#and i realized i didn’t have enough keys

[honeyncherry]

everything i never asked for - joe burrow

summary valentine’s day with joe

content fluff fluff fluff

You didn’t expect much for Valentine’s Day this year. The past couple of months had been rough, between everything that happened and Joe’s whirlwind schedule with the Pro Bowl, Honors, and the Super Bowl. You figured today would be low-key. Maybe just a lazy morning, a home-cooked meal, and some much needed rest.

And that was exactly how the day started.

You wake up to slow, warm kisses along your shoulder, Joe's voice still rough from sleep as he murmurs, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you closer, his arm heavy around your waist, and for a while, you stayed tangled in the covers, soaking in the rare, quiet stillness.

By late morning, he’s in the kitchen making breakfast (if you can even call it that). He’s in a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips, hair still messy, leaning against the counter with a smug look as you do most of the work.

He claims he’s helping, but really, he’s just standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, sneaking bites of the pancakes you’re making.

Later in the afternoon, your phone buzzes. A friend asks if you want to meet up for a little Galentine’s date. You hesitate, glancing at Joe, but before you can even consider turning it down, he nudges you.

"Go."

"No—"

"Seriously, go. You deserve a break from me," he jokes, smirking as he stretches out on the couch. "Besides, I promise I won’t waste away in your absence."

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing he’s up to something, but he looks completely unbothered. Eventually, you give in, grab your things, and head out.

The afternoon is easy, spent catching up and laughing, but a small part of you keeps thinking about Joe. How effortless the morning felt. How rare it is for him to have time to just be.

When you finally return home, you’re not expecting much, maybe him still sprawled on the couch, half-asleep. But the second you step inside, you realize something is different.

The lights are dim. Candles flicker along the dining table, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The smell of something savory lingers in the air, and standing in the middle of it all is Joe. He’s changed into something nicer, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms as he finishes setting the table, looking both ridiculously proud of himself and a little nervous.

"What is this?" you ask, blinking at the setup.

"A proper Valentine’s Day," he says, wiping his hands on a dish towel before making his way over to you. "Figured you deserved at least one romantic surprise today."

The table is set with the fine china set you two received as a housewarming gift. A homemade meal is waiting, something he clearly put effort into, even if a few little mishaps, like the slightly burnt garlic bread, give away his struggles. A bottle of wine is already open, two glasses waiting.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he tugs you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back as he whispers, “Missed you today.”

The evening flows effortlessly, filled with laughter, teasing, and Joe dramatically complaining about “how hard cooking is” as he watches you take your first bite. He studies your reaction like it determines his entire fate, waiting for your verdict. You hum thoughtfully, dragging it out just to mess with him before finally breaking into a smile.

"It’s actually really good, Joe."

"You’re lying."

"No, I swear! Well… except maybe the garlic bread."

"Knew you were gonna say that."

You’re both grinning. He reaches across the table, fingers brushing over yours and his voice softer as he says, "I know things have been a lot recently."

He pauses, thumb grazing over your knuckles before meeting your eyes again. "I just wanted today to be about you. You deserve that."

Somehow, that means more to you than any grand gesture ever could.

After dinner, you both end up curled on the couch, his arm draped over your shoulders as some random movie plays in the background. You’re not really paying attention, just floating on the high of the day, tucked against his side, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your arm.

Then, without warning, Joe suddenly untangles himself from you and disappears into the kitchen. You barely have time to question it before he’s back, a small bakery box in his hands, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Chocolate cake?" you ask, already smiling as he flips the lid open to reveal two thick slices of rich, decadent cake from your favorite bakery.

"Went out earlier and got it while you were gone," he says, settling back beside you. He grabs a fork, slicing off a bite before holding it up to your lips with an expectant look. "I’ll share. If you’re nice."

You roll your eyes but take the bite, humming in satisfaction as the sweetness melts on your tongue. It’s perfect, exactly how you like it. But before you can even reach for your own fork, Joe steals another bite, straight from your slice, grinning like he’s getting away with something.

"Joe!"

"What?" he says around a mouthful of cake, not even remotely guilty.

You huff, reaching for the box, but he shifts just out of reach, holding the fork and the cake hostage. It turns into a game, him dodging your attempts to take control of the dessert, laughter bubbling between you, the weight of the last few months feeling lighter than it has in a long time. Eventually he relents, letting you have your share, though not without sneaking a few extra bites when he thinks you’re too distracted.

By the time the cake is gone, Joe shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re tucked even closer. His fingers mindlessly trace over your knuckles where your hand rests against his chest, the warmth of his body easing you into a quiet, content haze.

You let out a sigh, fingertips grazing over his arm. "Thank you for today." His lips brush across your forehead, then your cheek, before finally pressing a tender kiss to your lips — his own silent way of saying you’re welcome.

The movie plays on, just background noise now, filling the quiet between your slowed breaths. His thumb moves absentmindedly over your wrist, a quiet, familiar touch that still makes your heart flutter after all this time.

Just when you think he might be drifting off, Joe presses another kiss to the top of your head, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"This was nice."

You smile against his shirt, barely lifting your head. "Yeah?"

He hums in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. "Yeah. Just us. Feels good."

There’s something unspoken in the way he says it, in the way his hold tightens around you, like he needed today just as much as you did. Maybe more.

You don’t say anything back. You don’t need to. Instead, you let your fingers lace through his, soaking in the kind of serenity that can only be found in moments like this.

As the candlelight flickers, casting golden warmth over the both of you, you realize that maybe you hadn’t expected much for Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t wished for anything elaborate.

But Joe?

He’s always there, giving you more than you ever thought to ask for.

[rebelssvy]

babeeeeee you have me addicted to your roommates ushi x reader fic 😭 please make more with links 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 maybe a tsukki x reader 👀 okie but also love the size difference kink showing in your fic too 😭😘👌 absolutely delish girl thank you for blessing us

FUCK yes. god YES i can.

cruel ✧.*

tsukishima x reader ₊˚ෆ

★ twt links included!!!!

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: you and tsuki are roomates, you go out to a party and he is just mean to you. so when you get home you embarrass him by going through his porn. smut, making out, twt links, squirting dirty talk all, male receiving head

twt links scattered in here. loved making this!!! request more babes.

of course you were overstepping. of course you had had a little to much to drink. but to be honest you were still fully aware of every move you had made tonight. it was all calculated.

you and your roommate tsukishima kei had found yourselfs at a party earlier that night. it was a friendly get together that turned into more of a party the longer it went on. sure you took some shots. but all of that was hours ago.

during the party you had been flirting with some of kei’s teammates. it was nothing bad of course. it was all far play. the music was bumping and the lights were flashing. truly it had turned into a house party. it wasn’t until tsuki had pulled you aside that your mood really flipped.

he could be cruel sometimes. a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, but he was also caring. in this moment all the lines were blurred.

whispering in your ear he spoke the words. “stop putting yourself out there your just going to embarrass yourself..” you gasped, pushed him back and left. like any sane person would. you ordered and uber walking out of the apartment complex and arrived at your shared apartment within minutes.

instead of wallowing in your pain, you created a master plan. one that was going to embarrass him so much that he would have no choice then apologize to you. you were quick to your room, changing into skimpy pjs and lacey under garments.

sure his comment hurt. but it hurt more coming from him. you liked him. after sharing an apartment with him for so long you two would laugh after his snarky comments. hitting him and telling him to treat you better in which he would reply, ‘yes y/n…’. so why did he pull you away tonight and degrade you? did he have a problem with you flirting? maybe..

shortly after you changed the locks to your home unlocked and he walked in. with his timing it seems like right after you left, he said goodbye to everyone and followed you shortly after.

“how did you get home?” he asked, taking off his hoodie and hanging it up. then proceeding to take his belongings out of his pant pockets.

then and there is struck you. your master plan.

you walked over to him, making sure you didn’t rush to fast, but just quick enough to close in on him. “took an uber..” you spoke quietly. almost to a whisper.

“huh? you what? why are you being so quiet..?” he asked tone slightly annoyed. hook, line, sinker. you had riled him up just enough.

“oh i don’t know…” you said now right next to him, back against the counter top. he stood above you. eyes linked with yours. he was obviously looking at all of you. all of you. he tilted his head to the side waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“maybe.. it’s because..” you had to sly about this. reaching behind you in a very smooth motion, you grabbed his phone into your hand. praying he didn’t notice until you had it firmly in your grasp.

“-because you made me feel stupid..!” you said sharp and bluntly pushing him on the chest with your open hand before taking quick strides back to your room. it was too late for him to realize what you had.

you were already at your door when he started “y/n! give me my phone back!” stumbling after you, you shut the door in his face. locking it quickly. he was right on the other side of the door. his knocks turned into pounds. then shortly he gave in.

“what did i do y/n… fuck- please i’m sorry just open the door.” he said pleading to you.

“no tsuki. you embarrassed me. you said i was trying to hard and i was going to embarrass myself. so now… im gonna embarrass you.” you said while a smile on your face. your mission was simple, find somthing so embarrassing that he wanted to cry, give his phone back. and he would apologize. simple.

you knew his password. of course you knew his password, when unlocking his phone he spoke again on the other side of the door. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know what i was thinking…” he said softly. it was sincere, but you were going to let this end that quickly.

you searched through his phone, going to his camera roll you looked for embarrassing photos of him in his pre-teens or maybe even as a kid. but the only thing you could find were younger pictures of him and he was adorable. this wasn’t going to work, you needed somthing better.

and there is was, your knight in shining armor. an app with a big white X on it. you knew you could find somthing on twitter right? ever guy had somthing on there… so he should right..?

before opening the app you decided to toy with him. just to make this whole thing more painful for him. “whatcha got on twitter kei? anything you want to tell me before i go through it?” you spoke with a joyful voice.

“god. y/n please don’t oh my god. i’m sorry. just don’t go into that app.” he pleaded more miserable then ever. that was your goal anyways.

“sorry i’m gonna do it anyways!” you laughed. and just like that you clicked into it. it had to be here somewhere… you thought.

like a beacon in the night, the likes tab revealed all. scrolling through countless videos of porn. something inside you shifted. maybe it was the way you heard him whisper “fuckk..” behind the door. or maybe it was that you had a full visual gallery of all his kinks. but you were growing needy, and it was clear to you.

you paused on certain videos, watching them longer than others. like the way this girl took her bfs cock down her throat and the way she was all tied up. it made you think about kei doing that to you. god! what were you thinking!

mindlessly you rubbed your legs together. the sound of him behind the door made your brain go fuzzy. “y/n just stop.. please..” he whispered. you couldn’t stop. you scrolled to the next one.

the next video was of a girl get railed right next to a pc monotor. her hands scrambled over the key board as she took rough back shots. your mind flashed to the set up kei had in his room. your mind flashed to him pounding into your cunt infront of his game. you having to be al’ quiet because the mic is still on. fuck. why were you thinking this. you forced yourself to remember you were still mad at him.

the next one a girl spread her legs in a public bathroom, forced to be quiet as her partner finger fucked her. spitting on her cunt. kei would be good with his fingers, is he seriously into the whole public thing? god seriously what is wrong with you! the need for him to do stuff to you was too much. your lust was replacing every emotion you had in you.

the last one really sent you over the edge. a video of a girl getting pounded, it is only about 30 seconds. and the entire 30 seconds is of her getting fucked through her orgasm. she soaks the camera with her liquid and is moaning through the whole thing. it was too much for you.

opening the door you met face to face with a deranged tsukishima. blushed and flushed his hair was a mess and his eyebrows furrowed with anxiety. there was something else though, the way his eyes were halfly litted and the way he looked down at you were your gaze met his. you needed him. and maybe, just maybe… he needed you too.

“tsuki…” you called his name out, bringing the phone up to his chest before taking it back into your hands and unlocking it. he didn’t say a word the whole time. “i’ve never squirted before…” you admitted before showing him the video. he recognized it. it was one he watched often.

“fuck.. y/n… what do you want. i’m sorry seriously. but… is this just a game to you? to get back at me?” he asked while taking his phone back. through it into his pant pocket.

“no.. it’s just… fuck tsuki-“ you cut yourself off. to afraid to cross that line. your gaze dropped to the ground. but somthing else caught your eye. his cock was prominent in his pants. it was big from the looks of it.

“tell me what you want.” his voice rang iut in the silence. confidence surged through your body. lust was overcoming every other emotion you had. any clear thought was gone.

“i want you to fuck me kei..!” it was music to his ears. before you knew it his body crashed into yours. he grabbed your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss. you moaned into his mouth. your noises made you embarrassed.

“fuck i love that… keep moaning for me please” he begged, almost reading your mind.

your back crashed into the wall next to your door frame. his hands traveled up and down your figure. your lips worked against each other. both of you needing more.

without second thought you broke the kiss and dropped to your knees. you really weren’t one for giving head, but for him…. you would do anything.

“y/n.. you don’t have to..” he said sincerely. you shook your head no, before freeing his cock from his pants and underwear. pulling them all down at once. it was beautiful. on the longer side, with a little girth. his balls were smaller. his tip was a nude pink. and fuck- your mouth drooled.

licking the tip, but a little. he groaned, hands flying to your hair, pulling it out of the way. you then licked all of it. before taking it into your mouth. back and fourth you bobbed your head. saliva slipping out of your mouth.

you gaged once or twice but it was short lived before he was pulling you to your feet and into his arms. lifting you up off the ground he mumbled the words “need more..” before making his way to his room.

gently resting you on the bed he stripped you of your clothing. making fast work of anything you had on, which already wasn’t much. your legs were closed before he pried them open. back flat on his bed, legs spread for him to see. you leaked on to his sheets. your wetness already overwhelming. his mind went silly.

“let me…” he said bringing his hand to your cunt. he sat infront of you on the bed, slightly angled but only to see your sopping pussy at full view. you moaned when he touched your folds. curling your clit your back arched off the bed.

it wasn’t until you lifted your hips into the air that he plunged one of his slender fingers into you. “fuck~ kei-!” you moaned out. your words were his motivation. he finger fucked you with grace. until he added a second one and you were squirming all around the place.

“fuck that too much for you baby?” he toyed. you clenched down on his fingers, enticed by is words. “you like that? you like when i fuck with you huh?” butterflies filled your stomach. he was too much.

“i need… you kei please please gimmie your cock..!” you moaned out, reaching for his length. only to grab his thigh and claw at it. searching for more.

“i’ll give you more baby…” he said while flipping you around. moving both your bodies in harmony while he kissed you with heat. you moaned into his mouth until you two broke for the position change.

it was in no time that he had you all stretched out around his long length. you were al spread for him. him underneath you, your back against his chest. his words rang out in your ears.

“knew you would like this position. been thinking about doing this to you al night. can’t fucking run away from his cock baby…” he fucked his dick into you. you were lacking of control. the only thing you could do was bounce on it.

“fucking been thinking of fuckin you like this for ages. getting to whisper in your ear and play with your clit….” his hand came in contact with your sensitive little bud. you started seeing stars.

“didn’t know you would be such a slut for my dirty words.. huh baby you like that?” he slaped your cunt. your back spasmed and you moaned out. you were going to cum. it was too late to even say anything your overwhelming sensation approaching too fast.

“cum on it.” he spat out. he knew you were gonna cum. and yet he kept fucking you. his long hard cock in and out of your sopping wet pussy. his balls smacking against your skin. his groans behind your ear. fuck.

white liquid rushed out of you. tsukishima quickly rushed to rub harshly into your clit.

“fuck! ah-! kei fuck! ah~ i can’t-! stop!” your words were rushed, staggered and stuttering you grabbed onto his wrist to stop.

finally when no more seemed to come out of you he stopped his motion and set you down. laying you beside him. all your energy you once had was gone.

“see, now you can say you have squirted.” he laughed from beside you.

he was right.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

yum.

[kittytudor]

something i really love about “the crystal pavillion, for the third time” is the fact that the entire plot only happens because a servant was ill.

most of the mysteries maomao solves are related to high ranking officials or concubines, and if they aren’t, they usually happen in such strange circumstances that it’s impossible to not suspect potential foul play. in contrast, this episode’s mystery isn’t even really a mystery at all. a servant girl got sick with a rather common and treatable type of illness, and was put in isolation by her boss. on surface level, it’s as low stakes a plot as it could get. in the imperial court, servants are merely tools that can be replaced once they die. their lives are not seen as valuable, as even maomao acknowledges.

and yet, it is this unknown, nameless servant girl who becomes shin’s downfall. maomao may have had her suspicions about shin and the perfumes, even before this episode, but she had nothing concrete to go on. she couldn’t accuse a high ranking concubine’s chief attendant of trying to harm a preganant concubine with no evidence (at that point, she didn’t even know who shin’s target was). shin may have been a lot of things, but she was no fool, she was an incredibly intelligent woman who knew how to cover her tracks well, which is why maomao had to goad a confession out of her in order to prove her guilt. she’s arguably one of maomao’s cleverest adversaries yet, after suirei and lakan!

but shin’s fatal flaw is pride. she believes she’s better than lihua and she believes she’s better than a mere servant girl. so she cruelly uses her as a means to an end in order to hide the forbidden perfumes through the smell of her sickness. and in the eyes of the palace law, she is not committing a crime either. a servant girl’s life is nothing compared to the life of a high ranking concubine. who would even notice she’s missing? who would care if she quietly died?

but people did notice. the clinician noticed the maid had been missing and was worried enough to ask maomao to look into it. the other crystal pavillion servant loved her friend so much she planted flowers outside the shed because she hoped it would help her get better, which was the key clue that made maomao realize that’s the place where the servant is locked up. all of shin’s machinations get revealed because she refused to treat a servant girl as someone who mattered. it’s such a powerful message and i love it.

[svnluns]

she never stay ; b.eilish ✧₊⁺

I was, once again, at this club that my best friend Scarlett would take me to. She always wanted to go for drinks during the weekend.

The parties that she attended were always really loud, filled with many drunk people.

She grabbed my hand and leaned me toward the dance floor so we could have some fun.

After what felt like an eternity of pretending that I liked what was happening, I turned toward her, telling her that I was going to grab a drink.

A part of this lie was true, but it was also because I noticed this girl sitting alone. My eyes had been on her since the beginning.

She was standing across the room, her body leaning against the bar, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and matching pants, with some sunglasses on her head. She was definitely not a party girl. She was sipping on what looked like a cocktail, her fake nails tapping against the glass in rhythm with the music. She looked bored, like she had no clue what she was doing here.

I tried to avoid eye contact with her as I made my way toward the bartender.

I was really excited to drink since it was the only thing that would help me survive this party.

As I was scrolling on my phone, the bartender handed me my drink, and I saw a shadow appearing next to me. My breath hitched when I turned my head to meet her beautiful blue eyes. She looked even prettier up close.

“I noticed you staring at me,” she whispered in my ear, taking a seat next to me.

“So did you. Do you really think I didn’t catch you stealing glances at me?” I replied with a playful smirk.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she turned her head toward me. “Okay, I have to confess… maybe.”

Without giving me time to respond, she added, “So, are you here alone or with someone else?” She seemed really interested in my answer.

“Uh, I’m with a friend of mine,” I replied, taking a sip of my drink.

“Boringgggg. It would be more fun if you were alone,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling to herself.

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious about what she meant.

“Hm, nothing,” was all she said before taking my drink from my hand, placing it on the table, and grabbing my other hand to lead me through the crowd.

“Let’s dance,” she added, looking at me to make sure I wasn’t leaving her—but how could I when her grip on my hand was so tight?

The music pounded around us. Her hands found my waist, pulling me closer, our bodies moving in sync. Every touch made my skin shiver. I could smell her perfume, feel her breath on my neck.

I needed her.

But she seemed a bit like a player.

Her nails dug slightly into my hips, like she possessed me.

The room became blurry as she leaned in, taking me out of my trance, her lips inches from mine.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

I turned my gaze toward her, thinking about what I could say to Scarlett, but I was sure she would understand.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

She smirked, leading the way toward the exit. No words were needed—we both knew exactly what was about to happen.

We ended up in the parking lot, in front of a black Porsche Taycan. She pulled out the keys from her pocket and opened the door for me, letting me take a seat in the passenger seat.

She made her way to the driver’s seat and started the engine, heading toward her place.

After a 30-minute drive, we finally arrived. She opened the door for me, taking my hand in hers as we walked to the entrance. That’s when I realized we were at a hotel. She led me up the stairs, and I followed her until we reached the second floor—room 120.

The second the door closed behind us, she threw her keys on the floor and was back on me. Her fingers gripped at my clothes like she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands dug under my shirt, pulling it off as her nails left marks on my breasts. Her lips traced their way to my neck as she pushed me toward the bed, making me land on it urgently.

She got on top of me, lifting my dress slightly so she could see my black panties that had been peeking out.

My lips kissed her neck urgently as she started grinding against my thighs. Her hands now grabbed my breasts as I whimpered into her mouth, begging for a kiss.

My fingers found their way to her chest, grabbing one of her breasts, causing her to moan over and over.

She pulled my panties to the side, sliding her fingers deep inside me.

“You look so beautiful,” Billie whispered, kissing my neck one more time, making me even wetter than I already was.

I couldn’t stop moaning, throwing my head back and digging my nails into her.

I finally let go, tears streaming down my face as I lay breathless on the bed.

She took care of me, cleaning both of us up before sliding into bed and falling asleep.

When I woke up, the room was still dark. I checked my phone—it read 7 AM.

I reached out instinctively, expecting to feel the warmth of her body beside me.

But surprisingly, the sheets were cold.

My stomach twisted as I realized something was wrong.

I sat up, scanning the room for any sign of her, but the only thing left of her was the faint scent of her perfume on the pillow beside me.

She was gone.

No note. No whispered goodbye. No lingering kiss.

Just gone.

I pulled the sheets around myself, resting my hand on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, waiting for a proper time to leave.

Without leaving someone behind this time.

[artstennisracket]

Drunk enough to request Artrick piss kink shame free and off anon 😳

Thinking about the boys just hanging out and drinking and Art needs to pee but Patrick keeps saying he needs to do this first, and they need to finish that first (not even to stop him going on purpose he genuinely doesn't realise Art is about to piss himself) obviously eventually Art can't hold it anymore and pisses himself and he's like oh god, I pissed myself in front of Patrick he's going to make fun of me now and he starts crying. Patrick however is like why does Art look so good crying and after pissing himself? Do I have a piss kink? And then obviously he fucks Art

drunk enough to request off anon is SO REAL😭jinx have i ever said how much i love you? because i do and i hope you love this :) and we all know these aren’t proofread right? lololol

cw: nsfw (18+) piss, dom/sub undertones, daddy kink

Art and Patrick were on the tail end of a bar crawl that night. They are pretty drunk. They had been drinking for the past two hours or so, really pushing the limits of their tolerance. Their fake ids had only gotten them so far because eventually the bartender cuts them off.

They’ve decided to walk back to the dorm since Art doesn’t think he could handle riding in a car right now without throwing up. But Patrick has a few stops he wants to make on the way.

“c’mon it’ll only be for a minute i just want some snacks” Patrick says as he walks into the corner store, one of the only places opened this late.

Art’s stomach turns because the last thing he wants to think about right now is food, he’s too drunk for this. but he still follows Patrick inside. He groans, “fine just hurry up man.”

Drunk Patrick doesn’t really take that into consideration as he strolls up and down the aisles leisurely looking for scooby doo fruit snacks, oreo cakesters, and cheese balls.

Art is getting antsy. He already feels like shit anticipating tomorrow’s hangover but shortly into this trip he realized he really had to piss.

While Patrick is la la land, looking like he’s moving in slow motion. No pep in his step like he has nowhere to be. Art tugs on Patrick’s arm, “c’mon can we go? are you done?”

Patrick has completed his shopping list before he thinks, “oh shit wait i want to get Tashi the doritos that she likes.” He does a 360 turn going back to the chips aisle.

When they get there Patrick sees every doritos flavor imaginable (this store even had international flavors) but he didn’t see Tashi’s favorite, the purple ones.

“they don’t have it man, let’s just go. c’mon i wanna go home.” Art whines, he can feel his bladder pulsing. He needs to pee bad.

Patrick frowns until he comes up with idea, “let’s just ask him at the front, maybe they have it in the back.”

Art is praying to god they do not have it in the back so they can leave.

Patrick makes his way to the cashier, dropping his stuff on the counter. Art follows suit trying to focus on anything other than how badly he needs to go.

The cashier says he will check for the purple doritos in the back and Art feels like he wants to cry.

The cashier comes back, purple doritos in tow, and he checks Patrick out. Then they continue their journey back to the dorm.

They get there about 10 minutes later and Art is so close to relief he can feel it.

Patrick is fumbling around in his pocket trying to find his keys but he thinks he left them inside. Oh god, Art doesn’t know what to do now. He could barely walk straight on their way back from how badly he had to pee. But he didn’t tell Patrick because he didn’t want to seem like a baby.

He also didn’t want to pee on the sidewalk or in an alley way like a delinquent. Patrick did it all the time if he had to go, but Art was too worried someone would catch him. He also couldn’t go if he knew someone could hear him, he gets nervous.

But this time was different and before he knew it his bladder gave up on him. The warm liquid started to run down his briefs. It trickled from his thighs all the way down to his calves. His jeans were soaked, he could feel the fabric getting heavier against his skin. Oh fuck.

Art can’t believe he did that. He feels relieved and petrified at the same time. Patrick is probably going to make fun of him for being a baby and being able to hold it like an adult. Fuck. This is so embarrassing for him, Patrick will never let him live this down.

Luckily Patrick hasn’t looked back at him yet, still searching for his keys. Shortly after he realizes the keys were in his jacket pocket, not any of the million pockets on his cargo shorts, and he opens the door. He turns to look back at Art but his smile slowly drops from his face.

That’s all it took for Art to start crying. He knows the wet spot on his jeans is very visible. Tears running down his cheeks, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Patrick is frozen in place. He didn’t know Art had to pee that bad, let alone at all. If he would’ve known he would’ve convinced Art to just pee in an alley way. But somehow he thinks he likes this better? Art looks really pretty with those tears falling down his face. Too pretty. Patrick can feel himself hardening in his own shorts.

He pulls Art inside their dorm and locks the door.

“ ‘m sorry.” Art gasps out between sobs. He doesn’t really know what else to say and the embarrassment he’s feeling is immeasurable.

Patrick drops his the plastic bag with his snacks by the door before he approaches Art. He stand right in front of Art so their face to face. He slowly lets his eyes drag over Art lower half, subconsciously biting his lip. He doesn’t really know why he’s so turned on right now.

Of course he’s watched ridiculous categories of porn before but never anything like this. Is he into this?

He brings his eyes back up to meet Art’s red rimmed eyes. He brings his hand up to Art’s cheek to wipe away some tears.

“it’s okay babe, don’t have to apologize,” Patrick all but whispers. Keeping his hand on Art’s cheeks he slowly pulls him in for a kiss.

Art is confused but he lets his eyes slips close and kisses back anyway. The kiss starts slow and shy, until it picks up true desires being unleashed. It’s a mess of teeth, tongue, and lips.

Patrick pulls away, resting his forehead against Art’s. He starts unbuttoning Art’s jeans before he shoves his hand into Art’s damp briefs which makes Art gasp, “patrick—”

“fuck.” Patrick whispers under his breath, “you’re so fucking hot.” Patrick continues as he starts stroking Art to full hardness.

“ah— ah patrick” Art whines while Patrick grabs Art’s other hand, bringing it to feel Patrick’s boner.

Patrick keeps jerking off Art with one hand, while he pulls his own shorts down with the other hand. Moving Art’s hand to grip Patrick’s hard cock. Patrick leans in by Art’s ear to whisper, “this is what you fucking do to me,” before pulling Art into a kiss.

Art moans into Patrick’s mouth, making sure to start stroking Patrick’s cock. Patrick moves his hands into the back of Art’s briefs, gripping Art’s ass.

“need to fuck you, please” Patrick groans into Art’s mouth. Without another word Art is quickly pulling off his damp briefs and shorts. He also pulls his shorty over his head.

Patrick does the same, shedding his clothes. He puts Art on all fours before smacking Art’s ass for good measure while a moan escapes Art’s mouth.

Patrick eases two lubed up fingers inside Art’s tightness to stretch him out. Once Art staring pushing back on Patrick’s fingers, greedy, he deems Art is ready for his cock.

He lines up with Art’s hole before pushing in slowly until he bottoms out. “holy fuck Art you’re so tight.”

Art gasps as Patrick fills him up. Fuck he’s so fucking full right now. “please fuck me, please”

Patrick starts slamming himself into Art, making sure to keep a good pace. “you looked so fucking hot pissing yourself. jesus fuck. couldn’t hold it in huh baby?”

Art shakes his head no as he keeps whining, moaning, any sound he can make at this point.

Patrick continues “so you made a big fucking mess didn’t you baby? just for me to see”

Art nods in agreement this time. His head was feeling a little flirty and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or not anymore.

“say it, tell me how big of a fucking mess you made.” Patrick said punctuating each word with a hard thrust. He moves his hand around so he can start stroking Art’s cock as he fucks into him.

Art chokes out in between moans, babbling at this point, “i— i—made such a—fuck—b-big mess daddy.”

“holy fuck,” Patrick’s thrusts stutter and he comes inside Art immediately after that. Art comes at the same time squirting all over their sheets.

Patrick collapses next to Art on the bed. He chuckles lightly, “that was…wow.”

Art sits up, “i didn’t know you were into that, thought you were gonna make fun of me.”

“i didn’t know, but when I saw you I just,” Patrick smirks, “- yeah that was good, are we gonna talk about you calling me daddy?.”

Art scoffs shoving Patrick, “shut the fuck up I didn’t mean it.”

Patrick raises his eyebrow, “i don’t know sounded real to me,” he starts to mock Art, “oh daddy please yes make me cum ah-”

Art shoves Patrick again, making sure Patrick is face first into a pillow so he can shut up. It was clear Art didn’t want to talk about it so he stopped, for now.

Patrick starts again, “now we really have to clean up your mess,” he laughs.

Art sighs exasperated, “it’s your fault.”

“i’m not the one who pissed myself,” he says back with a low whistle. Art blushes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Patrick could sense Art was starting to get a little insecure again so he pipes up again, “c’mon i’ll change the sheets, and you can shower. deal?”

Art nods small smile on his face, “deal.”

[richarlotte]

Something you did to succeed?

When I first got to LA and I didn’t really know anyone on campus yet, my Big made me go to a party with her. It was filled with Thornton and SDA boys, and while I’ve never really been into musicians or actors, sometimes you have to work with what you’re given and have a good time. Creating connections with people my age was heavy on my mind when I first got to campus, and I wanted more social opportunities. 

I ended up on a couch, in a completely one-sided conversation with a real Jack Antonoff-type character, and I couldn’t relate to a single thing he was saying. He’d bring up producing or curating playlists, talk (brag) about his deal, or drop names every other second while I sort of just sat next to him and nodded along halfheartedly while trying not to spill my drink.

I know me, and I know what I can relate to. I felt his energy, tuned in to what he was talking about, and realized that we’d both spent our lives working hard to feel good enough, sacrificing, and being pushed to the limit, and he had a vicious ambition and desire to succeed. As he was talking about producing, I finally interrupted him and said, “Have you seen Whiplash? I feel like you’d love it. It’s one of my top ten favorite movies,” and his eyes immediately sparked up. 

All it took was knowing a few cultural references, being able to read the room, listening, and waiting before I spoke to unlock an entirely new side of the guy I was talking to. As soon as I asked him about Whiplash, he said, “What was your name again? Charlotte?” and I was in good. I wasn’t into him, but I wanted to get to know him and his people, so I stayed sat and matched his energy since I knew he was important to know. 

I left the party early, didn’t give him my number, and told him I’d accept his follow request once I got home, and went to bed instead of answering his DM. He asked people about me for weeks after, reached out to invite me to things, asked me to dinners, invited me to attend a premiere with him as his guest, made me playlists, and got me a Coachella pass after seeing me post about never having gone to the festival before.

I was in the room not long ago with my Big, and she brought him up and said, “You know he still talks about you, right? He’ll bring you up unprovoked and say that you’re so cool and know all the references” when really all I know is how to time things right, keep my voice and eye contact nice and steady, and hold myself well. The key for me is being passionate but careless too.

I prioritized making connections because I know where my strengths lie, and I know I thrive when I’m given the opportunity to be social. Success in Los Angeles hinges on who you know, and I’ve made so many friends, found opportunities, had new experiences, and had the chance to experience more life through getting to know more people. Connections are key in Los Angeles, and it’s incredibly important to become comfortable talking to and meeting new people as early on as you can so that you have a shot at success.

[loverboykirstein]

After biting the bullet i just need to ask for more sam🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ im in love with the way u wrote it.

Preferably with dom sam and afab reader. If u write stuff like it maybe some high confessions to esch other that turn into smut. The thought of sam doing everything to pleasure her outside of sex but him being quite greedy while doing it makes me go crazy so if it could be something like this, i would actually marry u in an instant😭

I never requested anything like this so i hope this is okey!! If u have some questions please please text me about it🙇‍♀️ i hope u have a lovely day whenever u may see this and thank u for your writing.

hello my love, ask and you shall receive ᯓᡣ𐭩

smoke sessions // dom!sam

sam (sdv) x afab!reader

wc: 7832

mdni -> unprotected sex, overstimulation, referenced past trauma/ab*sive relationships, teasing, oral (f receiving), drug use (marijuana)

*** it wasn’t until your story was over that you realized how much you had smoked, way more than you had told yourself you would, everything moving just a little bit slower. 

he had already rolled another, kept his eyes locked on you as he grabbed two small bottles of wine out of your fridge, scratching the roots of your hair for a split second on his way back to his too-close position on your worn out couch. 

your drowsy eyes lingering too long on him, heartbeat in your throat as you caught his, staring back at you with those stupid eyes and that stupid face and you couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so hot in the room and why your hands were kind of clammy and- 

oh. oh. 

fuck. 

“so,” he finally blinked, snapping the rubber band on his wrist. 

“so,” you giggled, unable to help the sheer amount of nervousness running through you, like a teenager in… 

…love…? ***

 ᥫ᭡。

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

“good GOD sam what the FUCK?!” you yelled at him, half to tears as you held your purple sword between the two of you. 

eyes puffy and red, voice cracking as your fragile hands struggled with the weight of crashing adrenaline. 

“two thing- three things,” he sighed, kicking his shoes off and lining them up by the door. 

“one, since when have you had this fucking beast,” he laughed, taking your sword from your hands and placing it back by your door. 

“two, you gave me a key to your house, dumbass,” you looked at his keys, still in the door. classic. no wonder he just now came around. 

“three, since when do you not answer your phone?”. 

ah. that thing. 

“actually, one more thing, why the hell are you crying?” 

damn it. 

“sam i-”. 

“also, when was the last time you ate? or showered or-”

“sam i kno-”. 

“you scared me half to death you kn-”. 

“SAMSON,”. 

you had never once raised your voice at him, or anyone in the valley for that matter. you scared yourself, covering your face as soon as you said it. 

looking at each other like a deer in the headlights, frozen in time. 

“i’m sorry i-” you started the clock again, gravity no longer struggling against the weight of the silence your cabin held. 

“no no im sorry i shouldn’t have i-” he sighed, turning around and walking out your front door. 

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. why do i fucking ruin everything every goddamn ti- 

three knocks on your door, not even fully closed, stopping your tears from falling again. 

“hi, can i come in?” he poked his head around the opening, shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

all you could do was laugh, the first time you had laughed in a while. in a long fucking time. 

you waved him in, body already heavy enough on its own, begging to be held in the corner of your couch, not even bothering to make the trek to your bedroom most nights. 

“can we start with one question at a time?” he practically pleaded, the softest you had heard his voice in months. 

a silent nod, not even bothering to sit up all the way. 

you didn’t want to answer anything, you didn’t want to talk at all. 

“where have you been?” you could feel the pain in his voice, nearly snapping like a string pulled too tight, strummed one too many times. 

“aw not even gonna ask me about my sword? lame,” you huffed, hoping you would be able to avoid the inevitable just a little bit longer. 

“okay fine, since when have you had that fucking beast?” 

a small tug on your lips, knowing he would eventually always come around and cave in. 

you found the strength to sit up, knowing his favorite stories were yours from the mines. his eyes would always glimmer, the most animated faces that could bring a laugh out of anyone, even George. 

“wait- before you start, you down?” he held up his fake headphone case, and you knew exactly what he had brought. 

“sam you are god in the flesh yes please,”. 

he raised an eyebrow at you, a small laugh under his breath as he unzipped the case that you knew would bring an ounce of relief, one that wouldn’t leave you begging for mercy and ginger ale as you opened your eyes. 

was it the best idea? probably not. your self-inflected cage near impossible to hold on to, each drag another lock undone. 

your mouth moved faster than your brain, begging soul and childish heart trying to take their chance at escape.

 to be heard, by more than tile in your shower, by more than your chickens who obviously didn’t know what you were ever saying. by the seeds you planted, the rocks you broke open. by someone. 

i can keep it together. yeah, a couple drags won’t hurt. just enough to stop crying for a bit. that’s the last thing he needs to see. 

“here,” he handed you the perfectly wrapped blunt, sealed with a swipe of his tongue and calloused fingertips. 

his hands a little shaky, silver rings along his fingers worn from prolonged wear, same tarnished look as the bracelets you’d never once seen him take off. 

“you got a light?” you asked, looking around to see if you had one lying around, too lazy to make a designated home for most of the things inside your near empty cabin. 

in a single flick of his thumb, the lighter you gifted him on a whim ignited in his hand. wrapped in a watercolor mix of blues and greens, the same colors as his eyes. 

he never put two and two together,  but when Pam had stopped by the only liquor store between the valley and the desert, of course you joined her. 

met at the counter with a few snacks you hoped would keep you awake in the mines, as well as some drinks for after,  the colors flashed in the corner of your eye, placing it in front of the weathered cashier before she could tell you your total. 

you couldn’t figure out why you bought it so quickly until you saw him next, mouth running dry at the thought. you hadn’t done that for sebastian, or abigail, for anyone, and you weren’t nearly as close to him as you were to his best friends. well, at the time. 

before the concert happened, the four of you were nearly inseparable. rushing to get your farm work done by the early afternoon, enough time to yourself before you would all settle in sebastian’s room, nearly yelling at each other over a never ending game at his table. 

that’s when things flipped upside down, sideways, and every which way other than level, fight or flight activated since. a mix of both, really, settling on a third option of avoidance and breakdown, burying yourself in the hole you didn’t realize you were almost out of. 

a hastily written letter in your mailbox, stating you had to be at the bus stop by 4, no later, plans for the day flipped upside down. 

you hadn’t been to a concert in forever, and for their band? you wouldn’t miss that for the world. 

it didn’t help that there was something different about him when he was on stage, a sultry kind of confidence that made your heart beat funny and your stomach flip. 

comfortable, like he really did belong on a stage, born for it. eyes glued to yours for a little too long, verses ending in near whines, others in heart wrenching screams, the truest form of him you had ever seen. 

that stupid smirk on his face as he did it, really selling the show. he was made for it, it came naturally. you weren’t sure how the other girls at the show weren’t fawning over him, hoping to grab his attention and sneak backstage. 

when he pulled his eyes off you to focus on his bright red guitar, energy radiating off of him as if he couldn’t stay still for a second longer, even if he tried, you were startled back to the present. 

a slight weight on your chest when the air finally came back to your lungs, as if you had been holding it that whole time. 

a tingling under your skin, fingertips buzzing with god knows what, surely just the reverberation from the speakers, right? 

too lost in the show to remember you were in a crowd, just about everyone to your back. guard down, brain fuzzy. 

disappointed that their set ended so soon, or it at least felt like it did, the three of them walking behind the curtain and out of your sight. 

then he tapped your shoulder before you could even turn around, the one who pushed you to the valley in the first place. 

the final straw, leaving with your phone and your wallet, and anything of importance inside a single duffle bag, you took the key from the letter you finally unsealed at your desk. 

you wished you had opened it so much sooner, to visit him in his fragile state, hell to see him for the first time in over a decade. but he still managed to mail you that letter, somehow figuring out the correct address. 

you didn’t open the letter until you felt like it, forgetting it in your desk drawer as it was the only place you could keep anything mostly private. 

a locked journal, grandpa’s letter, and a mess of papers and sticky notes, poor attempts at keeping your work in some kind of order, too many projects and a skeleton crew. all about profit, don’t give a single shit about us, figures. 

one fight too many, the lowest blows he had ever thrown your way. you would have sworn you killed a man with the way he spoke down to you, all because he found out your new supervisor was a younger man. 

it didn’t matter that you explained he didn’t even live in Zuzu, had a beautiful family, and had only spoken to you via email, you were ruining everything. 

you were the problem, the worst disease the universe had ever known, an ungrateful liar who was lucky to have him. 

you mirrored your mother too much, or maybe your father, a disappointment at best, too broken and scarred to be loved by anything at all. let alone sincerely. 

you were too difficult, too much. emotional, crazy, worthless. and you were lucky to have him, after all he swore up and down that he was the only one who would ever put up with you. 

the words you could eat, swallow them down, throw them up behind closed doors. they would spill out mixed with bile and tears, the bathroom fan and shower running to hide enough of the noise. 

a never ending cycle, to sit down, shut up, and learn your place. to do as you were told, to look the way you were told, to be what you were told. but when his palm swiped clear across your face, you couldn’t stomach it. 

you were just so easy to mold into whatever he pleased, never given the chance to grow a spine, just a bundle of nerves and blood on the floor. 

living in greyscale, you weren’t even sure if you were alive. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to be. 

so when a year of color, vibrant and warm, shut down at the turn of your head, so did you. 

you had nearly forgotten entirely, building yourself up, to some degree at least. able to walk, to get out of bed every day, to do things you never thought possible. a fairytale, in a way. 

“long time no see, huh?” his eyes were the same swirling mess you remembered, each word pulling out another vertebrae of your makeshift spine you built without direction. 

linked in all the wrong places, nerves all jumbled up. and it hurt like a goddamn bitch to have them pulled out so rough, shattering in his grasp. 

“didn’t think you could leave forever, could you? blocking all my numbers only got you so far. see you’ve turned into quite the whore haven’t you? did i teach you nothing?” 

circling, spinning, dizzy, fainting, everything in between and nothing at all. you didn’t know where you were, devoid of color and vision blurred no matter how fucking hard you tried. 

lungs empty, collapsing as he clawed his way through your chest to break you down again. 

you couldn’t remember how, or when you got back to the valley, all you could do was mimic other forms, using the chatter of the people who accepted you as one of them, poorly shoving yourself into a unrecognizable form scarred to the brink of death. 

you had lied to sam over and over and over, saying you had come down with something, you had a lot of stuff to catch up on, any half-assed excuse you could to hide your truest form away. 

to slip back into all your bad habits, only taking enough time to do the bare necessities for the farm and the animals, not bothering with much else. 

too much happening to begin to comprehend, endless pit of dread  on top of so many feelings that left you confused and scared in a good way, sam’s unwavering stare on that stage replaying over and over, so many conflicting wires that your system crashed and all the circuits burned out. 

blocking every number until your ears nearly bled, over and over and over, unknown numbers driving you insane. 

paranoid that he would find you, that a piece of him had followed you, it was just too fucking much. 

you didn’t even know how long it had really been, a week, a month? 

you didn’t feel human anymore, you hadn’t since that earth shattering ending. 

but there it was, color, in the form of flame illuminating the eyes that matched the vessel in his hand, waiting for you to lean in and pull the smoke in. 

frozen, blunt between your shaking fingers, your ears stopped their ringing. 

“are you-” he tilted his head to the side, eyebrows slightly pulled together as he watched your face with so much intent. 

blinking hard, remembering that he couldn’t read your mind, that you were probably freaking him out for no good reason, you nodded your head and brought the kindest of offerings to your lips. 

“you’re a shit liar, i hope you know that,” he almost laughed, that stupid fucking smile on his face as he watched yours, and you swore you burned alive on the spot. 

hyper focused, holding that damned lighter to the end, watching as you pulled the smoke in, filling your lungs you didn’t think you had anymore. 

trying your best to remember to take it slow, handing it off to him after your first long inhale, the sweetest hint of vanilla at the end. 

he remembered? 

it was the same taste as it was that first time you hung out for real, out by the quarry for no good reason. just talking, so much talking, hands in pockets and steps slow, following nothing at all, just the urge to keep silence at bay a little bit longer. 

that evening a core memory, all happy afterwards. the first time you weren’t carrying around the weight of disaster on your shoulders, on your chest. 

“alright, nowwwww,” he said through some heavy breathing, smoke held for a little too long. 

“okay, okay fine,”. 

you tried your best to make the tale exciting, about the serpents you fought and how you found that first prismatic shard. 

that there was some sort of magic in the desert, a hint left on the cave walls to make an offering to whoever was out there, the best sword you had ever laid eyes on. 

was the purple a little obnoxious? sure, but it was also a reminder of your strength, at least enough to find one of the rarest minerals out there, something you were able to do on your own. 

it wasn’t until your story was over that you realized how much you had smoked, way more than you had told yourself you would, everything moving just a little bit slower. 

he had already rolled another, kept his eyes locked on you as he grabbed two small bottles of wine out of your fridge, scratching the roots of your hair for a split second on his way back to his too-close position on your worn out couch. 

your drowsy eyes lingering too long on him, heartbeat in your throat as you caught his, staring back at you with those stupid eyes and that stupid face and you couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so hot in the room and why your hands were kind of clammy and- 

oh. oh. 

fuck. 

“so,” he finally blinked, snapping the rubber band on his wrist. 

“so,” you giggled, unable to help the sheer amount of nervousness running through you, like a teenager in… 

…love…? 

“listen, i’m sorry i scared you, i really didn’t mean to, i just got worried, y’know?” he shrugged, clouded in what seemed like…embarrassment? 

“it’s okay, i should have told you, i-”

“did i do something wrong? if i said something you should’ve just slapped me or something y-”

“no, no no, it wasn’t anything you did, i promise,” you grabbed his hand, like it was an instinct or something, trying your best to make it clear to him that it really wasn’t his fault at all. 

it made your stomach flutter, brain stop working for a second. you dropped it after a second too long, clearing your throat after. 

“what’s going on, then? i can’t just sit here and know somethings wrong and not at least try and do something, i just-”

“okay, okay, but you keep this between us okay?” your eyes pleaded, begging him to keep that part of you away from everyone, everything. 

what am i doing? 

“yes ma’am,” he nodded, nothing but seriousness in his voice, adjusting towards you to express his full attention, something he could rarely do. 

unable to meet his eyes, you worked up the nerve, or whatever it was holding you back, to yank on the string holding your pride together. you placed it in his hand, unraveled, bloodied, gone for good. 

it wasn’t linear, a jumbled mess of words spilling out faster than you could catch them. every syllable foreign to you, telling some sort of story that didn’t seem to have much plot, back and forth between before and after, you weren’t even sure. 

you were so fucking scared, never telling a soul about the years you spent in your own little hell, never even bothering to ask for help.

so small, so frail, spilling out all the nastiest parts of your memory, your being, onto your living room floor. a mess you weren’t sure how to clean up, stains permanent in the hardwood. 

but through it all you were so busy thinking about the nerves that wracked through you, suffocated by his fixated stare, holding that stupid string to your pride so delicately in his hand, just in case you wanted it back. 

you knew you couldn’t have it back, too deformed in your gutted state, embarrassed and ashamed of who you claimed to be, fraudulent identity and all. 

but it wasn’t the way your vocal cords spit the leftover bits of your soul out, it was realizing how close he was, and how the way he was looking at you made you feel hot. 

how grabbing his hand for a moment in time made you feel awkward, catching you off guard. 

the overwhelming heat of it all, face scalding, stammering your words into makeshift sentences, if you could even call them that. 

“so, um, yeah. als-” don’t say anything else don’t don’t don’t. 

“you’ve been here this whole time, alone, and petrified? you know i would’ve come stay with you, or help on the farm or something,” he spoke soft and stern, a bubbly sort of mix that made you hiccup. “he lives in Zuzu? what part?” 

his eyes squinted a little, knuckles white in angered fists, unnoticed before. how long have they been like that? 

“south side, right off the main highway. kinda by the..” 

right by the skatepark. 

“skatepark”. 

you nodded silently, connecting the fact that they probably know each other. 

“i’ll take care of it. don’t worry,”. he handed you a gentle smile, a cover up for his tensed jaw and hard blinks. “and i’ll get’cha a new phone, number, all that good stuff, m’kay,”. 

he’s just…being really nice? 

you tried your best to ignore that same feeling bubbling in your chest, the butterflies, the tingling in your fingers, the nerves. 

“you don’t have to, it’s okay i really sh-”

“hush. let me take care of you,”. 

seven words that melted into you on contact, seeping into your bloodstream like chaos. 

he…wants to take care…of me? 

“sam i-”

“ah ah ah- shush, missy,”. he inched a little closer, pointing a playful finger in your face, just to tap it on the tip of your nose. 

he’s…fuck what the hell is going on with me? 

“i want to take care of you, i’d walk to the ends of the damn earth if it meant you didn’t go MIA again,”. 

where is this coming from? am i hearing things? 

“you’ve carried all…this…your whole life. let me help, ‘kay?” 

how do i set it down? how do i let you take this knowing how hard it is to bear? 

why do you care so much? 

don’t you have your own things to worry about? what about vincent? your dad? yourself? 

for me? i haven’t done anything in return, i just, what is going ON. 

“i care because-” 

oh my god did i say that out loud ?

“yes, you did, can you listen to me for a minute, angel?” 

angel? who- i- wait a minute. 

“hey, look at me,” he grabbed your hand, mirroring your grasp from earlier, except his was steady and strong, no sign of letting go. 

“listen, i didn’t want to ruin anything, but i-”

oh my god i’m fucking- 

“sam i think im in love with you,”. 

shit. 

out of breath, startled, frozen in fear at your lack of restraint, lack of control. first you hand him your pride, and then admit what you’d been pushing down this whole time? 

so desperate to be heard, and he had open ears the whole time. 

you didn’t want to be a burden, the one who only always brought the mood down, the one everyone felt like they needed to worry about. choosing to push it down, push it away, so that they didn’t. 

but you’d been pushing this down too, nervous system sounding the alarms when feelings that even resembled something romantic began to surface, real or not. 

you denied every comment from abigail, seb, alex, even vincent, thinking they were just trying to set you up because you guys got along. 

really well. 

and hung out all the time. 

but this, you at your lowest, pride removed, walls crumbled, truest form you could show, mixed with a mouth that ran a little bit faster than your brain did, overflowing before you even knew what you were saying. 

your hand still in his, breath held as you waited for one of two life altering answers. to keep him by you, or for things to be uncomfortable from this moment forward. 

what the fuck was i thinking? what if he doesn’t feel the same? oh god what about penny- god am i a fucking moron? 

“oh thank fucking god,” he sighed, yanking you from your awkward distance from him to his lap, the tightest hug ever known, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

in something near fantasy, the gravity stopped again, but this time to watch as its work finally paid off, no longer playing tug of war with your souls to make one of you confess. 

wrapping your fingers in his hair at the base of his head, praying that nothing would tear him away even if the entire valley was on fire. 

“i don’t think you know how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” his breath tickled the exposed skin of your neck, pulling nothing but a few small giggles out of your chest. 

“mmm since you were eye-fucking me at the show?” you don’t know where this buzzing confidence came from, another sentence too fast for your rationale to halt. 

“well yes, but, more like right after that night at the quarry,”. 

“that was like, almost a year ago!” you pulled back to get a look at his face, hoping it would be a blushing mess, that you would get to see that beaming smile you loved so dearly. 

your drawback reluctantly pulling him away from your skin, his face was cocky. 

“i know,” he said it so, certain, like you just told him the sky was blue. “i knew you’d be mine. didn’t have to rush a thing,”. 

“oh? and how’d you know that?” you tilted your head a little to the side, eyebrow raised, acting like you didn’t feel the same, that you do remember that night like it was yesterday. 

“oh please,” he rolled his eyes, drama queen, “you think i couldn’t tell?” 

“oh what ever,” you scoffed, unaware that you were really doing anything to make it obvious, hell it wasn’t even obvious to you. 

“you’re cute,” he kissed the tip of your nose, pulling you back in as if he was afraid to lose you, arms wrapped so tight that it felt like he was putting you back together. 

“shush,” you mumbled into his ear, breath hot on his neck, swearing you felt him shiver at the feeling. 

“mmm, nah, don’t think so,” you felt him pinch at your sides a little, making you squirm around in his lap a little too much, your giggles filling his heart to the brim, spilling over and filling his lungs with such warmth he didn’t know how to contain it. 

but he knew what he was doing, knowing you were ticklish at the sides, holding back a faint groan at the innocence of your actions, the mild amount of friction making his stoned brain all fuzzy. 

first, you said those words he had been dying to hear, second, here you were in his lap, giggling into his ear and hips flush with his. 

he couldn’t stop it, the tent in his pants obvious in a matter of seconds. 

and of course you couldn’t hold back the slight gasp as you felt it press against you, the smallest little moan as you settled into it. 

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the other to say something, to do something. 

making up his mind, his hands gripped your hips hard, moving your achy little cunt against his length. 

a hum reverberated in your chest, settling into the slow ruts, his hands guiding the way. 

“feel good, princess?” his voice an octave lower, settling perfectly down in your core. 

“mhmm,” you tried to go a little faster, a little harder, something. “wan’ more,”. 

“yeah? use your words baby,”. his grip in full control, holding back your attempt to satiate the need that seemingly came out of nowhere. 

you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been touched by someone else, just the occasional work of your fingers as your mind wandered, letting it take you wherever it wanted. 

being high, being nervous made it feel all the more overwhelming, body encased in his scent and subtly dominate disposition. 

“wan’ more of you, please,”. 

he let your hips roll harder, longer, just a few times before he held you still again, frustrated whimper spilling from your lips. 

“sammyyy, quit bein’ mean,”. his grip too firm, too steady, nothing but a devilish giggle in his throat. 

“you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?” 

you could tell his restraint was slipping, needing those words of approval from you before he made you his, before he gave into his greedy nature and take what was his all along. 

“yes, please sammy, wanna feel ya,”. 

you didn’t recognize yourself, begging with such pity that his eyes grew tenfold, tummy pulling tight at the complete control you handed him so easily. 

one swift move, pushing himself off the couch while wrapping your legs around him, your giggles bouncing around in his skull at a million miles an hour. 

he moved with such haste, desperate to hear you, to feel you, to see you fall apart under him, to claim you for good. 

he laid you down on your bed, gently resting your frame against the plush mattress. the only light in the room was your bedside lamp and the moonlight seeping through your windows, the two of you the only bodies left on earth. 

“promise you’ll be good f’me?” he purred in your ear, fingertips dancing on your thighs. 

“mhm, i will,”. nodding with frustration, willing to do just about anything to satiate the fire already consuming your walls, twitching around nothing at all. 

your beady eyes so innocently begging, completely unaware of the man you were bringing out of him, something downright feral. 

“good girl,” he swiped his tongue across his top teeth, sharpened canines shimmering under the dim lights. 

the phrase stirred something up inside you, eyes wide and pleading, body his. 

crawling on top of you, he pulled you up the mattress, looking down at the exposed skin of your tummy, the sudden tightness of your shirt barely hiding a thing. 

his hand brushing up against your clothed clit, just enough pressure to make the frustration slither down to the tips of your toes. 

“sammyyy,” you whined with a puppy dog stare, bottom lip jutted to really sell it to him. 

“yes?” that stupid smirk on his face, every move calculated as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times over. 

“please touch me,”. you couldn’t sound any more desperate, almost pathetic, just the way he wanted you. 

“i am touching you, my love,”. 

his purrs were criminal, so thick that it saturated your bloodstream, your brain forced into slow motion. 

“asshole,” you whimpered, trying to grab his wrist and move him where you wanted, too desperate to play the teasing game. 

“excuse me?” he shook his wrist free, grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look into the blown out pupils of his, so sickeningly exciting. “that’s not how we get what we want now, is it?” 

“i know you want it too,” you kept whining, eyes glossy in need, pushing your thighs together in hopes it would do something. 

“be careful what you wish for, darling,”. the laugh he barely let out was almost sinister, he knew how badly you wanted it, and how he was going to abuse that. 

he sat up straight, yanking your shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, pushing one of your thighs open with his knee that was once at your side. 

your top teeth bruising your bottom lip, holding back a giggle that was mixed with every emotion you could think of, all of it bubbling in your chest. 

the middle finger of his right hand swiping up your slit as he came back down, greedy lips wanting yours again. 

your body melting into his touch, gentle traces driving you fucking. insane. 

“more-” you tried to beg through his feverish kisses, barely giving you enough room to breathe. so in unison, in tune, made for each other. 

as he swallowed up your words, you felt his long finger dip inside you, just past your begging hole that was so desperate to be filled. 

your whimpers settling on his tongue, sweet enough to give him a sugar rush, to make him crave so much more, you were driving him insane. 

the amount of nights he had fucked his fist to the idea of you, to the sight of you in that too-short skirt you wore at the festival of the moonlight jellies, ocean breeze exposing just a little too much, completely unknowing. 

the way the dress you adorned on spirits eve pushed your tits up, nearly spilling out as he jumpscared you in the depths of the maze. 

the shirts you wore at game nights, perfume clouding his every move as it radiated off of your pulse points. a little too low cut, a little too big, on full display to him as you leaned over the table. 

the blush on your face when you gifted him every single time, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you looked up at him for approval. 

and the swimsuit you wore at the beach, sitting next to him as he watched vincent play in the water, instantly throbbing as he watched you oblige to his little brothers wishes for you to come play with him. 

the urge to make you a mother right then and there, watching your top hold on for dear life as you lifted vincent out of the water and throwing him back in, your ass on full display as your back was turned to him. 

you drove him fucking crazy. every time you got a little to close to alex, hell even seb, something hot boiled under his flesh, jealousy. 

you were his, whether you knew that or not. he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

and here you were under him, tight walls wrapped around his finger, begging him for more more more. 

a dream, no less, you were finally where he wanted you this whole time, since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“still wan’ more?” he whispered in your ear, peppering kisses on the side of your neck as he began to pump in and out of you, sigh of relief spilling from your parted lips. 

you nodded, eyes closed, soaking in everything you could. 

you felt his teeth sink into the spots he so gently kissed, sucking bruises dark enough to last for days in spots impossible to cover, down until he was halted by the collar of your shirt. 

a frustrated whimper from your lungs as he pulled his finger out of you, tearing your shirt off in a blur, goosebump ridden skin on full display. 

every inch of you exposed to him in the dim lighting, ethereal. 

“good god you are beautiful,” breathtaking, his words nearly a whisper, trailing kisses down your torso. 

hooded eyes looked up at you as he dressed every inch of you in admiration, practically praising the ground you walked on. 

he would give you the world if you asked, hell the whole universe and everything beyond it. 

at this moment in time, all he wanted to do was fuck you senseless, to make you finish on him again and again and again even after you swore it was too much. 

a babbling mess, shaking, marked up, his. 

as his kisses lead to the bottom of your stomach, flush with your hips, the silver dog-tag chain he promised to never take off grazed against your heat, the metal ice cold. 

he looked up at you with hunger, a man starved for days waiting for the chance to satiate his thirst. a single nod, teeth tugging on your kiss-bitten bottom lip. 

and god did he give you more, drinking you up before you could take back your approval, heaven sent. 

his tongue writing i love you’s and i want you’s all over, teasing your greedy hole that was desperately waiting to be filled with him. 

he was messy, your slick all over him, forgetting to breathe. his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, fingers nearly turning white at the pressure. 

he let you trap him, encase him in your grasp, gasps that held moans hostage the strength he needed to forget every human need, the only thing on his mind was to please. 

your fingers tangled up in his hair, pushing his head into you as if he could get any closer. 

as his tongue lapped at your swollen cunt, his nose pressed against your clit, pulling that ache in your core a little closer, the knot a little tighter.  

he could tell by the growing arch in your back, the pressure in which your thighs encased him, the heightened pace of your whimpers. 

he wouldn’t stop even if the whole world relied on it, you were so close at just the work of his tongue, the mild vibrations from his moans, the sting of his fingers losing feeling on your thighs. 

“b-baby- pl-please don’t s-stop,”. your words choppy and mere stutters, cut off by the swirl his tongue made around your swollen clit, just to find its way back to your sopping hole. 

he listened, that was his plan, he wasn’t going to stop. not until your body remembered every inch of him, knew it belonged to him. 

another string on his guitar pulled a little too tight, you came, and came hard. 

fighting against the grip he had on you, tugging on the thick blonde strands wrapped around your fingers, trying your best to grind against his face, but he listened, not. stopping. 

incoherent words mixed in with your breathless moans and high pitched whimpers, rutting his own hips against your mattress as he drank up every drop you had to offer him, the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 

he slowly pulled away as your legs began to calm, a moment of peace as you caught your breath for a short second. 

“s’fuckin good,” hunger only fueled by the meal you had offered him, he needed more of you, and he needed it now. 

he pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor before taking his place on top of you again, missing his lips on yours. 

the light glimmered on him, toned and strong, adorned with piercings you had no idea he had. 

dermals placed carefully on his hips, metal bars through his nipples, you were drooling. 

his mouth on yours, sharing the taste of you as he groped every inch of you he could. 

swallowing up your moans, you needed him and you needed him now. 

reaching down, you unbuckled his belt, jeans right after. 

his queue to strip, to expose himself as much as you, eyes stuck to you as he adjusted to yank his jeans down in unison with his boxers. 

his dick slapped against him, your eyes widening as a sliver of fear shook your heart, knowing it would be a stretch. 

as expected, a piercing adorned his dripping tip, all red and swollen and begging. 

“sammy please,” you whimpered as he rubbed his thumb over his leaking head, eyes hooded and breath heavy. 

“please what, baby?” he hummed, lining himself up to your throbbing cunt, tracing his head up and down your slit, so slow you thought your heart might collapse. 

“just fuck me already,” you barked, patience run thin and you swore you would die right then and there if he didn’t fuck you stupid. 

thrill and fear mixed in your throat, slack-jawed as he began to dip inside, the sting of the stretch making your body run hot, whimpers of pain as you adjusted to his sheer size. 

“you can take it, baby, can’t you?” 

he mustered up every ounce of strength he had to sound collected, even though the grip of your walls was breaking him apart. 

so warm, so wet, so much better than he could have ever dreamt. 

“ ‘s a lot,” unsure of even yourself, could you really take it?

one hand of his leaving his fingerprints on your bones, the other grabbed the sides of your face, forcing your glossed over eyes to face his, to listen. 

“isn’t this what you begged for, dirty girl?” the cockiest look on his face, forcing you to look at him as he inched his way inside, swallowing him up so perfectly, fingers pressing your teeth against the insides of your cheeks. 

your face ran hot, embarrassed at your sudden defeat, your cunt obviously wanting more. 

more, more, more. 

“use your words, bunny, c’mon,” he pressed his forehead against yours, teeth sharp as they barely held back a cruel laugh that was simmering all the way down to his cock. 

“mhm, y-yes,” you were able to mumble out of your lips that were smushed together, a slight nod against his too-tight grip. 

“are you going to be good?” 

without a second to respond, a single buck of his hips as he bruised the sweetest bit of your cervix. you swore he was in your throat, so incredibly full. 

head falling back into the rustled up blankets, one of your legs swung over his broad shoulder, going deeper. 

the moans he rattled out of you were beyond unholy, something you didn’t even think you were capable of. 

your gummy walls sucked him off so well, molded to the shape of him upon entry. 

your body didn’t feel real. each thrust of need, desperation, a year's worth of pent up feelings spilling out at the expense of your sopping wet pussy. 

“s’ fuckin tight my god,”. his tone was downright feral, teeth pinned together as strands of his hair fell onto his forehead. 

he looked so strong, teaching your cells that you belonged to him now. 

“don’t get all- f-fucking hell, shy on me, c-c’mon,”. barely able to process his words, so lost in the high of his cock pounding into you over, and over, and over again, like his damn life depended on it. 

his hand around your throat, fingers closing off the rush of blood to your fuzzy little brain, snapped out of your fucked-out daze. 

“you’re f-f-fucking mine, y-you understand?” the colorful mix of his eyes overtaken by the dark, void of all color as he fell pussy-drunk. 

“do you understand?” his grip got tighter, your eyes rolling back into your skull, the only thing you could focus on was the violent approach of your next climax. 

somehow you forced a meek nod, his grip relaxing enough for the blood to come back through, creaming his length without any warning. 

“s-s- oh my- f-fucking hell- ah!” 

incoherent at best, babbles and whimpers as your legs shook, overstimulation hitting you like a train. 

“there you go, suckin’ me off s’good, such a good girl,”. he didn’t falter once, pace steady and ruthless, leaving you drooling and cock-drunk. 

he titled his head to the ceiling, chest heaving and heart racing, mad at himself for not doing this earlier, but so, so fucking starstruck that he actually got to be inside you. 

you felt him twitch inside you, how his grip tightened on you, you knew he was close despite your drunken state. 

he wanted to fill you up so badly, but he would be fucking damned if he let you off with only two orgasms, he wanted to fuck you downright dumb. 

“got another f’me? i ain’t done with you baby,”. 

“ ‘s too much- s-sammy t-too m-much,” you felt the prick of tears at the corners of your eyes, fingertips buzzing as they dug into your bedding. 

he didn’t care. too focused on the way your tits bounced with each bone-breaking thrust, the sounds you made for him so easily, the way you let him use you. 

“i’m not done with you,” his voice more of a growl, fitting for the sharp ends of his canines and primal nature, walls fluttering around him as if they were begging for punishment. 

pulling your other leg up, a squeal as he somehow hit a whole new world inside of you, stars and colored specks blinding you. 

knees by your temples, the back of your thighs burning as you were folded in two. 

“ha- c’see myself inside ya- f-fuck,”. 

all 9 and a half inches of him swallowed up inside, bottom of your tummy bulging with each slam of his hips on your ass. 

sobbing on his cock, wasted on the lewd squelching of your syrup guiding him in and out, in and out, over and over again. 

his hand somehow managed to press on the bulge he created, your tears streaming down into your hair, drooling babbles as your body short circuited, synapses unable to grasp the sheer stimulus of it all. 

“gonna fill ya up, s-stuff ya full ‘f me,”. the twitching impossible to ignore, the weight of him stuffing you to the brim, met with your fluttering hole. 

pace beginning to falter, the final push needed for you to spill all over him again, body lost in another world as you rode out your third high. 

guttural moans filled the air of your room, hot white ribbons coated your battered walls. stuffing you full, writing every word he wished he would have said sooner deep inside. 

every i love you, i miss you, you’re all i’ve ever wanted, i wrote this song for you, please don’t go, all of it. 

with the spasms of his hips calmed, he let your legs down gently, one at a time. 

color flooding back to his eyes, that soft smile taking over once again. 

his gentle hand wiped away the tear-stains on your face, brushing away the fly-aways of your tousled hair from your sweat-pricked skin. 

still deep inside, still hard, barely heard whimpers as he moved around, he didn’t want a drop to spill out of you. 

“you’re an angel,” he hummed, pressing a few gentle kisses to your forehead, last one planted to the tip of your nose. 

all you could do was giggle, brain so mushy that you didn’t even bother to deny his sweetness. his adoration. 

“let’s get’cha cleaned up, yeah? you did so good for me,”. a few more gentle kisses scattered along your face, satisfied hum at your sugar-coated giggles, the smile uncontrolled on your lips. 

a hiss through his teeth as he slid out of you, a wince of your own at the sudden emptiness, almost feeling wrong. 

he wrapped both arms around you, locking your legs around his torso, lifting you in one swift movement. too fucked-out to even question how he could lift you nearly deadweight, snuggling your face in the crook of his neck the moment you were upright. 

letting him carry you to the bathroom, he flipped the light switch on and set you down gently on the toilet as he fell to his knees to turn the faucet for your bathtub. 

petting your leg as he waited for the water to warm, closing the drain when it was just the way he wanted it. 

“be right back, m’kay?” he kissed the crown of your head, leaving you all alone for the first time in hours. 

 head in your hands, elbows pressed into your aching thighs, trying to process what just happened. 

from a void of breakdown and destruction, to falling apart at the seams willingly, to sobbing on sam’s cock, all too much for your heart to process, for your mind to wrap around. 

“hi pretty,” his hums gentle, crouching down to feed you some water, baby sips. 

“hi,” you felt all shy, his presence all-consuming, giggling near uncontrollably. 

you felt yourself coming down from your high, both highs, drowsy and spacey, but comfortable. 

“so…” he drug out, flush across the bridge of his nose. 

“so?” you mocked playfully, running your fingers through his hair. 

“first….i think you’d look real pretty with a lil’ collar…” he trailed, almost embarrassed. “nothin crazy…just our little secret y’know?” 

the idea had crossed your mind before, but this time it made your swollen pussy twitch despite its battered state. 

his. 

“second….i love you. i always have,”.

--------------------------

hello! sorry this took a while, i hope it's what you were looking for!

i have a few other requests that are in the works, those will be coming soon.

i would also love to build off of this... longfic maybe???

thanks for stopping by! i love you all! mwuah!!

currently waiting for my ring @whoreforsam

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧

⭑.ᐟ lmk if you would like to be tagged in future works!

   ᥫ᭡。

[the-ragbros-are-okay]

i actually feel as though i am going insane bc i need to do TOMORROWS commissions to get the last story key for kaeya’s story quest because i was an IDIOT and and DIDNT

and now i feel like i’m full of BEES

PLUS. IM GOING ON A TRIP.TOMORROW

so i’m waking up early and doing my commissions and then a story quest bc i’ll be damned if i have to wait three more fucking days to see my favorite traumatized blue haired man

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 by billie eilish 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! rafe realizes how much he cares about you when he’s willing to put everything on the line for your safety after a leaked video gets to sarah, your best friend..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , panic attack (pogue!reader) , soft(ish)!rafe (he’s bipolar ik) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , lots of praise + dirty talk , some fluff , the L word , potential stalker? , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.4k

notes: this is chapter two of my nobody gets me series. click the link below to read chapter one! ♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

to say rafe was freaking out would be an understatement. it had been days since he’d last seen you, and the silence on your end was driving him to the edge of his sanity. not a single text, call, or word had come from you. it was like you’d vanished, and every minute without hearing from you only made his frustration worse.

he sat on the edge of his bed at tannyhill, replaying the night in his head for the hundredth time. every detail, every sound, every look—it all came flooding back, leaving him questioning everything. maybe he’d been too rough. maybe he’d misread your reactions, thinking you wanted it when in reality, you were trying to get away. the thought sent a chill down his spine.

he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. he paced his room, running his hand through his hair, biting his thumbnail anxiously as he mumbled under his breath. every scenario raced through his mind, each one worse than the last.

should he text you again? call? or maybe just drive to your house and force you to talk to him? the idea of busting down your door crossed his mind more than once, his desperation teetering on obsession. he hated feeling this out of control, hated not knowing where you stood.

but above all, he hated the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers without giving him the chance to make it right.

just then, as if his prayers had been answered, your name lit up his phone. a call.

for a moment, he stared at the screen, his heart hammering in his chest before he cleared his throat and steadied his hand enough to swipe the answer button. “hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

the silence on your end made his stomach churn. maybe you’d called by accident? but then, faintly, he heard it—your voice. it was barely a whisper, rough and broken, like you’d been crying for hours.

“i need to talk to you,” you said, the vulnerability in your tone cutting straight through him.

“yeah, okay. i’ll come to you—” he shot up from his bed, already slipping on his shoes, when you interrupted him.

“n-no,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “just meet me at the beach. i’ll send you my pin.”

before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving him in silence once again. he stood frozen for a moment, staring at his phone, his mind racing. then, without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. whatever this was, he wasn’t about to leave it unresolved.

you watched as the waves crashed against the shore, the rhythmic sound doing little to calm the storm inside you. with trembling hands, you adjusted your hat and pulled up the hood of your oversized sweater, trying to shield yourself from the cool night air—and maybe from your own reflection in the water. your puffy eyes told the story you didn’t want to share. if it wasn’t already obvious you’d been crying for days, you wouldn’t have bothered with the oversized sweater as a weak disguise.

you’ve been spamming sarah’s phone nonstop, sending text after text, leaving voicemails that never got a reply. it got to the point where you’re certain she’s blocked you. the silent treatment has been unbearable, eating away at you in a way you didn’t expect.

but even worse, you haven’t set foot in the chateau since it all happened. you couldn’t bring yourself to. if sarah was mad at you—and you knew she was—then the rest of them probably were too. if she told them—and she likely did—you doubted any of them would want to see you.

the thought of facing jj, of looking into his bruised eye and knowing how you betrayed him, kept you away. you didn’t deserve their forgiveness, so you didn’t ask for it. instead, you sat here, waiting for rafe, the one person you weren’t sure you could avoid any longer.

you feel a presence behind you, the weight of it heavy in the air, and you know without looking who it is. the sound of footsteps crunching softly against the sand confirms it before that presence settles beside you.

rafe doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying you, trying to gauge your mood. you don’t turn to face him, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his expression—his furrowed brows, the slight downturn of his lips, and the unmistakable concern in his features.

your chest tightens. maybe he already knew about the video. maybe that’s why he looked like this—like he wasn’t sure what to say but felt he needed to be here.

you swallow hard, forcing the lump in your throat down, the tension stretching painfully in the quiet. “sarah knows, rafe,” you mutter finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the stillness.

you turn your head slightly to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t give you one. his expression doesn’t change, his silence heavy and unreadable. of course he doesn’t react—you should’ve expected that.

you sigh softly, the weight of it all pressing harder against you. “there’s, um—” your voice cracks, and you pause, biting down on your trembling lip as the tears threaten to spill. “there’s a video of us. before we got in the truck. and someone sent it to her.”

you roll your lips into your mouth, trying desperately to hold yourself together, but it feels like you’re crumbling piece by piece. a single tear slips down your cheek, warm against your cold, rosy skin. you don’t wipe it away, too consumed by the weight of everything to care.

your chest feels like it’s caving in, the weight of it pressing down so hard it steals the air from your lungs. your breaths come short and shallow, each one more desperate than the last as if no matter how hard you try, you can’t pull in enough oxygen. your hands start to tremble, curling into fists at your sides, and your heart pounds so violently in your chest it feels like it might burst.

your vision starts to tunnel, the edges blurring as the crashing waves in front of you twist into an indistinguishable mess of sound and movement. your head feels light, like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, and a sharp heat spreads through your chest and throat, making it even harder to breathe.

you press your hands against your knees, trying to ground yourself, but it only makes the dizziness worse. the lump in your throat feels unbearable, choking you as tears stream uncontrollably down your face. everything feels too loud and too bright, the sound of the waves and the faint hum of rafe’s presence blending into an overwhelming cacophony.

“hey,” rafe says softly, his voice distant despite being right next to you. you barely register the warmth of his hand against your arm. “hey, look at me. breathe. just breathe.”

but you can’t. your body is out of your control, your mind spiraling into a dark abyss of guilt, fear, and panic. the more you fight it, the tighter the grip becomes, until all you can do is clutch your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces of you together as the panic consumes you.

rafe stands abruptly, the tension in his movements evident, before crouching down right in front of you. his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing slow, soothing strokes over your skin, an anchor in the storm of your panic.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, drawing your unfocused gaze to his. his eyes lock onto yours, grounding and intent. “look at me,” he urges, keeping his tone soft but firm.

he takes a deep inhale, exaggerating the motion so you can follow it, then exhales slowly, motioning for you to mimic him, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. “breathe with me,” he says, his own chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

your attempts are shaky at first, uneven gasps that barely resemble breaths, but you follow him. inhale. exhale. over and over. relief washes over his face as your breathing starts to regulate, the shallow gasps slowly giving way to deeper, steadier pulls of air.

“there we go,” he soothes, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “good job, baby.” the nickname slips out before he can stop it, but he doesn’t correct himself, too focused on calming you.

his other hand comes to rest lightly on your knee, grounding you further, his presence unwavering. “i’ve got you,” he says softly, his voice steady, as if willing you to believe it.

in that moment, as rafe watched you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling steadily again, relief softening your tear-streaked face, something inside him snapped. rage surged through him like a tidal wave, sudden and uncontrollable.

and he blamed sarah.

to him, it was her fault. she had no right to get involved, no reason to make this worse. something that was meant to stay between you and him—just you and him—was now tearing you apart. and all because of her.

his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he thought about her selfishness, her spoiled sense of righteousness. it didn’t matter that she was his sister; all he could see was the way her actions had hurt you. the way she had betrayed him.

the image of you struggling to breathe, broken and panicked because of her interference, made his blood boil. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. and it was enough to make him see red.

and then there was that damn video.

the thought of it made rafe’s fists clench at his sides. it wasn’t just about the invasion of privacy; it was about you—your exposure in such a vulnerable moment. the idea of someone lurking, watching, and recording without your knowledge made his blood run cold with anger.

he didn’t care about his own reputation, not in the slightest. all he cared about was you and the way it could hurt you, the way it already had hurt you.

rafe was determined to figure out who took it. he didn’t care how long it would take or what he’d have to do to get the answers. whoever it was would regret ever crossing that line. and he’d make sure of it.

rafe gently pulls you to your feet, his hands steadying you before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into a firm, grounding hug. the warmth radiating from his body seeps into you, calming the residual tremors in your chest. his steady breathing against the top of your head is a silent reassurance that you’re okay, that he’s got you.

“you’re good,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself, as if trying to convince you both.

after a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his hands brushing your arms as he guides you toward the passenger side of his truck. he opens the door and helps you inside, his fingers lingering as he buckles your seatbelt, the light touch against your bare thighs sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. you shiver but don’t say anything, leaning back into the seat as he closes the door.

once the truck is moving, the hum of the engine fills the comfortable silence between you. you haven’t said a word since the breakdown at the beach, but rafe doesn’t push. he seems to understand that the quiet is what you need right now.

he pulls into a nearby gas station, the bright lights spilling across the truck as he puts it in park. “i’ll be quick,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, before slipping out and heading inside.

you sit there, watching him through the window as he grabs a water bottle and lingers near the snack aisle, seemingly deliberating. for a brief moment, you feel a flicker of something you can’t place—gratitude, guilt, or maybe just relief that he’s here.

inside, rafe grabs a pack of gummy worms, deciding it’s the safest option. he figures it’s something easy, something you might actually eat since he’s convinced you haven’t been eating properly these past few days. satisfied, he starts to head to the checkout when he hears it—a laugh he knows all too well, one that instantly sets him on edge.

his head snaps in the direction of the sound, and there they are—sarah and john b, standing in the same aisle he just walked out of. rafe’s jaw tightens, a flare of anger igniting in his chest. it takes everything in him not to start something right then and there.

his fists clench at his sides as he forces himself to stay composed, but the tension in his body is undeniable as he turns on his heel and strides toward her.

“i need to talk to you,” he says sharply, his voice low but firm as he approaches sarah.

sarah visibly jumps at his sudden appearance, her startled expression quickly morphing into a glare. rafe can see the way her jaw ticks, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, mirroring his own.

she glances at john b, offering him a reassuring smile. “i’ll be right back,” she says calmly, though her tone carries an edge. reluctantly, john b stays put, watching them as sarah follows rafe to the back of the store, where the beverage aisle is quieter and out of sight.

as soon as they’re alone, rafe’s grip tightens on the gummy worms and water bottle in his hands, his knuckles turning white as he struggles for some semblance of control. his glare pierces through sarah, the tension between them thick and heavy, charged with years of unresolved resentment.

“you had no fucking right,” he growls, his voice low and venomous, the anger in his tone bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

sarah’s brows knit together, her own frustration flaring as she lowers her voice to a sharp whisper. “i had no right? rafe, you had no fucking right!” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger. “my best friend of all people? are you serious? you could’ve literally chosen anyone else, anyone, but no, you always have to come after my happiness!”

her words hang heavy between them, cutting deeper than she intended. rafe’s jaw clenches, his entire body rigid as he stares at her, his anger matched only by the faint flicker of hurt she’s unknowingly struck.

“this isn’t about your happiness,” he snaps back, his voice still low but laced with venom. “this is about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. you had no right to drag her into this.”

sarah crosses her arms, her glare unwavering. “and you had no right to do what you did, rafe. you knew what this would do to her, to me, to all of us. but you didn’t care, did you? because you never do.”

rafe steps closer, the tension between them nearly suffocating as his voice drops even lower, dripping with bitterness. “you think i don’t care? you have no idea what i feel, sarah. none. but you—you took it too far. that video?” his grip tightens around the items in his hands, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. “do you have any idea what that did to her? to me?”

sarah’s arms tighten around herself, but she doesn’t back down. “i didn’t take that video, rafe. don’t pin your shit on me,” she fires back, her voice steadier now, but no less angry. “you’re the one who dragged her into your bullshit. you’re the one who made her a target.”

“a target? i’ve been protecting her!” he snarls, his composure cracking as he takes another step closer. “you think i wanted this? for someone to spy on us, to send you a video like that? you have no idea what i’d do to keep her safe.”

sarah laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “protecting her? from what, rafe? from you?” her words are sharp, designed to cut, and they do. “because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

rafe’s jaw ticks, his breathing heavy, as he stares her down, trying to bite back the words that threaten to spill. “you don’t get it,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. “you never did. this isn’t about you, sarah.”

“no, it’s about her,” she snaps, her voice rising slightly despite her attempt to keep it contained. “my best friend, rafe. she’s not just some girl for you to fuck around with and forget about when it’s convenient. she deserves better than this—better than you.”

the words hit him harder than he expects, but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he leans in closer, his tone sharp as a blade. “and you think she needs you playing savior? she doesn’t, sarah. she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

sarah’s face softens slightly, her anger flickering into something more conflicted, but she doesn’t back down. “if she’s so strong, then why is she breaking because of you?” she whispers, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

rafe doesn’t answer immediately, his grip loosening as the weight of her words settles over him. for the first time, he looks away, his jaw tight as he swallows hard.

sarah sighs deeply, her anger giving way to something softer, though the tension in her shoulders remains. she looks down at her shoes for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet rafe’s, her eyes filled with something he doesn’t expect—concern.

“if you really care about her, rafe,” she says, her voice quieter now, less sharp but still firm, “you’ll leave her alone. you’re just going to take her down with you.”

her words cut deeper than he wants to admit, but he doesn’t let it show. his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, his voice low but defensive.

“don’t i?” sarah counters, her brows furrowing. “i’ve seen it, rafe. the way you drag people into your chaos. she’s already hurting because of you—look at what’s happened these past few days! she doesn’t need this. she doesn’t need you.”

rafe flinches at the words but quickly masks it with anger. “and what? you think walking away is going to fix everything? you think i can just leave her and pretend like nothing happened?” his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in.

“yes,” sarah replies simply, her tone steady but sad. “because if you don’t, she’s going to lose herself trying to save you. and you know that, rafe. deep down, you know that.”

rafe’s hands clench into fists, his breathing heavy as her words sink in. for a moment, he’s silent, his eyes darting away as he processes what she’s said. but instead of responding, he turns on his heel, walking away from her and toward the checkout, his mind racing with everything he doesn’t want to admit might be true.

as rafe walks toward the checkout, his thoughts are a storm of anger, guilt, and something deeper he can’t quite name. sarah’s words play over and over in his head, each repetition chipping away at his defenses. if you really care about her, you’ll leave her alone. the weight of it feels unbearable, but he pushes it down, refusing to let it show.

he pays for the water and gummy worms quickly, his mind far from the mundane transaction. the cashier’s bored expression barely registers as he grabs the bag and heads back to the truck. the short walk feels like miles, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he can’t fully unravel.

when he gets back to the truck, he opens the door and climbs in, placing the bag on the center console. you’re still in the passenger seat, curled up slightly, staring out the window at the empty gas station parking lot. the dim light casts shadows across your face, and rafe’s chest aches at the sight of you looking so small, so fragile.

“here,” he says, his voice softer than usual as he pulls out the water and gummy worms, placing them gently in your lap. “figured you should have something.”

you don’t look at him right away, your fingers hesitating before picking up the water bottle. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, but it’s the first thing you’ve said to him since the beach. it feels like both a relief and a dagger in his chest.

rafe leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as silence falls between you again. he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this. sarah’s words linger in the back of his mind like a poison, making him question everything.

finally, he glances at you, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “do you… do you want me to take you home?” the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain, as he watches you for any sign of what you want, what you need from him.

“um—my mom and i kinda got into this fight,” you admit, your voice small, barely louder than the hum of the truck’s engine. “i really don’t want to be home right now.” your fingers fumble with the cap of the water bottle before you finally twist it open, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

rafe glances at you briefly, nodding as he shifts the truck into gear. “tannyhill it is,” he says simply, his tone steady but softer than you expected.

soon, he’s reversing out of the gas station, the hum of the tires on the road filling the silence between you. you steal a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. his grip on the steering wheel is firm, his jaw tight, but his expression is calm—focused, almost protective.

you sip your water quietly, the tension from earlier slowly starting to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of relief. for all of rafe’s flaws, he always had a way of making you feel like, in the moment, nothing else could touch you.

as the truck cruises through the dark streets, you lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. the familiar scent of leather and cologne fills your senses, grounding you more than you care to admit.

you hadn’t been to tannyhill in a while, the last time being a couple of weeks ago with rafe. stepping inside now, you realize it hasn’t changed—it still holds that same strange sense of comfort, despite everything. the air smells faintly of cedar and something distinctly rafe, a mix of cologne and the warm musk of the house itself.

rafe walks in behind you, the sound of his shoes soft against the hardwood floor. he sets his keys down next to the coat hanger with a quiet clink, his movements uncharacteristically calm. you glance around as you step further into the house, your gaze catching the open laptop and scattered paperwork on the coffee table. clearly, he’d been in the middle of something important when you called.

you move to the outside balcony, sinking onto the couch there, the cool night air brushing against your skin. rafe follows shortly after, standing in the doorway for a moment before stepping onto the balcony.

your eyes flick back to the coffee table through the glass door, taking in the slight disarray of his work. he must’ve dropped everything the moment he heard your voice, and the thought makes your chest tighten, your heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth.

“you didn’t have to stop what you were doing,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

he shrugs, leaning against the balcony railing, his expression unreadable but his voice steady. “it’s not important. you are.”

his words linger in the air between you, and for once, you don’t overthink them. you just let yourself feel the comfort of being here, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

“rafe—” you begin, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“yeah?” he cuts in quickly, his response sharp and immediate, like he’d been waiting on edge for you to say something. his eyes search yours, his posture tense, his mind clearly elsewhere. sarah’s words are still plaguing him, the weight of them pulling him into his thoughts.

you take a small breath, steadying yourself. “thank you,” you say, your tone even softer now. “for helping me through that.”

his expression softens slightly, and he takes a step closer before sitting down on the small table in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours. his focus is completely on you now, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“it’s happened before,” you admit quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, “but it’s never been that…” your voice trails off, the weight of earlier still heavy in your chest.

rafe nods slowly, understanding without needing you to finish the sentence. “i know,” he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with something that sounds like regret. his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, grounding you in the moment. for all his rough edges, rafe had a way of being exactly what you needed when the world felt like too much. and right now, that was more than enough.

the silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken, until rafe finally sighs, breaking it. “i saw sarah at the store,” he says, his voice low.

your gaze lifts from your fingers, which had been nervously fiddling with the hem of your sweater. sitting up straighter, you meet his eyes, searching for something in his expression. “what did she say?” you ask softly.

he exhales sharply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “i just want you to know,” he begins, his voice steady but tense, “she’s not mad at you. she’s mad at me.” his hand clenches into a fist, his knuckles whitening as he stares down at the floor.

“sarah…” he trails off, his jaw tightening at the mere thought of her. after a beat, he continues, his voice bitter. “she thinks i’m using you to get to her.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him, trying to make sense of it all. “are you?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm, your gaze unwavering as you search his face.

rafe’s eyes flicker between yours, the tension in his body palpable. his jaw works for a moment, and then he finally answers, his voice steady. “no.”

the way he says it—calm, without hesitation—makes you believe him. but the weight of everything else still lingers, making the air between you feel thick and unsteady.

“rafe, it’s fine. really, I’m over it,” you say softly, trying to keep your tone light, even though it feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest. “if you just want to keep it casual, then we’ll leave it at that. it was the agreement in the first place, right?”

his jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together as he struggles to keep his composure. casual. the word feels like a knife twisting in his gut because it’s the opposite of what he wants.

but admitting that to you? that’s something else entirely. he almost slipped earlier—nearly spilled everything in the middle of the gas station while arguing with sarah. but here, sitting across from you, the words feel too heavy, too risky.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to protect you. every instinct in him screamed to keep you away from his world, to shield you from the darkness that followed him everywhere he went.

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters finally, his voice low, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. his fists clench again, the tension in his body radiating outward. “you think this is about keeping it casual? it’s not. it’s about keeping you safe.”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, the mask slips completely. there’s a raw vulnerability in his expression, something he’s been trying to keep buried. “the way i live my life… it’ll ruin you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “and i can’t let that happen.”

your brows knit together, a confused pout forming on your lips that almost makes him cave. “if this is about stacy thornton—”

“it’s not about stacy,” he interrupts quickly, his tone sharp but not unkind. his hands move to his face, rubbing stressfully as he exhales deeply. “the reason you saw me with her that day on the golf course… it wasn’t what you think.”

you stay quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he drops his hands and meets your eyes again. “i was trying to strike a deal with her father. cameron development is his company’s biggest competitor, and if i can get close to stacy, he won’t see me as a threat, and i could blindside him,” he explains, his voice steady but laced with frustration, as though the situation is as exhausting for him as it is for you.

his hand instinctively finds your knee, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across it, grounding himself as much as you. “i don’t want anything to do with stacy, i promise,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding.

the sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his hand, and the raw honesty in his confession make it harder for you to hold onto the frustration you felt before. “then why does it feel like you’re always pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

his eyes shut softly, as if he’s trying to gather any remaining resolve he can muster. his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh before he speaks, his voice low and unsteady. “because, baby…” the nickname slips from his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, it sends a flutter through your stomach despite the weight of the moment.

“if i don’t push you away,” he continues, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “then i have to let you in. and i can’t do that to you.” his voice cracks just slightly at the end, the vulnerability slipping through despite his attempts to stay composed.

his hand tightens its grip on your knee for a moment, as if anchoring himself to you, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. “letting you in means exposing you to all of it—everything i’ve done, everything i am. and you don’t deserve that.” his voice wavers, the rawness in his tone making your chest ache.

you stare at him, your heart twisting at his words. “but don’t you see?” you whisper, leaning forward slightly, your own voice trembling. “you’re not protecting me by shutting me out, rafe. you’re just hurting me more.”

his resolve crumbles completely, the weight of holding back proving too much. he sighs softly, his hand sliding from your knee to gently grip your chin, tilting your face toward his. his eyes search yours for a moment, as if asking for permission, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

it’s not like the other times. this kiss isn’t rushed or heated—it’s careful, almost fragile, like he’s afraid it might break both of you if he lingers too long. his thumb brushes your jaw as his lips move against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

when he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his hand still holding your chin. his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “i just… i don’t know how else to show you.”

“show me what?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from closing the distance between you again.

rafe’s hand lingers on your chin, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. he swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly as he finally says the words that have been clawing at him for what feels like forever.

“that i love you,” he murmurs, the confession hanging heavily in the air between you. his gaze doesn’t falter, watching your every reaction like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.

your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you harder than you ever expected. the vulnerability in his voice, the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your skin—it’s enough to shatter any walls you had left.

“well, i can piece it together, i’m a big girl,” you mutter, your words barely leaving your lips before you close the space between you, crashing your mouth against his without another thought.

rafe groans softly, his hands immediately finding their way into your hair, tangling in it as he pulls you closer. in one swift motion, he removes the hat from your head, tossing it aside like it’s in his way. his lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, his touch igniting a spark that makes your whole body feel alive.

“what are you doing to me, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and gravelly, the words almost a plea.

you smile against his mouth, the smallest laugh escaping you before you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands brushing lightly against his chest. “probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you reply softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes.

a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth before he pulls you back in, kissing you deeply, as if trying to make up for all the moments he held himself back.

rafe’s kisses left you dizzy, every touch, every movement pulling you deeper into him. before you even realized it, you were rolling your hips against his, your body moving instinctively, chasing the heat building between you. breathy moans slipped from your lips against his, and his hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you straddled him.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, his head falling back slightly as he leans into the couch, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “doing so good f’me,” he mumbles, his voice rough with pleasure.

his words send a spark through you, making your hips move more deliberately, the friction sending shivers up your spine. rafe’s eyes never leave you, dark and hooded as he watches you attempt to bounce on him, your movements unsteady as the overwhelming pleasure takes hold of you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tighter, helping you find a rhythm. “so fucking perfect.” his praise only spurs you on, the intensity building with every roll of your hips, every moan that slips from both your lips. the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the heat consuming you both.

the way you were squeezing around him had rafe’s jaw ticking, his self-control hanging by a thread. every movement of your hips sent shockwaves through him, and he was trying—really trying—not to lose himself and thrust into you, wanting to keep you comfortable.

but when he couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands gripped your waist firmly, flipping you so your back was splayed against the couch. before you could even process the shift, he grabbed one of the nearby pillows, sliding it under your lower back to lift your hips, positioning you for a deeper angle.

“trust me,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender, his lips brushing against your temple as he settled between your legs.

then he started moving, his pace firm and deliberate, each thrust pushing into you with an intensity that had you crying out, your moans matching the rhythm of his movements. your hands gripped his neck for support, nails digging in slightly as the new angle sent pleasure coursing through you in waves.

“fuck,” rafe groaned, his voice low and strained as he watched your body arch beneath him. “you feel so good, baby—so fucking perfect.” his words only amplified the heat pooling in your core, your moans turning into desperate gasps as he kept up the relentless pace, the balcony echoing with the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared breaths.

“rafe, shit—don’t stop,” you beg, your voice trembling as your legs quiver around his waist, struggling to keep hold of him as he pounds into you. every thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching into his as you cling to him for support.

he groans at your words, his eyes darkening as his hand slides up your body, finding its way to your neck. his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure under your jaw to make your head spin, the sensation amplifying the overwhelming heat pooling in your core.

“you like that, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough and dripping with control as he watches your face twist in pleasure beneath him. “look at you, baby, taking it so well for me.”

your eyes flutter closed as the overwhelming combination of his relentless pace and the pressure on your neck sends you spiraling closer to the edge. “rafe,” you whimper, your voice trembling, the sound barely audible over the symphony of heavy breaths and skin meeting skin.

his eyes stay locked on you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and trembling body beneath him. his other hand moves to press firmly on your lower stomach, the added pressure making you cry out, your back arching against the couch as the sensation intensifies everything.

“fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly as he watches your reactions, completely entranced by the way you respond to him. “you feel that?” he mutters, his hand pressing down just a little more. “feel how deep i am?”

you can only nod weakly, your moans turning into desperate, breathless gasps as your body tightens around him, squeezing with every thrust. rafe’s jaw clenches, his own composure fraying as he drives you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering.

“come on, pretty girl,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his tone raw and commanding. “cum for me. i’ve got you.”

his words are the final push, and your body shudders as the release crashes over you. your walls convulse around his cock, pulling a deep, guttural moan from his throat. the intensity has your head spinning, and your moans dissolve into gasps as he keeps thrusting, prolonging your high even as the overstimulation starts to set in.

rafe’s hand slips from your neck, his head dropping to rest beside yours, his breath hot against your skin. his pace falters as he feels his own release building rapidly. when your cunt squeezes him tightly on a particularly deep thrust, it sends him over the edge.

“fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside of you, filling you completely. his grip on your hips tightens as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his body trembling slightly against yours.

the room falls into a heavy silence, the only sounds the mingling of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the crickets outside. rafe stays still for a moment, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, grounding himself before slowly pulling out to look at you, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i didn’t mean to be rough.” his eyes scan your face intently, searching for any trace of discomfort or regret.

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pull his face down to yours, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. his shoulders relax, and he smiles against your mouth, the tension in his body melting away.

when you pull back, the wet sound of the kiss echoes softly in the quiet night, and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. “you’re so cute,” you tease, your voice light and full of warmth.

for the first time, you see his cheeks flush a faint shade of pink, and the sight makes you erupt into a fit of laughter. rafe huffs softly, shaking his head, but there’s a shy grin tugging at his lips that he can’t hide.

“i love you, rafe,” you say suddenly, the words falling from your lips with ease, no hesitation or doubt.

his eyes widen slightly, his expression softening as he looks at you. for a moment, he’s silent, his hand brushing against your cheek. “i love you,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady, his gaze holding yours as if to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“we’re gonna be okay,” you whisper softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. your thumb brushes over his skin in slow, soothing strokes, your eyes locked on his.

“yeah,” rafe murmurs, his voice dark and full of resolve, “after i kill the person who recorded you.”

your hand stills for a moment, his words making your stomach twist. you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken at the thought, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“rafe,” you say softly, leaning closer to him, your tone a mixture of caution and reassurance. “that’s not how we should handle this. i just… i just want it to go away. i don’t want you to make it worse.”

his eyes flicker back to yours, softening slightly, though the fire in them doesn’t fully fade. “no one gets to do that to you,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. “no one gets to hurt you and get away with it.”

you sigh, leaning your forehead against his. “we’ll figure it out. together. just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

he doesn’t answer right away, the weight of your words hanging between you. but after a moment, he nods reluctantly, his hand tightening around yours. “okay,” he finally says, his voice calm, though the tension in his tone betrays him. it’s clear he’s only agreeing to keep you at ease.

later, once you’ve fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, rafe gently scoops you up, careful not to wake you. he carries you to his bed, tucking you under the soft duvet. his gaze lingers on your face for a moment, his expression softening as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. with a quiet sigh, he turns and closes the door behind him.

but there’s no rest for him tonight. he stalks to his office, the air around him heavy with purpose. dropping into his chair, he powers up his laptop, his jaw set as he begins sending emails and messages.

personal investigators, tech-savvy acquaintances, and anyone else who might help him track down the person responsible for the video—you’re not just a priority to him; you’re the priority.

each keystroke is filled with a quiet rage, his determination growing with every email sent. rafe won’t rest, won’t stop, until he figures out who did this to you—and makes sure they regret it.

© aerialmirrorss

taglist!: @loren8818181 @cherubcameron @shookyungsoo @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @furiouscopshepherduniversity @chenslucy @superswaggycooch @ggyuslovie @mileyraes @tincanhat @pinklleemonade @stylestarkey @percysley @rrosiitas @ipromiseidk @faephoria

[classyrbf]

Hiii, i love your blog sosomuch. can i req like angst/comfort fic nanami? maybe nanami is like a bittttttt of an ass

ARE YOU STILL MINE! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...you feel as though your husband has become too distant from you and your marriage is hanging on by a thread

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, nanami is bit mean, mentions of cheating but no actual cheating, angst (obvi), reader is insecure with herself, mentions of divorce, comfort at the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you so much anon, I hope you enjoy your request!

At first it started out with him staying at work later than usual, coming home at strange times in the night where you had fallen asleep on the couch because you were waiting for him. He’d merely just glance at you, thinking you opted for the couch rather than the bed, walking into the room to go to bed instead of waking you. Then, he started talking less, being very distant, dry with his responses every time you’d brought up an interest of yours. He’d play with his food, moving it around on the plate like a picky child while humming responses. Then, you started not seeing him at all, every morning you opened your eyes he was gone and every night you couldn’t bear staying awake any longer than needed. And lastly, you began to feel alone, the house that you shared with your husband started to feel like you were now sharing it with a roommate. Was your marriage on the brink of divorce?

Another morning, another day of waking up to an empty bed. You rolled over, the sheet crinkled from where he slept but ultimately felt cold. It was a daily routine for you now, though you can’t grow accustomed to it no matter what you do. Its disappointing. Sad. All of your friends gush about their husbands bringing them gifts, going on vacation, and the cherry on top was soon one of your friends was having a baby. You sat there the whole time, staring off into the distance because you couldn’t remember the last time kento had even got you a gift, let alone uttered a word to you.

You stared at the diamond ring that adorned your finger, contemplating if this was at all really worth it anymore. Why stay in a marriage you weren’t happy in? But before making any rash decisions, you knew you needed to talk with him before anything. That’s if you even get the chance to. Lazily dragging your feet across the kitchen floor, you opened the fridge and realized he had left his lunchbox, leaving the food you made last night. You grabbed it, letting out a deep sigh. Should you even bring it? Yes, get out the house and get some fresh air. No, you’re just gonna waste your time and he won’t even eat it.

After fully waking up, you got dressed and grabbed his lunch box off of the counter. You walked past the mirror in the hall, keys in hand before you came to a complete stop to look at yourself. Jeans and a shirt with tacky sneakers that didn’t even match. And your eye bags just added onto it. God, you looked horrible. He wouldn’t want to see you like this. Especially not at his job.

With summer breeze, you were quick to change into a pretty sundress Nanami had gotten you last winter, along with some wedged heels to top off the look. And quickly, you ran to bathroom to apply makeup, nothing too heavy but just enough to make it look like you were at least taking care of yourself properly. You smeared the pink gloss along your lined lips, leaning towards the mirror to make sure you looked good. Still, you didn’t feel satisfied, but it’ll have to do.

You sat in the car for another minute, applying another coat of mascara before heading into the building. Nerves struck through your entire body, something similar to a first date. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, your own husband, that it now feels like seeing him for the first time. The thought made your frown as you stepped foot inside. You greeted the woman at the desk. “Hi, I’m here to drop my husbands lunch he forgot it at home. Nanami Kento.” You kindly smiled.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Nanami’s wife! Pleasure to meet you!” She bowed, smiling. “You’re free to head to his office.”

“Thank you!” Your heels click against the marble flooring, walking towards the elevator and pressing the button with a shaky hand. You wondered if he’d be surprised to see you, greet you with a kiss or a hug. You grew hopeful, imagining finally being in his embrace after so long. You smiled, stepping out of the elevator and headed down the hall towards his office.

On the other side of the door you could hear your husband laughing, talking with someone. But jealousy and insecurity buried a pit in your chest when you heard a woman laugh along with him. You barged into the office, taking site of the two sitting across the desk from one another. Your husbands eyes shot up towards you and the woman glanced over her shoulder with a confused look.

“Y/n?” He stood from his chair, walking over to you. “Sorry, this is my wife.” He awkwardly laughed, looking at the woman who was now standing.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nanami.” She bowed, a small smile on her lips.

“H-hello.” You shakily replied, looking between her and your husband.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered, brows furrowed. From his tone, he sounded slightly annoyed, like you had interrupted something important.

“You forgot your lunch I thought—”

“I already had lunch. No need.” He easily dismissed you, shaking his head. “I’m having an important discussion right now, so I’ll see you at home.” He walked you out of his office, shutting the door behind you. No goodbye. No kiss. Not even a hug. I’ll see you at home. What a joke.

You sat in the bath, bubbles surrounding you and scented candles lit on the sink. The diamond ring on your finger glistened under the dim light as you stared at it, a sour taste forming in your mouth when you remembered earlier today. Who was that woman? Clearly she worked there, but she was so much younger, prettier, and she was making Nanami laugh. He was in such a rush to push you out, claiming he had eaten already. God, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was cheating. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Forget the talk.

You’ve forgotten how long you’ve been sitting in here now, but you were surprised when you heard the front door open. Reaching for your phone, it was only five at night, pretty early for him to be home nowadays. You just soaked in the bath, hearing his footsteps grow closer and closer until he reached your bedroom. Nanami, noticed the bathroom light, walking in and seeing you in the tub. “Hey, honey.” It’s felt like years since he’s called you any type of pet name, or anything in general.

“I was just getting out. I’ll finish after you’ve done doing what you need to do.” You reach for your towel on the rack, before Nanami stops you.

“Woah, woah, can I not join you?” He chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“No. Not in the mood.” You snatched the towel, wrapping it around your body before stepping out the tub, blowing out the scented candle and grabbing your phone. “Enjoy your shower.”

“Honey, if this is about earlier today, I apologize. I was interviewing her for a position—”

“God, you really haven’t noticed it?” You were at your breaking point, on the verge of tears from all the hurt you’ve been holding in for the last few months.

“I’m sorry I don’t know—”

“I want a divorce.” The words came out of your mouth as smooth as silk, leaving him shocked.

“Wait, wait! Sweetheart, talk to me first please?” He almost sounded desperate, reaching for you as you walked away into the bedroom. He quickly followed behind you. “Say something.”

“These last few months have been hell! You come home late, leave early, I don’t even see my own husband anymore. We don’t even talk to or at least text each other. And then I walk in, seeing you laughing and talking with some woman and god, the worst comes to my head because my husband hasn’t been mine for last three months! We haven’t kissed, hugged, or even had sex in so long. And then I get all dressed up for you and you push me out of there like I’m a stranger and then you come home and act like everything is okay! I’m not okay!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes. “I feel so alone. So jealous and insecure.” You sob, turning away from him because he doesn’t deserve your tears, he doesn’t deserve to see you so weak and broken.

“Honey, I am so fucking sorry. God, please look at me. Baby.” His soft voice makes you want to rebel against everything you’re standing for right now, wanting to turn to him and hug him and kiss him. You feel his soft hands on your shoulder. “I am so sorry for making you feel less than what you truly are.”

“Are you cheating on me?” You managed to ask through tears.

“What?!” He says shocked. “No, fuck, of course not!” He couldn’t believe his ears, turning you around on his own, pulling you to look at him. He’s not surprised you think he’s having an affair with the way he’s been acting lately. But the truth is, he’s been distant because of a surprise. “I could never cheat on you. It disgusts me to even think about it, darling.” He caresses your face gently, holding it in his hands.

“Then what is it? Do you not love me anymore?” You hiccup, staring at him with teary eyes.

“I’m madly in love with you! I know these past few months, I’ve been horrible at showing it, treating you like you’re nothing when you’re everything. If I knew this would have such a horrible effect on you, I would’ve told you sooner instead of wanting to surprise you.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Disappointment within himself for putting you in such a position.

“What? What surprise?” You looked at him confused, browns knitting together. He sat you on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his as he kneeled in front you. “Kento…”

“I’ve been working so hard because I was planning our future. Saving up to move to Malaysia. I wanted it to be a surprise, but, I can’t keep seeing you like this. I’ve been working to save up more money, I’ve been searching for houses and talking to realtors on the phone. I’ve been exhausted, honey, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you like an afterthought.” He kissed your palm. “Please forgive me. I am so, so, sorry.” He kissed your hand again, resting his head on your lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me. Just hearing those words leave your mouth earlier scared the shit out of me. I can’t lose you. I love you so much.” He chokes back tears, holding you tightly.

You sit there shocked, completely and utterly shocked. While his actions were no excuse, you still can’t believe the reasoning behind it all. “Ken,” you mutter, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair. He kisses your hand once more, lifting his head to stare up at you.

“I’ll do anything if you just stay. I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart. I need you to know that.” Your heart pounds against your ribcage as he crawls up towards you, cupping your face. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so—mmph—sorry.” He kisses you between words, pressing his lips to yours. You haven’t felt his kisses in so long but it’s like they never left, feeling his firm grip on you as he kissed you so sweetly, each one filled with so much passion and desire.

“Baby, Ken, I forgive you. Okay?” You pull away. “Just…please, don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t care what it is, do not make me feel like I’m any less important. I can’t believe you’ve been working your ass off just so we could move to Malaysia, carrying the burden by yourself when you know I’m right here.” Your eyes search his.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve said something, I just…I don’t know. It’s doesn’t matter anymore, yeah? I’ve still got some extra work to do for the next two weeks until it’s settled, so don’t think I’m going back on my word. I swear I’m not.” He pecked your lips.

“Okay, I understand. Can I at least ask where in Malaysia?” You smiled, holding his hand.

“That, I am keeping a surprise.” He shook his head. “I just can’t wait to see the look on your beautiful face when you see it.” He quickly scooped you up in his arms, walking into the bathroom. “Shower with me? It’s been so long since we’ve—”

“Of course. I’ve missed you so much, Ken.”

His eyes glistened as he stared at you, smiling like an idiot in love. “You looked beautiful earlier today. I noticed you were wearing the sundress I had bought you. I can confidently say that it hugs you in the all right places. If there were no one in my office, I would have taken you right then and there, sweetheart.”

“Ken!” You shout in surprise, covering your mouth as you stifled back a laugh. “Please just get undressed so we can shower!”

“It’s good to see a smile back on your face.”

[levisjinchuriki]

always will be - toji fushiguro

summary: you know the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. toji is no exception

warning: fluff!!!!!!, kisses

written separately, but can be read as pt. 2 of more to love!

toji had always been intimidatingly fit. his sharp abs, toned arms, and broad chest reflected years of discipline and a lifestyle that demanded he stay in peak condition. it wasn’t something he flaunted—walking around shirtless in his own home was just how he lived. he didn’t think much of it, and neither did you.

after deciding to move in together, subtle changes crept into his life, ones he hadn’t anticipated. every night, he came home to a hot and ready meal. you always made sure it was his favorites, learning his preferences without him needing to say much. and the snacks—that was his biggest weakness. you were thoughtful enough to have something sweet or savory on hand, excusing it by saying “just in case you get hungry later.”

now, as toji pads around your shared home, shirtless as always, you can’t help but notice the differences in his physique. his abs are softer now, the faintest hint of a tummy forming where there used to be none. his arms, still strong, have lost some of their definition.

the late-night snacks you share, the hearty dinners you insist he eats after long days, and the lazy mornings spent curled up in bed instead of at the gym— all of it has added up.

at first, toji doesn’t think much of it. he’s always had a big appetite—one you happily indulge. but over the weeks, the changes become harder to ignore. his pants fit a little snug, and the shirts that once fit comfortably now cling to his chest and stomach.

toji glances down at his stomach, giving it an experimental poke. his finger sinks into a soft layer that wasn’t there before. he grunts in realization, muttering to himself “guess i’ve been slacking.”

but it’s not slacking—it’s comfort. love. the ease of sharing a life with someone who makes him feel whole.

“babe” your voice calls sweetly from the kitchen. “breakfast is ready!”. the smell of sugar and cinnamon hits him as he makes his way to the kitchen. and then he sees it– the biggest, gooiest cinnamon roll he’s ever laid eyes on, sitting proudly on a plate you’re setting on the table.

“you’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?” he accuses with a smirk.

you glance up, genuinely confused. “what are you talking about?”. cooking for him has always brought you joy.  watching him devour every meal you set in front of him, finishing with a satisfied hum and going up for another serving makes you feel like you’re doing something right. he’s never complained once, and the empty plates he leaves behind are all the validation you’ve ever needed.

toji gestures at his waist, where the elastic band of his sweatpants sits noticeably tighter than it used to. “these don’t fit anymore”.

your cheeks flush. you know full well you’re the reason for the changes, but it’s not something you feel guilty about. if anything, it makes you proud.

“not my fault” you protest, crossing your arms with a playful pout. “you’re the one who goes back for thirds”. your eyes wander over him, noticing how his facial features have softened in the time since you moved in together. his jawline isn’t quite as sharp as it used to be, and there’s a slight fullness in his cheeks now—a small change, one you can’t help but adore.

it’s not just his body that’s softened. there’s a new ease to him, a sense of comfort and peace that wasn’t there before. it shows in the way his shoulders relax when he walks through the door, in the way his laughter comes more freely these days, and in the warmth of his teasing smirk now.

“i think it’s cute” you add softly, your lips curving into a warm smile. you mean it, too. toji might not have the razor-sharp physique he once did, but he’s still the man you fell in love with—strong, handsome, and completely yours.

“cute?” toji raises an eyebrow. “i’m supposed to be intimidating, not cute” he retorts, his deep voice tinged with mock offense. but even as he says it, he knows the truth—he’s gone soft being with you, in more ways than one.

“yeah” you tease, stepping within reach. you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “but you look happy”. 

you’re not wrong. for the first time in his life, toji feels truly content. he doesn’t have to keep his guard up or keep himself for the next battle. instead, he has you, a warm home, and a life that no longer feels like a constant fight for survival.

if it costs him a few extra pounds, he can live with it—because for the first time, it feels like he’s really living.

he smiles, the sincerity in his expression reaching his eyes. “i am happy” he says quietly.

your heart swells at his admission, warmth spreading through your chest. your own smile mirrors his as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“you better be. or i’ll stop feeding you” you tease after pulling away.

toji’s eyes narrow, his brows drawing together in a warning. “don’t you dare”. 

before you can react, he pulls you into his lap, guiding your back against his chest with ease. his grip tightens around your waist, and you settle into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against yours. you both share a few playful, soft and lingering kisses before toji reaches for his breakfast. 

he breaks off a piece and offers you the first bite, feeding it to you with such tenderness. his lips hover near yours as he leans in to steal a quick kiss, humming in appreciation of the sweet frosting that sticks to you. 

if you’re being honest– you’ve noticed the changes in him. the extra pounds that have slowly added up, the snug fit of his shirts, the softness in his once-defined features. but it’s not something that bothers you. in fact, it only makes you love him more. the softening of his body is a symbol of the comfort, the safety, and the ease he’s found with you.

you rest your head against him, loving that he’s comfortable with you, comfortable in this space you’ve created together. toji doesn’t have to be the intimidating, hardened man he was before. he’s allowed to relax, to soften in all the best ways.

“i think you look perfect” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

the edge of toji's smirk falters. perfect. it's not a word he’s used to associating with himself. toji knows his scars, his flaws, the rough edges he’s tried to smooth out over the years. perfect was for things he never thought he could have, for people he never thought he deserved.

but here you are, saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

toji tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. he doesn’t speak right away. instead, he lowers his head, his nose brushing softly against your temple, as he repeats the sentence in his head.

“you really think so?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your smile warm and unwavering. “of course. you’ve always been perfect to me. always will be".

the sincerity in your voice is enough to ease his worries. he believes you, knowing you'd never lie to him. he doesn’t know how to respond—how to put into words what your belief in him does to his heart.

so instead, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. he's gentle, even as he deepens it. it’s not just a kiss; it’s a thank you, a promise, and a confession all rolled into one.

“guess i can live with that” he murmurs against your lips, his smirk returning, softer now. there’s a warmth in his eyes, an acceptance of something he’s still trying to believe.

---

a/n: thank you for reading. happy new year!! <3 what are your resolutions this year?

[simpjaes]

✧ Coming soon! ✧

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: cam boy jake. That’s it. Jake is your college roommate and he needs to buy a camera for his online classes. Curiosity gets the better of him, leading to a lot of extra money and, well, finding out that you’ve been a little too curious about what he's doing.  Or the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either.

WORDCOUNT― tbd

PAIRING― cam boy jake x afab reader

CONTENT―  college setting but it’s mosting within the apartment they share, cam boy jake, confused best friend reader

WARNINGS― mostly just you creeping on him until he realizes it’s you and fucks you for it.

✧ Now available on patreon! ✧ Available on tumblr on Feb 28, 2024.

✧ previously posted fics below! ✧

PERVERT. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation

✧ Available on Patreon!

✧ tumblr | ao3 | wattpad

DON'T CARE, DIDN'T ASK. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: How would Jay!non con boyfriend behave? I believe he would be toxic enough to do everything it takes to fuck you all day Jay has always been the most loving, most kind, most warm hearted person you’d ever met. Dating him was a no brainer.  Or the one where you literally have no brains and didn’t see the bright red flags he gave off before you effectively let him get you under lock and key. He’s possessive, jealous, and over all not at all what he pretends to be when he’s out in public.

minors do not interact!

WORDCOUNT― 1.6k

PAIRING― jay x afab reader

✧ MIND THE WARNINGS ✧ ―  non con. dub con. Jay is suppper manipulative and also REALLY WHINY. Angst. This mini fic delves into the issue of boyfriends who manipulate their girlfriends into sex even when they don’t want it. It’s still non consensual, and it’s not okay. Keep in mind that while reader wants it by the end of the fic, she is being heavily manipulated.

At the end of the day, it’s still abusive for Jay to do what he does here and I do not condone it. 

✧ Available on Patreon!

✧ ao3 | wattpad This mini-fic will not be posted on tumblr.