#and this girl has super powers and knows where he is???

[moonsgemini]

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

-

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between them. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Her friend Nessa mumbled.

She hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of her wine. Not really paying attention to what her friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Your friend Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

[shycroissanti]

IRINA GONSHIRA🌌💙

✨️A "little" about her✨️

Answering @yaegxr 's ask💖

AAAA I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE HER!!🥹💖

Well, I don't have the complete story yet (because I'm not associating my OCs with Demon Slayer anymore exactly because now I'm focusing on a totally original story - but I can still write a little about this version of it), and also my blog is still a bit messy, but nothing stops me from writing now!!

Starting with the basic information!!

Name: Irina Gonshira

Age: 19 years old

Height: 1.70m

Birthday: August 23

Family:

Yuliya Gonshira - mother

Masato Gonshira - father

Liliya Gonshira - younger sister

Dmitry Gonshira - cousin

History:

Irina has always been a cheerful and determined girl. She comes from a rich and powerful family (Yuliya is one of the best demon hunters, and Masato is a very famous architect/engineer there)

Inspired mainly by her mother, since she was little, Irina had the dream of being like Yuliya, strong and able to protect everyone around her, so she starts training from a very young age, which irritated her father, who did not support her (and this generates conflicts throughout the story).

At a certain point, Irina meets Kishin, an orphan boy who was bullied by almost everyone in the orphanage where he lived, but the worst of all was Kenta, another orphan boy. Irina saves Kishin and soon the two become very attached to each other, creating a very strong friendship. And at the same time, creating a huge rivalry with Kenta.

Later, around the age of 15 to 17, Irina's life would become total chaos.

First, Yuliya had to leave for an extremely important mission, leaving her entire family behind. Since then, Irina has never heard from her mother again.

Soon, she suffered the comet incident (comic) , where a comet hit her in the middle of the forest while she was walking at night. She almost died, but the comet's energy kept her alive and changed everything in her body and mind. Irina feels more energetic and much more outgoing, even becoming much more impulsive and noisy. This energy is great for keeping her strong and ready for anything, but it is also very dangerous, because if she cannot control her feelings properly, Irina feels a strong burning sensation throughout her body, which hurts her a lot (in other words, she has "super powers" that help her and at the same time destroy her).

Another thing that happened is that her beloved friend, Kishin, turned into a demon (he had no other option, he became a demon against his will - comic ). Kishin knew that Irina's dream had always been to be a demon hunter, and now that he was one, he believed that she would hate him and that they could never be together again, so he tried to avoid her all day, because he didn't know what to do, he didn't want to end his beloved Irina's dreams.

While this was happening, at Irina's house, Masato was already tired of everything, having lost his wife (who in truth Masato didn't even care much about Yuliya at that point) and because Irina was a great disappointment to him. So Masato came up with a plan to get rid of Irina. He told her that she should leave and go on a supposed mission far away from there so that she could be part of the Sunlights (in this case, the Sunlights are like the Hashiras, but in the Sunlight Force universe). Irina believed her father without hesitation, so she left home soon after, and finally went looking for Kishin, because she couldn't leave him like that without telling him. Irina was already sad about everything that was happening, so she finally found Kishin, and her world fell apart completely.

Kishin was desperate. He tried to do everything, promise her that he would never do anything like the demons do, and he, heartbroken, said that he could leave and live in isolation if she wanted. At that point, Irina breaks down, her sense of reality was completely altered. She always heard Yuliya's stories about how all demons are evil and must be defeated, but seeing her beloved Kishin like that, she could never do something like that (and even more so because she noticed that Kishin was still the same guy she always loved), so Irina hugs him and promises that they will stay together, that it doesn't matter if he was a demon and she wanted to be a Sunlight, she dreamed of protecting those she loves, and she loves him, so the two stayed together and nothing would separate them.

So since Irina needed to go on the "mission" that Masato had told her and Kishin could no longer live there, the two left the city, and thus the various adventures that I have been writing about have happened.

Now some fun facts!

Irina's favorite food is tamago sando.

Irina is afraid of onions.

She loves collecting rocks.

She likes to cook, but she often burns all the pies she makes.

Sorry, I guess I got excited to write about her xD But still, you can always find more stuff about her with the tag #Irina Gonshira or check out my other blog @shycroissanti-comics , there are all the arts and comics I've ever made :D

Sorry if I wrote a lot of things wrong (〃ﾉωﾉ)

And please consider helping me by reblogging thisﾟ+.(*´pωq`)ﾟ+.💖💖

[sophsicle]

haha so like who is jack hughes he’s all over my fyp

oh my god.

thank u so much 4 this ask.

lets talk about it.

let me paint u a scene.

SO. Jack Hughes. he is, first and foremost, a middle child. this, i feel, is important information. he also looks like a lil doll.

WHICH. is a complicated thing 2 look like in hockey. because, on the one hand, u have mass appeal amongst teenage girls (boys and theys) but you automatically have the hatred of all old men who watch hockey and young men named some variation of Brayden who "would have made it if they didn't break their pinky finger in juniors" or whatever. and now they look at jack hughes who is both pretty and talented and they hate him. so sad 4 them. they should probs get over that tho. also he is 5'11. which he will tell you. agressively. is not small. but average. AVERAGE HEIGHT. SO. just - jot that right down, okay???????? (again, 4 context, anything below six ft. in hockey is small TM)

ANYWAY SO. Jack Hughes, pretty lil boi that he is, goes first overall in the draft in 2019 (i think) at age 18, because the nhl is a cradle robber, and, if u don't know how the draft works, the worse the team the earlier they get to pick, so he goes to one of the worst teams in the league (the new jersey devils) and in a SHOCKING turn of events this teenager does not manage to save this team immediately and therefore is attacked.

(sad jack hughes edits are my JAM i'm gonna be real)

HOWEVER, Jack Hughes's super power, and i say this with the utmost love and affection, is that he is. dumb. and he simply never once stops believing in himself. like truly, the dumber u are the less anxiety u have. one time. his team was not that great but they were winning games somehow and a reporter asked him about it and he was like "yeah we're just too stupid to lose. like we don't know we're bad so we don't know we're supposed to lose" which. tbh *inspiring*

being dumb also means he is unintentionally one of the funniest players in the nhl.

ALSO, idk how to explain this. but like. there's a whole thing where he didn't know how to cook broccoli one time, and it haunts him 2 this day and it makes me laugh.

BUT the most important thing to understand about Jack Hughes is that he loves his brothers. he has an older brother, Quinn, who is A GEM. a gift. the sweetest hockey play 2 ever hockey. and a younger brother Luke, who plays on his team. and these boys do nothing but support each other 24/7 it is truly HEART WARMING. and precioussss.

"my brothers are good hockey players, but they're better people" - Luke Hughes

Last, but not least. Jack Hughes is a member of the NHL boy band known as Trevor Zegras, Cole Caulfield and Jack Hughes. All pretty and very good players who were on the same juniors team and are now in the NHL

AND THAT is Jack Hughes lore 101 I feel

[doodler16]

oh my fucking god of COURSE alastor came to viv in middle school. that makes so much sense. 💀 too bad she never moved past that when it comes to original characters. they all look like a kids oc. i still have ocs from middle school but i revamp and redesign them. maturing as an artist means acknowledging some characters are shittily designed or their story, personality etc, doesnt make sense or is offensive and changing that. i know cringe is dead and ppl can do whatever they want, but a) that woman went to an art school, b) has her own studio and c) has her own goddamn shows. i never in my life would have expected me to say this but i cannot believe i have better concept of body diversity and character design as a mediocre artist than a person who went to art school and has her own studio. beezlebubs design will forever cause me mental anguish in the form of confusion.

Witness this masterpiece Anon and bask in Alastor’s glorious, super red, powerful original edge-lord Bambi design as he massacres other deers. Becoming the true alpha.

Vivziepop didn’t go to any normal art school, girl went SVA (school of visual art). The same place where Dana Terrace and Rebecca Sugar went too.

Beelzebub’s design is so complicated and cluttered it’s not even funny. I don’t know how anyone including Spindlehorse animators and fan artists are able to draw her let alone animate her. Then again, I’m biased because I struggled to draw Vox, Moxxie, and Alastor.

[nmakii]

AND BRUSH, AND BRUSH MY HAIR

— chigiri hyoma x long haired!reader

alt title: chigiri would be my bff bf!!! sighs me and my waist length hair against the world

well… obviously he loves your long hair. he thinks it frames your face perfectly >_<

one of the best past times to spend tgt as a couple is being in his lap while he brushes your hair out. if your hair is long because it’s a hassle to always get a haircut, he wont let you braid his hair in return. :x only if you love your hair as much as he does teehee

++ if you guys ever share an apartment and bathroom, the shelf is gonna be full of hair products…

also loves to shampoo your hair if you’re too tired to do it… something super intimate about letting him exfoliate your scalp as his finger thread through the tangles in your hair. it’s a simple luxury that only you and he’d know the pleasure of

he luvs trying out hair hacks with you. “babe..! i just saw this hack that says your hair grows healthier and longer faster if you use rosemary oil and rice water..! …where’s the rosemary?”

he thinks ur long hairs perfect… doesnt want you to ever cut it… and if you do end up cutting it, it’s gonna be like that meme “told my girl not to cut her hair. she did it anyway and she looked fine af. this is why women shouldnt listen to their man”

if you ever have an important event going on, and you need to look glammed up, he’s MORE than happy to wake up at 5 AM or whatever to style your hair. he luvs u ofc <3

“it’s not too tight, is it?” chigiri asks as he ties the braid he tied on the side, holding your hair from getting into your face. “yeah, it’s perfect, hyo. thank you.” you hum.

“right. well, good luck at your party, babe. hopefully there isn’t someone who tries to steal you away from me while im not there.” he huffs. “heeh, good luck at your game too, tonight. and don’t worry, ill tell them im taken by a gorgeous man.” you enunciate your words, buttering him up and making his heart turn into jelly.

chigiri abashedly, yet smugly grins. “tch… gorgeous? more like drop-dead charming…”

you scoff, taking your purse as he walks you to the door. “hmm… hyo, what would you do if i wanted to cut my hair?” you ask. of course it was a hypothetical, but it was something you were seriously starting to concern…

“haah? how come? you’re super pretty with it, i won’t like brushing your hair if it’s short..” he huffs, the frown on his pretty lips making him seem adorable. “i know… i like my hair too, but i feel like it’s getting too long… like, there has to be a limit somewhere, right?”

he shakes his head. “well…if you like it, you shouldn’t cut it. when it comes to you, you could have obnoxiously long hair like rapunzel— like, to the point where it’s in my face when we cuddle, and ill still think you should grow it longer.” he hums, a hand unconsciously finding its way to you. “plus, why cut it when it makes your title as ‘world’s prettiest girl’ so much more obvious to everyone else?”

he’s trying to spoil you with compliments. he knows that getting you weak in the head would let him get his way. of course he definitely doesn’t use this power for evil… this was just a desperate occasion. “i mean… once, i dropped my pen, so i bent down to get it… and my hair was on my arm, and i thought it was a lizard and i jumped..!” you recount a story from two weeks ago.

“…pfft… ahaha..!” he laughs. “that just means you should keep your hair out of your face… see? a simple braid like what i did for you right now would be enough.” he rebuts your reasons for cutting your hair.

“…whatever.” you groan. “im still on the fence about whether i should do it anyway.” chigiri nods. “well then, don’t cut it. it’d be like you’re cutting a part of my soul away.”

you scoff. dramatic, much? chigiri rolls his eyes at your disbelief. “you laugh, but i’m serious..! just let me be a little bit selfish… and, don’t cut your hair…” he pleads.

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike yelling at everyone for expecting El to fight for ‘no reason’ in s3… please Mike, share with the class what would qualify as a valid reason for El to fight?? Will being in danger perhaps? The plot of s1-2 perhaps?

[doctorweebmd]

coming out of my baldurs gate 3 delirium (aka i am working a night shift and can't physically play it. at work.) to say that horikoshi. horikoshi when i GET YOU. you are NOT leaving izuku with no quirk and no arms. i am in your walls

[nondivisable]

I need to say something and I need y'all to be calm

if it isn't actively bad or harmful, no representation should be called "too simple" or "too surface level"

I have a whole argument for this about the barbie movie but today I wanna talk about a show called "the babysitters club" on Netflix

(obligatory disclaimer that I watched only two episodes of this show so if it's super problematic I'm sorry) (yes. I know it's based on a book, this is about the show)

this is a silly 8+ show that my 9 year old sister is watching and it manages to tackle so many complex topics in such an easy way. basic premise is these 13 year old girls have a babysitting agency.

in one episode, a girl babysits this transfem kid. the approach is super simple, with the kid saying stuff like "oh no, those are my old boy clothes, these are my girl clothes". they have to go to the doctor and everyone is calling the kid by her dead name and using he/him and this 13 year old snaps at like a group of doctors and they all listen to her. it's pure fantasy and any person versed in trans theory would point out a bunch of mistakes.

but after watching this episode, my little sister started switching to my name instead of my dead name and intercalating he/him pronouns when talking about me.

one of the 13 years old is a diabetic and sometimes her whole personality is taken over by that. but she has this episode where she pushes herself to her limit and passes out and talks about being in a coma for a while because of not recognizing the limits of her disability.

and this allowed my 9 year old sister to understand me better when I say "I really want to play with you but right now my body physically can't do that" (I'm disabled). she has even asked me why I'm pushing myself, why I'm not using my crutches when I complain about pain.

my mom is 50 years old and watching this show with my sister. she said the episode about the diabetic girl helped her understand me and my disability better. she grew up disabled as well, but she was taught to shut up and power through.

yes, silly simple representation can annoy you if you've read thousands of pages about queer liberation or disability radical thought, but sometimes things are not for you.

[235uranium]

maaaan maruki is such a great villain and in a game that initially didn't have well written villains

[hauntingblue]

OLD MAN IN ACTION!!! FINISH THEM!!!!!

[ambreiiigns]

i watched One wrestling (wrestledream. much to say abt it. god willing i keep watching from that episode forward) and then 4 bungo stray dogs w brother (finished s3 fucking finally my god and saw the first from s4. it was really bad) after the most fucked up week i've had in a while

[baby-yongbok]

OnlyFans

Best Friend!Yang Jeongin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Friends to Lovers - non-idol - [18+ Only]

✦ Content Description: 6.6k + 11 screenshots

✦ Summary: Your best friend finds out about your OnlyFans account which leads to you discovering how you really feel about him.

✦ CW: Unintentional exhibitionism(?), Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people] ✦ A/N: This is my FIRST Jeongin fic and I am hella excited! (and nervous) I really hope that you enjoy it! This is a hybrid of fake texts and story so make sure to open it all the way to see it all! AHH I'm so nervous.+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ ✧ Masterlist ✧

Sleep abandoned you after you and Jeongin spoke, your thoughts were everywhere and nowhere and your body was working against you. Why does the fact that your best friend thinks that you’re hot turn you on? Why are you imagining him touching himself to the sounds of you moaning while you fuck yourself?

 Is he big? 

How would he feel? 

Wait - how did he not recognize your voice? 

You never show your face, only the shoulders down, but you’ve uploaded voice notes. You’ve done tons of horny rambles that he had to have listened to. Okay, wait wait wait, does he only get off to you? He said that you’re the only girl that he follows on the site… Okay, stop, brain shut the fuck up. 

The next day you tried to operate how you normally would. You went to the gym, you got your morning coffee, you thought about Jeongin moaning at the sight of you, you screamed in your car and you went back home. Honestly, this is working out great. 

You did everything that you could to distract yourself from the unending thoughts. You did laundry, watched TV, skipped rope on your balcony, you even started color organizing your closet. That’s when your phones started ringing with that tone that you know all too well.

 You stared at it for what felt like a second, you tried to calm yourself down and cursed yourself out in your head for making this such a big deal. He said that he doesn’t care. He won’t mention it, he’ll just get off to your videos and that’s that. Jeongin is your best friend who finds you hot and touches himself to your videos, that’s so normal. You’re so normal about this. 

By the time you finally hyped yourself up to answer his call the phone stopped ringing and you let out a huff of heavy air that you weren’t even aware you were holding. You’ll call him back…later.

Not even three minutes later there’s knocking at your front door and you rush to open it. You’re expecting a package today so this must be it. You swing the door open and your heart jumps out of your chest and runs down the hall. “Are you okay?” 

Jeongin waves in front of your face to grab your attention as you stare at him, unmoving. “I called, you didn’t answer.” You clear your throat but end up choking a bit from how dry it is. You opt for nodding your head while you desperately swallow your spit to try and save you from further embarrassment. 

“Right, yeah yeah come in, what’s up?” You hastily stumble to the side as you open your door wider. He stalks in like he always does, comfortable and confident. “You have my green jacket, Felix hyung wanted to borrow it tonight.”

”I gave that back, didn’t I?” You smooth down your skirt, suddenly feeling super self conscious. He’s seen you in this exact outfit more times than you can count but it’s different this time, right? No, it’s not supposed to be different. We’re acting normal. We’re so normal about this.

”Noona?” His fingers wrap around your wrist and you jump out of your thoughts, literally. “Is everything alright? You keep spacing out.” 

Has his hand always been this damn big? That’s all that you can think to yourself as you stare down at where he’s holding you. “I’m fine, Jeongin,”

”You usually call me Innie.” He retorts with furrowed brows until it all clicks for him. “Is this about last night?” 

You pull away from him like he’s on fire and start power walking to your bedroom before he can say another word. “I’ll go look for that jacket.”

You slam your room door closed behind you and sink to the floor against it immediately after. This is crazy, you’re acting crazy and horny and - and - fuck, has his hand always been that big? 

Has he always called you noona that smoothly? Has he always been like… that?  Wait, no, pull it together. Find the jacket and send him away so you can spiral in peace. 

After about ten minutes of searching through the mess you made and battling your inner demons you find the jacket that Jeongin came for. When you leave your bedroom you expect to see him sitting on your couch but you find him in your kitchen instead. He’s washing your dishes while he hums some song that you’re sure that you could identify if you concentrated but you can’t think straight. Your brain isn’t working at all because your best friend is standing there, at your sink, washing your dishes… In only a white tank top and gray sweatpants. 

Your eyes find the discarded sports sweater he arrived in thrown sloppily over one of your counter stools before they quickly return to Jeongin’s toned back. This shirt should be illegal. He shouldn’t be allowed to look this good. 

You stand there, jacket in hand and thighs pressed together while you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. Just as you’re about to speak he turns around with a cup full of water but it’s only full for a second before he jumps with a scream and pours it all over himself.

”Ya, noona!” He huffs, bracing himself against the counter. “What the hell? You scared the life outta me.” He drops the now empty cup into the sink and braces himself with both hands against the marble. 

“Why are you just standing there?” You don’t even hear his question. You can’t hear anything except for the fast beating of your heart and incoherent screaming from your last brain cell as you take in the sight before you. 

The front of his shirt is soaked and you can see right through the fabric sticking to each and every dip and contour of his unbelievable body. Has he always been… so hot? “Noona, seriously, what is going on with you? Do we need to talk about something?” 

He steps towards you and you take a clumsy step back. “I uh, found the jacket.” You sit the jacket on the stool where his sweater is then look back at him. You look him in the eyes this time to avoid possibly fainting but you quickly discover that his gaze is just as intoxicating. 

“Forget the jacket, I’m trying to figure out if -“ He takes another step towards you and you take two back. 

“Okay, so I’ll see you later, right? Awesome, later Innie.” You rush back to your bedroom just as he takes another step to try to stop you. You slam the door shut and repeat the same routine as earlier. When did he get so hot?

What the fuck? Did he just ask you if you like it?…Why is the answer yes? Why does that make every thought that you’ve been thinking for the past 12 hours way worse? You gotta pull it together, you can’t let a simple question cause you to spiral. He probably didn’t even mean it like that…right?

You spend the next three hours trying to forget that text. You take a shower and cook yourself a dinner that you barely even touch because it’s not what you want. It’s not him, do you want him? 

You drag yourself to your bedroom after you stuff your leftovers in the fridge and plop down on your bed. You scream into your mattress once or twice before you decide that you can’t take it anymore, you need to do something. Anything. 

Before you can even really think about it you’re in your closet that should honestly count as a second bedroom but you're fine with it being your mini studio. This is where you’ve filmed every video, where you capture every picture and record every ramble. This is where you are when you make the content that Jeongin loves. Maybe he’ll love this too.

You make yourself a bit comfortable in front of the large mirror on the wall and turn on your voice recorder. “Hey there…Do you have a second? I just wanna get something outta my head.” 

You settle into the fluffiness of your bean bag chair and spread your legs in front of the mirror. Your pajama shorts ride up a bit and the thin gusset exposes just enough of your cunt for you to take in. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, yeah you. I can’t get you off of my mind and it’s driving me crazy.” 

You sigh into your phone, glancing down at the recorder to make sure that it’s still running. Your free hand runs over the scarf tying your hair back and trails down the side of your neck. Your fingers brush over your sweet spots slowly and carefully kinda how you think he would do it.

”I want you.” It’s more of a whisper than you intended but you keep going. “I want you so badly that it’s driving me mad. I bet you know that though, don’t you?”

You nearly say Jeongin’s name at the end of that sentence and you nearly moan it into the air when your fingers brush over your nipples. “Tell me that you thought about me too.” 

Your hands start moving faster, grazing your covered and exposed skin with a hungry haste that you’re sure that Jeongin would recreate. He’d explore you with a lust driven by curiosity and desire. He’d rip you apart and take his sweet time putting you back together. He’d be rough and gentle, slow and fast, shallow and deep. He’d be everything.

You didn’t even realize that you were still talking into the recorder when your eyes snap open. You have no clue what you’ve said and you have no clue when you started rubbing at your clit but you don’t care. Moans are tumbling from your chapped lips as drool threatens to spill over the corners.

There’s nothing but pure carnal desire lingering around you and it’s all for your best friend. All for a man that you’ve never looked twice at until today, or have you? You always knew that Jeongin was attractive. You always felt a tingle when he’d hold you or play around with you but you’ve learned to push it down. It was manageable until last night. That’s when the dam broke.

”In- I - I need you.” You almost said it, almost let it slip. “Touch me please, please.”

Your fingers are slipping inside before you can even process it. You’re stroking up against your g-spot at a pace that should be painful but you feel nothing but bliss because you’re thinking of nothing but him. Him him him. 

The slick sounds of your cunt are loud enough to be caught on the recorder but you wouldn’t be surprised if they’re completely overshadowed by your moans. “Make me cum, please please please, m’ gonna cum.” 

Your vision is going white before you can even take a deep breath, it gets caught in your throat as you cry out. You’re panting, mumbling curses left and right and then right as you’re ending the recording it finally slips. “Innie”

After sitting and staring at your reflection for maybe thirty minutes you finally pulled yourself up off of your bean bag chair and freshened up. You plopped down onto your bed face first and screamed, this seems to be becoming a routine. 

Once you get a grip you sit up against your pillows and stare at the new audio. How could you make this while thinking about Jeongin? Are you a terrible friend? Can you blame him for being hot? Can you say that it’s all his fault and just live life hating him for ever finding your account? No, I mean, yeah you could but that would be stupid.

You load the audio into your Only Fans account and put together the new post. You usually wouldn’t think twice about uploading a ramble, you’d usually listen to it in your headphones to check the quality and then throw it online for your subscribers to enjoy but this one feels different. This one feels wrong to post. After a bit of debating you take a deep breath and go for it. It can’t be that bad right?

Nevermind

It’s been about an hour since you posted the audio and it’s gotten back to back likes and comments. You’ve even gotten some chat requests with tips that you plan to reply to later but the one that just came in caught your attention. 

You don’t know what it is about it, maybe it’s the username or the energy behind their message but you’re almost a thousand percent positive that it’s Jeongin on the other side of this chat. 

You sound so pretty in your new audio. You’re really fueling my imagination tonight. I.2.n.8 Sent a tip 

You stare at the message for so long that you forget to blink. This is so obviously him. The user name is a dead giveaway. Jeongin is messaging you about your new ramble… you shouldn’t reply.

Fuck.

You replied. You replied and you flirted so fucking hard that you’re sure that he’s blushing in his bed just like you are right now. You’ve talked to plenty of guys like this. You flirt and make them feel special and then boom more tips but you don’t even care about the money right now, not when you’re having so much fun texting - sexting - the only man that’s been on your mind. Your best friend. 

When you see Jeongin the next day at a small get together you expect it to be awkward. You expected for him to give you knowing looks from across the crowded restaurant table but he didn’t. He acted completely normal like he hasn’t been sexting his best friend for the past eight hours. 

You tried your best to mimic his demeanor. You spoke to him as normally as you possibly could and as the night went on it got easier to ignore the elephant in the room. You stole some food off of his plate and even sang karaoke with him at the bar that you went to afterwards. You almost forgot about the messages, until you got home. 

Care to help me with a situation, sweetie? I’ll make it worth it, I promise. I.2.N.8 Sent a tip

Holy Fuck, that’s a big tip… like, money… that kind of tip. You sat on the edge of your bed with a messy cocktail of cheap liquor running through your veins and giving you confidence to do things that will surely have you screaming into your mattress later, and not in the way that you really want. 

You strip down and head to your closet, clicking a few pictures in poses that you’ve never tried before and some that are your tried and true classics. You hold your breath as you organize the album and attach a price to it. If he really wants to see it he can pay, you’ll be needing the money to fund your therapy sessions after this anyway cause this teasing is driving you insane.

Right when you send the set to the ‘mystery’ guy a text from Jeongin drops down into view and you’re instantly covered in goosebumps.

Ayen 🥐❣️: I had fun with you today, missed you. Ayen 🥐❣️: I work late tomorrow but I’m free the day after, wanna come over?

This is suspicious… right? You should decline. Yeah definitely decline, you don’t wanna risk anything happening that could ruin your friendship. 

You’re screaming into your mattress again.

 You accepted the invitation as you were thinking about declining it. 

You never stood a chance. 

You don’t sleep, instead you plan a cute but chill outfit to wear when you go over to his place. It’s not a date but you still wanna be cute, this isn’t weird. This is normal. 

What’s not normal is the way that you’ve been glued to your phone since this chat with Jeongin popped up. You’re not neglecting your other messages but you do spend extra time on his chat. You give him exclusive content that barely costs a thing and you’re fucking enjoying it. You’re addicted. So much so that when you get to Jeongin’s house the next day for your hang out it’s all that you can think about.

You’ve been here for about an hour and a half. You thought that it was just gonna be you and Jeongin. You thought that it was gonna be a nice best friend date. It’s not. 

“You seriously never saw that video before?” Jisung asks Felix with a mouth half full of whatever he ordered a bit ago. You’re sitting next to Jeongin on the couch with his roommate Seungmin next to him and his other roommate Felix on the floor with Jisung. ”Never.”

They fall into some conversation that everyone seems to be paying attention to but you. You’re too busy staring at your blacked out phone screen as you try to cope with the fact that you’re sitting next to the man that you’re secretly sexting. 

He hasn’t made anything weird just like he promised, everything is fine. You just need to calm - what the fuck?

Your phone chimes and your screen lights up to show a browser notification. An OnlyFans notification. You look over to the man next to you to catch him stuffing his phone in his pocket while he laughs at something that Felix said. Did he seriously just text you?

He did. You open your browser and the message is right there. Staring at you while you stare at him.

Bet you’re lookin’ so pretty today, sweetie.  I.2.n.8 Sent a tip Mind showing me what you’re wearing today? 

You gulp down the spit pooling in your mouth and choke a bit but you hide the cough well, you think. Why would he text you now? Why here? Maybe this is a good chance to see if it’s really him. Yeah, this is your chance. 

You type the cutest reply you can think of while your heart does the cha cha slide in your chest and hit send. You hold your breath as you wait for the ding but you’re choking once again when you actually hear it. 

Jeongin reaches into his pocket and smiles down at his phone. He doesn’t unlock it. He doesn’t check the message. But you know what he does? He fucking smiles at you. 

“You okay, noona? You’re spacing out again.” Seungmin is replying before you can even open your mouth. 

“Maybe if you actually spoke to her instead of texting that OnlyFans girl she wouldn’t have to daydream.” The other two instigate Seungmin’s teasing and Jeongin only rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“You’d be obsessed with her too if you’ve seen what I’ve seen” He settles back into the cushions a bit, extending his arm to the back of the couch behind you. He feels so much closer to you like this, or maybe it’s just because he’s talking about you to all of your friends. “She’s worth obsessing over.”

“Share her account then.” You jump a bit at the suggestion, it was quick but it was enough to gain Felix and Jisung’s attention. Jeongin is the opposite of you. He isn’t phased by the suggestion one bit, he just smiles down at his lap and shakes his head. “Nope, she’s a treasure that I plan to keep to myself.”

Seungmin scoffs and the other two start with the teasing again but Felix’s gaze keeps floating back to you. You try your best to relax, no one knows that you’re the OnlyFans girl so they aren’t actually talking about you. But this on top of Jeongin texting you while sitting right next to you is starting to be too much.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, I’m getting a drink.” Jeongin asks if anyone else wants anything from the kitchen and collects requests from almost everyone except for you. You just sit there quietly staring at your lap, quietly dying inside until the burning in your chest gets your feet moving. 

“I’ll be back.” You mumble but only Felix replies, he’s the only one that heard you and his eyes follow you as you take the same path that Jeongin did a second ago.

Your friend is looking into the open fridge when you get to the kitchen. He’s grabbing a bottle of water when he notices you come around the corner.

“Hey, did you want -“ 

“Not here.” You whisper through clenched teeth, it’s quick and quiet enough for you to get the point across and then escape. “Do not message me here, are you insane?” Jeongin closes the fridge, water bottle in hand and a grin on his lips.

”What?” You look back to make sure that you’re still alone before stepping closer to him. ”Do not text me here.”

”Why would I be texting you when you’ve been right next to me?” He sips from the bottle in his hands before sitting it down. “I think that you’re confused about -“

”You’re I.2.n.8, I know you are. You’re the one who’s been tipping me and texting me on OF for days.” Jeongin looks down at the tile in an attempt to hide the smug grin on his face. “You promised not to make it weird.”

”I kept my promise.” He shrugs, looking back up at you with a different gaze, a darker one. “I haven’t made anything weird. I haven’t brought it up. It’s you who thinks that I’m texting you.”

He steps closer, leaving little room between you two. You can feel your face getting hot, the temperature is rising with each second that your eyes are on his. Your thighs press together and you take it as a desperate plea from your body but you don’t know what for. “ Do you want it to be me texting you?” 

The air feels too thick with him so close, you can’t breathe. It’s too much. You turn away, desperate to retreat back to your safe space on the couch but he grabs your wrist before you can escape. 

His other hand finds your waist and guides your back against the marble counter next to the fridge. “Don’t run away from me again, noona.” There’s barely an inch between you two and the air feels dry at this point. Your tongue feels too heavy to control in your mouth so you dip it out to skate across your bottom lip. Jeongin watches the movement carefully, too carefully.

”Tell me, do you want it to be me, hm?” He shifts, caging you between his arms as he leans against the counter. You catch the flex of his muscles from the corner of your eye and it makes you feel dizzy, what is going on? “Do you want it to be me who tells you how badly I wanna ruin such a pretty thing like you?” 

You bite back a groan and sink into the surface behind you. He steps forward, now impossibly close as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Is that what you want, sweetie?”

Oh fuck, it is him. It’s really him.

”Jeongin, we can’t” You’re whispering to him so he whispers back. “Can’t what? What are you thinking about? I’ve only asked you a question.”

”You can’t be this close to me.” Your words feel forced and your limbs feel heavy as you try to find a way to settle against him. “This isn’t right.”

”Yeah? So you touching yourself in your closet and moaning my name is fine? But this isn’t right?” Your eyes widen the second those words leave his mouth, how did he know that you film in your closet? He’s been there a couple of times of course, he’s sat in your bean bag chair and he’s helped you pick out outfits but he never knew that you do Only Fans. So if he knows that you’ve been filming in your closet that means he recognized it from one of your videos… which means that he also had to have recognized you. 

“You knew that it was me the whole time didn’t you?” Your eyes flick from his to his lips and back up. “You knew that it was my account.” His lips spread into a wide mouth smile as he mimics your previous pattern with his dark pupils. 

“Maybe I did.” He moves his hand to your arm, running his fingers over the exposed flesh of your wrist. Every touch feels like fire as the pads of his fingers glide up your forearm. “Maybe I hoped it was you.”

His fingers press into your flesh every so slightly, it’s enough to make you shift into a firmer press of your thighs. “Maybe I only subscribed to the account because it looked like you.”

His fingers take their time going over the curve of your shoulder. They tease the strap of your top for a second, before dancing up the curve of your neck. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

That was what tipped the bucket. That is what had you crashing your lips to his and wiping that smug smile off of his face in an instant. He moans into your mouth before you can moan into his, his hand cups your neck, pulling you closer as his other hand grabs at your waist.

It’s heated and sloppy. He feels just as desperate as you do with every clumsy swipe of his tongue over yours. You’re panting into his mouth, only pulling away for half a second to breathe before you’re tasting him again. 

Your hands grab at his flexing arms, scratching and kneading the flesh before you move to make fists into the fabric of his shirt. He feels unreal, he’s more than what you dreamed of. He feels so strong and soft and he tastes like lust itself.

You press your body further into his, taking in the matching thump of his heart to yours as your lips move in an impossible rhythm. It’s clear that you both feel the same hunger, the same longing, the same need for each other. Maybe this was driving him insane too.

“Jump.” His command is muffled and wet against your lips but you understand him and swiftly obey. His hands move to the back of your thighs to help you up onto the counter and he briskly fills in the space between your parted legs with his slim waist. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands wander up your clothed thighs, his fingers dig into the plush flesh with a deep groan. “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve thought of this?” He trails kisses over your cheek and over the shell of your ear. 

“I watched every video.” He moves down the curve of your neck, nipping and kissing the flesh to milk moans from your parted lips. “I listened to every audio. I saved every picture.” 

He sucks bruises into your clavicle, licking over the rising cherry marks and planting sloppy kisses. “But none of that is as good as this.” You’re panting and moaning into his ear. Words don’t make sense. They jumble and disappear behind your eyes with each rough grab and desperate lick. 

“Do you feel as good as you look, sweetie?” Your eyes flutter open when he pulls back from your neck. Both of your lids are low and your eyes have a lustful haze fogging them. “Can I please feel you?”  His hands explore you while you fight with your tongue to form words. They skim over your curves and make you feel like you’re electric. You’ve wanted this, you wanted this so badly. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your mouth forms the wrong words and you curse yourself for it. Jeongin just nods at you, hands still exploring your body until they reach your breast. He cups them, squeezing a bit and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples. 

“We shouldn’t” He repeats after you, massaging your breast more intensely and pressing the prominent bulge in his sweatpants firm against your cunt. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut.

“We can’t” It comes out as a moan as he leans in and sucks on the flesh on the other side of your neck. Your fingers rake through his hair and he groans at the slight tug you give. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Don’t worry about making things weird.” He whispers between kisses to the shell of your ear. “Just worry about what you want.”

He pulls away again, fox eyes staring into yours. “You’re not gonna lose me, don’t worry.” Your eyes search his for a second and you can feel your resolve breaking. 

 “Touch me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but he heard you, he’s just going to act like he didn’t. “Say it again.”

“Touch me, Innie, please. I wan’ it.” His hand is slipping down the front of your shorts in an instant. Everything is back to being clumsy and rough, fast and desperate. He moans when the pads of his fingers run over your slick folds.

“No panties, sweetie?” His eyes roll back and he bites at his bottom lip to try to control himself. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He hooks his fingers into the side of your shorts and starts trying to work them down your thighs. “I need you, it’s driving me mad.” 

You lift up for him and when you come back down his lips are on yours. “You’re driving me insane.” He whispers against your spit slick lips, his forehead is pressed to yours as his fingers roam your slippery cunt. He covers you in your own slick, dipping in and out of your folds and teasing your waiting hole.

“Please, no teasing, I can’t take it.” He rubs your clit, once then twice before slipping back down. “Innie, please I’ll be so good. I’ll be so good for you please just fuck me.” 

He pushes a finger into you slowly, taking in the soaked warmth that he caused. This is all because of him and his cock twitches at the thought. You moan and arch your back, your nails dig into his forearms as he moves. His rhythm is steady and unfamiliar, it makes your body sing in a way that no one else ever has.

“You’re so tight, noona. So wet.” His eyes are glued to where his finger is disappearing inside of you. He adds another, pushing in slowly before taking his previous pace. “Oh fuck, this is how it looks when you fuck yourself. When you take those toys and stuff your cunt. Shit, it’s so hot.”

You’re grinding into his hand, meeting his fingers when they fill you to the knuckle. Your tongue is poked between your teeth in an attempt to keep yourself quiet but you’ve already failed. Each thrust is met with a whining whimper that Jeongin eats up like candy. 

“Innie, Innie, c-can you curl them please? Curl your fingers inside of - holy shit, yes yes yes.” He watches your eyes roll back as your orgasm builds and builds. 

“Did you think of me?” His voice is thick with lust as he watches you. “When you made your last audio, did you think about me?” You’re shaking your head before you can even filter the question. You admit it shamelessly as you chase your high that’s dangling in front of you.

“Yes, I did I did, I thought of you.” Your orgasm rushes up your legs and blurs your vision with one more stroke of his fingers but he’s pulling out before you can ride it out. You whimper at the loss but a gasp quickly follows when you’re filled with something thicker.

“I know.” He moans, bracing himself against the cabinet behind your head as he pushes into you. “You said my name in the audio, you know that?”

He bottoms out with a groan, your cunt is spasming around him as your previous orgasm rips through you but you can already feel another one building as the first one subsides. His other hand settles at the nape of your neck and he pulls you in for a searing kiss. 

You can’t breathe being this full of him. With his tongue exploring your mouth and his cock stretching your walls. It feels like you're suffocating in the most delicious way. “Shit, your pussy takes - takes me so well.”  You can feel his control dissolving. It’s evident in the way he pants against you and how his dark eyes droop lower and lower with each unsteady pull of his hips.

“I wanna take my time with you.” He whispers against your lips. “I wanna but I can’t.” He’s whining, moaning and cursing into the air as he drags against your walls. You can’t even really hear him if you’re being honest. Between the sloppy sounds of your cunt being fucked, the rapid beating of your heart and ringing in your ears you’re completely clocked out. Utterly brain-dead. 

“Please, let me hear you. Please, I wanna know what you sound like when I fuck you.” Your voice shakes with a moan of his name as he switches his pace. His thrusts become faster and deeper, his breathing ragged, he’s doing his best to fuck you how he’s seen you fuck yourself. He’s doing his best to ruin you the same way that he imagined every time that he’d jerk his cock to your content.

 “More more more, please. Deeper, I wan’ it deeper.” His hands move to your thighs at your request and he pulls your ass to the very edge of the counter. He supports your legs on either side of him while you brace yourself against the side of the fridge. 

He pushes into you until his pelvis is flush against you. Every single thick inch of him is buried inside of you. Your pussy swells around him, squeezing him so perfectly that he lets his head fall forward with a moan. The hand that isn’t against the fridge balls the fabric of his shirt against his chest and slowly pulls it up until his torso is exposed to you. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your eyes snap shut once you feel him twitch inside of you. You let your hand run over his toned core, taking in every firm dip from under his fallen shirt. “Move, please. Please, Innie.”

“‘M gonna cum if I move.” His voice is strained as he rummages for any last bit of self control but he’s lost it all. He pulls back slowly, swirling his hips to hit every spot that you could imagine and more. Your pussy clenches around him as he sinks back in and he nearly busts at the feeling.

“I can feel you in my fucking stomach.” That’s all that you had to say to break him. That’s all that you had to say to have him pushing deeper into you then pulling back with every intention of ruining you. The only sound that you can hear is skin against skin decorated by your harmonizing moans.

 His eyes are shut tight as he moves, he’s biting his tongue, trying his best not to whine and moan like he does into his hand while watching your videos. You on the other hand are loud. You’re so fucked out and dazed that you can barely remember where you are. You couldn’t answer the first question asked to you even if you tried, the only thing that you can think of right now is Jeongin. Everything is him. Him, him, him.

“Innie ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me. Gonna make me cum, fuck fuck fuck.” You scratch into his abs, leaving pretty red marks for him to remember this moment. Your head falls back as you float in the feeling of being dumb with pleasure. His hips slam into you at their own accord and you just take it. You let him fuck you just how he wants, just how you need it. 

“Cum, please cum. You feel too good. sweetie. Gonna make me cum.” His thrusts become more frantic, his movements more erratic. Your body is trembling and your mind is blank. A familiar fuzziness takes over your vision as you lose control, you welcome it. You savor it and quietly beg for more. “Cum on my cock, noona.”

He’s begging and you’re complying. Your vision blurs with a hazy white, your breathing hitches, and your body trembles with pleasure. You’re more than positive that your damn near screaming his name as he fucks you through what might be the most intense orgasm of your life. “That’s it, Thank you for your cum. Thank you.” 

His fingers dig into your thighs as his thrusts become unpredictable. He can’t take much more and he knows it. As much as he wanted to savor you he just can’t help but to get lost in the way you feel. He can swear that you were made for him. “Oh fuck, oh, fuck, I’m cumming.” With one final thrust he’s pulling out and milking his cock of thick ropes of white that settle on your inner thigh and drips down to frame your glistening cunt. 

He slumps forward, forehead resting against yours as you both pant hot and heavy satisfaction into the air. The silence is loud, almost louder than your pounding heart and racing thoughts as your eyes flutter open to meet Jeongin’s.

You stare at each other, it’s soft and almost comfortable but there’s still this looming uneasiness in your chest that makes you feel like you made a big mistake. It makes you feel like you just lost something. “Here.” He speaks first, pulling back from you to reach for the water bottle that he had earlier.

“Drink this, please.” He’s gentle as he opens the bottle and raises it to your lips. He tips your head back with a bent finger and turns the bottle up for you. “Are you okay?”

You swallow hard, panting for another second before you try nodding your head but you don’t know what to tell him. “Hey.” He grabs your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts for a second and calming you with his touch. “Everything’s alright. We didn’t ruin anything.” 

He smiles softly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you can’t help but melt into. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re just nervous to confront all of this, maybe you’re just scared to admit to yourself that you want him. You want him so badly and so much more.

He pulls back and you sigh, nodding your head with a whisper. “I’m okay.” 

“Let me clean you up and we can talk?” He starts fixing himself up and you can’t help but to snort a laugh. “I feel like we did this in reverse order.”

He smiles as he moves over to the sink. “Yeah, maybe.” The two of you laugh softly as he wets a couple of paper towels. It’s quiet again. It's comfortable. Everything will be alright.

“Your bedroom is literally right down the hall, you couldn’t fuck there?” Seungmin yells to the two of you and you freeze, Holy fuckaroni, you forgot that they were here. 

“You never even brought me my drink!” Jisung follows and Jeongin rolls his eyes and comes back over to you with the paper towels. Felix yells right after Jisung and you can’t help but to break out into laughter with Jeongin as he cleans you up. 

“Are you two not confused that they just fucked? Is it just me?.” 

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[shrimpybbq]

rafe in bed

synopsis: rafe loves his precious girlfriend so so much, but the one thing he loves slightly more is fucking her

i feel like (controversially) when rafe is deeply in love with his partner and in a committed relationship, i don’t think the sex is that rough or kinky

sure, they get down and dirty but there’s always lots of hand holding, and rafe loves the feeling of his girlfriend’s body pressed up against his

rafe likes to feel connected and close to his girlfriend and sex is no different for him

i think he really likes any position where he can see her face, and the expressions that he draws out of her. he loves missionary for that reason, and he’s always nuzzling his face into her neck as he cums

rafe is absolutely obsessed with eye contact - he needs to see how good he makes her feel, and vice versa

if it's not missionary, he probably has his girl on her stomach, his hovering body pressed up against her so tightly she can barely breathe as he hits it from the back, his hips slamming against hers

rafe has stamina and he can easily go two or three rounds in one night, though they’re often interrupted by the sound of their son crying in the nursery, but otherwise that man would go allllll night if he could

when he and high school gf were actually in high school, i picture lots of sneaky sex: think car sex, sex in rafe’s room at tannyhill while everyone else is sleeping, sex in unoccupied classrooms at the academy. they were both so desperate for each other that it didn’t really matter when or where

while I don’t think he’s super kinky, I do think he still loves control, and he loves to exert his power in bed

she can be on top, but only if he’s controlling the movements

delayed gratification and not letting her cum until he tells her to!!

rafe loves affirmations in bed too, needing to be reassured how well he’s doing and how much gf loves him

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel, baby.”

“You wanna cum? Yeah? Beg for it.”

“Look at me - who’s making you feel this good, huh baby? Who? Hmm - me, yeah - I thought so.”

“C’mon baby, you can give me another one.”

rafe is mostly a grunter. he lets out low, strained groans when he feels her warm pussy clench around him, echoing fill the room with each thrust he makes. it’s only when he’s about to cum does he let out a few moans, his voice rising in volume as he tilts his head back

rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments

after high school gf falls pregnant with charlie, rafe is scared for a bit and uses condoms every time they have sex, but after his son is a little older, i think rafe goes in raw - it's his favourite state and he just feels so close to her. his gf began taking birth control so he feels more comfortable now, and it’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else

(part of him isn’t opposed to knocking his girl up again either, but he doesn’t say that just yet…)

i think rafe loves to have his girl trapped under him, unable to run away from the pleasure he’s giving her. he likes to cage her in, keeping her pressed against the bed as he thrusts harshly over and over again, her body writhing and wriggling against him. he likes to know he’s making her feel good

sloppy making out as he fucks - nuff said. there's so much tongue its almost embarrassing, but its so so hot (gimme gimme plssssss)

also bathtub sex!

rafe wants to feel wanted, especially in bed

rafe who loves to hold hands as much as possible. eating her out holding hands, entering her holding hands, and most definitely cumming inside of her holding hands. he wants to feel loved, and to him, sex with his person is intimate and important

basically moral of the story is that rafe fucks good, a little nasty sometimes, but so good

[yeyinde]

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[freeabortionslol]

Injury Report (quinn hughes x actress!reader)

summary: fluff!! childhood bsfs to lovers, mutual pining, you go to a Canucks game during one of your free days to see your best friend, quinn hughes play. unfortunately the game results in a knee sprain. you and quinn go back to your house where you take care of him, and he realizes he can't spend another day without you.

warnings!! baby fever, domesticity, injury (knee sprain), makeout, kinda suggestive

a/n why is the reader always an actress? why are they always best friends to lovers? why is the team always playing the ducks? idk man leave me alone

wc: 4.4k

It was supposed to be a good night, at least a normal one. That’s what you thought as you were sitting up in the box seats with your hair curled as you smiled wide in Quinn’s jersey. Ellen and Jim were tucked away in New Jersey to see Jack and Luke, so you took it upon yourself to go see Quinn play. It was an away game in Anaheim, and you just happen to have a small home in Los Angeles, so you thought it would be the perfect time to go to a game. You and Quinn had planned this about a month out, realizing the game fell during a week where you had absolutely nothing going on. It was rare to have these moments considering you’re constantly working on new projects, but you were more than happy to spend that time with Quinn. You were cozied up in between Bella Boeser and Natalie Miller, watching as Natalie tried to tame her small children. One of her daughters, Scarlett, sat in front of you staring as you spoke with Bella about the latest fashion trends.

“Do you really have super powers?” Scarlett cut off your conversation, referring to your role in the marvel films.

“Man, I wish! I just play pretend for the movies.” You shifted your focus to the small blonde girl who was sitting in front of you. In her eyes you could see the infatuation she had for you. You let your attention slip away from the game as this little girl asked you question after question. No doubt you had serious baby fever. It was hard not to when Natalie and J.T somehow made the most well behaved children on the planet.

“Who's your favorite player on the team?”

“Ooh probably Quinn Hughes because he’s one of my best friends, but your dad is pretty cool too.”

“Um, did you know that um Mr. Quinn has um two other brothers that play hockey too?” her T’s coming out as D’s.

“Yes I did! I’m also very good friends with Jack and Luke.”

“Do you like the brothers teams better or daddy’s team with um Mr. Quinn?”

“That's tough. I can’t pick or they’ll all get mad at me, but tonight I'm a Canucks fan.”

You didn���t know at the time, but while you were in deep conversation with Scarlett, the stadium's camera panned to you. This was always bound to happen whenever you went to one of the boy’s games, considering you were an A list actress with an impressive catalog. Quinn, who had just gotten off the ice, shifted his attention to the screen above him and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you being so gentle with the little girl. He was so hopelessly in love with you and everyone knew it, except for you. Watching you being so good to the small child made his mind create the scenario of you being the mother of his own children. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but the dynamic between the two of you always made him hesitant. Worried that it might create tension between himself and his brothers. Unfortunately for him, the tv camera quickly shifted to the smile he wore while watching you. The media was constantly trying to conjure up stories about the two of you. That you were secretly dating, hookup buddies, engaged, pregnant, but the sad truth is that the two of you had always just been friends. You and Quinn weren’t the type of people to talk about each other to the media, so you always left it up to the people to keep guessing. All they knew was that the two of you grew up together, and the rest was up to their imagination. 

“Hey! That’s my kid!” J.T yelled, pulling Quinn from his trance. “And my wife!” He waved up at the screen. “Wait, why are they showing my family?” Quinn’s attention was still on the screen, focused on the woman who was now cut slightly out of frame as Scarlett climbed into Natalie’s lap.

“Look who’s next to em.” Quinn pointed to the screen causing the realization to hit J.T.

“Oh! It’s little miss Movie Star.” He nudged Quinn’s shoulder “Huggy bear’s bunny.”

“She’s not my bunny. She’s just a good friend.” Just. The word stung as it came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to be just a good friend, he wanted to be your person.

The game continued as normal now five minutes into the second period. You sipped on a terrible IPA that Bella grabbed for you, as you attempted to fix the beanie on top of your curled hair. You weren’t too nervous about tonight considering the Canucks were on a winning streak and were already leading 3-0 with Quinn scoring one goal. The feel of the night made you wish you could do this all the time. You wished to be wearing Quinn’s jersey in a way that said “He is mine. I love him and I claim myself as his.” instead of in a “I’m a famous actress who just wanted to go to a hockey game and I didn’t have anything to wear so I wore your jersey because we're friends.” way. You watched as the small children focused on the ice from the barrier in awe, casually throwing out a “Mommy, look at how fast daddy skated!” You wanted little hockey stars and movie stars to watch Quinn skate on the ice every night. You let your mind drag you to a world where you became a Canucks WAG, had your own last name on the back of your jersey, sitting back as your children cheered on their dad from the box. They would probably have the signature Hughes chestnut colored hair and striking smile. You wondered if they would want to be a hockey player like their dad, or an actress like their mom. You were kidding yourself knowing damn well that Quinn would have those kids on the ice before they could even walk. You let yourself get wrapped in the imagery of white picket fences and family dinners with Quinn, you almost missed the moment that shifted your entire night. 

You heard a loud bang and several “Oooh”s from the box, and looked down to see Quinn kneeling on the ice. He was in the neutral zone with the puck when one of the Ducks slammed their body directly into him causing him to fly over another player's back, landing legs first onto the ice. You immediately sprung from your seat, hand covering your mouth, as you made your way toward the barrier. You placed your free hand on the rail, leaning as far out as possible. Your heart began to race and your eyes filled with tears of shock as you watched the scene before you. As he tried to get up, Quinn’s face shifted from disgruntled to agonized in an instant. You felt a lump in your throat watching as he couldn’t manage to lift himself from the ground. You’d never seen him so hurt. His face tightened as he kept trying to pull himself up. You wished you were closer so you could scream at him to stop, but he was never one to throw in the towel. He was clearly trying to convince himself that he could get up and keep playing, but his body was failing. A mix of terror and sadness creeped through your entire body as the trainers pulled him from the ice. You stayed silent watching him disappear to the locker room, each breath shakier than the last. The media was going to have a field day with the shot of tears in your eyes watching him leave, but you weren’t thinking about that at this moment. Natalie walked over to you, placing a hand on your back to try and reassure you that he would be okay, as she guided you back to your seat. You couldn’t speak and frankly you didn’t want to. You didn’t even know what to say because everything you wanted to pour out was suggestive to the fact that you were really in love with him. 

The game was now 7 minutes into the third period, and Quinn has yet to emerge from the locker room. At this point, you assumed he wasn’t coming out at all. You sat back in your seat still staying silent as you anxiously watched the game in front of you. Your mind kept drifting to the sight of Quinn broken down on the ice like that. He was in so much pain and your fears heightened as you glanced back to the memory of him not being able to lift himself from the ground. You couldn’t just sit there waiting for an answer any longer, so you decided to pull out your phone in the hopes that maybe Quinn had his in hand. Your fingers shaking as you carefully typed out a message.

You: hey i dont know if you have your phone or not but im just really worried. are you okay? please please please tell me it’s not something serious?

quinny <3: Miss me on the ice? Bet the game is boring without me.

You: OMG YOURE ALIVE whats wrong? is it bad??

quinny <3: Luckily, I didn’t break anything. I sprained my knee. I'll be out for 2-4 weeks. The pain isn’t too terrible at the moment thanks to the meds they gave me.

You: meds?

quinny <3: Advil. Meet me outside the locker room after the game. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Canucks won 5-2 without Quinn on the ice. Now, you stood outside the locker room with Bella and Natalie, waiting anxiously for him to walk out. Brock came out first, giving you reassurances that Quinn would be alright before walking out with Bella, hand in hand. J.T arrived next, swooping his two daughters off the ground after greeting his wife with a victory kiss. He teased you about the way Quinn smiled at you when you were on the screen. Natalie sent him a slap to his chest and the family made their way out. It was only you left standing. All the other players had exited along with their families. You tapped your foot on the carpet below you, pulling your phone out to the time every couple seconds. Finally, your gaze caught Quinn’s as he walked out of the doors with crutches at his side and a brace on his knee. His eyes soften at the sight of you.

“Hey, Quinny.” Your tender voice trembling out at the sight of his injured knee.

“Hey Y/n/n” He says before placing his crutches against the wall to bring you into a tight embrace. You stuffed your face into the crook of his neck, getting a whiff of his designer cologne. His grip on your waist tightened at the comfortability of your touch. You moved your head to rest on the soft fabric of his hoodie as you gave him one final squeeze. As you pulled back, hands resting on his arms, you caught a slight smirk on his face.

“Nice jersey. That mine or yours?”

“Might’ve maybe stolen it last time I was at your place.” Your smile widened as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Was wondering where that went.” He grabbed the crutches from off the wall, leaving your touch. You stared at him and grew a frown at the thought of him being in pain. When he was settled you grabbed his hand, subtly rubbing against his fingers.

“I was so scared, Quinn.” You gave him an empathy filled half smile.

“Yeah, I know.” His eyebrows raised as he reached towards his back pocket to grab his phone. He quickly handed it to you so you could see the photo of you in the box with the caption “Y/n L/n in tears after Quinn Hughes’ injury” Your mouth gaped open as you underestimated how quick they would be “That’s the official NHL instagram account, by the way.” He laughed as you stared down at the phone. He quickly snatched the phone from your grip when he caught you looking through the comment section. “Nope. Not doing that.”

“Hey I was still looking.” You protested, crossing your arms.

“No, because when you read the comments you get all sad, and then you cry, and then I have to comfort you.”

“You don’t like comforting me?” You tilted your head to the side with a fake frown.

“That’s not what I meant. I would just much rather hang out with the happy version of you.” He gave you a soft smile as he squeezed your hand. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but I was promised a bed tonight.”

“Alright then” You laughed and turned your body towards the exit “Onward we go captain!” Quinn’s hand left yours as the two of you exited the arena

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving at your small, cozy home in LA you quickly raced to the door to hold it open for Quinn. Faint noises from the city rang through your ears as he slowly pulled himself towards the door in silence. You couldn’t help but frown at the state he was currently in. You shut the door behind him, taking in the scent of your fresh linen candle. You walked over to the back porch to crack it lightly, allowing the fresh California air to fill the small home. You turned around to find Quinn making his way to the kitchen.

“No no no.” You quickly walked to him and grabbed his shoulders to lead him to the couch. “You need to rest.”

“Y/n I’m fine, seriously.” He protested as you pushed him closer to the cushions. He took his spot sitting on the couch, placing the crutches on the ground as you stared at him on your feet.

“Let me take care of you, please.” His gaze shifted towards the back porch. “Do you want food?” Your hands on your hips as you gave him a stern look. He sighed as his eyes softened, looking back at you accepting defeat. 

“What do you have?” He shifted his position to where he was laying on his side to face you, kicking off his shoes.

“Frozen pizza?” You asked quietly, brushing his hair back with your fingers. He leaned into your touch, nudging his head closer to your hand.

“Sounds good to me.” He gave you a soft smile, watching as you removed your hand from his hair walking towards the kitchen. He picked the remote from off the coffee table, his gaze still centered on you, as you reached for the pizza in the fridge. He laughed quietly to himself watching you prepare him food in his jersey. He wanted this to be every night for him, coming home to see your face after a bad game. He admired the way your highlighter beamed off your cheekbones from the soft glow of the sink light. You began preheating the oven while he turned his focus to the tv in front of him. Quickly turning on The Office, knowing you’d seen it a million times, so you would be okay with having conversations with him during the show. You made your way back to the couch, stopping at your tracks in front of him, giving him a good stare while the TV played softly in the background.

“Can I help you?” He laughed watching you stand directly in front of him.

“Do you have a shirt I can wear?” You asked, squinting your eyes at him.

“This is your house. I know you have your own shirt.” He smiled looking up at you.

“Not any comfy ones! All my good clothes are in New York. You know I'm never here.” You huffed out crossing your arms. Quinn let his head hang in defeat, pointing at the bag towards the door. He moved his head to prop on the arm of the couch to watch you walk to his bag. He stared with a soft smile as you unzipped the bag, finding his white tee with a blue Canucks logo in the top corner. It was one of his favorites and he knew he wasn’t getting back. He admired your figure as you brought the shirt to your chest to see how it would fit you. What he didn’t expect you to do, was rip off your jersey right there at the entryway. The sight of you in only a bra and leggings made his heart drop and his face pink. He quickly turned his attention back to the TV, propping his head up with his hand. He glanced at you in his peripheral vision, trying his hardest not to look. Were you doing this on purpose? He didn’t know, but if you were, it was killing him. He glanced as you pulled the shirt over your head, pulling your leggings off to leave yourself in only your underwear. You decided that since the shirt cut just above your knees, there was no need to put in a pair of shorts. You left your clothes on the floor and made your way back to the couch where Quinn was sitting. His face flushed as he stared at the screen in front of him. You took your spot on the other end of the couch, lying down and letting your legs tangle in his. Your eyes were locked on the TV, but Quinn was only watching you. Admiring the way you looked, the way his heart dropped every time you shuffled your legs, and thinking back on the sight of you half naked in front of him. The two of you stayed in this spot for a while, with you getting up to put the pizza in the oven, and then again to get it out. As you walked back to him with two plates in hand, his mind was only on the fact that you had no pants on under his T-shirt so casually in front of him. 

“Thanks, Movie Star.” He grinned wide as you handed him the plate. The two of you sat up, close to each other but not touching, as you ate. “Seriously, I mean. For taking care of me.” He nudged your shoulder, as you leaned into his touch letting your head fall to his bicep.

“Anything for you, Quinny.” He laughed at your comment as you took another bite of your pizza. The two of you sat in silence, finishing every last bite of your pizza. Well, you ate it up to the crust and Quinn stole the leftovers from off your plate. When you both finished, you brought both plates to the kitchen to set them down in the sink. Quinn shifted his position back to lying down as you returned empty handed. So very naturally, you made your way back to the living room, lying down in between him and the back of the couch. You rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. He maneuvered himself so he was able to place his arm around your back. You and Quinn had been in this position before, it was normal for you to cuddle up with each other when you watched TV. Tonight however, things felt different. Like there was a new found spark between the two of you. Quinn felt his nerves tense up in a way they had never before as you played with the bottom of his hoodie, your fingers slightly brushing against his bare skin. You could feel his heart beating against your ear which was always bound to make your body relax against him. You shifted the attention of your fingers from his hoodie down to his knee. Your touch grazed over the brace, a feeling of pity washed over you.

“Does it hurt?” You asked quietly, your eyes never leaving his knee.

“No. It’s not too bad. I’ve dealt with worse.” He let out a soft chuckle. “What’s gonna get me is the fact that I can’t play, but i’d like to distract myself from that right now.” He took your hand in his, moving from the brace back up to his side. Your thumb rubbed the soft fabric of his hoodie back and forth as you took in the scent of his laundry detergent. His hand lightly tracing up and down your back while the two of you watched the TV. You melted into his touch, having to fight the urge to keep your eyes open as he tickled your back in such a comfortable way. You moved yourself slightly, to where you were now lying on his shoulder. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck, his beard subtly scratching your forehead as he tightened his hold on you, bringing you closer to his body. 

“I love you, Quinn.” you murmured softly.

“I love you too.” He nuzzled his head in closer to yours. It made you sad, but it shouldn’t. He loves you, but he doesn’t love you in the way that you want him to. You carefully played with the strings of his hoodie as he absentmindedly leaned into your touch further. The two of you let the show play, not saying a word to each other. Just appreciating the peaceful moment. It caused Quinn to realize that he couldn’t play pretend anymore. He couldn’t keep acting like there was nothing between the two of you, because there most definitely was. He knew he wanted to marry you, have children with you, see your beautiful face at every Canucks game, and have every night be exactly like this. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and he wanted the rest of his life to start now.

“Are you asleep?” He asked quietly, part of him hoping you were.

“Almost.” You nuzzled deeper into his neck

“Well, wake up. I got some things I want to tell you.” His voice was shaky, knowing that he was about to indulge in his childhood fantasies, or ruin a 15 year long friendship. You shifted yourself up looking down at him. Your hands on either side of his body.

“What’s on your mind Quinnifer?” You asked innocently, blissfully unaware of what was about to come. Quinn let out a long sigh, throwing his head back before looking back at you. Seeing you in this light, in his t-shirt, you looked more beautiful than any other woman he’s ever seen. He thought for a moment about saying nevermind, but he was already locked in to his plan at this point.

“Do you remember that time we both went to that gala in New York two years ago?”

“Mhm.” You nodded your head, still not understanding the situation.

“We went separately. Each of us dateless.” you laughed, making his face blush at the sound. “I walked into the room which was so crowded. Mostly with women, and Brock was teasing me asking which one I was gonna bring home that night.” He took your hand in his as you crinkled your nose. “But my eyes were only searching for you in the sea full of people, and when I finally found you standing by the bar in your silky navy blue dress, I thought none of these women compare.” Your face quickly turned red, your heart beating fast as you realized what he was getting at. “You were the most beautiful woman in the entire room. I stared at you for as long as I could before you caught me and ran over. You basically leapt into my arms and said…”

“Are you here with a date? Cool. Me neither. You’re my date now.” You finished his sentence, letting out a small nervous laugh.

“Let me finish!” He scolded with a smile. “When you placed your hand in the crook of my arm, that was the moment I knew I was in love with you.” Your face grew a shocked expression. Butterflies swarmed throughout your stomach, not expecting him to be this direct. You also had no idea that he felt this way, and it was the most blissful surprise you’ve ever received.

“Quinn, I-” you started but he quickly cut you off.

“Y/n, I wanna be your person.” A small smile grew across your face. “I don’t want to be ‘best friend Quinn’ anymore. I wanna be ‘boyfriend Quinn’. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm sorry if this is weird o-or if it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s the truth.” You cupped his face, hinting at his nervousness. “I just love you so much, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t. It actually pains me to walk around telling people that I'm just your friend.” You bit your lip, smile growing wider. “Oh and by the way, you're an asshole for taking your shirt off in front of me like that.” Your mouth gaped open and you started laughing. “Do you know how hard it was not to look?” His voice grew from anxious to relieved at your reaction to his speech. You moved in closer, now with each of your legs on either side of his body.

“Does it make me evil if I told you I did it on purpose?” You scrunch your nose. 

“Yes!” He laughed making you laugh along with him. You nervously began playing with the strings of his hoodie, his hands moving to your waist.

“Quinn, I’ve waited for you to say those words since the day you taught me how to drive the boat in eighth grade.” His smile grew wide in relief pulling you in closer. Your faces now only inches apart. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.” He said eagerly as you closed the space between the two of you. Melting into his lips immediately, the kiss was one that had clearly been held back for far too long. His hands squeezed your waist while yours ran up through his soft hair. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. You let out a soft moan at the feel of his hands moving down to your ass, a touch that you’ve wanted for so long, but could never express. You both pulled back, resting your foreheads against each other. The sound of the TV drowned out by the heavy breathing from the two of you. Quinn managed to steal one last peck from you, moving one of his hands up to cup your face.

“I love you so much, Quinn.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

[tomboy014]

Tamaranean Siblings, Part 2!

After the Body Swap incident, Phantom and Starfire get close.  Really close.  Turns out swapping bodies breaks down a lot of boundaries, and unlike Raven, the two have bonded.  Starfire has always been a hugger, and she’s taken to carrying Phantom around like a teddy bear. Phantom is used to having a red-headed big sister, and ever since his parents worked the ecto-deflectors into their jumpsuits, he might maybe be a teensy bit touch starved.  He loves to sprawl over Starfire whenever they hang out together.

It’s driving Robin up the wall.  Phantom knows he’s been crushing on Starfire for a while, and he goes and does this?!  He can’t help but get more brusque with Phantom, to the point it starts to interfere with group dynamics, and it prompts even Starfire to tell him off for it.

Danny confronts Dick privately to tell him off for being a total dingus.  As far as the two of them are concerned, Kor’i and Danny are basically siblings now.  He’s knows Dick has a crush on her;  that’s why Danny has been trying to talk him up to Kor’i so she’ll give him a chance, and his attitude is not helping.  Dick needs to CHILL OUT!

Robin: … Who?

Phantom: You live with her for pete’s sake! How do you not know her first name?!

This is also where it comes to light that Robin/Dick doesn’t actually have any dating experience.

Robin is a super popular super hero, leader of his team, and supposedly smooth and charismatic.  Dick Grayson is the adopted son of Bruce frickin’ Wayne and beloved by the public. Danny’s at the bottom of the social ladder and he still got a date with the most popular girl in school. Twice!  How are you this bad at girls? 

Either way, things with Robin start to calm down and the group dynamic returns to normal (though Danny will never let him live down his lack of love life).  But things in the training room start to heat up. 

Starfire and Phantom now have a much better understanding of each other’s limits, and the gloves are off.  The whole tower shakes whenever the two of them spar together, and they’re both experimenting with new ways to use their energy powers after seeing how the other uses theirs.  Phantom even manages to give Starfire a black eye for the first time, and she’s ecstatic! It’s a Tamaranean thing.  In their culture, it’s an accomplishment when a younger sibling to visibly injures the elder sibling for the first time.  It shows how much the younger has grown and how well the elder has taught them.  Starfire is super proud and posts it all over SpaceBook.

But Phantom has ulterior motives for pushing Starfire the way he has been.  No one knows his strengths like Starfire does.  More importantly, no one knows his weaknesses the way she does.  If there’s anyone who’d know how to stop him…

Phantom asks Starfire to be his contingency plan, and explains everything that happened in The Ultimate Enemy, about his future self, what he did, and how terrified he is if he one day becomes that.  If that ever happens, he wants her to be the one to take him out.

Don’t try to talk him out of it.  He already gets it enough from his friends and sister that it won’t happen.  That he’s a good person.  He doesn’t need to worry about that, etc.  He’s heard it all before, but… None of them have actually agreed or promised to end him if it does happen.  And if it does… his friends are only human, and they couldn’t stop him before.

Starfire agrees.  She can see how important this is to him, and she won’t lose Danny to a dark path the same way she lost her sister.  The wave of relief that washes over him breaks Starfire’s heart.  These must be the horrible feelings that led him to develop the Ghostly Wail.

Still, she is confident that this future won’t come to pass because he chooses not to let it happen.  She, too, has been flung forward into a bleak future, but she knows nothing in the past, present or future is set in stone.  She fought and changed the future with her own two hands.  She’s knows Phantom is strong enough to do the same. 

While Dick and Danny were never really good at staying in contact with each other, Kor’i is and keeps up her relationship with Danny even after he “retires.”  She knew months before Dick of Jason did that he took the job at Arkham and is happy for him.  It may not be the career path he wanted, but he found a good job and a way to still help people without his powers. 

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