#about halfway through i stopped liking the idea of this post but posting anyways because i spent a few hours on it🤷‍♀️

[prrcyjacksons]

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY 2.01 — “Love Lost”

[hoziersong]

do you mind if i ramble in the tags about my weird relationship with making art in fandom for a second

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole. 

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual. 

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated. 

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift. 

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you. 

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you. 

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response. 

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule. 

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option. 

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.” 

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle. 

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.” 

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction. 

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.” 

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck. 

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself. 

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life. 

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex. 

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two. 

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes. 

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting. 

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle. 

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body. 

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last. 

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt. 

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close. 

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you. 

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it. 

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron. 

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place. 

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in. 

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with. 

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. 

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up. 

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace. 

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope. 

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you. 

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek. 

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.” 

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt. 

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.” 

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.  

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you. 

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again. 

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you. 

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly. 

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.” 

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy. 

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that? 

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head. 

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot. 

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous. 

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him. 

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ 12 3 days of christmas

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐱

✩ : just a (not so) chill post-christmas competition with your boyfriend

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : oscar piastri

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff, mature

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,3k

✍︎ : couldn’t stop thinking about that one mclaren video so i just wrote it down.

last one-shot of the christmas series! i'm sorry it was so short but i've been super busy with my family and relatives, so this is all i could give you guys (for the same reason, i don't have anything ready for new year's either...)

anyways, i hope you enjoyed it and had an amazing time with your loved ones too 🩷

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the torn wrapping paper scattered across the living room, untouched since you left it there the day before, warming the room as you passed by. When you walked into the kitchen, lazily stretching your arms over your head with a loud yawn, you were welcomed with a rather unique sight.

Oscar, hair ruffled and still in his pajamas, was quietly humming to a Christmas song coming from Alexa, so focused on whatever he was doing that he didn’t even look up when you made your entrance. You bit back the smirk tugging at your lips: he was far too cute like that, all festive and productive, to take it personally.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice still rough and low as he flashed you a sleepy grin; so he had seen you.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching out to peck him gently on the cheek, the way his arm immediately sneaked around your waist making you smile against his skin.

“So,” you pulled back and turned towards the counter behind you, “what’s all this?”

To be fair, now that you looked at them, the chaotic selection of candies, including gummy bears, M&Ms and marshmallows, and the two icing bags lying beside them spoke for themselves, making the answer pretty obvious.

Therefore, you weren’t really surprised when Oscar answered: “We’re making gingerbread houses.”

“And you decided to do this now of all times because…?”

“It’s my revenge for how you played yesterday,” he stated, hands firmly placed on his hips as he eyed you with a knowing glance, though he looked like he was trying his best not to laugh.

You clutched at your chest, mouth hung open in an outraged and mockingly shocked expression. “Excuse me, you mean how I clearly destroyed you at Monopoly?” Your tone was now teasing as an amused smirk played on your lips.

“No, I mean how you destroyed the board when you yeeted it across the room halfway through.”

“It was a strategic retreat,” you waved a hand in the air, absently shrugging off his accusation before grabbing one of the decorating bags and pointing it at his chest. “Ready to lose again?”

“First of all, let’s put this down,” he said while guiding your hands down on the kitchen island with his own. “The icing should go on the houses, not us.”

“Wow, zero faith in me,” you shot back, your unimpressed tone dripping with sarcasm as if being babied by Oscar didn’t affect you in the least—although it, in fact, affected you a lot. “Besides, I know how these things work. How hard can it be?”

“Famous last words,” he sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he finally let go of you.

“Alright,” you ignored him, bubbling over with the same excitement of a child on Christmas morning. “Rules are simple: best gingerbread house wins. No cheating, no crying when you lose.”

“Why are you the one making the rules? I’m pretty sure this was my idea.” He quirked a brow, the playful glint in his eyes matching the now full-blown smile on his face.

“Gingerbread house competition rules are universally known,” you stated matter-of-factly. “So, should I get tissues for you now or later?”

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a warning look before shaking his head, laughing at himself in disbelief as he, too, prepared for your little battle.

It took exactly ten minutes for things to start going sideways.

“Oscar!” Your voice echoed through the room once again, a laugh unwillingly breaking through the annoyance in it. “Stop eating all my decorations!” you scolded him, every word a slap on his arm.

“I’m quality testing,” he explained, mouth full of your candies as he popped yet another one in it.

“You’re sabotaging.” You snatched the package from his hands, sticking out your tongue at his disappointed face.

“Uncalled for,” he muttered under his breath, to which you quickly responded with a sharp ‘Deserved,’ before you both focused back on your work, the kitchen falling into a comfortable silence.

Until.

“Stop staring at me,” you said, not looking up from the counter after you felt his gaze linger on you for the hundredth time.

“I’m not staring.” The amusement in his tone immediately gave him away.

“You so are,” you chuckled, stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye. “What?” you then asked, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink when you found him already looking at you, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

He nodded toward your house. “Your wall’s sliding.”

“Mother–” You cursed between your teeth, scrambling to fix it, your fingers sticky with icing as you pressed it back into place.

That’s when you felt it—him.

“What are you doing?” you basically hissed, tensing up as he stepped right behind you, his arms sliding onto the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He just stood still for a moment, his chest warm against your back and his breath hot on your neck as he hovered over you, every nerve in your body suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

“Helping.” His tone was casual, innocent even, but the way it immediately dropped as he took your smaller hands in his made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I don’t need help,” you replied sharply—and yet you didn’t pull away, your skin tingling under his touch.

“Mhm,” he hummed in your ear, mock obvious in his voice.

You tried to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at that simple sound, keeping your eyes stubbornly fixed on the gingerbread house in front of you as you mumbled a weak ‘I’ve got it’ you didn’t even believe yourself.

“Sure you do.” Oscar didn’t miss a beat, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he spoke, the last bits of self-control you had left finally leaving your body.

Since you didn’t have any smart remark to make this time—not a single thought was actually going through your head—he just kept going, only worsening your already desperate situation.

“You’ve got a little…” His whisper trailed off as he brought a hand up to your flushed face, gently taking your chin between his fingers and turning your head toward him, his thumb moving to brush away a dribble of icing that had ended up on the corner of your mouth.

“Oscar–”

“Hold still,” he murmured, “I missed a spot.”

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned in, his lips burning on your skin as he darted his tongue out and swiped it over the dirty spot in a lingering kitty lick. But it was when he traced the line of your bottom lip with it that you gave in, an unintentional sigh escaping your mouth as you faced him completely.

Your hands moved in sync, yours sliding under his shirt and trailing to his back, nails scratching their way up, while his left your jaw to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter, sending half of the items on it tumbling to the floor. Needless to say, neither of you cared about the mess.

His fingers moved down to your thighs, digging into the plush skin there and forcing them apart so that he could sneak between your knees, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him flush against you, the sudden contact making your back arch as he grunted softly.

Oscar’s mouth left yours for a moment, only to start attacking your neck right after, your head tilting back to give him a better access as he nipped at the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

A mischievous smile stretched on his lips as he licked clean a sprinkle of powdered sugar you hadn’t even noticed, mumbling ‘Sweet’ at the taste of it.

“Was this your plan all along?” You let out a breathless laugh in between your gasps, skin on fire under his every little touch.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. His kisses did all the talking.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[modelbus]

why do requests when I can post the most random things in existence?

Pairing: CEO!Simon Ghost Riley x Gn!Reader

Workplace Hazards

"I'm resigning."

The jerk of a head, and dark eyes meet your light ones. 

There should be books written on the way those dark eyes narrow at you, daring you to contradict his next words. Knowing you will. But nobody else understands these patterns, these games, quite the same way you do.

You suppose that makes you the would-be author of the books.

"No you aren't." His voice is solid, leaving no room for arguing.

You find room anyways.

"Yes, I am."

I'm the absence of an immediate response, your eyes dip to his desk. You walked into this office with one plan in mind, and you’ll be damned if it's ruined because he's easy on the eyes.

His wooden desk, as usual, is neatly organized. A stack of perfectly crisp papers sit under an elegant pen, right next to the keyboard connected to his computer. Your eyes carefully avoid looking at the placard sat on his desk.

You knows what it says anyways. The same thing is on his door that you barged through just minutes before.

Simon Riley - CEO

Finally, your eyes flick back to him.

"And why the fuck,” he says, voice carefully measured, "would that be?"

"You know why."

Simon’s—Mr. Riley’s—jaw clenches, a muscle ticking. 

When you were hired into this office, nearly everyone had warned you that this very man was, simply put, an asshole. And he was. 

He yelled at workers, he refused to budge. There were days where his glare was so strong you were terrified that standing in his sight for too long would kill you.

But it didn't. Not when his eyes softened, not when his voice became gentler than you ever knew possible.

"Humor me." It's a demand more so than a request from him.

You sigh. “Just let me resign. Let me quit."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

You have to swallow to stop yourself from repeating your earlier response. He knows why. You both know it better than the backs of your own hands. 

Simon raises an eyebrow, motioning for you to speak with a pissed expression. You don’t.

He runs a slow and deliberate hand through the carefully messy blond hair on top of his head, making you glance away. This felt like a slap in the face to you, to everything you were trying to do.

"I'm not letting you resign." Simon says slowly. “You’re not resigning.”

"I'm not asking you to let me." You immediately respond.

It's his turn to look away this time. Almost instinctively your eyes fall down to the slope of his neck, past the scars, further to the silver chain necklace.

Your lips, pressed to the soft skin of his neck. He was all you could taste, all you could smell. He was going to kill you, just like this. Suffocate you with everything he was.

If his hands didn't get you first, that was.

"If this is over the other night, I can assure you-"

"It's not." You say stiffly. "Well, not entirely."

The other night, when every last wall between you two came down.

Simon Riley was an enigma at best, and the world's biggest dickhead at worst. To everyone that wasn't you, that is.

Because somewhere along turning in reports and weekly check-ins, something shifted. Something that turned into walks home, idle chats, you knowing his childhood friends called him Ghost.

True surprise flashes over his face before it's gone again. Faintly, you wonder if anyone else would've caught that emotion. Another part of you mourns the idea that someday, someone else will.

"Then what is this about?" 

You take a deep breath. "The rumors."

"The... rumors?" He repeats, an edge of confusion overriding the control.

For a second, you pause, realizing your mistake. Of course he didn't listen to the office rumors. Idle gossip around here would never be his style, no matter what happened.

He didn't know the rumor going around.

"What rumors?" He repeats, and something's shifted in his voice now. Panic. He's panicking. Simon Riley never panics.

Simon pushes himself halfway to his feet before you manage to find your words again.

"The entire office thinks I'm sleeping with you for a promotion."

He collapses back down into his chair.

You’re left to stand, wondering if this is what the wreckage of a car crash looks like. Maybe it'd be easier if it was a real wreck. Not... this. Not whatever's been going on between you and him.

It's will-you and won't-he, a vice-like grip on your heart that you just can't seem to shake. It's the memory of his laugh, low and smooth, the first time you made him laugh. It's his goddamn lips against yours.

You think you might kneel over dead in his office.

"Ah." He says, missing his usual eloquence. "They're just rumors."

"Partly true rumors."

You meet his eyes, daring him to deny it. He doesn't.

From the second his hand landed on your waist that night, you both knew you were too fragile to forget what was going to happen. Going back was never an option.

"But the others don't know that. Just fucking ignore them."

You shake your head. "You don't get it. These rumors may not touch you, but for me—"

"If anyone's giving you shit over them, tell me." He's quick to speak, pure anger in his voice. He's pissed at the very idea. 

"You can't change 7.8 billion people, Si- Mr. Riley."

"Don't do that." Before you can even ask him to elaborate, he stands. "Don't step back like that, don't reduce me to Mr. Riley again."

This time, you have to fully turn away. How are you meant to quit him like this?

"The rumors can and will ruin my career." You tell the photos on the walls. They're of places, not people. Simon Riley doesn't do photos of people.

"No they won't."

"I've been working my ass off to show people that I've earned everything I've gotten. I'm not going to throw that away on- on-"

"On me."

You wish you didn't know him well enough to detect the undercurrent of hope. You wish a lot of things that can never happen. 

You wish you couldn't hear his footsteps rounding the desk. His presence behind you is like a force of nature, a gravitational pull you can't get rid of for the life of you.

"You promised you wouldn't run away from me."

It was a stupid promise to make to him. 

"My job comes first and you know it. It's the same way with you."

"At least give me the dignity of looking at me." His hand lands on your arm, tugging you around to see him. "I'll get HR off your back, so stop trying to quit."

"It's not HR!" You exclaim, frustration overtaking you. 

"Don't lie and tell me you suddenly give a damn what the others think." He glowers at you, eyebrows lowering as a frown tugs at his mouth. You frown right back at him.

"I do when it's my job on the line."

"Bullshit. They-" he makes a motion to his door, "-don't decide shit here. I do. And I'm not going to let you go."

"Actually, I decide what I do with my life, which is why I'm resigning." 

His expression drops, falling from anger straight into despair before he fixes it. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Simon still has his hand on your arm, and you’re all too aware of that. Every point of contact you have right now prickles with electricity.

"You're throwing away your job. This is the stupidest move I've ever seen you make, and you've done a lot of stupid shit."

"Actually," the words are flowing out of your mouth before you can stop them, "I think the stupidest move I've made was kissing you."

His hand drops from your arm like he's burned, like your words struck him as a physical blow. You regret them immediately, but it's too late.

"Simon, wait—"

"No." He shakes his hand, steps back, adjusts his tie. "If you regret it so much, you should've stopped a long time ago."

You stare helplessly up at him. "I know." You murmur. “I know."

After a long moment you clear your throat, holding out a pink paper. "My letter of resignation."

He takes it, glancing over it. 

For just a moment, you think he'll actually let you go. Let you walk away from him and this company like nothing ever happened between you two. Like you didn't see him and love everything he gave you.

And then he rips it in half, crumbles it, and tosses it out the window.

"Get back to work." He says roughly, turning away and walking the few steps back to his desk.

"I'll print another." You threaten uselessly.

"And I'll rip up another." He raises his eyebrows at you.

"I'll send twenty to your house."

"You show up at my house, darlin’."

You could kill him. Right now, with your bare hands, you’re so tempted to lunge.

This is dangerous.

This is what led you to the other night, the addictive rush they found existed between you two. You should step back. Try again later, maybe call a workers union or something.

But you won't, and he knows that better than anyone else.

"Why are you like this?" You exclaim. The cocky cover he hid under was infuriating.

Simon Riley was like a goddamn sink hole someone tried to cover up. You break through the first layer of assholeness to find another layer of cockiness.

And when you break through that one, there's nothing to stop you from falling.

"Why are you so insistent on making a stupid decision?" He snaps back. "We fucked. The office thinks they know. So what?"

"So it'll ruin me!"

"And it won't ruin me?" 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. your arms cross over your chest at the pure nerve has to say that.

"Please. You're the CEO, your job is—"

"I'm not talking about my job."

Your breath catches, and you’re suddenly aware of how hard you’re both breathing. Simon takes a rugged breath in, eyes on you.

"What do I have to do to get you to stay?"

You could have anything and everything. You know that if you asked in this moment, he'd offer everything.

It's power you never wanted.

His connections could get you meeting celebrities, and as the CEO he could promote you to places you never thought you’d get. His offer of bribery was too good for a person to pass up, even with the current rumor. 

But...

His eyes, normally so reserved, are soft. If eyes were truly windows to the soul, his windows were wide open.

"This isn't because I'm the CEO, right?" He murmurs into your hair, breath warm. 

"No. Not this."

You swallow, and shakes your head. "Nothing."

"Don't let this rumor ruin this."

"Ruin what?"

You tilt your head up, eyes locking onto his. You need this response more than you’ve ever needed anything before.

Because you woke up and left him. 

You didn't talk about what happened between you two. Not when you saw each other in the office, not when you sent him a cat meme and he sent you a dog meme. This thing between you didn't have a name, and you were shriveling up.

You watch him swallow, suddenly put on the spot to define what you are. 

And he can't.

So you turn away, moving to leave his office. What's the point of listening to him if he doesn't even know why you shouldn't leave? 

Simon moves quicker than you though, placing himself between you and his office door. 

"Si—"

"I want to take you to dinner." He says, and you stop talking. "I want you to get dressed up nice just for me, and I want to go on a date. On a thousand dates. And I want to kiss you during every one, take you home, and wake up next to you. I’m not built for it, love, but I fucking want it.”

More. 

He wants to be more.

He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t even try to move or step back.

"I'm the CEO." He breathes, tilting your chin up. "I get everything I want, except you, and it's driving me so fucking crazy."

How are you meant to respond to that? Is there even a response yoj can give? 

There's raw emotion in his voice, his touch. For someone who you’ve seen yell at coworkers with no remorse, he's only been painfully gentle to you. 

So you do the only thing you can: you wrap his tie in your hand and tug him closer, crashing your lips onto his.

He presses you into him with a hand on the small of your back, greedily taking everything you’re giving him. After a moment he pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours.

"Don't kiss me like this is goodbye, love."

"Isn't it?"

"Fuck no." He says fiercely. "I'll tell the office, the entire goddamn world, that we're together and to leave you the fuck alone."

"They'll think I'm only where I am because I'm dating the boss."

"Are you happy?" He asks abruptly. 

"I- what?"

"Are you happy?"

After a moment, you dip your head slightly in a nod.

"Then why do you give a fuck what they think?"

Before you can respond with some logical response, he kisses you and all thoughts fly from your head. Your grip tightens on his tie, and he grins into the kiss slightly.

"So?" He questions.

"...I withdraw my letter of resignation." You sigh after a beat.

"There we go."

[gortash-week]

hello gortash nation. it is i, host of this week @sankttealeaf here! gortash week may "officially" be over but that means nothing when the archduke wants more! (he will not stop until he has more, please i miss my family he's keeping me locked away in wyrms rock prison and is making me dance for his amusement! i cant dance! help please!!)

anyway - despite the event ending, i will be leaving the AO3 collection open until the end of august / early september for those who found the event a little later and want to make something for these prompts. time is a weird soup after all, we don't follow rules here!!

if you've made something and have thought "oh no! its not the day of the prompt anymore - i cant post it" PLEASE share it!! i'm still accepting submissions and i'll still reshare any gortash week work here & tag whichever day its for! i know some people found out about the event as it was happening and if the prompts have inspired you - please share!!! i'd love to see it!!

thank you from the bottom of my heart if you've participated in this event - whether that's making things or simply engaging with the content shared. it means the world to me that people found the prompts interesting enough to take time out of their day to make something for it. i had no idea this event would be as big as it's become and i'm so so so impressed with the wide variety of work made and shared!! everyone is so talented and i cant wait to see what other things you all make and write <3

as for the future? well, i'd love to run more events like this! i've mentioned before about a hypothetical "gort month" that would include two prompts per week, 8(ish) prompts in total. that way there's a loooot more time to work on things & if people wish to join halfway through it's a lot less pressure to do so! my aim for running events is to keep them as stress & pressure free as possible because theyre here to be fun! i'm also open to comments & ideas & feedback on how you (yes, you!) found this event so if i do end up running something else in the future it can be better and better! pls feel free to shoot me as ask (anon or not it's fine! be respectful though, that's all i ask<3) if you have any post-event comments you want to air and i'll respond!!

again, if i've missed any of your work you've posted, please send it my way! no message required, just drop me the link & i'll share it asap!! thank you to those who have done that already!! i easily miss things and i dont want anyone to feel like im purposefully leaving them out!!

thank you again for making this week so enjoyable! ive had such a blast hosting it and if i see any other events i'll be sure to reblog them here (for those interested: i've seen a wyllmancer week, a galemancer week (both on twitter), and a lae'zel week on here that i can't seem to find the post for to link to :( )

again - super open to comments and feedback or even if you just want to say hi! i'm way more active on my main blog if you're interested in hanging out there :3

thank u so much for this week, it's been so much fun <3 <3

[ashbeneviento]

Smut/ slight fluff Headcanons For Donna (again, bc she’s my wife and all I can think about)

This post contains CNC kinks, dark themes, bodily harm, slight voyeur, possessiveness/yandere, drugging, and mentions of g!p that are all consented to. If these aren’t your thing please just keep scrolling! And obviously she gives you the best aftercare 😌

Content below the ***’s and as always, thanks for reading :)

*************************************

-Donna will make you a special tea to put you to sleep. There’s always a note beside it telling you the contents in said tea and the effects of it, allowing you to make the decision to drink it. If you don’t, she takes that as a no and will find something else for you both to do (like watch movies and cuddle!)

However, if you do decide to drink it..prepare to wake up later with a delicious ache between your legs. Donna loves how perfectly innocent you look and how well behaved you are asleep. Her very special doll to play with. Her favorite thing to do is to eat you out as you make soft moans, your juices coating her lips and chin until those soft moans turn into grunts and whines.

*Why would she stop? You taste so good, Tesoro.. you’re all hers. Every part of you belongs to her including your orgasms*

Other times she’ll bind you to the bed and fuck you roughly with her strap/g!p, enjoying the way it looks going in and out of you until she’s satisfied. She often wonders what you’re dreaming of while she plays with your sleeping body, but she has a few good guesses…

After you wake up she tells you everything she did to you, then promptly runs you a nice bath and makes you a snack/makes you drink water.

-Donna can be quite possessive. No one can look at you for too long unless they want to be driven to insanity by her pollen. She stopped bringing you to meetings because Alcina teased once of letting you stay at the castle, bringing you back home and punishing you for even entertaining the idea. (You didn’t even say anything except nervously laugh) Tied up with your hands behind your back, face down in the bed with your ass in the air, she smacks and whips you until you’re certain you won’t be sitting for a week.

She loves marking you. Welts and droplets of blood seep from your skin. Bite marks on your neck and chest and if not that;hickeys littering your body. She’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to, even Miranda dares not touch a single hair on you from the sight.

Those cuts and welts are properly cleaned and kissed, and she never takes it further than what you can handle.

You can’t leave, not ever. (Not that you want to anyway) Not even for necessities, you have the Duke for such things for a reason. You’re only allowed out in the yard..with her presence of course. Angie is your sitter if Donna is too busy with work/experimenting, but you can feel her gaze sometimes behind those beady eyes and know she’s secretly taking a peak.

-Speaking of outside…your shy lover may be a recluse, but that doesn’t stop her from testing the limits with slight voyeurism. She’ll fuck you out in the open, surrounded by nature and the loud hum of the waterfall. She loves making you strip for her as she lays on a blanket in the grass, looking up at you with hunger in her eye. It makes you feel far more exposed, because while no one was brave enough to wander on Beneviento ground, there was always the idea of chance in the back of your mind. She even gets that dangerous glint in her eyes as you scream out in pleasure, causing the crows hiding in the trees to caw and fly off and away.

Sometimes she even takes you halfway through the underground tunnel that leads to the chapel, making your moans echo through so embarrassingly loud that you’re certain at least one of the Lords or Miranda could hear. “Mine..” she’ll growl in your ear as she pumps into you harder, her breathing ragged and moans raspy.

-Most of the time she’s focused on giving you pleasure, but when it’s time for her to take it for herself she does so.. She loves seeing your pretty lips wrap around her strap/g!p, a painfully delicious grip into your hair as you gag and take every inch down your throat. No use in crying, *she loves it*. Same goes for eating her out.. wether your on your knees under her desk or anywhere else in the house, you won’t be stopping anytime soon. You best swallow as well, you wouldn’t want to upset her do you? No.. you’re her good little doll who takes what she gives you. Not that you would need much convincing, she tastes like heaven and you’ll beg for it like you’re starving.

-Donna also found a way to immobilize you but keep you awake and aware. A special drug she created herself so you can be experience every feeling she gives to you without you being able to retaliate. Of course she kept it so your eyes could move, however. She checks in constantly, reading your answers by you moving them up and down for yes and side to side for no. She never uses any of her special drugs without prior consent, and always explains in details how they’ll affect you during and after they’ve worn off.

You love feeling like her toy, free to play with whenever and however she likes.. but you know she truly doesn’t think of you as such. You like the freedom to pretend and let yourself be open with her just as much as she does with you.

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes, I wrote this so fast because if I didn’t I’d implode. Donna brainrot 24/7 365.

[skirter01]

Top Gun: Fenton - Chpt 1 (Teaser)

Bout time I put this one out here. Will be up on Ao3 in the next 2 weeks!

The thing about plummeting 20,000ft through the air in the middle of the night – if you realise it's a bad idea halfway down, it's already too late. 

“Holy sh*t!” 

Admittedly, not one of Danny’s favourite ways to wake up. 

He could barely right himself as he plummeted through the dark sky in a mess of flailing limbs and flapping NASA pyjama pants. Obviously not his best look, but it wasn’t like he was prepared to wake up falling out of the sky. In fact, it wasn’t something he’d ever had to actually deal with considering he tended to defy gravity majority of the time anyway. 

Convenient, when it works, he thought saltily, still trying and failing to trigger any reciprocation from his core. Since when was he having power malfunctions? It was like he was fourteen all over again, turning his pants intangible in the school hallway. Puberty, ew. 

Danny’s lanky body flipped and folded uncontrollably like a sheet in the wind, while compressed air screamed past his ears and pulled at the skin of his face, drying out his mouth and grabbing at his eyelids painfully. How could anyone do this for fun, ever? 

Honestly, he’d pretty much accepted at this point that whatever was going on, this wasn't his fault. The last thing he remembered was falling into bed next to Sam post online doom sesh with Tucker and completely checking out of the world of consciousness – because yes he could do that now, three cheers for retirement! So, unless he could somehow teleport in his sleep, this was completely out of his control. Which was unsettling, but at least it was some comfort that he could blame someone else for once.  

A chill nipped at his arms as he plunged through more cloud cover, only this time, instead of more dark and gloom, he broke through to come face to face with perhaps the most menacing skyline he’d ever seen. 

Brutal skyscrapers stood like gods, towering over a city swathed in smog and pollution. Plumes of smoke drifted skywards, drifting past keeling cranes and breathing onto low flying aircraft weaving dangerously between high rises. 

Oh he was so not in Washington anymore. 

His eyes followed smatterings of dim light that illuminated bustling roads and jagged bridges, stooping down into a shadowy harbour, dotted with resting ships bobbing in dark water. The very same water which loomed ominously below him. Danny’s eyes widened as the still, murky harbour water rushed at him, and he tried uselessly to grasp any part of his half dead self. Head-on collision in ten, nine, eight….

He managed to swivel feet first, throwing his legs out like a spring to displace the water. Not that it helped. It was like hitting fucking concrete. His legs cracked sickeningly on impact and the icy harbour water engulfed him. 

As he sunk down, a horrible scenario flashed through his mind; his body filled with water, sinking to the bottom of this strange harbour in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, never to be found again. His only memory; a segment on buzzfeed unsolved. 

Naturally, Danny panicked. He floundered on the surface, splashing around with only arms to keep him afloat and the dreaded possibility that he’d just broken both legs. He sucked in salty water through his nose, and choked it down his throat as the dead-weight of his legs dragged him under. 

Sam, the house and the $20 in my wallet are yours. The console goes to Tucker – but I’ll never forgive you if you don’t put him through the blazing trials of hell to earn it. 

Miraculously, it was then that he felt that familiar weightlessness settle over him, and without a second thought, he launched himself skyward blindly – just far enough to miss the rest of the harbour and crash ragdoll style onto the wooden jetty. 

Rolling to a stop on his back, Danny groaned, chest heaving for oxygen he didn't need. His legs were on fire, but at least that was better than numb – c’mon freaky ghost powers do your thing already. All he wanted was to lie there and pass out. But that would just be too convenient. 

The red and blue lights of justice flashed against the white undersides of the expensive moored boats lining the jetting, and the squeal of rubber tires on tarmac had Danny cursing under his breath. Too fucking perfect. 

Car doors slammed, two of them, and the hurried thumping of boots on the flimsy wooden jetty vibrated against his back. Closest he’d get to a massage probably. 

“Hey!” 

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, so it begins.

The first cop was by his side in seconds, sliding to his knees at Danny’s shoulder. “Please, please don't be dead,” The guy mumbled to himself, clearly young by the tone, fiddling with his utility belt for what Danny could only guess was a pair of gloves. “Not another one. Not more paperwork.”

“Your lucky day” Danny wheezed out a laugh, forcing his eyes back open enough to give the poor traumatised dude some clarity. “Still kicking.” 

“Crap!” The cop startled, falling back on his heels, probably having already convinced himself that Danny was dead. He couldn't blame the guy, good intuition. “You scared the socks off me dude!” He put a hand to his chest, “But thank god for that.” 

“Ha.” Danny exhaled exhaustedly. The Officers silver name badge read ‘Det. Grayson’, but his face was young, a year or two older than Danny, he guessed, somewhere around twenty three or four – definitely too young to be a detective. Black hair peaked out from underneath Detective Graysons cap, hanging above blue eyes eerily similar to his own. They roved over Danny’s beaten face and body with the same critical gaze Jazz had been giving him for years. Oh yeah, oldest sibling for sure – out in the wild. 

The assessment halted at his legs, “God, your…” 

The second cop, Graysons partner, sidled up then, measly first aid kit in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He was an older man, stubby, with a crooked moustache, wide face and a badge that read ‘Const. Marshall’. “What’ve we got Grayson? Another body – holy christ!” 

Constable Marshall staggered a few steps, when his flashlight illuminated Danny’s tattered legs. “Oh hell no. That’s bone! I see bone!” 

“Marshall!” Grayson scolded in a harsh whisper, ripping away the first aid kit.

Danny cringed. So much for being calm in front of a patient. His legs must be pretty gruesome then. It wasn’t worrying, not when he could already feel the burning sensation of his ectoplasm trying to cinch them back together. Except, that was just the problem. 

He gritted his teeth. Please stop healing. 

“Sorry about him,” Grayson mumbled, calmly reaching into the first aid kit for some intense looking bandages, “I’m Detective Grayson, and that’s Constable Marshall. We’re with Bluhaven PD, but we’re working with Gotham City at the moment. What’s your name?” 

Danny’s stomach dropped. “We’re in Gotham?” 

“Gotham harbour specifically.” Detective Graysons brow furrowed. “Did you hit your head at all?” 

“No–I, um…” What in the hell was going on? “– sorry, I’m Danny.”

The Detective's eyes were wary, but he hid it well with an awkward smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you Danny. Although, not the best circumstances, I’m sure.” 

Danny chuckled breathily, mind spinning. “Tell me about it.” 

“What in the hell happened?” Constable Marshall asked, white as a sheet and looking all the more like he was about to regurgitate his dinner into the harbour. “I’m calling an ambulance.” 

Danny’s heart jumped to his throat. “Oh no really – you don't have to, I’m fine, I’ll just–”

“No time. We’ll take him with us” Grayson interrupted, tying off bandages around Danny’s legs to stem the bleeding. “Marshall, help me get him up” 

Danny let out a very manly whine as both men gripped him under the arms and carefully lifted his battered body to a standing position. His vision spun, and he wobbled dangerously, because obviously standing on two broken legs wasn’t going to provide much stability. The younger of the two cops was quick to duck under his shoulders and lift the weight off, whilst the Constable on the other side took a second longer to follow his example. So much for seniority. 

“Danny, how are you going buddy? You with us?” Grayson asked, the epitome of calm, but Danny really couldn't give him an answer right now. He continued, “We’re going to get you over to the car okay? And then we’ll go straight to the hospital.”

“No hospitals.” Danny moaned amidst spinning vision and pounding head. 

“Yeah, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice my dude, sorry.” Grayson smirked. “Nice pants by the way. NASA, very spacey"

Danny died a little more.

---

Whoop! Bit vague, but all the more fun to come!

[asslover4]

Hot otome game takes but most of it is just obey me:

These are just my two cents ofc and people are free to disagree

1) I didn't really like Ikemen Prince. This is coming from someone who normally loves Cybrid games (and has even played some of the routes multiple times !), but everything about Ikemen Prince, from the plot to the characters, failed to grab my attention. In terms of the hype it gets, I think it should be switched with Ikemen Revolution, which I thought was stronger on all fronts but often gets left out of promo

2) The writing in obey me stopped being good about halfway through the first game, when it started attracting a younger fan base. This meant the devs had to balance between catering to the old fans and the waves of new, usually younger fans, so the quality of the writing suffered as a result

3) I'm not massively surprised about obey me nb. Back in 2022 (or whenever tf nb got announced), the devs also announced they'd stop updating om on reddit, a social media platform where the fan base was pretty much nonexistent. The only reason I found out was that I followed @/obeymesimppage on instagram at the time. Tbh, the very idea of nb had always felt pointless to me in terms of the plot - why did I need to start again from a new game after putting a lot of time and reading a lot of the story for the existing one ? Why not just add nb onto the old game as new chapters ? (the reason is money ofc, and trying to milk the vip players and gacha collectors). This, along with the continuation of many of the problems in the old game, was one of the reasons i never properly got into nb. Anyway, 5 more chapters are definitely not going to be enough to wrap up all the ongoing threads in a satisfactory way. The ending, if it will even be something that can be considered that, will probably be rushed and sloppy (am I salty about Thirteen remaining undateable in both games ? Yes. Yes I am)

4) This next one isn't really a hot take from what I've seen, but a lot of MCs are written to be quite two dimensional - most of them are soft, shy and feminine, which there's nothing wrong with, but it gets boring when all of the stories have protagonists that are carbon copies of each other. One of the reasons I like Ikemen Sengoku so much is that the MC is actually funny - she's sassy and takes no bullshit. After bashing it throughout this post, I'll also throw obey me a bone (because there were also many things the devs did incredibly well) - leaving so much about the MC up to interpretation (including the gender, which is definitely sonething I'd like to see more of) was an infinitely better move than writing the same old archetype for every story

5) Please include romanceable women and female friendships. The former is obviously self indulgent, but I feel like the latter would add a whole new dimension to the games and make them a lot more fun and relatable - it's usually just the (normally female) MC with a bunch of guys, so write in another woman who can support the MC, laugh with her and gossip with her about the love interests

6) I'd rather pay an initial price (thank you touchstarved) or watch ads at the end of a chapter than download a "free" game only to be forced to pay for vip halfway through or stop playing (looking at you obey me). I honestly think Cybrid do it best here with their daily free tickets

[nerdieforpedro]

A New Tradition with Frankie

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x GN reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Summary: An adventure in baking leads to fun and laughter at your expense. But in the end, his smile is what matters.

Warnings: likely bad baking directions, jokes in very poor taste, cursing, Frankie having fun at your expense, domestic fluff

Notes: I wanted to give Frankie some fluff. In my previous Frankie Fridays, I've been having that man work through his trauma. He needed some pure fluff and laughs. I did look up how to make gingerbread cookies but unlike many of the wonderful baking posts by @avastrasposts I have no idea what I’m doing. 😆 I made a post yesterday about what my chocolate chip cookies looked like and I cannot be trusted with an oven.

Word Count: approx. 1.2K

The directions had been clear and you read them twice before starting. You even tailored your shopping list to them and had double checked you had all the ingredients two days ago. Why do they all look like piles of lumpy dirt?

Now the ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar, molasses give it the brown color which makes sense. The wet ingredients you added after the dry because that’s what they always did on one of your favorite shows ‘Nailed it!’ and you made fun of the bakers who dumped everything in at once. You swear you’re not like them. You promise. 

The dough sat in the fridge for two and a half hours. The minimum was two but you were checking emails on your phone and lost track of time. A rolling pin was bought for this, you hadn’t owned one, never needed one but you got one. A good one not from the dollar store, but from Target. Rolled out the dough, shaped the little gingerbread cookies, set the oven to 350 degrees and put them in, rotating them halfway so they would bake evenly. The cookies had been rising and rising and maybe they rose a bit too much, but maybe it would fall like a cake. They all rise and fall right?

But now, these cookies mock you, they’re huge, puffy, oblong. Not the cute circles you’d cut out less than 30 minutes ago. What can you do with them?

“Hermosa (gorgeous), I’m home. Benny lost to the Raz guy again. He’s really got to train harder.” Your husband walked in, setting his keys in the dish by the door and slipping his boots off. He was making his way to the kitchen. You threw a dish towel over the cookies in a vain attempt to hide them. He’s a pilot whose job it is to keep track of minute details that can disrupt a flight plan. You’re not hiding anything. 

“Hey Frankie. Benny lost again? Maybe he should take a break for a bit like you said.” You smiled, your fingers nervously tapping your thigh. He was scanning you and the room.

“Hermosa. What’s under the cloth? This isn’t the day you murder me for wearing shoes inside the house is it?” He laughed moving toward you and those abominations called cookies. 

“No. And I mention one time how I don’t like dirt tracked in the house and you go right to murder Morales. Jeez.” You crossed your arms in false offense before pulling him close to you by his arms. “You have to pay the toll, you know. Just gonna walk in this house and think you don’t. Mighty full of yourself sir.” You grinned and placed a soft peck on his lips. Frankie smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, deepening the kiss before stepping back, holding the dishcloth.

“I’m a man who pays his debts.” He took one look at the oversized cookies and doubled over in laughter. “Hermosa no, baby why? These are the gingerbread cookies you talked about? They look like…like..”

“Don’t say it…” You covered your ears. You’d hear him anyways, but it didn’t stop you from being mortified that he saw them and what you both knew they looked like.

“Like what came out of Santi’s dog after he gave him that kibble with the extra fiber..!” Frankie continued to bellow with glee, clumsy stepping back. Your hands went from your ears to your hips, face burning with annoyance but also glee that he was able to laugh so freely. It used to be difficult to get a chuckle out of the man when he wasn’t with his brothers in arms. 

“I used to like you Frankie. Damn it.” At this point, you’re biting your lips to hold back your own laugh. Morales is red in the face, starting to wheeze.

“Hermosa, you know I love you.” Despite his eyes starting to water, he’s stepping toward you, in an effort to get away from him, you move to the other side of the table when he easily uses his long legs to intercept and catch you from behind, nuzzling his chin in your neck while still chuckling. “I love you and your shity looking cookies.”

“You’re lucky, you’re cute and I’m a sucker for men who like my shity looking cookies.”

You finally gave in and giggled in his arms as he rocked you from side to side.

“Did you try them? Are they edible?” He asked, waddling back over to the cookies with you.

“I hadn’t tried them yet. I was so taken with what they looked like.” You admitted. 

The both of you agreed to break a cookie in half to try. Now standing side by side, you counted to three and bit into the cookie. It was warm, fluffy and actually tasted sweet. Like gingerbread.

“Damn mi vida (my life), they look horrible, but taste great. This is your first time making them right?” Frankie asked, chewing it and downed the other half. He kissed your forehead, leaving a few crumbs from his patchy beard which you brushed off your head. 

“Yeah. I wanted to try and make a tradition for us, and surprise you. I guess I did both. Not exactly how I planned though.” You finished your half of the cookie as well, licking your lips. Proud that you did at least make something that tasted good. In the midst of studying the cookies, you saw a glint of something. Turning, Frankie had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures of the cookies. “Morales! Don’t you dare!” You lunged in an effort to grab his phone from him, he put his hands up and out of your reach.

“I gotta save the memory of these cookies! You understand mi vida?” That booming laugh of his returned as his hands snaked around your sides. You twisted your mouth, determined to let him know that you weren’t ok with him taking pictures of your baking disaster. But he was laughing so much more, more than he had been in months.

“Just don’t send them to the guys. Please Francisco.” His smile curved into a grin.

“I’m Francisco now? Well maybe I should, since I’ve been downgraded to Francisco.” He touched his prominent nose to yours, rubbing it slightly. It tickled and you drew back before rubbing yours against his. 

“I just called you by your name. I’m serious. Don’t. Benny still calls me Baby Legs from when I did shots with you guys.” Morales bites his bottom lips before digging his face into your shoulder, you feel the vibrations of his laughter on your skin.

“I know, I know.” He assured you when he picked his head back up, he put his phone in his pocket and placed his palm on your cheek. “Next time we’ll bake them together, alright mi amor (my love)? We’ll make it a tradition like you said.” You both took another look at the bloated cookies and laughed together, echoing so the neighbors could hear if they chose to.

Tag List:

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @gnpwdrnwhiskey

[lemonxdaisybby]

Hello! The lingerie headcanons for the judgment bois was so good. Can I maybe ask for lingerie headcanons for Ichiban, Zhao, Sawashiro, Yamai and Eiji? hope that’s not too many to ask for!

Helloooo! Ofc you can! Also there’s no limit either to how many people you wanna add to a request 💕 Altho if I did get an ask for say, 20 characters or so in one go, I may cry a little

I can do Yamai as I’ve progressed enough with Infinite Wealth to feel comfortable writing for him. However, I have left Eiji out for now, only becauseeee I’m just over halfway through the game (I keep getting distracted by Dondoko Island because I love it) so I’m not 100% confident or sure on how to write his character yet. I’m so sorry.

I’ll probs make a post once I’ve finished IW so people can request for any of those characters going forward. 💕

Also thank you for the request, and I hope you like!

S/O surprising them w lingerie ✨

Ichiban:

Ichi’s brain is going to straight up stop working, and his face would just heat up immediately. He would momentarily be broken.

As soon as he comes home and sees you dressed in pretty lingerie for him, he is gonna freeze. His eyes would be comically wide, and his mouth would be opening and closing as if he’s trying to say something, but no noise would be coming out. You’d probably have to approach him and ask him if he likes it, to break him out of his daze.

He’d just become putty in your hands, nodding yes to your question, not quite trusting himself to speak, because honestly? He has no idea what is going to come blurting out his mouth.

It would probably be best if you just lead him to the bedroom at this point. Grab his hand, and he’ll eagerly follow you.

Ichi is a bottom anyways, but somehow this will be amplified when you wear lingerie. He will just be in awe of you, his gaze locked on to your body, and his hands roaming every inch of you.

He doesn’t really have a preference for lingerie, and thinks all of it is pretty. He might prefer cuter lingerie, so babydolls with pretty, floaty, sheer material, and would also appreciate cute lil bow or flower charms/decor. Pretty, sexy, fairy vibes almost. He is also a boob man, so would appreciate an outfit that really gives him a good view of your tits.

Zhao:

Zhao would be so turned on, and would be internally wondering what he did to deserve such an amazing partner.

As soon as he spots you in your lingerie, it’s game on. He’d get that sly glint in his eyes, and would be looking at you as though he’s about to eat you up. He’d try and play coy, asking ‘Is this for me? You shouldn’t have’, except he is already circling you, taking a good look at every inch of your body in your little outfit. He would stop behind you, hands gripping your hips and pulling you back towards him, so that your back is pressed tightly against his chest. He’d be leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and….how is he suddenly the one seducing you!?

Lingerie would definitely release some sort of animalistic urge in him, and Zhao will not stop fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

He is an ass man, so would appreciate a lacy thong, paired with a skimpy matching bra, suspender belt, and strappy little garters, as opposed to stockings. The bra would definitely be coming off, but bonus points if the thong is crotchless, so that he can leave it on whilst he fucks you, along with your other accessories.

Sawashiro:

Loooord, this is gonna drive him crazy.

As soon as Jo comes home and spots you waiting for him, all dressed up in lingerie, he will fall deadly silent. At first, you might get the impression you’ve done something wrong, as his face would be expressionless, and he wouldn’t utter a single noise. However, his gaze will start trailing up and down your body, his eyes darkening, and he’ll be giving you the most intense eye fucking you have ever received. His gaze would be so heated.

He’d take his time as he walks on over to you, his eyes never once leaving you. He’d call you a dirty little tease, shrugging off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves so he can roll them up his forearms.

He’s gonna take you there and then. If you’re in the hallway of your home, he’s gonna turn you around, and press your front to the wall as he slams in to you from behind. If you’re in the lounge/living room, you’re getting dicked down on the sofa. Waiting for him in the bedroom? You’re getting shoved down on to the bed and he will be on you in an instant. Lingerie would rile this man up so much, and the fact you’ve been patiently waiting for him to return home? He’s not gonna disappoint.

Jo would usually prefer you completely naked, but the sight of you topless, in nothing but a lacy thong and some thigh-high tights/stockings? Man will go feral.

Yamai:

Yamai and his goddamn poker face. He is gonna walk in, catch sight of you waiting for him, looking all seductive, and he will just pause, his eyes raking over you. In that slow, lazy drawl of his, he’s gonna say something along the lines of ‘well shit, if I’d known this was waiting for me, I would’ve come home earlier’. His eyes would just be glowering at you, and he’d look as though he’s about ready to devour you.

Always the one in control of situations, even surprises. He’d go and sit himself down on the sofa, patting his thigh expectantly, a clear sign that he wants you to go and straddle him. His hands would be on you in an instant, once you’re sat astride him, his fingers digging in to your hips tightly. He would try to be gentle because he loves you and is secretly a softie for you, but he definitely can get a bit rough with you, and lingerie would only spur him on. He’d have you ride him, but he would still be in control, his grip never loosening. He’s got a sharp tongue too, and will call you a good little whore, for dressing up for him and waiting so patiently for him to return home.

Yamai would likely appreciate corsets, and the way they accentuate your curves and push up your breasts would drive him insane. He’d also find a lacy, tight basque sexy, along with matching stockings. Anything tight fitting is a yes from him.

[saltedcaramelchaos]

I do reserve the right to ignore whatever the result ends up being lol <3

also ok the co-writer option is one i have considered extensively because i just think it would be neat lol. probably the way it would work is that y'all can shoot me a dm (preferablyy mutuals/ppl whose writing i've read etc but i'd love if i get to meet some people as well!)

and either i give you a list of the ideas i have and you pick one to work on, or! if you have a statement idea (that doesn't contradict my plans lol) you can just write that ^-^

i would probablyy want to be updated pretty often and beta read, just to check how it's goin :) (and no pressure if you end up having to stop halfway through or anything like that! it's totally chill!)

and then once it's done (and it's the time to post it lol) we can do the ao3 cowriter thing!

(for clarification: i will be writing all the supplementals and meta plot stuff (although if you want to tie your statement in i can definitely consider it!!) but yall would just be writing statements- 1st person spooky stories from + about the jrwi characters)

if this option doesnt end up winning i am also totally open to moots requesting to try it anyway lol >:3

[barbiecrocs]

The blonde bastard

Laurent Thierry

tags! teasing, begging, switching, oral(male receiving), blow job, hand job, edging, sex so good it got Laurent speaking French, alcohol consumption, low key sadistic reader, "I wanna break him"

WC. 3450

Barbie's note... Hey yall🧍‍♀️... So I know I haven't posted in a while and that yall are fed up with not having material, but I've been going through the craziest writer's block ever. Then this idea came to mind after I watched Great Pretender and everything just came out because this show has been my personality for a while😭😭. Anyway, that's all, enjoy the new year!!

You gulp as you turn your back on the consequence of making a deal with a confidence man. “The clock started ten minutes ago, mon amour. Time is ticking.” You look over your shoulder to where the voice is coming from, only to be met with Laurent entirely at your mercy, his wrists tied together behind the chair, ankles tied to the legs, and his long, heated length standing proudly by itself. A sigh leaves your mouth as you think, ‘How did I get here?’

—

“Cynthia, stop laughing! We’re being serious!” You and Edamura pout as you stop drinking the half-full glass of wine he poured for you. “Oh, I know, and I feel you. Wouldn’t we all like to make the blonde bastard fall to his knees one day? But I just can’t stop myself from laughing. Your plan is too simple. Don’t you think he’ll see right through it?” Your mouth opens to combat her, but Edamura takes the words from your mouth. “How is it simple? We’d turn on him mid-heist, take the money for ourselves, get paid by his enemies to rat out his location, and turn on them by sending them to a location with fake police and get paid off there because they don’t want to go to jail. If that doesn’t scream intricate and complicated, then I don’t know what does.” He slams on the table with each sentence to emphasize the deceitfulness of your scheme as you nod along, but none of it phases Cynthia as she sighs. “I’m only going to tell you guys this once because I don’t even like the idea, but the only plausible way to get him on his knees is sexually. Which will already be hard to do, but I don’t see him swallowing his pride otherwise.” Your breath hitches with her response, and your hands fly to hide the hot blush creeping onto your cheeks. The way that she says it without blushing or getting shy has you feeling like such a dork compared to her.

 “This is where I leave the conversation, but mark my words, we’ll get him.” Edamura finishes his drink and sets it back on the table, leaving the cleaning to you. You don’t notice it, but Cynthia watches you like a hawk as you bid Edamura goodnight and down the rest of your wine. “Would you like another one?” She asks, and you nod yes, “Don’t think I could have this conversation any other way. So another glass it is.” You smile, already feeling the buzzing and heat flutter to your face. When she’s finished pouring, your lips immediately make contact with the rim of the glass as an inquiry floats into your head. Feeling bold off of liquid courage, you pop the question. “Why would you know that about him anyway?” She’s halfway through refilling her glass when you catch her by surprise. She tilts her head in confusion, still not catching on before her eyes go wide with realization, “Oh god! If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, then you’d be wrong. Trust me, we haven’t done anything like that. You have him all to yourself, hun.” You’re unsure if the heat dusting your cheeks is a blush or a drunk buzz, but you cover your face in embarrassment. “I mean, you do want him, yes?” A warm silence passes through as you think long and hard about what you really want from him. “I want to break him, his pride, wipe that playful smirk off his face, and make him genuinely beg for something. Show him that he’s not so high and mighty and knows everything just because he always acts like it. I just want to knock him down a couple of notches. The satisfaction I would have if I could do that.” You snap out of your trance when your rambling stops, only to see Cynthia looking at you as if she saw a ghost. Her mouth’s agape, her eyes wide open, and her brows almost touching her forehead. “Oh… Never in a million years would I have imagined that somebody like you would go into so much detail about something like that.” You immediately cover your mouth and begin to sink into your seat on the couch, scared that you overshared or said something completely out of pocket for even a cons man. Just then, she eagerly leans in like a nosey little kid, hands on her knees to keep herself from falling forward. “How do you plan on doing that, though?” As if to save you from the question, the man in consideration walks in unbeknownst to your attention. Cynthia begins to chug the rest of her drink before leaving the glass for you to clean up and gracefully gets up from her seat on the other side of the glass coffee table. Before you can ask where she’s going, the voice least you expected to hear at the moment makes itself known.

 “A little get-together, and I wasn’t invited. How cruel. Let me guess. Edamame was here, huh? I can understand why he wouldn’t tell me, but you? I thought we were closer than that, bavarde.” He scans the area, seeing only two empty glasses before sitting half a foot away from you and pouring some wine into the glass that Edamura used. A stiff calmness passes through the air as you watch him take a refreshing swig of the expensive wine Cynthia bought. You don’t notice it, but you end up staring so hard that he catches on, watching your eyes drink in the sight of him piece by piece. Staring at his lips as they turn a slight shade of the deep red wine, his fingers as they firmly but delicately hold the glass to his mouth, and lastly, his eyes, which you only just now noticed were watching you back, causing him to smirk. The glass clinks onto the table as he turns his body towards you, laying an arm around the back of the couch. “So, you want to break me, huh?” You choke on your wine before finally finding your grounding, “I- I’m going to hit the hay-” You shoot up from your seat, but he grabs onto your wrist and pulls you down on his lap, “Oh no, don’t do that because I’d actually like to take you up on your interest.” He slides an arm around your waist, and a hand comes under your thigh to spread your legs. “I’d love to see what you can do, but I have one condition.”

—

If you can’t make me completely submit in thirty minutes, then I get to show you what I can do.

Of course, you pushed for forty minutes since you said it was unfair that he was way more experienced than you. So you might have just fucked yourself before he could with this deal. Still, you fight the urge to leave him tied up and run so you don’t go down without a fight.

 After briefly giving it some thought, you finally make your move by slowly stripping everything but your underwear and straddling a very bored Laurent’s hips. You make sure not to slide his length inside but leave its aching self behind your butt. “Finally, something is happening. You know, you’ve wasted a mighty fine ten minutes sitting there-” You interrupt him, wasting no more time on thoughts and words, and begin leaving kisses along his jawline. “Oooooh. Spicy first move.”

 “Shut up.” You say and begin putting your hands to work. One squeezes his cheeks together to prevent him from speaking, and the other sneaks behind you and gently rubs circles on his tip. He jerks up into your hand, and you nip his jaw as punishment, which isn’t the last time that happens. Precum begins to bead on his tip, and you gather some on your finger before putting it in your mouth while maintaining the finest eye contact. Laurent’s head falls back before you feel him buck under you. “Mhm!” You hear him bite back in his most tranquil voice. You smirk and pause your actions, “Hm? What was that?” He looks at you in muted shock from the way that you almost don’t sound like yourself. Then he sees the cloudiness in your eyes and puts two and two together that you’re tipsy. “Who are you?” You snicker at the genuineness in his voice, “The person who is going to break you.” With that answer, you slide off his lap, leaving a wet spot on one of his thighs, before dropping to your knees in front of him. You gulp before looking up at him, wondering if this is a good idea, only for him to give you a smug smile that boosts your confidence. Taking his dick into your hands, you spit on the tip as both of you watch the thin stream of warm liquid slide down to his balls, “That tickles!” You ignore his complaint and start stroking at a slow pace after spitting a couple more times regarding his pleasing length. You hum in arousal as your mouth entertains itself with his inner thighs, pressing soft kisses onto them before surprising him with a couple of nips.

 “Nice try, but easing your way into this at snail speed isn’t going to break me how you want it to.” You refuse to look his way, already knowing the expression he’ll be wearing if you do, the same shit-eating grin he always has. Viewing what he said, you have no problem brewing another idea.

 Feeling bolder than the last time, you don’t hesitate to start phase two of your plan. You stop nipping Laurent’s thigh and begin kissing your way to the tip of his shaft. Only then do you tease the tip gently with your teeth before finally taking it between your lips. And your lips are the only thing it touches. You focus on not bobbing your head and strictly kitten-licking the tip. He jerks up into you only to run into your teeth like a brick wall preventing him access. “If you want my mouth so bad, ask for it.” You glance at him and see his head tilted back as if the decision put his life on the line. But in reality, he was just trying to give himself time to cool down and let time fly by with his pride still intact. 

The knee-jerk reaction to look at you when you lick a line up his shaft for his attention wins, and he almost gives you a facial immediately. ‘What a sight for sore eyes.’ He thinks to himself. His eyes start at the bottom, where your legs are gathered neatly under you, then your ass which you poked out for him so generously before finally moving up to your lips that glistened with spit and precum. ‘Fuuuuuck!’ He thought to himself. He wasn’t sure if it was the liquid courage in your veins or if you were just a different person when you were horny, but he was confident that you were not the same shy tsundere he was talking to in the hotel’s living room. That shy person would never touch him like this. That tsundere wouldn’t have even admitted to wanting to break him. But he’s here now, so there is something that he undoubtedly doesn’t know or have right about you. 

You grab his attention by tapping his thigh since the licking wasn’t making him decide any faster. He redirects his eye line from your lips to your eyes, only to be met with the beautiful stare that captured him the first time you met him in a casino where you single-handedly scammed some rich guy for all he was worth. He clears his throat, trying to sound like he wasn’t about to pop if you breathed on him too hard. “Please, Y/n.” He asks. You frown, knowing you should be satisfied with what he gave you, but deep down, it feels like it’s not enough. Sure, he said please, but he still has that damn smug smile on his face, and he couldn’t even throw in the extra neediness you wanted. You want him to beg like it’s going to save his life, like if you don’t touch him, he’s going to die of yearning and blue balls. You need to rip that smile off his face and fast.

“I know you can do better than that, Laurent. Otherwise, I’d have to leave you high and dry. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” You egg him on by sucking his tip harder than usual as you watch his stomach dip and do flips. He pushes out a heavy sigh of relief before you put his pleasure on hold once again and start kissing around where he needs you the most. Just when you start kissing up his length again, “Fuck, please don’t leave me hanging, bavarde.” You freeze from hearing the genuineness in his voice, and your head snaps up at him, expecting to see Laurent torn to shreds with his hair sticking to his forehead and panting faster than his ability to get a word out. But you’re met with a slightly different-looking smile. His brows furrow together while his lips shake up a tiny storm, and his teeth that you can barely see through his almost closed mouth grind together, ‘This is the hottest he’s ever looked.’

You smile at him and spit on his tip before gulping him down inch by inch until your nose reaches his pubic area. Trying your best not to gag, you move slowly while your fingers work magic that you didn’t even know you had on his balls, smiling when you hear his nails claw on the end of the armrest. “Thaf fewl gud?” You tease. Only to feel another heartbeat deep inside once you see his chest rise and fall quickly with his teeth encasing his bottom lip to suppress his heavy, serene groans, “C'est tellement bon, bébé.” He pants out, finding himself physically incapable of breaking eye contact with you even though he knows that’ll only make him finish faster. It’s just the euphoric way his cock slides down your warm, wet, and tight throat with ease that makes him want to explode a thousand times.

 ‘Not experienced my ass!’ He complains, regretting that he chose to go easy on you and allow you extra time. Now, he’s dangerously close to cumming down your throat as you suck all his pride away. And him cumming isn’t even the problem. It’s the matter that he held his head up so high, thinking that you wouldn’t even know what to do if you got near his dick. Then he was going to make you scream all night long once your little forty minutes were up, and you’d just keep on coming back to him when you were sexually frustrated because, in his head, there’s no way or anyone that can fuck better than him. And he was the best of all the girls he's fucked, but that other part. Oh, he is so wrong. And you’re only going to make it harder for him.

You start bobbing faster once you get comfortable with his size, even going as far as to take the opportunity to try out some stuff that you heard makes it more pleasurable for guys. You try moaning around him to produce vibrations, give him the salt and pepper to create friction when your mouth gets tired, and even ever so slightly rake your teeth along his shaft, which he wasn’t a big fan of, so you go back to the first two. “Are you close?” You ask after feeling his leg tense multiple times. “Je suis si proche.” He nods with his answer, knowing that you still aren’t as fluent as Cynthia in French, only to regret being so kind when you pull off of him. “Beg me to cum. You can’t cum otherwise.” You say, laying your head on his thigh while letting your fingers ghost up and down his very sensitive shaft. His head tilts back for the first time in a while, but you already know he’s trying to stall and let time run out. So you take it a step further and give your sore knees a rest by sitting on the end of his legs so his dick is in front of you. “No stalling. I need an answer now.” He takes no shame in staring when you start rubbing your panty-clad cunt against his erection, listening to each moan you throw in when the friction against your bundle of nerves becomes too much. “Come on, Laurent.” Words that sound like a siren’s song when said in this scenario, and he’s praying to god that he doesn’t give in when you move your panties to the side, exposing your glistening clit to the cold air. You lean forward, laying your head on his shoulder while gently grinding into and stroking his length, letting any shlick that oozes from your pussy melt onto him. “I’m waiting, Laurent.” You hear his breath hitch, and thinking you are getting a response out of him, you pop up. Only to realize that it was just him shying away from you with his eyes shut tight. Frustration begins to cloud your mind, and you grab him by his jaw, forcefully turning his head back over to you. “Laurent, you’re cheating. Honestly, I should win by default-”

 “Fuck!” He stiffly shoots out. “My… My answer is no!” Your teeth begin to grind until you feel his cock twitch with need in your hand. Realization and confidence paint a smile across your face, “Are you sure? Because your mind is trying desperately to resist my touch, but your body is falling victim to it so hard.” He shakes out of your grip and looks away once more, “I am sure.” You groan, “Then you leave me no choice.” You stroke him a couple of times before lining his dick up at your entrance, taking three fingers to transfer your shlick to the tip of his cock for easier access. The sensation is mythical in he has to clench every muscle in his body to not jerk into you, knowing that he’s going to explode during penetration. “Say goodbye to your pride. There is no way in hell you can come back after cumming on the first pump.” You probe him at the entrance a few times, getting ready to sink onto him, but before you can. ‘Bloob, bloob, bloob, bloob, bloob.’ rings three times on the Apple watch Laurent is wearing. A heavy sigh is exiled from his mouth as all you can think is how close you were while untying him.

 But it’s hard to feel bummed when you catch a hot glimpse of Laurent greedily finishing himself off. His head lolling back onto the back of the chair with his bangs sticking to his forehead due to the sweat. Both of his hands double-fisted his length as fast but gently as possible before deciding that one was enough and started tweaking his nipples with the free hand. Then, his long legs stretch out, taking up more room than needed as they twitch with each jerk. And lastly, the string of curses that you swore you’ve heard your name floating around once or twice, which you certainly did. 

He delivers his last thrusts into his hand before cumming and collapsing back into the chair with a more fucked out expression than before. You roll your eyes and start gathering your clothes, “What are you doing?” He asks, immediately hopping out of his chair as if he didn’t just have the most insane and unhinged-looking orgasm ever. “I’m getting dressed to head back to my room, obviously. Why else would I be getting dressed? To sit around here? No.” You retort, prepping your shirt to put it on.“You must not remember the other half of the deal.” 

“Nope, I remember it just fine. I just figured that since you orgasmed right now, you’d be all done for the night.” You’d think he saw you as a clown or comedian because before you got the last word out, he was hysterical while rolling on the floor laughing. “No, no, no, no, no. That isn’t how this is going to play out because I have stamina and libido for days, and I haven’t had sex for a while, but I do have you here. And I'd be the dumbest man alive to watch you walk out of here after the torture you just put me through. So I think it’s time that I put the time we have to use.”

Should I post part two?😵‍💫😋

[skunkox]

Country Lovin Darlin and Rambles.

Is this gonna be self indulging? Very much so. I'm starting to realize no one can stop me, but hear me out real quick. Forgive me if you do decide to read all the way through. It's a lot. 🥲

Before moving to Dahlia, Darlin' used to spend half their summers with their grandparents in Texas. Sorta old money/ retired folk. Big land, but not too much on it. Plenty of room for the shiftsr grandchildgren to play. Passively still making money via whool sales. Yeah, there's other animals, but it's not a giant operation. They do have other empowereds working as ranch hands for them, though.

Anyways, a good moth or so out of each summer as a child, Darlin would help around the ranch, learn to cook and bake, and even participate in town events. (I'm telling you the fucker can cook. Just not for one person.)

Lazy Sunday mornings were spent in front of the TV with their grandfather watching old westerns or things like "The Andy Grifith Show," "Little House on the Prarie," and "Tales of Wells Fargo".

Not even halfway into they stay, they'll have developed a country accent. They still struggled to get be friends with most of the kids their age. Was it because they picked up a garden snake like it was just a piece of rope? Was it because they alegedly chased a kid girl with it that had been giving them hell? Who knows.

I wholeheartedly believe that Darlin was a pageant kid at some point in their life. Regardless of how ruff and tough they are, they were a cute kid. Don't pay the bandaid brand character bandaid any mind.

This is where I say this is really just my version of Darlin and a little bit of Sweetheart. It's Redunk Time.

Specifically for my version of Darlin (fem), "Southern Bell" like fair competitions are what her grandmother would enter the kids in. The one day out of the year she's happy to put on a frilly dress and bows. Not a whole lot of confidence for themselves on stage for the most part, though.

Diving more into the idea that Darlin and Sweetheart used to be friends before the move idea. Sweetheart has gone with them once or twice. Especially when the older cousins were visiting for less time, if at all. The old wolves like a full house, so they had no problem hosting another empowered child.

Sweetheart loved taking pictures and video of their adventures. Still currently holding footage to a misshap of sorts that they swore to never tell anyone about. They also have footage of competitions from the fairs. Including the pageants. Do they plan on telling the pack? Yes. (That's a post for another day)

The duo thought it was weird that the they would be leaving at separate times. They noticed the soured moods of the grandparents but the older wolves couldn't bring themselves to say anything on it in the days leading to their departures. Sweetheart took the flight home alone. Darlin was under the impression that the family was taking a short trip to California before summer ended.

Much to their distraught, their parents had either been moved and or found new jobs in Dahlia. The move was in the works for nearly half a year and they had no idea. Their older siblings knew, but they did everything their parents told them. They got no warning that they wouldn't see their friends anymore. That they wouldn't be attending school that fall with the same kids. That they wouldn't even get to say goodbye to their old house. No proper goodbye to Sweetheart.

Summer visits to Texas were just about haulted. Their parents wanted Darlin to better acquaint themselves with the other pack children. This was a struggle for years.

Sweetheart moving to work for the department and finding themselves with Milo was one thing. But the first time they happened to see each other in a pack meeting was rough. They knew almost instantly who each other were.

Sweetheart had seen a photo in Milo's living room. It was framed next to a lamp. The picture was of Christian and Amanda who awkwardly sat side by side. Hands just nearly touching. On one end of a log. David sat facing forward while Asher sat crooked with an arm thrown over David's shoulder. Both had been laughing. Milo and Darlin had been on the ground and back to back. Darlin had thrown up a rock sign with a small smile, attempting to no ruin the picture with their resting pitch face. Milo sat leaning on one knee, trying his best to look cool and composed.

To make a long story short. Both played dumb as to knowing each other for one reason or another. It wasn't till the Quinn situation, and Darlin coming back to the pack did the two start to speak. It took it all being over for them to finally become close again.

Back to the country thing

Hearing Sam speak for the first time really took them back especially at the end of their conversation with "Didn't your mama teach you not to talk to strange men in the dark, all alone?"

It felt familiar. It disarmed them and put then at ease. Sam's voice is something Darlin couldn't and still can't get enough of. They slip into an accent every once in a while. To them it feels right. Some slips happen in front of the pack and they've been teased for it. Sweetheart knows thr truth and is waiting eagerly to spill the beans on their country loving friend.

So... didn't mean for this to be as long as it is. Really putting a lot into Darlin's character cause it feels right. I like old TV. I mean sorta staticky box tv vibes. My grandfather was into a lot of it. My mom started me on LHOTP and I recently discovered a live channel for it and only it.

I really do apologize for how messy this all looks. It was an accident. Anyways, some bits and pieces of this will eventually be drawn out. Got weeks worth of stuff to do for this Fandom alone 😭

[littledancer9]

Hi! Any idea when you’ll drop the next installment of “ It's Always Yes with You”?Hope you’re well! 🌸

Yay a fan!! I am working on it!! I don’t think I’m close enough to project a date, but I would hope there isn’t a terrible delay. I’ve got about 2k words written so far.

@axdragons and I have planned out the chapter, she has made some fabulous moodboards, and now I just need to make the vision happen.

Here’s a sneak peek of some banter, because that’s what we’re all here for:

Jon’s eyes were on her as she licked her lips and unfolded the slip of paper. She hoped something sexy was inside. She wouldn’t mind a little morning sex…

Go skinny dipping

“What! That was not in the original jar!” She tossed the pink post-it to the side, looking incredulously at Jon. Her eyes bulged and her hands were tense pushing against the table. This was not the something sexy she envisioned.

“I may have taken some liberties with The Jar,” he smirked, bringing his mug to his upturned lip.

“It’s like 9:00 AM. We can’t go skinny dipping at 9:00 AM.”

“There is nothing in the Riverlands,” he mocked in a sorry attempt at her voice.

She blinked darkly at him. “I said no-thing,” she enunciated. “Not no-one.”

He arched a brow. “Are you saying no to The Jar? We hadn’t discussed penalties yet.” He rubbed his chin, looking away in pantomimed contemplation. “But just remember,” he cut his eyes to her. “You made me walk around the grocery store shirtless while old ladies groped me.”

She gulped cold coffee and snorted out a laugh. “I am sorry about that. Really.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t bitch out on me.”

She huffed, searching the cabin for any further distractions. Finding none, she relented. “Fine. Let’s go.”

She threw the chair back and marched through the house to find her flip flops. She’d spent half of college with her tits out because of The damned Jar anyway, what was a little full nudity in The Middle of Nowhere?

Jon clumsily gathered the coffee mugs and ran them to the sink. “Really? Right now?”

Dany was halfway to the door with her tote bag tossed over shoulder when she stopped to challenge him. Her hair was disheveled from sleep and she still sported a baggy t-shirt and stained shorts. “The Jar waits for no one, Jon. Or have you forgotten the rules already, old timer?”

“Forgot them? I made them! Freshman year with Robb and Theon!” He argued from the fridge. He emerged with two bottles of water and brought them over to drop them in her bag.

[sugarcoatednightshade]

finally got around to watching The Unsleeping City and I'm so obsessed with Pete. immaculate vibes. perfect character.

Anyway I'm halfway through episode 8 and I can't stop thinking about the previous episode, We Need to Talk About Pete. Especially that scene where Robert Moses shows him that video of Kingston admitting that he'd kill him if necessary, and Pete assumes that it's just taken out of context. Which is funny and sorrowful because this is a rare instance where context makes his statement 1000x worse.

And I had to pause Subway Skirmish and write this quickie just exploring what would happen if Pete heard the whole conversation, terrible context included. Its mostly work for word until the end, the only difference being that Ricky agrees more with Esther and basically proposes an intervention, which gets to Pete in a whole other way.

I'm predicting that Pete and the gang make up almost immediately. Either at the end of this episode or the next one. Which is really sweet and affirming, but I love the idea of pvp and Pete actively fighting the rest of the group, maybe embracing being the voice of nightmares as well as dreams, isolating himself with nightmares, etc.

Anyway, I cant finish the episode I'm on until I post this. mom said. Enjoy 1.5k I literally wrote instead of sleeping. This is a first draft, unedited, probably full of needless angst and grammatical errors, I wrote it in like an hour and refuse to read it again. Enjoy.

Robert held the phone out to Pete. Its screen showed a video cued up to play.

“Listen, kid, I’m not trying to force you into anything here. I just want you to have all the information, know who you’re really working with.”

“I know who I’m working with,” Pete lied. But he was looking down at the screen which showed his new – friends? Associates? Comrades in arms? – sitting down at a table. The angle was high and the quality kind of shit, like it was taken from old security footage, but Pete could clearly make out Kingston’s expression, frozen in something like rage. It was a weird expression on him, one Pete hadn’t seen in all the time he’d known the man.

“Just look,” Robert said. “Come to your own conclusions.”

Pete takes the phone away from Robert, hating himself for it. But, goddamn it, despite it all, he was still fucking human. Even knowing Robert’s game – he could practically smell the shit he was talking – he couldn’t pass up on free information. If only so that he could know what Robert knew, so he couldn’t use it as extortion later.

Yeah, Pete thought, real convincing.

He pressed play. The image on screen jumped, showing a much calmer and collected Kingston. It was reassuring for all of one second, because when the recorded Kingston opened his mouth, the words he said sent Pete’s stomach rocketing to the floor.

“I mean, here’s the truth Alejandro if things get out of hand, we put him down. Straight up.”

He barely hears Kugrash’s and Sofia’s protests, ignores the revelations that Kugrash has human kids and a whole human life he abandoned, stuck trying to process what he just heard.

Kingston is speaking again, saying that ten out ten times he’d choose the city over Pete and that’s fine, really, that’s fine. Pete’s not selfish enough to thing that he matters more than the entire population of New York City. And Kingston is supposed to be the voice of the city or something. It’s basically his job. Pete should be used to people in his life choosing their careers over him.

Sofia asks a question that’s been bothering him for a while, and Alejandro answers confuses him at first – he talks about someone named Jackson and a Concrete Order and some other things Pete doesn’t really understand until…

“It is not fair to the people who have come to this city or have been born here and lived here their entire lives, that their wellbeing, safety, and in fact, even their life or death should be thrown into chaos because of what amounts to often a joke.”

Pete thinks back to the bug monsters that had attacked Astoria. Despite all the destruction and chaos and death, at no point had he sensed any real malice coming from them. They had been excited and grateful and fully unaware of why what they were doing was wrong. To call them evil implied that they knew right from wrong and actively chose it, but they were just doing what they did just because.

Alejandro had become more animated as he spoke, gesturing wildly with his hands, but now he lowered his voice enough that Pete had to raise the volume and lean in to hear it. “Peter actively courts the darkness more than the light.” Alejandro’s back was turned to the camera, but Pete could see the way his shoulders hunched forward, as if he were sharing some great secret or revelation.

Suddenly his hands feel clammy with sweat. He wants to pause the video but can’t, can’t let Robert know that any of its getting to him, so instead he watches as a group of people talk about him like he’s something dangerous, talk about locking him up – you guys have to tell me if you’re cops, right? – and taking his drugs and putting him down like he’s infected. Like he’s a rabid dog that can’t be trusted not to bite.

And, looking around, Pete hates to admit that they’re right. What defense does he have, sitting in a vampiric nightclub filled with dead-eyed humans selling their bodies for a little cash? What defense does he have when he’s so used to that stare that it barely registers? How many times has he sold drugs to people with that same look in their eyes, desperate and empty?

Pete knows what kind of person he is, what kind of people he runs with. And like Robert had pointed out, he’s not exactly subtle. Pete knows he’s dirt. Robert called him a businessman. Kugrash seems to think he’s just some troubled kid who needs a little guidance. Kingston and Alejandro think he’s a ticking bomb.

But Pete knows what he is. He’s a homeless drug dealer who sells to monsters and children, whose only friends are nightmares and people who want him dead. Fuck them, he thinks, who fucking needs them.

Some girl – Esther, he thinks, but it’s hard to remember when her back is to the screen – voices her support of Kingston.

Ricky is facing the camera, so Pete can see his face when he agrees with her. The grainy footage blurs his features, but he still looks sad when he says, “Obviously, Pete needs help. He’s not in a good state physically, financially, or mentally. He a danger to the city, sure, but he’s just as much a danger to himself. I’m not saying we lock him up, but what if we just supervised him. Helped him get clean and sober, and then maybe that would help him calm down a little, give him a little more control over what he’s doing.”

Hearing Ricky – perfect fucking Mr. March with his washboard abs and crest-white smile – talk about staging an intervention is almost more painful than watching Kingston plan murder.

How fucking dare they. What, they know him for one fucking week and decide it’s their business what he does with his life. They’re total strangers, who cares if they think he’s dangerous. Of course he’s dangerous; it’s New York fucking City, everyone here’s dangerous. The people right now discussing his murder probably more dangerous than he is. But them coming after his livelihood? His medicine? Sure, he could probably live without the coke and shit, but what happens when they come for his anti-psychotics? His Zoloft? His Testosterone?

Would they decide that’s unnecessary too, decide to take that away from him for his own safety?

Sofia, previously his strongest defender, looks to be agreeing with Ricky. Only Kugrash is pushing back, talking about self-medication and withdrawal. But Kingston’s talking over him and then the video cuts, ended, back to the paused scene showcasing Kingston mid-yell.

A voice from the corner of his mind he’s beginning to associate with his magic speaks. They know nothing of your struggles… they do not know your pain as we do… they would have you imprisoned or worse, without trial or jury… we can help you escape…

A shadow appears in front of him, and Pete nearly jumps out of his skin. But its only Robert asking for his phone back. Pete hands it over without a word.

“I hope you have considered what you have seen.” He says.

“I might need some time to think it over,” Pete says, which is true. “I know the area, I might head across the street a get a drink.”

Robert frowns. “Why go to another bar and pay when you can get drinks here for free?”

His tone immediately sets Pete on edge. Between his dad, Alejandro, and now Kingston and Ricky, he’s so goddamn tired of men telling him what to do. And Pete’s not some fresh teenager new to the scene; he’s not stupid enough to accept free drinks from a suit.

“No, actually, I think I’d really rather leave.” He says, moving to the exit. Robert lets him leave.

On his way out, Pete catches sight of his reflection in a mirror. It covers a wall of the club floor to ceiling. What he sees reminds him of that one vampire movie, Van Helsing. Most people in the club vanish in the mirror. It’s just him and Robert and the other humans reflected. Robert excluded, Pete thinks that he fits right in with this crowd. It’s his first time seeing his own reflection in days; bloodshot sunken eyes and unwashed hair, his skin visibly damp with sweat.  He looks like any other homeless junkie. How could anyone think he’s dangerous? How could anyone think he’s an important player in this game?

The mirror people stare back without seeing. The voice of magic whispers… but you are important… you are important to us…

Pete turns to keep walking, makes his way out onto the street now bustling with city life. He was stupid to think this new group of friends wouldn’t fall apart or turn on him. They were too good to be true anyway. How could he have forgotten that he belonged here in the gutter with the rest of his people. Homeless junkies and petty thieves.

He wouldn’t forget again.