmental as the usual crowd you hang out with,” she murmured, pointedly eyeing a picture of Rafe on your nightstand. “Kie and JJ are really the only ones you need to worry about. Kie just has a natural distrust of anyone who hangs around Rafe and Topper and Kelce, to be honest.”

You pressed your lips together, unable to find it in yourself to blame her for that.

“…and JJ just has a natural distrust of Kooks, period, but…” she looked at you. “Considering you apologized to him for what Rade did, I’m pretty sure he won’t be nearly as hard on you. Plus, you gave him drugs. I’m willing to bet he probably even kind of loves you, now.”

She laughed to herself, and you had to remind yourself that she didn’t know about all of the little run-ins you and JJ had since then. You decided to trust her advice, fingering your skirt just as she looked at her phone. You’d only just been able to relax when she told you John B. was outside, and telling yourself that you were really going through with this, you followed her downstairs.

You gave your mom a kiss on the cheek on the way out, only telling her you’d be with Sarah for a few hours. While your parents were a far cry from Rose or Topper’s parents, you didn’t know how she’d feel about you going to hang out on the other side of the island, and you felt like it was the worst time to find out. When you made it outside, your heart had only just settled some…and then the door to the van opened.

…and your heart dropped.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing JJ along for the ride.”

“He wanted to see where Y/N lived,” the brunette shrugged.

You barely paid attention to Sarah and John B.’s small back and forth, still thrown by the sight of the blond. You thought you would’ve had more time to prepare yourself to be in close proximity with him for hours on end. You weren’t ready for it to start so soon, and you swallowed as Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, signaling that you were the last one holding everyone up.

While Sarah and her boyfriend discussed something or another, JJ held his hand out to you.

Your lips parted at the sight, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest…but not because of JJ. He was certainly staring at you with that intensity you weren’t used to from anyone but Rafe, but unfortunately…it was Rafe that you were thinking about. Your boyfriend wasn’t even on the island, and all you could think about was what would happen if he saw you take JJ’s hand, right now. It had you frowning and then frowning some more when you thought about what he would do if he found out you went to The Cut.

For a moment, you wondered what the hell you were thinking, and you had a feeling that it was written all over your face too. You were suddenly paralyzed by fear and doubt, and you opened your mouth, a thousand apologies on your mind for wasting their time. It was just on the tip of your tongue, and you were even about to take a step back…when JJ’s hand circled around your wrist.

Your wide eyes met his, and with a subtle shake of his head, he halfway leaned out of the van to take your other hand too. In a daze, you allowed him to pull you inside, carefully stepping up when he told you to watch your feet. His hand was still on yours when he closed the door, and you sat beside him just as John B. pulled out of the driveway.

You couldn’t tell if that had all happened so fast or if Sarah and John B. were just that caught up in their conversation.

You blinked, looking around the inside of the van and taking in every sticker and imperfection and every homemade effort to make the van comfortable. You looked at each of your sides with a frown, and you heard JJ snort from beside you. When you looked up, you weren’t surprised to find his gaze resting on you.

“There aren’t any seatbelts…so if things get rough, I guess you’ll just have to hold onto me,” he told you with a small grin.

Sarah heard that.

“Don’t be disgusting, JJ. She’s dating Rafe, and you know he’d run you down in a heartbeat for talking to her like that,” she threw over her shoulder.

“It’s fine, Sarah. I know he’s just joking,” you nervously chuckled, hating the mention of Rafe.

“Yeah, Sarah, it’s fine,” JJ seconded, and you chose not to focus on how he didn’t confirm that he was joking.

You gave him a look when he shot you another grin, and you tried not to focus on how awkward you felt. You couldn’t quite place how you felt about JJ, and that’s what made this whole thing even more nerve-wracking. Sarah’s friends were Sarah’s friends…but JJ didn’t exactly easily fit into that simple categorization anymore. He wasn’t your friend…he couldn’t be your friend…and yet weirdly enough, he kind of felt like it.

“So, Rafe won’t be back until tomorrow night, huh.”

You glanced at him, and accepting that you simply couldn’t ignore him like you usually liked to do, you sighed. You were in his best friend’s van on the way to his side of the island. Avoiding conversation with him under these circumstances would really make you seem like another stuck up Kook…and you liked to think that you weren’t.

“Yeah,” you told him. “He and Ward are in Charleston, and it just makes sense to stay the night.”

JJ seemed to be thinking that over, a slight frown on his face.

“So…what…? You were just going to wait around at home until he gets back?”

You didn’t like JJ’s tone, and you rolled your eyes.

“I do have a life, you know.”

JJ fixed you with a look as if urging you to go on.

“I have…online classes and things to do around the house…”

You trailed off when JJ snorted, and it didn’t sound humorous.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “What’s the point in going through the fuss of dating when you’re already his perfect little housewife?”

You felt yourself bristle at the blonde’s words, and by the slow smirk on his lips, you knew that he could tell how they affected you.

“I’m just saying. The way you act with him, you’d think that you’d have a ring on your finger and a baby on the way.”

You bit your tongue at that, unsure of how to even respond because he wasn’t completely wrong. All this talk about Rafe only made that uneasiness return, and you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” you murmured.

You felt JJ’s eyes on you as your gaze found your lap. Sarah and John B. were still talking up front, and after some time, you heard JJ sigh. When he touched your hand, you reluctantly looked at him, and he at least had the sense to look apologetic.

“Hey,” he quietly said, voice lowered and gentle. “I’m just teasing.”

You tilted your head at him, privy to just what he thought of Rafe, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Mostly,” he slowly said. “I do think Rafe’s a controlling asshole, but…it’s not my place.”

He held your gaze, and you eventually nodded at him, letting him know you appreciated the unspoken apology. You turned to stare ahead, trying to ignore JJ’s close proximity and the way it made you all too aware of every feeling in your body.

You were reluctant to take a drink, knowing exactly how Sarah would react, and she didn’t disappoint.

“That’s…disgusting,” she spat, looking like she was moments away from being sick.

“Well, what am I supposed to do Sarah? Lie?”

The rest of her friends found the situation funny while the blonde was far from amused. A game of Never Have I Ever turned from something lighthearted and silly to something a little more…personal. With a few drinks already in you, it hadn’t occurred to you to just lie when Cleo said the words ‘never have I ever done anal’. Now, Sarah was looking at you like you’d just told her Ward liked to be handcuffed to the bed and slapped.

“I feel like that really shouldn’t surprise you, Sarah,” Kie commented.

“No, it doesn’t surprise me, I guess, but it’s not something I enjoy having confirmed,” she sighed. “Okay, considering Y/N is literally dating my brother, how about we forbid any more sex related topics.”

She was only met with more chuckles.

“I’m serious. For my sanity…”

“How about game over? I feel like going for a swim, anyway.”

JJ’s voice and tone startled you, and you only realized why when you looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but it was only then did you remember that when your gaze passed over him a moment ago, like Sarah, he too hadn’t been laughing. In fact, he’d been pretty quiet, and the sudden reminder of his presence caught you off guard.

“Yeah, I do want another beer,” John B. agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Sarah and Kie followed him while Pope moved closer to Cleo, the dark-skinned boy saying something to her that made her snort.

“You know I have to ask, right?” he suddenly said to you, and you laughed to yourself, having a feeling where this was going. “What do you possibly see in Rafe?”

You could tell that Pope wasn’t trying to be an ass about it or nosy—he was merely genuinely curious. And thrown. Cleo shook her head at her boyfriend, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“The heart wants what it wants…”

Your attention was pulled away from them by the sight of JJ hurriedly getting to his feet. You eyed him, still thrown by his change in attitude, but you forced yourself to look away when he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You reluctantly gave Pope your focus again when he spoke.

“I mean, everybody knows that you and Rafe are together. You guys are probably going to get married, and sure it’s one thing to hear about Rafe’s girlfriend and see her in passing, but now I actually have you before me and I can ask you for myself… What do you see in that guy?”

Cleo laughed, and you forced yourself to join her. You shook your head, knowing that you could never tell Pope the truth in a million years.

“Cleo’s right,” you relented with a shrug. “The heart wants what it wants.”

Your answer was followed by a splash, and you glanced over, noting that you couldn’t really make out JJ in the dark. Pope’s soft noise of disapproval reached your ears, and you felt your face fall a little as you stared out into the water. Glancing at the couple before you—and seeing that they were wrapped up in a conversation—you stood and slowly made your way to where JJ was.

On the dock, you could make him out much better, and you eyed him as he slowly waded through the water.

“Isn’t it a little cool to be in the water?” you wondered after a few moments of neither of you saying a thing.

JJ chuckled, and in the dark, his teeth looked predatory.

“Only one way to find out for yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

He moved closer, and you watched him place his hands on the wood of the dock…just in front of your feet.

“Do I seem like I’m joking?” he wondered.

You rolled your eyes.

“For one thing, it’s a little too cold for me,” you told him. “…and also I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Like a bra and underwear are really that different,” he commented.

“They are to me,” you argued.

The blond didn’t reply right away, and eventually a humorless chuckle reached your ears.

“I bet they are,” he dryly said. “Let me guess… One, Rafe wouldn’t mind you wearing out in public and the other he’d literally lose his shit over.”

You pressed your lips together.

“Am I right?” he wondered, reaching over to touch your leg.

You jumped at the cold wet feel, and JJ laughed to himself.

“It’s too cold for you to be in there. You should get out,” you advised.

“You sound worried…”

You were, and you pressed your lips together, wondering why that seemed so crazy to him.

“Besides, I don’t exactly enjoy hearing about your sex life with Rafe Cameron,” JJ drawled. “So, if that’s what I have to look forward to if I get out…I’m good.”

You blinked at that, and something in his tone told you he wasn’t opposed to it for the same reasons Sarah was.

“It was just a game, JJ…and he’s my boyfriend,” you whispered.

It was then that the blond finally decided to listen to you, pulling himself up onto the dock. His hair was weighed down with water, droplets dripping over his face and body as his gaze met yours. You didn’t understand how he wasn’t shaking—you’d long regretted putting on a skirt—and you straightened once it registered how close he was.

It took a lot of effort to keep your eyes on his face, and his own gaze briefly lowered when you crossed your arms over your chest. You could briefly hear his friends talking around what sounded like a small fire, now, but your attention was solely on JJ. His eyes flitted over your face, and you hated the way they lingered on your lips—mostly how it made you feel.

“Yeah, and we both know how I feel about that little fact.”

His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear, and you shuddered when his arm grazed yours as he brushed by you. You blinked a few times, forcing yourself to take a deep breath before turning and reluctantly following him. As you rejoined the others, you couldn’t stop glancing at JJ as he made his way inside, and knowing that you had no real reason to, you had a pressing desire to join him instead.

“I called you last night.”

You blinked, staring out into the yard at Sarah and her friends.

“I know. That’s why I called you back. I knocked out pretty early yesterday,” you told Rafe.

It was a lie.

John B. didn’t bring you and Sarah back to Figure 8 until after midnight. You’d made the decision to leave your phone at home. The only other option was to simply stop sharing your location with your boyfriend, and if you did that…he’d know something was up. It was better for him to think you were at home and just away from your phone in some way.

It was risky…so risky…but it was the most fun you’d had in almost two years.

Sarah’s friends were nice—mostly. Kiara was really the only one who hadn’t warmed up to you much, and considering Sarah’s explanation for why that may be, you didn’t fault her for it. She had every right to be wary of you, and truthfully, in her shoes, you might’ve done the same. Aside from that, you felt welcome…included…and most of all like your own person.

It felt good to be around people where you didn’t have to tip toe around anyone and be overly cautious of what you said or did. For the first time in so long, you could just be, and the thought had you blinking back tears. You didn’t know when you’d get to feel that again, and the train of thought almost had you missing Rafe’s response.

“You get too wrapped up in homework. Always falling asleep on your computer,” he chuckled, and you forced one in response. “I see you’re at my house.”

You pulled your eyes away from the window…only to be startled by the sight of JJ leaning against the wall.

“Yeah,” you told him after gathering your thoughts. “You know I just relax better in your bed, sometimes.”

Rafe hummed, and you eyed JJ again, frowning at the blond. He didn’t react, merely raking his eyes over you.

“We’re going to be leaving in a few hours. Is that where you’ll be waiting for me when I get back?” his tone of voice wasn’t subtle, and you felt your face fall. “I missed you last night.”

You took a deep breath.

“Of course,” you evenly told him. “I missed you too.”

Your phone call with Rafe only lasted a few more minutes, and when you finally hung up, JJ was still hanging around.

“You’re a lot quieter than you look, you know that?”

You moved past him, making your way towards the back door. You didn’t exactly expect JJ to follow you—fully expecting him to go out the front and rejoin his friends—but for some reason you weren’t all that surprised by it either.

“Why are you with him?”

That was the question that met your ears the moment you stepped outside. Scrunching your nose, you turned to face JJ, giving him a questioning look.

“Haven’t we been down this road before?”

“Yeah, but that was before…”

There was nothing humorous about JJ’s tone, and your own smile fell once you took in the evenness of his expression. There was a slight frown between his brows as he stared at you, and you felt a frown of your own taking over as confusion filled you. JJ was entirely serious—a first—as he gazed at you, and something on your chest sank.

“I don’t…”

“That was before when I thought…” he trailed off, throwing his arms up. “When I thought you were just another spoiled Kook princess.”

You briefly glanced away, shifting on your feet.

“I mean, sure. You come from a nice family, and you’re polite, but you’re dating Rafe, so I thought…how nice can she really be?”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and JJ kept going before you had time to linger on it.

“You see those girls who’s dating some asshole that doesn’t deserve her, and sure, he doesn’t, but then you realize they’re more alike than you thought, and she actually isn’t too much better than him, and you know what, maybe they’re more suited than you assumed,” he scoffed. “Maybe her willingness to overlook what he’s like isn’t because she wants to see the good in him but because she can actually relate in some ways.”

Your face hadn’t evened out once since he started talking, and you eyed JJ when he stepped closer. There was a look in his blue gaze that you couldn’t place, and when he studied your face, you felt very…exposed.

“That was when I thought you were that girl…”

You swallowed.

“…but you’re nice,” JJ whispered, and for some reason, you really hated the way he was looking at you. “Actually nice.”

Your lips parted, and you fought to find something to say.

“Sarah’s always said it, you know, but…”

JJ’s words died in the air as he glanced away, and you watched his face harden, jaw ticking as he seemed to be deep in thought.

“All I could think last night was…” his eyes met yours again. “Why is a girl like that with Rafe Cameron?”

You took a deep breath, it was shaky, and you reached up to rub your forehead.

“JJ-.”

“What do you see in him?” he wondered, closer now. “Why are you with him?”

You shook your head, fighting to come up with the words.

“You…you don’t know him like I do,” was your response.

It wasn’t a lie.

“I don’t know him like you do?” JJ incredulously wondered, his face so close to yours. “My face and his fist are actually best friends, if you didn’t know.”

“I love him.”

You stared into JJ’s eyes as you said this, and the longer he stared into yours, the deeper his frown became. JJ blinked at you, once then twice, and you watched him rear back slightly. A few blond strands hung into his face as he eyed you…from head to toe and back, and he scoffed.

“You’re lying,” he whispered.

He continued just as you opened your mouth.

“You’re a good liar,” he said, just…watching you. “…but you’re not the best. You’re lying.”

Wanting this conversation to end, you looked away.

“Believe what you want, but why I’m with Rafe doesn’t concern you. It’s literally not your business.”

When you tried to go back inside, JJ blocked your path, and you looked at him like he’d lost his mind. It didn’t have the desired effect though, JJ staring you down with one raised eyebrow.

“Maybe I want to make it my business,” he bit out.

“Why? Because I was kind to you? Because I offered you a place-?”

“…because your boyfriend’s a dick.”

You stumbled back when he moved closer, the blond invading your personal space.

“…and I don’t think you want to be with him,” he murmured.

JJ’s boldness threw you off, and you frantically blinked, shaking your head at him.

“You don’t know what I want,” you whispered.

You only just realized how close JJ was, his nose brushing yours when he only leaned in a tad more. The realization had your breath hitching, and as JJ’s chest grazed yours, you felt like there was a roaring sound in your ears. For a moment, you forgot all about Rafe—your boyfriend—and all you could focus on was the relaxing scent of JJ and his nose touching yours and his chest being so close to yours.

Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and it took you too long to realize that you were…anxious…and yearning…for a kiss you thought was about to happen. That was because you wanted the kiss to happen, and that realization had you taking a step back, eyes wide and disbelieving. Your fingers were shaking as you stared at JJ, but the blond didn’t look nearly as distressed as you felt. In fact, there was a glint in his eye that was so familiar to you.

The problem, however, was that it was only familiar with Rafe.

…but JJ was not Rafe.

…and while the look was the same, the way you were feeling was not.

In a panic, you rushed by JJ, determined to go back inside and far away from him. However, your hand was on the door when JJ spoke again, his words making your hair stand on end.

“I think I can guess…”

You felt your stomach turn, and swallowing down food that threatened to come up, you hurried inside, slamming the door behind you.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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moomine · 12 days ago

Text

backwash II | daisuke

author's note: totally awesome people should check out part one as well ⍢ also, if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) It's been a little over a month since the Tulpar departed on its 382-day long haul. Anya takes the reader aside to perform her monthly psych eval, where she discusses her experiences with her peers and life on the ship so far. After she's clear to go, she runs into Daisuke who's drawing in the lounge.

word count: 2,291

warnings: mild language? all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 028—

I’m starting to feel more and more homesick. I miss my mom’s roast chicken. I miss swimming pools and the feeling of the breeze. I miss burning incense. I miss my friends. It hasn’t been that long since we left Earth, but I guess I just never considered how still outer space would be. How lonely I’d feel. The others have been nice, yeah. Especially Anya. And Daisuke. I get the feeling that Captain Curly is still warming up to me. I wonder if he’s ever taken on another apprentice before. I don’t know about Swansea, or Jimmy. They seem to tolerate me at best. But then again, those two kind of just tolerate everyone, except for maybe Captain Curly. It’s only been almost a month. I just have to keep my head.

If mom were here she’d say: “Everything gets easier with time. Time and patience.”

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN—

“Everything okay, [Name]?” Anya asked in a gentle tone, gingerly placing a hand on the table in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice as it filled the otherwise silent lounge. You looked up at her, feeling the tension seemingly wash away by the sight of her face. She offered you an understanding smile, her tired features softened as she looked down at you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess,” you responded.

You raised a hand to rub your eyes. It had been difficult to find sleep lately. The groaning of the ship was almost haunting at night. Laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you spent the few hours allotted for sleep thinking about Earth, about what laid just beyond the door to your room, about the ceaseless whining of steel and steam. About the next three hundred and fifty four days.

Anya nodded sympathetically, moving her hand from the table top to your shoulder blade. “It gets easier. I promise,” she paused as Jimmy and Curly entered the room, their voices loud and booming. “Are you ready for your psych eval?”

You nearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the other two. They were reminiscing, shouting stories back and forth of college parties, bar fights, and past lovers.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said with a timid grin.

Anya nodded once more, motioning toward the door just past the kitchen space. You came to your feet and followed her until the two of you made it to her domain. The medical bay had become a safe haven for you. Over the past month, you gravitated toward Anya the most. She had been kind to you from the very beginning, almost sisterly. When there was no more work to be done, you often found yourself walking straight through the lounge and into her office. Anya didn’t mind. In fact, she had grown to rather enjoy the company.

She walked around the desk before taking a seat in her chair. Behind her was a wall of white shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Inside they held assorted medical supplies and books on psychology and basic clinical practice. To the right of her was a bulletin board, cluttered with posters, a calendar, pictures of her hometown, and notes and reminders. A number of Daisuke’s doodles had made it up as well, namely ‘Yimpy’, a rather horrible caricature of Jimmy. It was pretty realistic.

You sat across from her with your hands interlocked in a tight ball. “Same as last time, right?”

Anya grinned as she organized your file. “Yep, same as last time. Since it’s only your second evaluation, I’m going to go over it one more time. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded.

“Lovely,” she said with a soft hum. Tapping the papers into a neat pile against the desk, Anya glanced at you once more. Her eyes flickered from the page to you, you to the page as she read aloud. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your experience, relationships, and general well being during your time under contract with Pony Express. It is your responsibility to answer as truthfully as you feel comfortable and/or deem necessary. Your answers remain confidential unless you give reason to believe you are at risk of harming yourself or others. Do you have any questions?”

“No questions here,” you replied with a shake of your head.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. On a scale of one to ten, how confident do you feel in your capability to complete your work and responsibilities on a day to day basis?” Anya read.

“Maybe eight? I’m still getting a hold of some of the more technical aspects. The Tulpar is an older ship… I wasn’t exactly trained on her special quirks in school,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“You’ll catch on fast. You already have,” she reassured, jotting down your response with that sweet smile still on her face. “Okay, next question. You mentioned last time that you’ve been having difficulty sleeping, is that still a relevant cause for concern?”

“I don’t know if it’s that concerning. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the new environment. It’s been getting easier to fall asleep though,” you responded. A little, white lie.

“I’m happy to hear that, [Name]. Your rest is important. I remember not being able to sleep at all during my first haul. I spent all night just tossing and turning, reading my books if I could focus on them long enough. It’s normal, but from the sound of it, you’re doing a great job adjusting.” Her gaze softened as she spoke. It was clear that she had grown to care for you quite quickly, and you did the same for her. “Only a couple more left to go…”

Anya listened intently while you answered each of her questions, taking the time to write down key details of your responses. Between questions, the sound of her pen etching against the paper filled the room. As Anya wrapped up the second to last question, your eyes wandered to the evening window screen. The warm orange and reds of the artificial sunset made the room look like it was on fire. You looked back to your hands, reaching up to take a piece of your hair and twist it between two fingers.

“All right,” Anya spoke up. “Last but not least, how do you feel about your relationships with the rest of the crew? Is there anything I should know about in particular?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone has treated me fine enough. Other than you, I’m still trying to get to know everyone better,” you said, still focused on your hair.

Another sympathetic smile graced Anya’s lips as she looked over at you. She knew how it felt to feel slightly out of place. “Look, I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, so you have to keep it a secret. Okay?” Anya let out a quiet laugh as you nodded quickly. She watched amused as you dropped your strand of hair and leaned in closer. “Daisuke mentioned during his eval that he wanted to get to know you more. Maybe you could try talking to him? You two have more in common than you might think.”

You looked down at your lap again, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.”

“Well, you’re all set. You’re free to go.” Anya closed the file and tucked it away alongside the others in her desk. “Thank you for your time, [Name]. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time as usual?”

“Same time as usual,” you echoed, beaming as you got out of your chair and left the room.

From the hallway leading to the medical bay, you could tell that the lounge was quiet now. Curly and Jimmy must have wandered off elsewhere. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the subtle sound of pencil scratching coming from deeper within. As you entered the room you noticed Daisuke, hunched over the table as he sketched something in his sketchbook. Completely oblivious. You leaned against the doorway and watched from a distance for a moment, admiring as he tucked a tuft of fried brown hair behind his ear.

“What are you drawing?” you questioned.

Daisuke jumped in his seat like a cat that had been snuck up on. His eyes shot to you, the surprise he felt immediately quelling into a tenuous excitement. He hastily closed his sketchbook —almost like he was hiding something— and smoothed out his hair. His mouth broke out into a wide, infectious smile, the gap in his two front teeth a thin ravine and the dimples on either side of his mouth tiny sinkholes.

“Me? Oh, y’know, just doodling,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if trying to act casual. “Where ya been? I couldn’t find- I mean, I didn’t see you back in the cockpit.”

“Psych eval.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb as you pushed yourself from the doorframe. “Can I see it?” you asked, walking up to the table and taking the seat across from him.

“Uhh… see what?” Daisuke asked in turn, voice coy and simultaneously flustered.

“Your doodles,” you responded with a laugh. “Only if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

“Oh! I mean, yeah. That’s like, totally fine. But, fair warning, they’re not that incredible or anything.” Reluctantly, Daisuke passed you his sketchbook. He looked rather bashful, cheeks slightly flushed and smile wavering.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve seen your stuff on Anya’s corkboard. You’re really good.” You took the sketchbook in your hands, looking down at the cover of it. It was absolutely littered in a random assortment of stickers. Only through the few and far between gaps could you see that it was once a pure black. It looked much cooler now decorated with the various games, bands, and whatever else Daisuke liked. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking? Again, it’s perfectly fine if you changed your mind.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just don’t expect too much, ‘kay?” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“No expectations,” you agreed.

You turned over the cover, revealing the first page. In red ink you read ‘if found please return to Daisuke, thank youuuuuu’, alongside it was a doodle of himself looking particularly grateful. Or maybe he was pleading. You chuckled under your breath and began flipping through the rest of the pages. Each one was filled with sketches and those increasingly familiar doodles of predominantly other people. Friends, maybe family, and characters from the different games he liked. His work wasn’t quite realistic, but not the most stylized either. Rather, it seemed to be a perfect mix of the two. Something entirely unique to him. To Daisuke.

The deeper you got into the book you started to spy familiar faces. Captain Curly, Swansea, Anya, even Jimmy, but mostly you. You glanced up at him, seeing that he was seemingly avoiding eye contact with you all together. His hand was still tangled within his hair, head turned to the side, and lips knitted into a fine line. That mole —high on his left cheek— stared at you more than his own eyes.

When you finally got to the last page you realized he hadn’t been doodling at all. Instead, there before you, in soft pencil sketching, was a portrait of you that Daisuke had drawn from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was incredibly detailed nevertheless. You held up the book, taking in the details with a look of awe on your face. He captured all of your little imperfections —the tilt of your eyes, the quirk in your smile, all of it.

“Daisuke, these are actually so good!” you exclaimed, setting the book down and passing it back to him.

“You… you really think so?” He let out a breath of relief, finally looking at you again. “Man, I thought you would find them totally weird. I’ve been too scared to show anyone else but Anya.”

“Why would I think they’re weird?” you asked.

“Shit, I dunno…” Daisuke trailed off.

You shook your head. “You’re really talented.”

“I- Thank you,” he breathed. Daisuke’s face softened as you looked at him from across the table. The flush in his cheeks was barely noticeable, a fair pink dusting the peaks of his features. “Hey, I noticed you brought a Walkman on board with you. I never thought I’d actually see one of those things in the flesh.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed lightly. “It was a gift from my mom. It’s outdated as hell, but I’ve got a bunch of custom tapes back in my room. We should totally listen to them sometime.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, I’d love to-”

“Daisuke!” Swansea called from down the hall, cutting him off. He rounded the corner, sticking his head into the lounge with a sweaty brow. “There you are. Get your ass up, break time’s over. We’ve got work to finish up before dinner.”

Daisuke looked noticeably disappointed at the sight of Swansea. “But I-”

“No ‘buts’. C’mon now, I don’t have all day,” Swansea said with a huff before he turned around, walking back toward the utility room.

“Coming,” Daisuke sighed. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a slight frown. “Guess I’ll see ya later, [Name].”

“Yeah! I’ve got to show you some of my mixes, remember?” you responded sweetly, smiling up at him.

Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. As he left the room, he adopted a pep in his step. A smile was glued to his face as he beamed down the hall. The human embodiment of sunshine in that moment.

#reader #x reader #reader insert #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x reader #daisuke x reader #daisuke #fem reader #curly mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke x reader

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