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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

first and foremost, the color scheme for this series is GORGEOUS, the purple pairs well with the angst of the series and i’m so ready for it (also so proud that u learned how to get the gradient function!! ☺️)

secondly, how DARE u not tag me i am flabbergasted, heartbroken, overlooking the golden gate bridge rn

ANYWAYS, i have seven minutes before lecture starts so here’s my lousy and incoherent annotations below ⬇️

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

i’m so ready to see how toxic this can get

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

love a reader who knows what she wants and goes after it

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

oh god

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

my stomach is doing flips

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

i would need a gun

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

i would crash out so hard rn

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

SICKENING

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. Nome of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

i support women’s wrong to do mass destruction

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

THIS IS MAKING ME UNBELIEVABLY SICK

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

this paragraph is so beautifully-crafted i had to highlight it - okay back to our regularly scheduled program

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

TOXICITY’S FINEST COUPLE

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

exactly he’s YOURS (mine…?)

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

you fucking NARC

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

she’s so me

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

oh my god i fear i need her to do the best revenge arc

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

again, i’m always in awe of ur descriptions it makes me so giggly and excited to see how well u constructed ur setting

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

should’ve bought a glock w those pregnancy tests - i would start TWEAKING so hard

💌 — this fic is BEAUTIFUL (ohmygod my professor arrived, let me make this QUICK) i absolutely love how u created this atmosphere of anger, resentment, desperation and neediness. because u captured the angst incredibly well, and how u built up to it—the aches, the emotions—were well-paced and made you feel everything on a deeper, more slowburn way. i also LOVE how the interconnectedness of how topper and rafe are best friends, and she’s his COUSIN, and how this man SNITCHED to rafe when she was driving away. i love-hate that scene bc it builds so much more tension, but i would be fucking pissed at topper. lastly, as always your descriptions are one of my favorite parts of your writing and i highlighted them for my annotations. so so PROUD of u for starting this series and i will make u complete even if its the last thing i do 🔪

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst)

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei @stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 days ago

Note

KENDRICK DROP ANOTHER DISS TRACK( why ten?) AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSS!!!

"Are you my son?"

Damian nearly throws himself out the window when he hears his father's voice. It is finally the night for dinner with the Waynes and Clockworks/Fentons. He has been going insane trying to prepare everything for the night, starting from the early hours of four a.m. Now that it is nearly seven p.m., it feels like everything is still out of sorts. He disputes the fact that he has been helping Alfred clean and cook nonstop.

Severant's work. Daniel Fenton has reduced him to doing servant work, and Damian isn't upset. What has he become?

He had been texting Daniel almost all day after their date last night- and wasn't it a shock to find out that he had been at the start of the courtship with his first school friend?- but it did nothing to ease the fear boiling in the pit of his stomach. If anything, the little dig from his phone only made him want tonight to be perfect.

Then, Father had been called away to a Justice League emergency and came back with a concussion. Again.

"No sir, I'm Danny Fenton. Damian's boyfriend." Daniel says in that perfect melodic voice. There is an easy smile on his lips, the same one he wears around the school, like he's laughing at a joke no one else is worthy enough to hear.

Damian is so busy admiring Daniel's confidence that it takes a moment for his words to catch up to him.

"Boyfriend!?" he shouts into his hands, turning away from his friend- boyfriend!?- so he does not see Damian shaking hands and excitedly silently babbling in the air.

He knew that the night before had turned out to be a date, but he never hoped that it would turn out so well. I mean, Damian was less than graceful. Water came out of his nose, he ran into a door, and at one point, he stabbed his gums with his fork because Daniel had smiled at him like he was a piece of cake he wanted to eat instead of the dessert the waiter had brought them.

Damian had been in tears as Daniel helped him hold a napkin to his bleeding mouth.

How Daniel walked away from that, thinking Damian was even remotely attractive, was a miracle in and of itself.

That's why today had to be perfect. Alfred had thankfully been with Damian when he answered the door, whisking away the glaring Mr.Clockwork before the man could intimidate the young Wayne. The butler had led the man into the room where dinner would be served, chatting about his time in the royal army.

Mr. Clockwork's face was without emotion, but Damian sensed he was captivated by the tales nonetheless.

If only the butler had waited a few more seconds, he could have taken Father with them. Instead, the man who dressed up like a bat in his twenties and made that everyone else's problem had stumbled upon the two teenagers as Daniel leaned into Damian's space, his head slightly tilted and his eyes half-lid.

He wasn't sure what the other planned on doing, but Damian just knew it would have changed his whole life had Father not spoken.

Father stumbles his way towards them without any of his usual grace. He must have taken quite the hit. Honestly, it's surprising that Alfred hasn't tried to put him in a medical bed in the Batcave. "Are you sure you're not my son? I should have nine, and I only counted eight up there."

Daniel makes a point to look around the seemingly empty grand hall. Damian is too busy trying to stop his heart from escaping his rib cage to worry about all of Father's brood hiding in the ceiling rafts.

They were making a poor attempt to say hidden, at least for anyone with proper training.

Daniel likely couldn't see them, but Father could despite his injury.

"I'm sure, sir?" Daniel says with a tightness in his voice. Damian glances at his friend and realizes he's regarding his father like one would a man screaming in the street about the world ending. "I'm not your son."

Father squints quickly as a wip throws out a hand and grips Damian's suit jacket. Yes, he wore a suit. He wanted to look nice for Daniel, and nothing looked better than a well-done suit. It didn't matter what Frake or Brown thought.

" What are you-" His words are cut off by the expensive fabric covering his father's chest as the man smoothers him in an embrace.

Right. In. Front. Of. His. Boyfriend.

Damian's face turns a quick red shade that would generally be hard to notice on his tan skin, but that embarrasses him even more. He hates it when he blushes, especially this hard because he looks utterly ridiculous with how quickly it spreads down his neck and to the tip of his ears.

"Father!"

"You're my baby," the man mutters, ignoring his youngest's attempts to get away. He hears a smother of chuckles from the rafts. My little itty baby with his little itty boyfriend. Wait, are you allowed to date? You're so small. You still need a booster seat in the car."

Daniel cackles, and Damian feels like he's dying. "I do not need a booster seat! I know how to drive!"

"I can see where you get your humor from, Beloved." Daniel chuckles, and everyone in the room gasps, including the unwanted audience.

"What did you- am I-did you?!" Damian tries to string a sentence together while pushing against his father's chest. The man's arms were like iron; why was he so strong!" "Me? I'm Beloved!?"

"Yeah, remember, you said that your mom called your dad that, and you wanted to one day have the same nickname when you got into a relationship," Daniel chirps from where he is waiting for the hug to end. "Is that....okay?"

He sounded uncertain, and for some reason, knowing Daniel was just as nervous as him about their new relationship helped Damian be at ease. "Of course! I am honored you even remember that conversation ."

"Bruce!" Richard yells from the grand stairway, having jumped out of his hiding place and pretending to have come from upstairs. "I'm so glad I found you! I need you to let Dami go now and help me with something. Come on!"

"But-"

"Now, Bruce."

In a whirlwind that Richard Grayson can only do, his father was escorted out of the room. The soft thumps of his other siblings leaving went with them, leaving Damian with his Beloved.

Good heavens, Damian had a Beloved.

"I—" Damian starts, only to choke on his spit. Daniel springs forward to pat his back, laughing like an imp, and really, this is the worst. "I apologize this is-"

Soft lips pressed against his. The world came to a standstill, where Damian could focus on nothing but the gentle press against his mouth, the smell of a rainstorm, and the warm hand on his back.

When Daniel pulls back, his lovely skin has turned red, far darker than Damian's, and he isn't looking him in the eye.

Bashfully, his Beloved confesses, "I've never kissed anyone before....was that okay?"

"I do not have a reference to compare it to...." Damian breathes. "But it was the greatest thing to ever happen to me."

In return, he gets a gorgeous smile, and Damian knows he is in deep trouble.

#dcxdpdabbles #Why Ten?#part 4 #Danny is making his move #Damian is somehow stumbling into successes #Bruce got hit bad #First romance and love #dead serious

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m-ilkiee · 12 hours ago

Text

Game Over: Tetta Kisaki + Hanma Shuji

Pairing: Tetta Kisaki x Fem reader × Hanma Shuji

summary: you can run forever, but no one escapes their past or the consequences after.

warning(s): NSFW, dark content, smut, set in a Toman future, fem reader, dubcon/ noncon, character death, childhood bullying, kidnapping, depiction of cybercrime, human and sex trafficking, violence, drugging, power imbalance, threesome (mfm), finger sucking, fingering (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, spit roasting, over-stimulation, dumbification if you squint dacryphilia, use of ‘slut, whore good girl’, blackmail, misogyny

word count: 7.1k words

r-18+ not suitable for 17 and below. mdni

layla's notes: ik this isn't a monsters update but I have to post something this month at least. thanks for 500+ followers btw. lets keep the fire burning.

[masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

TOMAN had brought an era of bloodshed, violence, and change to gangs and you saw it happen before your very eyes as they grew even more heartless, greedy and bloodthirsty with every passing victory.

It wasn't enough to just take down gangs at some point, they had to run down anyone that came in their way of continuous success or had any connections with them at all in the past.

Including your brother, that was six feet under.

As you stand in front of your late brother's grave, you can't help but think about everything that led him there. Since your parents died in an accident, your older brother became the breadwinner, doing illegal things just to send you to school and spoil you. You were helpful in creating gambling schemes at a young age and later during the age of the internet, creating even more ways to swindle people out of their money. Being the much more tech-savvy and intelligent sibling, you helped him out in arranging and mapping out easy targets to scam without getting caught, while he was the brawn of the team, street smart enough to get people to fall for it.

Sure, you weren't happy being a thief, but as long as it helped you both from starving, you would manage until the two of you could get a more honest way of living eventually.

He was your world, your everything until Tetta Kisaki came into your life and turned it upside down forever.

He would stay out so late at night and during the first few weeks of his new lifestyle, you would wait for him by doing all your homework until he'd come home, bruised knuckles, a bloody shirt, and the scent of smoke and metal assaulting your nostrils. Your brother's once happy expressions soon turned grim and he rarely paid attention to you when he was around, so you figured that it was just better you caught some sleep before you had school in the morning instead of wasting your time on bothering your elder brother.

Then strangers would troop into your house and ask about his whereabouts; they were menacing, imposing their presence on you as if to intimidate you into cowering away fearfully. You shocked them by giving them a curt answer followed by slamming the door in their faces. You owed them no respect and you feared nobody, not even the top shots in the gang world. Until tragedy struck and Kisaki showed you that he meant business when he sent your brother's mutilated body to your doorstep.

Now, you can't hear "Toman" on the news without your eyes widening a fraction and your body hair standing at attention. Your heart raced whenever there is another news of a gang crisis, especially those closer to Kyoto, thinking that Toman would decide you were the next to die.

You shake your head in dismal as you walk into the street, flagging down a taxi. You've laid so low all these years ever since, hoping that living quietly and working as a waitress in a small resturant would be enough to get them off your back. You had moved into a quiet rundown apartment and unless for work or to visit your brother's grave, you don't go anywhere else.

If someone had told you that you were going to live in so much fear all these years ago, you would have laughed at them to scorn. But look at you now, a shadow of yourself, all because your brother fucked around with the wrong people.

You push back your anger at the back of your head when the taxi halts in front of you. There is nothing you could have done differently in the first place to change your fate anyways, you were doomed to live like this till you either left the country or died trying.

You open the car and enter it half-hazard without thinking. The engine hums, moving away from the graveyard and onto the rather desolated pathway that led to it while you rummage through your purse for some cash. You hoped that it would be enough to get some food after you return from the bus stop and you can save the rest for your relocation.

Once you move to another country and start a new life there, you can finally have a semblance of normalcy after all you have gone through.

"Where to?"

"The railway station " You said absentmindedly, counting the cash in your hand. He hums in response, turning on the AC to cool down the hot interior, to which you are silently thankful to him, and you put the cash in your purse, sitting upright and leaning on the window.

A smile rests on your lips as you look out and see the lush green trees lining the street; you always did love nature a lot and times when your father would take your family to the forest for camping trips were one of your fondest memories. Your mother would yell at you for doing tree climbing competitions with your brother, saying something about being too reckless with your life.

It's been a while since you recalled that memory.

It suddenly popped into your head now as your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurs out. You don't like the way the trees are muddling with one another until it becomes nothing more than a green and brown mixture. You want to remember what happened after your mother yelled at you but your eyelids feel so heavy.

Your hands slipped from the tree and you remember falling straight to the floor with a loud shriek, like how you're falling into the dark abyss no matter how hard you tried to fight it. The only difference is, before you could open your mouth this time, your head hits the plush backseat with a dull thud.

'It's so dark'

IT didn't take much to realize you are blindfolded once you felt the soft cloth resting on your face.

You attempt to move your hands bound behind you, only to be greeted with a searing pain on your wrists, earning a hiss of pain from you.

You stop all movements when there is a loud 'clunk' on the door, followed by a creaking. A shiver goes through your body as the cold air assaults your scantily clothed skin, hairs standing as multiple footsteps echoes through the room. You could hear men talking loudly

"These are the people for the next sales Shuji-san. They were drugged as you requested."

'People?'

'Sales?'

'Shuji?'

You struggle to stay still despite your heart hammering against your rib cage hard. Your mind ran in circles while you thought of who else could bear that name other than the Reaper, the one person that made your blood run cold just with his presence. You were always his punching bag as a kid until your early teens because no matter how hard he hit, you would never faint like the other kids and he thought that was interesting. Your brother would only brush it off and tell you to hit him back if you really wanted your bully to stop.

You can never forget the feeling of his hand “punishment” on your face when you tried to defend yourself.

Whatever god could hear you, you prayed that whomever that man is, it shouldn't be Shuji Hanma.

"Good, because if I heard another bitch whining about how they want to go home, I would have put a bullet in their head."

Your blood ran cold on hearing the deep baritone reverberating in your eardrums. A sudden weakness overshadows your muscles and before you can control yourself, you feel something hot running down your legs, pooling around your body.

'No, no, no, no.'

Horror slowly set in the moment the two men turned their head, eyes raking from your shaking figure, to the liquid pouring down your legs to the floor below you until it ceases completely. The silence that follows is deafening, your mind is racing with last prayers and pleas of mercy are spilling out of your lips before you could stop yourself. Your screaming and begging for him not to shoot only gets louder with the rustling of clothes and the cocking of a gun probably aimed at you.

Maybe it was better to die this way. A quick shot to the head before Hanma can recognize you and prolong your death was much better.

"I thought you said you drugged all of them. So…"

It was obvious Hanma is pissed, you've spent enough time around him to know that his voice deepens a few octaves when he's really furious to the point he is out for blood.

This time, he is really going to kill you.

You hear stomping, the light splashes of something wet between your thighs and the imposing presence of a bloodthirsty man squatting over you. You can feel your body go into overdrive with terror once the cool metal meets with your forehead in a gentle kiss, tears rolling down your cheeks while he spoke;

"...why is this one still talking?"

Dread fills you when he adjusts the gun on your head, and you register in your head that the next thing that comes out of your lips is going to be your last. You don't comprehend when the words tumble out of your trembling lips until they are out of your lips.

"You're also going to kill me too, Hanma Shuji?"

You wait for Hanma to pull the trigger, but the click doesn't come. Instead, the cool metal of the gun barrel leaves your forehead and is replaced with deft fingers tracing lines on your face before grasping your chin in a vice-like grip, forcing your faces to be inches from each other.

Your heart rate has skyrocketed to the point of no return as you feel his intense gaze burning holes into your exposed skin. Your body violently shakes as you imagine what kinds of ways he would want to murder you.

"That whiny voice, I'll be damned…"

You flinch when the blindfold is snatched over your head. Your eyes slowly adjust to the dimly lit room that you found yourself in, now looking directly at the man squatting in front of you. It's the same black hair with golden streaks, now falling on his forehead instead of standing straight up.

He's wearing a pinstripe suit, something you never imagined him wearing in your wildest dreams, the glasses perched on his nose and encased his eyes would have given you the wrong impression that age mellowed him out, if his purple irises weren't so blown out of proportion in glee as soon as he recognizes you.

His laughter is mocking and loud, ringing in your ears and echoing around the room. Hanma lets go of your chin, letting your head hang in shame and fear, still barking loudly at your humiliating position. Tears sting your eyes again and they stream down your face, which seemed to amuse him even more.

The gun makes a harsh contact with your temple and your head twists to the side while you bite your lip to stifle the cry of pain threatening to escape your mouth. Your vision blurs out for a bit, before coming back and blood rivulets dribble from your head, down on your shoulders.

'Is he going to beat me to death?'

"So that hard head of yours still is useful after all?" He laughed at your pathetic state, tapping your face lightly with the gun, before hitting you across the face again, hard. The force made you bite your inner cheek and blood pooled in your mouth this time around, spilling from your lips. "You've always been such a good punching bag. Well, my favorite punching bag. I missed you so much. How are you coping after I killed that waste of space you called a brother?" He smirks, now grasping your bloodied face in his hand marked “sin.”

Now you remember why you hated Hanma the most out of all your brother's friends.

When you don’t answer him, Hanma clicks his tongue and violently pushes your head back to hit the wooden pole behind you with a loud thud, before getting up and signaling the man who had been standing across the room to come forward.

"This one is coming with me."

He adjusts his suit and tie, placing his gun in his suit pocket. "Get her cleaned, and send her to my house." Hanma turns around and smiles at you one more time, sending shivers down your spine. "She's a tough one, give a stronger dose." His smile becomes even more sinister and evil when he finishes his sentence. "And a little something else."

Before you can comprehend what he said, a sharp pain pricked your arm and you soon drift into darkness once again.

"I'm sure Kisaki is going to love seeing you again."

‘Fuck’

YOU wake up to find yourself in the interior of a completely unfamiliar moving limousine, clothed in nothing but a sheer lingerie that clung to your skin, bringing out your breasts and hugging your curves, coupled with being gagged and a collar attached onto your neck

You remember briefly waking up halfway in the middle of a huge bathtub, your entire body scrubbed raw by multiple people who now, you assume was Hanma's staff. In your hazy state, you could recall seeing him watching everything with careful eyes, and with him someone that awfully looked like an older Kisaki Tetta, who was rather surprised seeing you after all these years. Words like "bidding", "sales" and "customers" echoed around your head, before you drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

What had happened to you while you were out of it? How did you get here? And why did your body feel so hot and bothered, to the point the new underwear you had on was soaked?

Kisaki, who is sitting opposite you, is the first to notice you have woken up, eyebrows raised at you while Hanma is on the phone talking about something you cannot understand. He merely turns his head to make eye contact with you and smirks before he continues what he was talking about.

"You're awake." Kisaki voices out, now reaching out to touch your cheek, bringing you back to reality. You wince when his fingers brush against the bruised part of your cheeks, hidden by makeup, before he grabs your chin to further inspect your face. Every touch made your body react in some kind of way that got you extremely confused, to the point you're rubbing your thighs against each other to try and relieve yourself.

Sure Kisaki had gotten attractive over the years despite being the shit stain that had orchestrated your brother's murder, but you do not still think of him in any way that is sexual.

Right?

This is wrong; now is not the time or place for you to be this extremely horny or needy for sex and especially not with someone as vile as Kisaki or Hanma, who is clearly enjoying your suffering as he watches you grind against the plush leather seat from the corner of his eyes with a smug grin.

Not when your life it at stake.

"You shouldn't have hit her too hard," Kisaki scolds Hanma, still observing your bothered and flustered features, even though he is only doing it for the fact that he hated having to explain anything to anyone, not that he cared about you. "I don't like my goods damaged at all, not when I'm about to sell for a good price."

'They're going to sell me?'

"Mmhmh '' you muffle, shaking your head in disagreement. Kisaki raises a brow at you again, before momentarily pulling off the gag to hear what you are trying to say. You pant heavily, spit dripping down your chin like a wild dog before looking Kisaki eye to eye while begging him. "Don't sell me please! Do what you want with me, but please don't sell- mmhmphf."

"Much better." Kisaki mutters after putting the ball gag back in your mouth. "I always hated hearing the sound of your voice. There's never a time you weren’t whining like a bitch to anyone that would care to listen."

You hang your head in shame, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. Your head feels woozy at the thought of getting sold off to some random man in a club who would do god knows what with you. Your body still feels hot and needy from one of the numerous drugs that was forced into your mouth while you were fading in and out of consciousness, and you can't focus on anything without rutting your hips against the plush car seat or squirming around.

This isn't a situation you can run from anymore. No, this time, you're trapped and no one is coming to save you

KISAKI can't help the feeling of power coursing through his veins as he paraded you around the VIP section of one of Toman's biggest clubs with Hanma by his side, a leash around your neck and lingerie that only seemed to accentuate your curves.

This is all he's ever wanted; Power to make any and everyone who had blocked his path or stepped on his toes in any way to pay for it. You had been one of them, thwarting his plans to make your brother the leader of one of his side gangs to move his plans forward, which seemed to be what mellowed your elder brother down whenever Kisaki thought he had the idiot underneath his thumb.

You were such a thorn to Kisaki's side for so many reasons, from your wagging tongue to your body and those atrocious clothes when you were younger that only seemed to hug your body or reveal a bit too much when you're prancing around the house. Those hateful eyes of yours glaring at both him and Hanma whenever they came around.

Kisaki hated to admit that he fantasized about you sometimes when he pleasured himself in moments of weakness.

You were something forbidden, an unreachable, non-negotiable thing that Kisaki couldn't afford to get his hands on because he needed your brother on his side. The power you held over him made him feel weak and irritated, that of all people, you would sink your filthy claws underneath his skin and rile him up.

To see the once proud and haughty (name) being treated like a pet - his pet that he could get rid of at any time for a huge amount of money, had his cock slightly twitch in his pants.

"You know, we can keep her."

Kisaki turns his head to face his right hand man standing beside him, Hanma's greedy eyes flitting from the flesh of your ass to Kisaki's face before he continued his suggestion. "I've got another one, a girl, on standby in case you change your mind." He shrugged. "You know that (name), as much as she's a bitch, she can be of some use to us."

"Hanma," Kisaki begins in a cold voice, clearly tired of Hanma's persistence in keeping you, his eyes narrowing. "If it's a whore you want, you can call one from your con-"

"Kisaki, you know that's not what I'm talking about."

For the umpteenth time tonight, Kisaki Tetta goes completely silent. In his head, Kisaki regrets ever telling Hanma that you had actually gone to University, the last update when he could still track you, a dream you achieved because your brother was selling information from Toman to the police. You were always very good at technology and things that had to do with the internet, an area Kisaki himself lacked in and hated you for being better.

All these years he wasted time with your useless brother, when you were the real goldmine.

Kisaki notices that you are slowly giving into the aphrodisiacs after fighting it for so long, and the greedy eyes of all the important wealthy men that happened to come to this shady club are fixated on you. Anger begins to bubble in his chest when you begin to bat your lashes at one of the men to help you relieve your urges and without giving it a second thought, he yanks your leash as a warning, tightening the collar around your neck. You muffle in pain and stumble, before turning your head to look at him with apologetic eyes.

Hanma doesn't miss the way Kisaki tucks his free hand in his suit pocket to hide his boner.

"We both know that Toman needs someone modern, especially someone that would be most loyal to you. With the police now putting more tracking devices and bugs in our system, we need her to combat it. She already escaped being found the first time by removing her own information out of all systems." He continues, eyes now resting on your trembling figure, struggling to walk straight towards Kisaki's private room. "Unlike that idiot of a brother, (name) is intelligent. She knows what is really at stake."

Hanma leans in and says something only to Kisaki's hearing. "Say the word and I'll make (name) follow accordingly, like old times."

Why Shuji Hanma will always be useful to Kisaki is that he knows him like the back of his calloused hand.

Kisaki glances at you once more, contemplating on Hanma's suggestion. Your market value working for Toman is worth more than whatever those old perverts could pay him, supposing you would be good and do as he says. Under his supervision, Kisaki can hold more power beneath his thumb with your help, that much he knows.

"Like old times."

YOUR knees hit the plush rug the moment Kisaki pushed you inside one of the executive club rooms. From the corner of your hazy vision, you can see the blonde haired man walking past you and sitting on the king sized bed right in front of you, his legs on either side of you in a manspread. The door behind you clicks shut and you hear heavy footsteps walking towards your direction before stopping behind you.

"Look at me." Kisaki commands.

You hesitate to follow his command, still trying to control your breathing after being tossed around and choked by that damn collar still on your neck. Hanma is quick to correct you by wrapping his hand on the leash and yanking it back, forcing your head upwards to face Kisaki. Your strangled cries of pain come out muffled to the amusement of Hanma, who doesn't let up with his grip on your throat until Kisaki signals him to ease up a little. Your head falls a little, but it is high enough for Kisaki to look you in the eye and drive home his point.

"You're still as stubborn as I remember," Kisaki scoffs, his hand placed on his chin, amber eyes gazing down at your tear stained face and trailing down to your lipstick smudged with spit from being gagged for so long. "you’re lucky you’re hot." He cradles your face contorted in discomfort with one of his large well-manicured hands and goes ahead to stroke your cheek with it.

It's the most gentle way Kisaki will treat you tonight.

At this point, you don't care what Kisaki would do, not when your body can't handle the pain of being so bothered and your mind is clouded by so much lust, you aren't thinking straight. It pains you to know you are susceptible to whatever he places on the table and you cannot control the narrative this time around.

You shiver when his hand unclasps the ball gag from behind your head, pulling it out of your mouth and throwing it aside. You do not break eye contact with him when he puts two fingers in your mouth and tells you to "suck"

A warning tug on your leash from Hanma is enough to make you obey Kisaki's order without hesitation. You swirl your tongue around his fingers, bobbing your head up and down the digits with blown out eyes as the tip of his expensive shoe nudges your clit lightly.

Electricity shoots through your veins from your lower region and you quickly place your cunt above his shoe, lowering your thighs to rest your clit above the shoe just to get that rush again. Kisaki's breath hitches on seeing your dangerous, lustful gaze.

The sight of you being needy to cum has his dick hardening by the minutes, pre leaking from the tip at such a dirty scene.

Hanma is no better, he's impossibly hard from watching your ass move and jiggle when you grind Kisaki's shoes and if he isn't careful, he might actually get off from this.

It's humiliating, the way he has you desperately humping his shoe to get off while sucking off his fingers and yet, you can't stop yourself.

Kisaki pulls his fingers out of your lips and trails them down between the valley of your chest where the lingerie is tied in the middle and with the flick of his wrist the front opens, exposing your bare chest to him. Hanma kneels beside you, not letting go of your leash and leans in to meet your trembling lips in a hot kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and playing with yours. Kisaki's hand finds your breasts and gives a light squeeze with his calloused thumb grazing against the nipple, earning a muffled moan from your lips to Hanma's.

"Aren't you obedient?" Hanma mocks the moment he pulls away and stands upright, loosening the collar on your neck. You bite back any insult that crosses your mind when he adjusts his suit and heads off to the door. "Kisaki, I'll handle the auction tonight, my phone is buzzing with those greedy old farts calling me," Hanma says to his friend, before turning to look at you condescendingly, his lips in a crooked smile when he opens the door and nods at you. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

You do not get to think much about what Hanma said the moment the door clicked shut because your back collides with the plush rug on the floor and Kisaki attacks you with harsh kisses from your jaw to your neckline. His teeth dig in between your neck and your jaw, earning a soft gasp from you that soon turns into moans of "more Kisaki" when his lips suckle on the bites. You take advantage of his thigh between your legs and you drag your wet cunt over it with nothing but the need to cum.

His hands are greedy and impatient when they find your breasts again, capturing them in his two large hands and letting his thumb roll around the hardened nipples as he fondles them. "Desperate whore. Humping my leg like the damn dog you are."

Every word leaving his lips to your ears is like fire on your skin, only riling you up while you grinded his thigh to get off. Your moans are music to his ears, begging him just to help you out with this burning sensation in between your legs, even if it's just a little.

"All the times you'd wear those -fuck," He presses a wet kiss onto your lips and the taste of the cherry lipgloss he picked for you had him weak in the knees. "-those revealing clothes like a trainee whore whenever we came over to see that bastard you called a brother," He huffs, pulling himself off your body before kneeling in front of your legs. He grips your ankles hard, nails digging into your flesh. "with that stupid attitude of yours, it always set me off."

You gasp when Kisaki pries your thighs open further without putting much effort. You've always thought that there was no ounce of strength in Kisaki's body, since he was nothing but a coward that made everybody do all his dirty work for him while he remained uninvolved and unscathed. Seeing Kisaki inspect your clothed soaked pussy while holding your legs apart by your ankles was clearly a rude awakening.

Kisaki really holds the power here and all you could do is moan like a bitch in heat if he as much as blows air on your cunt.

"Pathetic," your legs tremble at the sound of his scathing voice as he positions himself in between your legs. Your eyes widen a fraction on seeing his cock straining against his slacks, the size clearly shocking and scaring you a bit.

"A little pill got you this wet for me," He pushes your legs nearer to your chest, making you even more uncomfortable with the position he's trying to put you in. "I guess I was always right about you being a slut all along."

You move your mouth to protest when the door flies open and slams shut behind Hanma. "I got Akuun to handle it- woah," his eyes flicker to your folded figure, a sick smile creeping on his darkened pink lips. "didn't know you're that flexible, good grief." He commented, falling on his knees beside your head. Hanma grabs your calves to maintain your position and Kisaki releases your ankles before grabbing the crotch of the lingerie.

"I'm not!" You whimper softly, turning your head away from Kisaki's focused gaze to hide your embarrassed face. A loud "rip" of the material courtesy of Kisaki tearing it off, followed by Hanma pushing your legs to your chest, exposing your wet pussy for the two men to see only seemed to further your humiliation and your need to be fucked.

Now.

"You will be soon." Kisaki mutters to your hearing, his long fingers parting your folds a bit before sliding his ring and middle finger inside your sopping folds. You thrash around at the foreign intrusion, cries of "wait…wait…wait…" escaping your lips while Hamna holds you down by your calves. "Shh shh, you can take it." Hanma coos at your teary expression, now clamping down on your calves hard and folding you into two.

The initial pain of his intrusion slowly gives way to pleasure as he works your pussy open, fingers curling against your spot. Kisaki uses his thumb to play around with your clit, his fingers moving simultaneously with every thrust and rub. Your breathing becomes heavier, eyes rolling back to your head as Kisaki inches closer to your g-spot.

"Deeper." You moan, your back arching slightly. "Go deeper Kisaki, please." You beg and Kisaki complies, adding a third finger into your pussy and curling them into a specific spot that has your back arch perfectly. "Yes, yes, more, more." You cry out, body trembling with every thrust that touches your g-spot. Kisaki can't get enough of finger fucking you or rubbing your pulsing clit wuth his thumb; the sight of you writhing underneath him, begging him to keep going had him hooked.

"What a fucking whore." Hanma curses underneath his breath, his grip on your thighs tightening as he struggles to control himself and his aching cock. "You gonna cum on his fingers like a slut?" He taunts, spreading your legs wider for him.

"Yes, oh yes-" you sob out, tears are practically rolling down your cheeks once you reach your high. "I can't … I need to cum, need to…"

Your pitch is high and your pussy flutters around Kisaki's fingers when you finally cum. It feels hot and for a moment, you can only see white before your vision returns to normal when you come down. A "thank you" escapes your lips, accompanied with a sigh, your shoulders heaving as you catch your breath.

Kisaki's fingers are slick with your essence, entranced by the sticky substance that coats his fingers when he pulls out of your cunt and he taps your lips with them once again. "Taste yourself." He commands. You gratefully lick up his fingers and engulf them in your mouth, suckling with a satisfied "mmh" from your lips.

"Good girl." Shuji murmurs, watching Kisaki pull out his fingers from your mouth with a loud 'pop' sound. Was this all it took to make you pliant? Getting you on your back and finger fucking you? Making you cum?

Was it really that easy?

His aching cock brought him back to reality. Whether you're pliant or not wasn't what mattered now; he just needs to blow his load anywhere in or on you.

One minute, your legs are against your chest in a mating press and the next minute, you feel Kisaki and Hanma flipping you on your hands and knees, bare cunt facing Kisaki and your face buried into Hanma's slacks. Simultaneously, you can hear belts hitting the floor and zippers going down. Hanma's cock, pale, veiny and long with an angry purple tip hits your lips lightly, as if telling you what he's thinking. You can feel Kisaki's heavy cock leaking with pre resting your inner thigh, teasing your sensitive clit.

Was this really happening? Two of them at once?

"What's the matter (name)," Hanma asks with faux sympathy, stroking his cock with his large palm. He can see the panic in your eyes as the situation dawned on you. "you're a big girl, you can take it right?" His eyes narrowed at you while using his tip to slap your lips lightly. At the same time, you can feel Kisaki line his cock against your entrance with one hand and gripping the flesh of your ass with the other. "You can take us, right?"

You want to say no, but you know it won't matter to them.

"Doesn't matter," Kisaki's voice is cruel as he pushes the tip of his cockhead against your ring of muscles. You choke out a sob from being stretched out after a long while of not having sex, begging for Kisaki to stop while he sheaths himself inside your wet walls. "You will take us, even if I have to teach you how."

You gasp the moment Kisaki sheaths inside your cunt fully and Hanma takes this as an opportunity to slip his cock into your waiting mouth, hitting your gag reflex intentionally. You can barely breathe, or think or move with all the excruciating pain of being split open and taking such a huge cock in your throat. It's too much, even as the pain is giving way to pleasure, you are not sure if you can handle what will come next.

Kisaki is the first to move, drawing out his dick completely, before slamming back into your cunt, emanating muffled moans from you. Hanma is just as unforgiving, from shallow thrusts to pressing your head against his hairy pelvis whilst fucking your throat hard.

The noises from the room are nothing short of sinful. The slapping of skin against skin as Kisaki picks up his pace. He's horny and he wants to devour you over and over again as he pounds into your wet carevan, hands digging into your ass with every thrust and squelch. "You like that?" He mocks you, breathing getting louder as he hits it from the back. "You like how we fuck you like a slut?"

You want to shake your head no, but Shuji's pacing is beyond human. He's face fucking you with a certain precision, your breathy moans from Kisaki abusing your g-spot sending vibrations down his cock with every thrust. "She loves it… She loves being bullied by two cocks like the whore that she is." Hanma grunts, rocking himself back and forth in your mouth. "You're gagging way too much, relax that throat or you'll choke to death sweetheart. Breathe through your nose."

You follow his instruction, trying to relax a little and breathe through your nostrils. "That's it, good girl."

You need to at least survive this night.

Kisaki's left hand circles around your waist until his fingers are in contact with your clit again. You feel your legs quiver in anticipation the moment he brushes a thumb over it, before rubbing tight circles against it. You moan, eyes rolling back as your senses go into overdrive.

"Shit, all these vibrations are gonna make me-" Hanma is the first to cum; hips stuttering as he pumps himself into your mouth, head thrown back, cock twitching and a loud "fuck, fuck, fuck". The hot salty semen pours down your throat soon after as he fucks himself through his high until he is spent, dragging out his flaccid cock from your lips.

Post bliss Hanma leans back on the bed, patting your head somewhat affectionately while he gathers his senses and tucks his cock back. Your relief is short-lived when you feel Kisaki thrust deeper than before, knocking the air out of you. Hanma finds pleasure in seeing you fucked out, unable to form coherent sentences while Kisaki bottoms out into you. "You look so pretty like this babe, keep it up." Hanma coos at you, running his thumb over your lips.

You've never felt so much intense pleasure, your toes are curling with the angle Kisaki is fucking you, his fingers playing with the sensitive bundles. The way Hanma is staring at you, whispering all those dirty words to your hearing, everything is too much for you.

"I'm gonna- Kisaki pull ou-"

Your legs tremble yet again and Kisaki lets you ride your high on his cock. "That's it, let go, let it all go," his voice shakes and his hips stutter, chasing his own high. Your breathy moans and his heavy pants bounce through the room as you two cum together until you're both well spent.

Heavy breathing echoed through the room as both you and Kisaki tried to catch your breaths. The aphrodisiacs in your systems has worn off from you and you collapse on the floor weakly the moment Kisaki pulls out from your cunt. You feel him eyeing the cum leaking down your cunt to your thighs and staining the carpet while adjusting his pants and belt.

Post nut clarity hit you hard, you had just been fucked senseless by the two people you despised the most. You feel humiliated that Kisaki and Hanma of all people have reduced you into a cum dump.

The two people who killed your brother.

"Can you stand?" Hanma knows you can't, not with the way your body lays helpless on the floor, but it's just like him to ask after ruining you. When you don't give an answer, he kneels beside you and pulls you up by your arm, slinging you over his shoulders.

He looks at Kisaki, who is standing over the telephone and speaking to room service. "I'm going to get this one cleaned up and possibly back to her senses again." Hanma states and Kisaki nods in approval. "I'll talk to her, give me a minute to call Manjiro." He replies, putting down the landline.

The next thirty minutes blurs out. Hanma puts you on the toilet and tells you to urinate while he sets the bathtub and you numbly comply. When he is sure it's ready, he picks you up from the toilet seat into his arms and lowers you into the bathtub gently. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." Hanma advises, his purple eyes flickering to your spaced out eyes. "Not that you can do shit in this state."

The door shuts and you are left alone for the first time throughout today. You overhear voices talking in hushed tones about you in the other room and you decide to tune out whatever they had to say.

Not even death could be worse than what had just happened to you now.

Hot tears pour down your cheeks unconsciously and you don't bother to wipe them off, even when the door opens again. Kisaki and Hanma walk into the bathroom again and you sink into the bath water further to hide your shame, hanging your head low.

Kisaki stands beside the bathtub and makes eye contact with you, an odd glint in his eyes. It's satisfying to see you broken and lonely, with no one else to depend on but him alone. "I hear you're good with technology. So good, you wiped your name out of every record, like you never existed. It was hard to look for you, you know." He is nonchalant and it irks you, but you say nothing. "You should know where I'm going with this. Not like you can run away from me ever again."

Your tone is bitter, but controlled and soft. "You want me to work for you. After what you just did to me."

"Manjiro wanted you dead but I put in a good word for you. Be grateful."

You scoff at him, hugging your knees to your chest in the bathtub. "Maybe you should listen to your leader."

Kisaki narrows his eyes at you and before you could apologize, Hanma's palm connected with your face. Your head snaps to the side and you cry out, grimacing in pain as your hand flies to your hurt face. Kisaki leans in again, now eye to eye with your teary, fearful eyes. His voice is cold and leaves no room to even argue with him anymore.

"I can kill you, or I can let you go and post that video of you whoring yourself out to me with only your face showing." Your face drops in horror when you realize he recorded you. smirking. "No one will ever give you a job. Not here, not outside Japan. Nowhere. No one wants a whore in their IT department. So you're going to be useful and buy my silence by throwing off the police from Toman's trail."

Hatred burned in your guts. Hatred for yourself, cowering in fear that Hanma would hit you again if you don't comply. Hatred for Hanma Shuji who tormented your life and brought you to Kisaki. Hatred for Kisaki Tetta who is the reason for your brother's death and who used your body as a cum dump.

Hatred at your own weakness and fear of death, that you could never win against Kisaki no matter how smart or how much effort you put in telling your brother the truth. Hatred at your own carelessness for not checking the taxi you entered this morning.

Hatred for your dead brother that put you in such a bad place.

"You work for Kisaki, bitch. Understand?"

With fresh tears, you give a quiet nod of approval.

"That's a good girl."

Taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @damidamimongalam @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @lovelyartist123 @lik0

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 days ago

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Folly x Reader

grapes are here!! time to munch, also new merch for something i love me and my best friend are going to get each other it as Christmas gifts! we did the same last year for something else we both love, still one of my favorite shirts i have

- How the hell you managed to bag a nine and a half foot tall primordial being is a mystery to everyone, even you in all honesty

- Folly is interesting to say the least, at first she treated you no different then anyone else but as time went on and she begun to take more of an interest in you, and finding that your kindness towards her was genuine, not any sort of trick, slowly she became less cold and malevolent towards you, eventually it got to a point where if you were having a nightmare she’d use her powers to stop it

- Eventually when you do get together, how official it was is up to debate, she still acts the same bit has a certain kindness to her voice, her insults and hate aren’t actually real, she’s just scared to truly let her guard down around anyone, no matter how much she’s beginning to trust you now, you understand and are very patient with her letting her say bad things since you know she doesn’t truly mean them

- Since she’s so large she picks you up like a plushie or teddy bear, it would be funny if you weren’t squirming as she smirked, we’ll you’re assuming she’s smirking, she doesn’t have a mouth so based on her eyes you assume if she could smirk she would be smirking

- Speaking of her lack of mouth she can’t exactly kiss you, she was very against the idea of you kissing her mask at first, it is one of the most vulnerable parts of her, eventually when she grants you permission you cover her entire mask in kisses, you don’t kiss where it broke though for both of you, she gets very flustered by it and disappears in her cloud of smoke, now though she’s more chill with it, it still does fluster his but if you ask if you can kiss her she lets you, and leans down, or stands next to something you can stand in to reach her face without her having to hunch down more then she already done normally

- On top of holding you like a stuffed animal she doesn’t really do small touches, her touches are go big or go home, holding you mostly, especially since her hands are so large small touches are harder, whenever you try and hold hands you just hold one of her fingers instead, or grab the edge of her sweater sleeve, which like her mask she was hesitant about but less so since it wasn’t broken like her mask

- If Folly can’t be around you she watches you through the aspens, it was really creepy at first since you felt like you were being watched then you realized it was her so you when alone will hug the trees as if hugging her to say thanks for watching over you, it doesn’t get less creepy watching the fake pupils on the trees move to follow you though, you will never get used to that

- Her dates aren’t conventional, they still happen but they’re not the usual dates people think of, some are close but not quite, like tending to a garden, granted it’s a forest of aspens in the dark expanse of where she comes from but it’s close enough, or a sleep over, which just means you fall asleep on her and you do something in your dream together, another is baking, that happens at your place which she doesn’t fit in that well and she can’t eat anything you bake but it’s still nice, she helps you bake and gets stuff on herself that you wipe off with a laugh

- She sometimes tells you of how her home use to look like, beautiful and comforting, it was like a dream, till it became a nightmare, you tell her that even if everything’s changed you love her no matter what she’s gone through, and no matter what she still may go through

- You occasionally visit Wallter with her, he’s the closest thing to a friend she has but she almost always sees him in his dreams, so they don’t usually see each other in person, when they do she does her usual thing of being all edgy and brooding but while discussing poetry and listening to piano music, and pretending to drink tea, she lets you actually drink it she just likes to pretend

- Her love language is closest to quality time, granted most of that time is in your dreams, but based on how often she visits them just to be close to you and spend time with you, so your best assumption is quality time

- She knows many languages, comes from being a primordial being, so if you want to speak in another language or need help learning or translating one she can assist you, her favorite language however is any of the slavic languages, which is why she has a Russian accent, so she enjoys teaching you words in Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, etc

- She makes you read her poetry, you don’t get a choice, you don’t mind but it can be inconvenient sometimes if you’re doing something and suddenly she appears telling you to read the newest poem she wrote, she’s really good at it though so it’s not too much of a bother since it’s an enjoyable read, to some degree, it’s very graphic and disturbing on occasion, or a lot of occasions

- She’s cold to the touch, after the cleaving her body no longer produces natural heat, which is a part of the reason she’s such a big cuddle bug, you’re warm and she quite literally parasites that warmth from you, she’s the kind of person to stick her cold ass hands on your exposed back when you aren’t expecting it making you shout at the sudden freezing touch

- Folly thought she’d never be happy again, she was broken, destroyed, used, abused, she never thought she’d ever feel like how she once did, which maybe she never will, but she has truly started feeling better since meeting you, maybe not truly happy but you do make her feel warm, literally and figuratively, so even if she knows she can never go back to that innocence and joy that once was her entire life she’s getting there

i love folly, not as much as mach but i still love her, and holy shit the cleaving was insane, also literally such a good depiction of a certain type of trauma, iykyk, which props to catjam, also just in general for creating folly, anyways imma probably nap, i am not immune to the afternoon naps

#x reader #regretevator #regretevator x reader #folly #regretevator folly #folly x reader #folly regretevator #folly x reader regretevator #regretevator folly x reader

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babysisterallgrowdup · 2 days ago

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My boss turned the corner and stepped in front of me as I was taking some clothes to the back room.

“Hi Faith,” my boss said. Her name was Maria, but I called her Ms. Kennedy. “I understand you had to ride the bus today. I’d like to give you a ride home.”

“Oh, that’s ok Ms. Kennedy,” I said. “It’s not bad.”

“I insist Faith,” Ms Kennedy said. “I’ll pick you up at the exit when you get off.”

“Okay, did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Ms Kennedy said. “I’ll see you when you get off.”

“Do you know when that is?” I asked.

“Of course.” Ms. Kennedy walked off, her heels clicking on the tile.

I was worried. It made me uncomfortable to be singled out like that by the boss. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Did she know I had a crush on her? I don’t see how, I’d not told her or anyone else for that matter. How bad could a ride be though?

When I walked out of the exit doors part of me was hoping she wouldn’t be there and I could just hop in the bus and go home.

It there she was, in her Audi, with the top down. She waved at me as she pulled to the curb from her parking spot. She had her cellphone pinched between her shoulder and ear.

“Hey babe,” Ms Kennedy said to whomever she was talking to. “I’m going to be a tad bit late tonight.”

I sat and buckled up as she continued her conversation.

“Yeah, I’m giving that sales associate I was talking about last night a ride home. Won’t be long.”

When she’d ended her conversation and put the phone away, I said, “Thanks for the ride Ms. Kennedy, but I can take the bus if it’s inconvenient. I promise, it’s no trouble.”

“I won’t hear of it, Faith.”

She sped out of the parking lot and started heading toward my house without my having to giver her an address.

Ms. Kennedy leaned back in her seat and drove with her left hand. Her right arm was in the dearest between us. I was surprised when her arm was rubbing against mine. I swore it was deliberate.

She passed the street my father turned on to get to our house and I was about to speak up when she did.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Ms. Kennedy said. “I would like to make a quick stop before I drop you off. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “Takes forty minutes if I’m on the bus. I got all sorts of time.”

“Good,” she said.

Five minutes later she pulled into a big park. I loved that park with its tall trees and swaths of verdant fields.

She drove to the rear of the park through a winding drive to stop in a circular turn around.

She turned to face me, her leg canted on the seat.

“I would like to talk with you for a minute if you don’t mind.”

I swallowed. I must’ve done something, I thought. She must’ve recognized my wariness.

“No, no, Faith.” She reached out and rubbed my forearm. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk with you privately and there is no privacy at the store.”

I gulped. Did someone catch me, knew what I’d been doing in the changing room? Oh shit, I thought, this could be bad.

Ms. Kennedy swallowed. At least I think she did because I saw her beautifully smooth throat work as if she had.

“Faith, it has come to my attention that you might—“ she stopped like she was uncomfortable.

I felt my face growing hot. I must’ve been blushing. By the heat level I might’ve been glowing. Fuck! She knew. I felt tears sting my eyes. I was gonna get fired. I needed the job. It got me out of the house.

I looked at her and felt my chin quiver. Stop! I told myself. Keep it together.

Her eyes were soooo deep brown, gorgeous.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kennedy,” I said. “It’ll never happen again. It was only the one time. I promise”

Her head cocked to one side, like my dog Scooter does when he doesn’t understand what I’m saying to him.

“Please,” I said. “I love this job. I don’t want to lose it.”

Her warm hand tightened around my forearm.

“Faith. What’re you talking about child.”

I’m no child my mind momentarily raged. I’m old enough to work.

I sniffed. Drew my free hand across my eyes as the hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Faith?”

I shook my head. How could I tell this beautiful woman, who was married, I guess, probably had a beautiful family. A perfect life.

How could I tell her, a girl from my side of town, had a crush on her. Fantasized about going down on her. Had even masturbated in the changing room thinking of licking her ass that I’d watched walk done the hallway at work.

“Faith,” Ms. Kennedy said. “I want you to tell me what’s got you so upset.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“What won’t happen again?” Ms. Kennedy asked. “What’re you talking about?”

“That time in the changing room,” I said with a crack in my voice. “Never again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about child,” Ms. Kennedy said. “Tell me, please.”

“Don’t make me,” I said. “Please.”

Ms. Kennedys brows knit, her eyebrows bunched almost together. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or maybe concern behind her sparkling eyes.

“It’s so embarrassing,” I said.

“Your secret is safe with me, Faith,” Ms Kennedy said. “Trust me.”

I didn’t speak and just concentrated on breathing. Keeping my breathing steady and normal. My face burned like I’d laid in the desert for a week, however that would feel.

“Please.” She said.

“I . . .”

When I didn’t continue, Ms Kennedy shook my forearm gently. “Go on.”

“I masturbated in the changing room,” I said.

Her eyes popped open and she smiled.

“I didn’t know security could be watching.”

Ms. Kennedy threw back her head and laughed.

I sat there stunned. Not the reaction I expected.

Her amusement settled after a long moment.

“Well,” Ms. Kennedy said. “Maybe I’m the one who should be embarrassed.”

I didn’t say anything but I couldn’t take my gaze from her stunning eyes.

“My turn to confess.”

She squirmed in her seat.

“Someone,” she said. “No need to say who. Told me they thought you had a crush on me. They’d noticed you watching me closely, with what she said was a glint in your eye.

“Now look at what I’ve done,” Ms Kennedy said. “I’ve given you a clue who spoke to me. It was a girl. A girl would recognize that hungry look in another girl’s eye.”

I didn’t say anything, nor did I shake my head. It I didn’t wonder if she’d put two and two together and realize who I was fantasizing about.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I started watching you and I did notice that your eyes followed me whenever we were close. And I thought I recognized the look in her gaze.”

She stopped and stared at me. She blushed. “Were you think of me when you were masturbating?”

I broke my eyes from her gaze with some difficulty and stared at my lap. I felt the heat growing in my loins.

I nodded.

She laughed again. Her voice soft, almost musical. She stared at me for a few moments before swallowing again.

“I’m going to take a chance,” she said. “I was planning to anyway. I’ve got a crush on you too, Faith.”

My face shot up and our eyes met.

“That’s right child,” she said. “Obviously I’m risking my career, even my freedom perhaps telling you that. Is that ok?”

I nodded again.

“So.” She leaned in and I saw her blush deepen. “Are you a clot or penetration masturbator?”

My turn to swallow. “Both.”

Her mouth was getting closer to my ear. She whispered. “Which do you prefer?”

“Clit.”

Her hand slid under my skirt and started to stroke the front of my panties. Were she to go lower she would’ve felt that hot moistness that was the fabric guarding my pussy.

Her finger snagged the edge of my cotton panties and pulled them aside enough for her to run her finger tip across the smooth, hairless mound. She slid the finger lower, running along my labia.

Electricity shot through my nervous system and I almost came on the spot. Her lips pressed again my neck.

“Is this what you did in the changing room?”

I couldn’t respond, only breathe and tilt my head back, concentrating on the rules of softball, trying to prolong the deliciousness of her touch before I came all over her hand.

“Mmmmmmm mmm,” Ms. Kennedy purred in my ear. “Cum for me child. I’m your boss and I’m giving you permission to cum.”

I fidgeted and croaked in a hoarse voice. “Ms Kennedy, I don’t want to make a mess on her car seat.”

“Baby,” she purred. “That’s why I got leather seats. Cum. Squirt. Whatever.”

Her finger slid easily into my cunt. I felt the walls of my pussy clamp, even as she removed her finger and began to run my exposed clit.

My hips bucked and I felt the pressure release. My chest compressed and I felt my core clamp and then I heard Ms Kennedy chuckle as I released a stream of fluid that splashed against her seat and sprayed me and her and the inside of the windshield.

As my convulsions subsided, she shifted into gear.

“I can’t take you home covered in cum,” she said. “Your mom and dad will get suspicious. “We’ll go to my house and clean you up first.”

“But your husband,” I gasped.

She laughed that brilliant, light musical laugh of hers.

“That’s my wife sweetie,” she said. “And we have plans for you. We talked about it all night as we fucked one another with our straps. You’re gonna be one happy teenager before we’re through with you.”

As she navigated the park, I slid my fingers into my pussy and stabbed myself until I came again, but this time without the flood.

“Oh yeah,” Ms Kennedy purred. “We’re gonna love you child. Leave some for Jan. She’s gonna want to lap it from the tap.”

I came again as she laughed and steered away from the pedestrians so they wouldn’t see my wanton self, legs spread across the dash, my fingers pounding my smooth pussy, my head thrown back in rapture.

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